13
April

It was bound to happen

There are numerous establishments in India that ask men and women to enter (and generally be scanned or wanded) through separate entrances. Our local shopping mall is one, women to the left, men to the right.  Many of these places have separate, curtained off booth that women enter if they require a more intense scanning, which is generally just a quick scan with the wand. I assume that the practice is to protect the modesty of the women, but I am not really all that modest, so I find it a little inconvenient, mostly because the women’s line is always much slower than the men’s.

All of the airports that I have been through in India follow this practice when it comes to security screening.  You can enter the airport with a companion (or stranger, really) of the opposite gender, but you must segregate for screening purposes. This has bothered me each time that I travel, as it means that my belongings are left on the scanning belt and processed quite quickly, where I step away from it to wait in line to be waved through to the curtained booth to be scanned and have my boarding card examined, then step the pickup location and gather my belongings.  This process takes at least three minutes, and has been longer than ten minutes (especially if I have a lil with me, they tend to charm the scanners).  My belongings, which frequently include my camera and all my lenses, and the various iThings that I carry, would be both difficult and expensive to replace while I am hear.  I would hate to have someone accidentally or maliciously walk away with my gear.

Willy travels more often than I do (Mumbai this week), and I know that this bothers him too.  There seems to be little effort made to reunite travellers with their belongings, as he found out this morning.  He took a flight that left Mumbai at dawn, so he was being processed through security really, really early.  He was held up after depositing his belongings because his web check-in boarding card was missing a stamp from the airport.  When he got though, his bag and his laptop were the only items left at the end of the conveyor belt.  He grabbed them and got on his flight.

When he landed he hopped in a cab and headed to the office.  As he got close, he pulled out his laptop to get things started on his day and realized that it wasn’t his laptop at all.  Apparently a person that made it through the line up faster grabbed the wrong laptop and flew off to who knows where. Willy started to get stressed, trying to figure out how he was going to either get his laptop back, or rebuild all the data onto a new laptop. As luck would have it, the owner’s name, company name and employee ID were accessible from the login information, and his company was quickly contacted. Unfortunately, he and Willy’s laptop were in Hyderabad.

Willy is now on his way home from the airport, having flown to Hyderabad and back today. A waste of a day, but he is lucky to have gotten it back relatively painlessly. As a result, I know that I will be watching and checking my belongings just a little closer when I travel in the future.

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12
April

Six months

Today marks the six month anniversary of our arrival as a family in India.  We are halfway through the year that we committed to, and a big part of me says I can’t believe that we have been here this long, and a much smaller part says that it can’t possibly have been just six months, it must have been so much longer! India, so far, has been a wonderful but chaotic experience, filled with many great experiences, learning many new things, meeting fabulous people and making truly great friends, but also a great deal of stress, many tears, and some pretty lonely times, especially for me.  That being said, I would not change a minute of it.  It has really been a great six months.

A little while after we arrived, a lady that Willy met told him that she would never recommend Bangalore as a first ex-pat posting, it’s too remote, too isolating, and too hard to settle in. He nodded and smiled and then relayed the comment to me later. I initially agreed, but then later came to realize that it’s not true in our case.  If we hadn’t come here first, we might never have come.  This might be our only posting abroad, and I would not have wanted to miss the last six months that we have enjoyed in India.

The people here are truly the nicest people that I have ever met.  We have learned so much about the mesh of cultures that make up this vast nation, yet we have only barely touched the surface.  We have travelled, together and apart, to places that most Indians never get to see, yet there are so many more places I want to get to.  The food here is enough of a draw, and I haven’t yet perfected the dishes that we knew we love, and have learned to love.  I have taken many photographs, yet I don’t feel that I have done the people and this beautiful country justice.

There are things that bother me about this city, life in India. The traffic, the pollution, the waste, the garbage everywhere, the poverty, and the fact that there seems to be little value placed on such a large segment of the population.   There are also annoyances that affect me personally, like the fact that is takes weeks to have a simple thing fixed, that nothing ever happens as it should, where it should or when it should, and little things that become symbolic and big, like the fact that I can’t get a bank account or credit card here.  We’ve tried several times, and failed at each turn, so we’ve given up.  It’s their loss really, given that I am the spender in the family.  I am also somewhat frustrated by what I have failed to accomplish in my time here.  I had big goals, and I have barely progressed on any of them.  This is partially a result of some of the struggles that we have had to face, but mostly because of the struggles that I have had with settling in.

