I have never seen myself as the type of person who would have a staff, especially a domestic staff. To a large degree, it is because I am one of those type A types in many respects. I have a certain way of doing things, and need them to be done to my standards or I just do them myself. I am a treat to live with, I assure you. Really, I do like to do things around the house, am terrible at delegating, and like to treat everyone as my equal. I am uncomfortable with asking someone to clean my laundry, wash my toilets, or make my dinner. Unless that someone is Willy.

The planning for our move was quite condensed, so Willy and I never really discussed whether or not we would have any help around the house until we got here on our planning trip. It quickly became clear that it was expected. Every home we toured had a servant’s room and everyone we talked to, including friends, colleagues, and the relocation experts, told us that it was essential to the local economy. We would be doing a disservice if we didn’t hire. I had a hard time with this reasoning and we decided we would see what the story was when we arrived.

We were told that we would not have to look for staff, that domestic employees would just start showing up at our door. They did, essentially from the moment we moved in. The landlord had not even finished handing over our keys when a maid who had worked in this house in the past was knocking to let us know that her services were available. I went to a meeting tea held by a local ex-pats group, and there was a registry, consisting of many binders filled with details on local women and men who were looking for work as drivers, nannies, cooks, and maids. People didn’t ask if we wanted to hire a maid, they asked who we had hired or where they came from. It seemed that there were people who were truly looking for work, a way to support themselves and their families.

We now have three people working for us. Our driver, who I feel is a necessity. There is no way that I would be able to bring myself to drive here. I could get used to the right-side drive, to driving a stick shift, but I am afraid of driving in this traffic, and trying to find my way around this city where no streets are marked. We also hired the maid who came to our home on our first day. She is a very sweet person, who, in two days, has our house much cleaner than any home I have ever cleaned. Lastly we have a cook, who starts on Thursday. As much as I love to cook, I can’t wait to watch and learn from her. I’d be lying if I said that I won’t enjoy having a clean house and deliscious meal prepared for me.

So we have a “staff”. While I still feel that we don’t NEED to have a maid and a cook in our employ, we are going to do our best to treat all of them with respect, try to make sure that they are happy, and enjoy the free time that they will give us to experience their city and country. I am still not certain that we are doing them a service by hiring them, but I’ve got time to sort out how I feel about that.

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There have been more than a few surprises since we moved to India. Some of them have been most pleasant and well received, others have not. If you had asked me a month ago how I would feel about having at least one gecko move in to our new house with us, I assure you THAT surprise would have fallen under not well received. That isn’t how it unfolded…

The climate in Bangalore is pretty much perfect. Hot, but not humid, and sunny every day. We don’t often run the air conditioners in the bedrooms, but I’ve gotten in the habit of running up in the late afternoon to make sure that the rooms aren’t too warm for the lils to sleep in. I was doing this last Monday when I was distracted by something moving on the wall near Goose’s closet. It was a little brown gecko with black eyes! We both stopped and considered each other for a minute. I didn’t freak out, but decided that I needed to get her out of the house, so I looked down to find a bucket or something to put her in. When I looked up, she was GONE.

I looked all around, but could find no trace of her. The windows were shut, so her only real out was the wall mounted air conditioner. Right around this time the lils came home. In a split second, I decided not to say anything, as I wasn’t sure how they would react. She was in Goose’s room, and ants freak her out some days. In truth, I forgot all about her until bedtime, when I returned to Goose’s room, and there, on the same wall, was a gecko. It looked smaller this time, so I called Willy over and let him see. We agreed that this was best between us.

Later that night I learned much about geckos, most of it from my friends on Twitter and Facebook. I was surprised to learn how many people I knew are experienced in geckos. Apparently once they move in, they are hard to get out, they poop all over the place, cats barf them up after they eat them, and they eat all sorts of bugs, including mosquitoes and cockroaches (neither of which I want in my house). This was enough to convince me that maybe a gecko or two wasn’t a bad thing. I also received some practical tips on how one goes about catching and dispatching a gecko, and learned that the chuck-chuck-chuck sound that I hear night and day is made by geckos!

The next day, I saw her again, and again wasn’t sure if this was the same gecko or another. Regardless of how many, the lils hadn’t seen them, so we were still good. I started to see the same one lurking in the shadows when I was putting Goose down for nap, and was convinced that we only had one tenant. She seemed to enjoy watching us, unseen unless you knew where to look.

The next morning I crept into Goosie’s room for a cuddle. She was already awake, and peering at the wall in the just dawn light. “Momma,” she said, “there’s something on my wall. Do you think it’s a gecko?? It is a GECKO!!” much excitement ensued, causing the gecko to shuffle off to the air conditioner. Goose took particular delight in the fact that she could see her tail sticking out.

The next several days were spent with both lils making frequent checks for the gecko. They were delighted when she was there, and several times expressed pleasure that she was watching over them. They decided one day that she needed a name. Goose was quick to suggest that she be named N, after our super-awesome daycare provider at home. This was high praise for the lil gecko, as N is very loved, and very much missed by all of us. The lils now went looking for N. I think it was a comfort to both of them. I hope that gecko knew it had big shoes to fill!