I frequently get asked about what I miss the most from home.  For me, the answer is simple.  I miss the people that mean so much to us, our family and friends. We are very connected to them, yet we are almost as far away from home as we can get.  If there was just one thing that I could somehow bring with me, it would be them.  We have been so fortunate to have friends and family come to visit, and this has eased this ache quite a bit, but we now face six months with no planned visits, nothing concrete or booked. I know that is in all likelihood going to change, that we will have some visitors, but I can’t get my hopes up.  Sure, I also miss wine, cheese, Greek food, great breads and baked goods, stable electricity, clean water, diversity in climate and a few other things, but those I really can live without.

We are at a crossroads, and now is the time when we start to think seriously about what we do in October.  We can either ask to stay in Bangalore, or we can go home.  We’re both on the fence, but one of us is leaning towards Bangalore, and one is learning towards Ottawa.  I am feeling like home is where I want to go, and Willy can see us living here for a while longer.  We don’t have to make a decision today, but we really do have to make one soon.  Regardless of what that decision is, we have six more months to fill with learning and exploring.  We want to see more of Bangalore, more of India, and more of the south Pacific.  This is our focus for the next six months.

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11
April

Wordless wednesday – Every day

 

 

 

 

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9
April

The value of a life

We got a call late at night last Wednesday. It was from our driver, who was distraught, and let Willy know that his neighbour had died, that he may need some time off. Willy told him to take the time that he needed, and hung up, concerned. We were surprised when Subbu arrived the following morning to take Willy to work. He explained it simply by saying that it helped to stay with routine. He was clearly shaken, and on the way to Willy’s office explained that it was his neighbour’s seventeen year old son who had died, and that he had committed suicide because his grades were poor. We were both shocked and saddened to hear this. Almost a week later I am still troubled. How could this happen, how could he think that this was his only choice?

My first instinct was to blame the parents. I’ve never met them, nor do I know anything about them or their family; I made some big assumptions. I do know that there is tremendous pressure in India for a child to improve their standing, to do better than their parents. I have read several articles that allude to parental pressure for success, including one that told not of a suicide, but of a twelve year old girl whose father forced her to beg on the streets when her grades were not to his expectation. I have also observed parental expectation first hand throughout our community. Success is not enough; the children are expected to excel, to surpass their peers too. That being said, I am wrong to solely blame the parents. While they may have had some expectation that their son do well, I am certain that they did not want to see him take his life.

It is widely reported that suicide rates in India, especially among youth and female youth in particular are extremely high. There are numerous media reports of children as young as eleven taking their own lives, often because they feel they have done poorly in school, they have actually failed or received a low grade, or that they worry that their parents cannot afford to send them to the post-secondary schooling that they will need to complete to better themselves. It saddens me to think that so much emphasis can be placed on schooling and marks for these children.

In the recent past, the Indian government has put into place measures that help families send their children to schools, and to help those in the lowest class improve their standing. What they haven’t done is help to teach those who hold positions of power the value of a human life. We frequently see labourers performing their tasks in very unsafe conditions. It happens in the community we live in, for example the man who sprays to protect us from the mosquitoes. We know that he is using a toxic chemical, and close up the house the minute that we hear his fogging machine start up in the distance. He rides by, and is not wearing any sort of protection from the harmful chemicals that he is breathing and coming into contact with. There is no way that he cannot be harmed by the chemicals, yet he has nothing to offer any protection. He may have chosen not to, but in all likelihood he either doesn’t know the risks, or hasn’t ever been given anything to wear. His employers need to ensure that he is protected, that his health has value, and they haven’t.

I am fortunate in that I am not poor, and I live in a country with ample opportunity for both of my children to follow their dreams and be successful, on their own terms. This has been a sobering reminder to me that I need to not only teach the lils to want to do well and succeed in life, but that success must also be defined in terms of their happiness; and that a life has value that cannot be diminished by a failure to achieve a milestone, or a belief that they may not meet anyone’s expectations.

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6
April

The white flag

Today I had to do something that I never do willingly. I gave up, threw in the towel, surrendered, waved the white flag… It wasn’t the end of two long weeks with the lils at home that did me in, because they have actually been pretty great. It wasn’t the weather, though it has been pretty hot, even for Bangalore. It wasn’t even the fact that neither our oven nor our water purifier have been fixed, despite daily calls and promises of the imminent arrival of a technician or two. We aren’t doing much baking, but that safe, clean water thing? It’s pretty important to me. The thing that did me in was a cold. A really bad, miserable cold.