Then two nights ago the lils noticed that N had ventured downstairs, and was hanging out near the entry way. We were excited to see her out, and left her be as we went out for a walk. When we returned, she was even closer to the front door. Thinking that she might just want out, we decided that it was time to try and evict her. We warned the lils that she might not come back, but that it was better off for her outside. They were surprisingly OK with it. After several failed attempts to get her in a container, we opened the door and guided her out. She was gone.

There has been no reappearance of N in the house, but the lils keep looking. They aren’t sad, they just like to see her. Tonight they got their wish, as N and a smaller gecko were hanging out on our back patio. The lils were very excited to see that N came back, and decided that the second gecko must be one of her children, they just couldn’t agree on which one. I’m glad that N is here with us in India. I just hope that she doesn’t mind that she’s been projected into a gecko!!

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I was never a guide, a brownie, a scout or any of those things. Though I am not spontaneous (well, other than this whole moving to India thing) and like to have a loose plan a well thought out, multi-nested listie plan, I rarely consider what to do if my plans fall through. This is because I generally take the safe road, the one that is most likely to result in a successful outcome – even if I am taking risks for me.

We’ve been in our house in India for one week, and it is now clear that we always need to have a back up plan. Always. Because if we don’t, guaranteed that the water filter will break, leaving us without drinking water for four days; the kitchen’s on-demand hot water heater will die, making it hard to wash dishes; the gas stove will take over 40 minutes to boil a pot of water at a time when the lils are most starving; the power will fail as I set out to cook dinner, rendering the brand new induction cooktop we bought useless, AND the starters for the gas stove equally useless; that the internet will go out on the day that Willy left his mobile at home and me no way of reaching him, or figuring out how to dial a number anyway; and that our bank cards won’t work in the first bunch of ATMs we try them in, making it hard to buy food when the credit cards don’t work at the grocery store.

We now have about a week’s worth of bottled water stashed away, plenty of food options that are ready to eat (more difficult here, especially since we can’t eat any raw fruit or veg), are working on a mobile for me AND back-up internet access, and may just have rupees stashed here, there and everywhere.

It’s been a crazy week.

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We weren’t quite sure what to expect from the lils as we embarked on our trip to India, but I secretly felt that it would go one of two ways. They were either going to be travelling superstars, or we were going to be asked to leave one of the planes. I am so happy that they were the former, at least for the flights and airport time when I wasn’t sleeping alone in business class.

They got to charm most people in the lounge in Ottawa, as they excitedly watched planes land and take off. They did the same in the restaurant in Frankfurt, all the while discovering that German children apparently get their milk served warm (this did not go over well). We were doing well in the gate, where there were once again planes to watch, and people to make smile. By the time we got on the plane, they were pretty tired, so Woo flaked out in front of the seat back TV and Goose slept for about two hours.

When Goosie woke up she was cranky, and more than a little stubborn about how she saw things going. Unfortunately, she chose to express her displeasure by thrashing about, and ended up kicking the seat in front of her repeatedly. As soon as we saw this was happening, we tried to stop her from kicking. Simply asking her to stop and explaining that it was bothersome to the person in front did not work, as she saw the seat back as hers. I was reaching forward and holding her legs while trying to explain that the seat was not hers, when the woman in the affected seat leaned between the seats and said “Can you make her stop kicking my seat? It is bothering me.”

While I agree that it is a pain in the ass to have anyone kick your seat, Goose had barely awakened, I was clearly aware of the situation, and trying to nip it in the bud. Rather than point this all out, I apologized to the woman and let her know that I was doing my best to have it cease. Her reply to my apology shocked me. “Well if she doesn’t stop”, she said, “I will make you sit here, and take your seat.”

Not only was this an over reaction to the actual kicking that had occurred, the plane had numerous empty seats, including the one directly in front of her. Rather than point this out to her, or tell her what I really thought of her attitude, I chose to attack the flaw in her thinking. “That puts you beside the two year old for the rest of the flight, are you sure you really want that?” I said. It was the last I heard from her.

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For my thirtieth birthday, Willy gifted me with a trip to Italy. It was a completely unexpected and over the top gift, so I thanked him profusely and started booking! we had a fabulous time on our two week trip, where we spent a few days in each of Rome, Florence, and Venice. I knew before we left that I wanted to go back one day, and hope that we can get back there soon.

In all it’s awesomeness, the trip also gave me one of my favourite tales to tell. At the end of the trip Willy and I arrived at the airport, checked in and waited around for far too long. When we were finally ready to board, we walked to the gate and handed in our boarding cards. The gate agents noted that we were together, and this was causing some distress on their end. We tried not to get worried, and through a disjointed conversation that was part Italian, part English, and part who knows what, we were able to figure out what was going on. They had upgraded Willy. Only Willy.