I rarely used to get sick, and when I did it was not that bad. This has changed since we had the lils, I get sick more often, but I generally don’t wallow. I am usually chasing after the lils, so I play the martyr and push through. This has made be become somewhat unsympathetic when those around me are feeling ill. By somewhat unsympathetic I mean to say that the phrase “suck it up, buttercup” is often uttered when Willy is sick. He was sick this week, and I was my typical supportive and loving self. I am sure he appreciated it. Now I feel that I should have been a little more concerned, and maybe cut him some slack.

This morning basically saw me moping around the house, doing the bare minimum required to keep the lils safe and watered. Willy basically dropped everything and came home when I made vague references to my inability to care for our children in an email I sent. He blew off work, sent me to bed, took care of the lils, fed me when I whined and never once complained or pointed out what a wuss I was. As a result I am feeling much better, and a wee bit guilty. I hope that I will remember this guilt the next time that he is sick with a mancold, but the reality is I’m just as likely to blame him for making me sick, and hold that against him!

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4
April

Wordless wednesday – Fly like an eagle

Fly Away

Building a nest

Gliding

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3
April

You teach them to read…

I didn’t quite think through some of the ramifications of teaching Woo to read when we started out. Actually we didn’t exactly teach him, we supported as he pretty much taught himself how to read.  We did help him, as did N at day care, but he lead the process and progressed at a much faster rate than we anticipated.  He amazed us by reading his first words by his third birthday, and chapter books by his fifth.  He is rather advanced in his reading as a result, and we try to keep up with him.

He doesn’t just read books, he devours them. There aren’t really libraries like we have at home, so we have developed a pattern of visiting the closest bookstore about once a week.  He sits and methodically goes through the books, selecting all that strike his fancy, and letting us filter down until there is a pile of three to five new books.  Thankfully books here are reasonable, or we would be broke!

We had a dry spell recently, when we didn’t get to the bookstore for a few weeks.  During this time he read and re-read many of his books, but also turned to the kitchen, and started to read my cookbooks.  They now sport many a bookmark on recipes that he would like for us to make together, which actually helps with meal planning.  A couple are still missing, but I am sure they are tucked away in his room.  This also led to some fun experimenting in the kitchen, with only one real failure, the apple milkshake, and one jar of oddly matched spices that he mixed up for me to use in recipes that call for curry powder*.

My sister and brother-in-law gifted him with the entire Roald Dahl collection for Christmas this year, a completely awesome gift.  He was intimidated at first, and decided that he didn’t want them.  We quickly realized that he was a little lot overwhelmed by the size of the collection and the sheer number of words, so we tucked them away in our room.  He still knew where they were, and would come to flip through them most mornings, so I offered to read one to him in early January.  I chose The Giraffe and the Pelly and me because it was the thinnest, and looked silly enough. He was hooked right away, and read ahead in the book after I left him, then finished it on his own a day or so later.  He now comes to our room every week or so to select a new Dahl treasure to read. He asks us to read parts of them, some of the time, but he tends to burn through them quickly on his own.

The book that he chose most recently was George’s Marvellous Medicine.  He read it with much glee, and then asked that I read several chapters with him one night at bed time. We started with George’s creation of this magical medicine, the chapter where he basically throw everything, the good, the bad, and the poisonous, into a pot to serve as medicine for his evil grandma.  He is enjoying this a little too much, and warning bells go off in my head. We spend a long time discussing why that would be a dangerous thing to do, and how Woo should never consider touching half of that stuff, let alone feeding it to anyone, before moving on to the moment when Grandma gets the meds. He seems to understand that the book is silly fun, and should not translate to real life.

This morning I woke to an eerie silence in the house.  I knew that the lils were up, as I had already been shown the marker manicures that they gave each other.  When my queries as to what they were doing were met with silence, I headed down stairs to the kitchen.  There were spices everywhere, a pile of wet tea towels, a bottle filled with murky liquid, and two lils, looking both guilty and pleased with themselves.  I looked at the bottle closely, and it appeared to be mostly water and chillies, with dashes of oregano, nutmeg, and rosemary for good measure. As we cleaned and talked this through, Woo repeatedly assured me that this was not a medicine like George had made, it was merely a potion. I shudder to think how close Goose was to getting a dose of that spicy potion!

He has now moved on to The Twits, where Mr. and Mrs. Twit play horrible practical jokes on each other.  Tonight Willy discovered that in chapter four, she serves him worm spaghetti for dinner. I can see where this is going… Maybe there is something to be said about selecting age appropriate reading for your lils.  It’s not about the difficulty of the words or that the content is too mature for them, it’s so that parents can be prepared for all the naughty things that they learn!

*Curry powder seems to be a pretty North American thing, so I have a mixture of spices that includes coriander, cumin, turmeric, chillies, cinnamon, sugar, ground ginger…. That I use in some recipes.  Guess he thought my mixture was lacking!

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2
April

I thought we’d made up our minds

When we first moved here, we hired a few helpers in the hopes that they would, well, help with the transitions.  Our driver, gardener, and maid have all proven to be just what we needed – and then some!  We were incredibly lucky that all three just fell into our laps as they did and are very thankful.  We had tried a cook as well and were really disappointed when she didn’t work out.  I had been especially excited to work with her, but the brief experience left us firmly convinced that having me cook for the family was the perfect choice for us.

Fast forward to this past weekend when, over dinner, some friends asked if we wanted to hire their cook on while they were away in Thailand for the week.  Two factors made me say yes without hesitating; the fact that they have spoken highly of her on more than one occasion, and that the lils are off school this week.  Not preparing meals in the afternoon gives me an hour or three where I can hang out with them.  As much as I love to cook, I prefer to hang with them.

Over the weekend, but without actually meeting up with their cook, we worked out a tentative start for Tuesday.  We planned meals accordingly, and talked it up to the lils.  They were a little gun shy, but progressed from outright resistance to excitement when we explained that they would be able to talk to her and let her know what they liked and didn’t.  Woo made a special request for Palak paneer, and I made sure I’d have the fixings for it for our first meal. He, in particular, was over the moon.

The past twenty-four hours have been pretty much a train wreck for me.  I was up until about three AM for no apparent reason, then awakened twice by each lil in the next two hours.  I woke up cranky and tired, Willy let me sleep until the last possible second, but that was only a little after seven.  The lils were cranky and tired, I was cranky and tired, and we needed to go to the grocery store.  I’d promised paneer for supper, and that was a time consuming promise, on what was likely to be a tough  day. It was a recipe for disaster.  As we were running out the door, I made a quick call to our cook to confirm a start time, and she let me know that she wanted to start today, as her plans had been cancelled.

In an instant, our moods all lightened.  The trip to the grocery was a breeze, we laughed and fooled around, there were no demands on our time other than lunch.  When our cook arrived, the lils were SO excited.  They hugged her on first meeting her, and insisted on showing her the house before letting her even see the kitchen.  Once they settled down a bit, they were allowed to join and “help” in the kitchen before we took off for a leisurely swim.  We arrived home AT dinner time and sat down to an excellent meal, that had just a hint of spice, but was completely tolerable for the lils (they get killed by chillies here).  I didn’t think that we wanted a cook, but one day in to this fun diversion, I am reconsidering…

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29
March

The tiffin box

the tiffin box

One of the things that I wanted to see in action when we moved here was the tiffin. I had learned of them a number of years ago through a news clip on a tiffin service that was being offered in Toronto. This company provided hot lunches, for delivery or pick-up, and it came neatly packaged in a multi-layered metal container like the one pictured above. It was my understanding that the word “tiffin” referred to the container, and I really wanted to see if they are actually used in India.

It became apparent to me, just days into our stay in India that not only are tiffins used, they are EVERYWHERE. We mostly see workers carrying them, but there are also a number of school children who carry them to school, as well as caterers and food cart vendors (or wallas) who use gigantic ones. Most have two, three, or four uniform containers that seal as they stack on top of each other. They are held together by a latch on each side, and seem to be liquid tight. Our driver, Subbu, even has an insulated sleeve for his, so that he can keep his meal either hot or cold.

I have now learned that the meal itself (usually lunch) is actually the tiffin, and the stacked container is the tiffin box. Traditionally, these tiffins consist of a dal, a curry, some rice or bread (naan, roti, paratha…) and possibly a raita or a dessert. Some cities in India, like Mumbai, even have a vast network of tiffin wallas, who deliver hot lunches from home to the men who are at work. I am not sure if Bangalore has such a network, but I am sure that Willy would love to have a hot lunch from home delivered to his desk.

I have fallen in love with the idea of the tiffin box, and know that I will be bringing one home to Canada, so that I can bring my own tiffin to work with me. Early on in Tamara and Chris’ recent visit, Tamara and I were talking about them, and she mentioned that she might like to have one if we could find one that was reasonably priced and not too big or small. This past Tuesday was their last day in Bangalore, so I offered to pick one up for her if I could find one while out shopping. The lils and I were pleased to find that our grocery store had a good selection, and we picked one up. Actually, we picked three up, as Woo and Goose decided that they MUST have them as well.

Our new tiffin boxes
They can’t wait to bring their lunches and snacks to school in their new tiffin boxes. In the meantime, they demand that their meals be served in them at home!

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28
March

Wordless wednesday – Agra Fort

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