I encouraged him to take the upgrade, even though it meant that he was going to be pampered in business class while I was still in cattle class. On my birthday trip.

The real reason I was so adamant that he take the seat was that he has a history of extreme sinus pain while flying, and I knew that the ability to stretch out and be comfortable would help immensely if he found himself in pain. What I didn’t know is that he would jump on that offer from me, and never look back. Not even to come and check on me. I also didn’t know that I would be stuck in the way back section of the plane, in the middle of a section of five seats. THIS part gave me a great story to tell about how he ditched me on my birthday trip.

I can no longer tell this story. I have a much better one to tell now, one where my husband is again upgraded on a flight that we are taking together, but this time he hands the boarding pass to me, despite the fact that we are embarking on a long journey to India, with our two year old and four year old in tow. I took that boarding pass, and barely looked back (although I did check on them several times).

Business class was very nice, especially the seats that recline fully to a bed. I loved that I was served my meal in courses, that the wines I was presented with were matched to my meal, and that I was made to feel special. I also loved the fact that I was alone, even though I did miss the lils and Willy. It gave me time to rest, to mentally prepare for the next leg of our journey, to feel a little guilty, but mostly to reflect on how awesome Willy is. Who does that? Volunteers to sit by themselves with the lils on a very long flight, deal with their craziness and never once complain? When I expressed my gratitude to him, Willy’s only response was “You do the time when I travel and earn the points, so you should share in the reward”. He’s pretty awesome, that husband of mine.

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Good people…

tell you they are coming to help and give you the option of picking the day

take the day off work, just to see you and help you out.

fit you in to their day, even tho it means they have to drop something else.

open with “where can I start”, and don’t blink when you direct them to the sink full of icky dishes that came out of the fridge moments before…

bring scones, fresh out of the oven. That come with jam and clotted cream, because that is how it’s done.

or they come bearing freshly baked chocolate, disguised as muffins. With a side of latte for good measure.

drop by to pick something up and see that there is lots to do, so they offer to help. Even though they have a toddler in tow.

don’t blink when you say “There are sixteen library books in this house somewhere. Please find them”. They just find them. Well, they find fifteen of them, and that last bugger was really well hidden.

pack the toys that need to come with, and tidy the ones that don’t.

leave for an appointment, noting that they will be back as soon as they can be. And they are.

rake up cold and wet leaves and plants without blinking an eye.

eat the dregs from the freezer for lunch, even if it is billed as “somewhat sketchy”

do the really crappy and dirty outside jobs with no complaint, even though they are neglecting their own yards.

stay all day long, never once complain, and continue to ask what is next.

They got me back on track today, and saved what is left of my sanity. I can’t believe how much we accomplished in such a short period of time. I am so very lucky to have such good people as great friends.

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Our new home is roomy enough for us and some guests (!). It is steps from a park, and a short drive to the lils school and Willy’s work. I am sure that we will be happy here… It has a pretty standard/basic kitchen:

A big master, with equally big furniture

A little play area between the lil’s rooms (with a large patio attached)

A king sized be for one of the lils!

It has a nice big (by Bangalore standards) yard…

Complete with hibiscus trees!

Our home for the next year!

Sorry about the pictures, there was A LOT going on when we were going through the houses 🙂

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As a fan of TLC and their real estate shows in particular, I have a whole new appreciation for what the people on the show go through on their really short house hunting tours. The premise of the show is that the people fly in to exotic locales (which have included Bangalore on occasion), spend a few days in the area, view many houses, and choose from three houses that may or may not meet their specifications.  

This was my life this week!  In a period of a day and a half this week, Willy and I went through twenty-seven houses, spread all over the Whitefield area of Bangalore.  It was a whirlwind.  We went to see reallllly nice houses, not so nice houses, houses that exceeded our budget, houses that were way under budget, some too big or small, and some that were perfect.  

All during this process, I was frantically trying to take notes for me, notes for the relocation person (which they need for their files), and photograph the houses before they blurred into one gigantic house.  From that list of twenty-seven, we pared it down to five.  Some were really easy to eliminate, like the one that my only comment for was “ick”.   Others were really hard, like the one that was stunning and huge, had a pool, but meant a thirty minute bus for the lils to get to school (I was sad to say no to that one). 

Five houses were revisited this morning, and we quickly eliminated three and tried to decide between two very different houses in the same community.  It was the community that really won us over here, one with parks, a pool, playgrounds and lots of children. The park space was the clincher, something missing in all other communities.  It helps that the houses are both nice too.  

We have but four hours to choose a house and are both torn.  I hope that we make the right decision, but feel that we will be happy here regardless.  I’ll post some pictures when we get home and know what house it will be.

This whole process has completely satisfied my need for real-estate porn.  I am pretty sure that it will be a while before I need to watch any of those TLC shows, although I do note that it is available on cable here.  I can’t believe that there are people (like our guide) who do this for a living!  I’ll gladly take my one house with it’s just right number of beds and baths, or our soon to be house in Bangalore, and be happy to never have to look critically at another house again!

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