Just for fun, I’ll let you all hitch a ride for a few minutes in the little white Indica shuttle cab I took back and forth to work every day when I was in Hyderabad. Believe it or not, this was a very tame ride in comparison to most days.
My husband loved watching it. He said, “It’s poetry. So many juxtapositions of wealth and utter poverty. From within the insulations of the car you also feel a tinge of motion sickness. It’s almost hypnotic.”
Enjoy!
Last night, my colleagues and I hired a driver named Mohammed to take us to do a bit of shopping and out to Angeethi, a restaurant specializing in tasty Punjabi food in Banjara Hills, which is on the other side of Hyderabad from where we are staying. Mohammed has been a driver for the firm for at least the past five years, so he has gotten to know numerous ex-pats and people like myself who are in India on short-term visits.
On our way home from dinner, he quickly drove past the cab office in order to pick up something he wanted to show us. It was a business card album and it was chock-full of cards he’s received from all the people he’s driven. Mohammed also showed us photos he’s had taken of himself with some of these people too. He was really proud of his album and the connections he’s made. He had gotten to know some of these people quite well over the course of driving them back and forth to the office each day. (My favorite anecdote was his description of the female partner who sometimes would “self-drive” to work. It’s somewhat incomprehensible to the male drivers that women would actually want to drive themselves anywhere.)
We were tickled by this, of course, but it made me realize that the ways in which we connect to each other and establish relationships is less important than the fact that it happens and how we benefit somehow from these connections. He got to know three more employees of a company he is proud to serve, and we received excellent service from a driver whom we will recommend to others (and call upon again for ourselves on subsequent visits.) We’re shaking hands and sharing something that creates an impression, whether it’s with a business card or via a Tweet. I regret that I didn’t have any business cards with me to give him, but at least I’m in the photo.
Namaste from India! I’m a little bit behind on my blog posts but I have been keeping my tweets relatively up to date.
You can say “efficient” and “airport” in the same sentence
I arrived in Hyderabad around 11p.m. Friday night. This is my fifth trip here (which frankly, amazes me.) For years, I’ve been flying into the rickety and dingy Rajiv Ghandi International Airport, which has recently been replaced with the bright, shiny, brand-new Rajiv Ghandi International Airport nowhere near the former one. Transfers and transactions of any type usually take an indeterminate period of time in India, but I got through customs within five minutes, all the while marveling at the clean expanses of white walls, white and grey-flecked marble and recessed lighting. When I got to the baggage carousel, the luggage was already spilling onto the conveyor belt. That is a benchmark Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport can only dream of replicating.
It wasn’t anything like what I experienced when I happened to arrive at the same time as several planeloads of pilgrims returning from the Hajj. That was both a circus and cultural serendipity: the hordes of weary Muslims, jumbled cargo piling up everywhere (often boxes or burlap sacks secured with twine and duct tape) and the maw of family waiting outside to welcome them with flower garlands and gifts.
This time, the airport was all so clean, orderly and quiet, I was actually kind of let down.
Indulgences and diversions
First thing on Saturday morning, after enjoying a tasty masala omelette (onions, tomatoes and hot chillies – not for the faint of heart) I headed straight for the hotel spa and had some foot reflexology done. Our bodies are not meant to travel through space and across multiple time zones at 500 mph. I have learned that it is a necessity to do things that are beneficial to helping your body get settled once back on the ground. Lots of water, lots of daylight and lots of bodywork. (Chilies are optional.)
In the afternoon, I visited Golconda Fort with my co-workers. Golconda Fort is amazing, just breathtaking in its size and overall preservation. It also has terrific views of Hyderabad. The men who were vying to be our paid guides were indignant that I didn’t want to hire them. “Well, madam, how are you going to know where to go?” They were disappointed and somewhat suspicious when I said I’d been there before.
Check out my photostream on Flickr on this page – I’ve posted a bunch of photos from the fort, including a spectacular and rather fearsome-looking shot of the goddess Kali Ma (Mother Kali) painted on a large boulder at a shrine located near the top. Those things that are often terrifying in one way can also be seen as liberating in another.
For me, the best part about these excursions are the Indian families who ask you to be in their family pictures. They walk up, shyly, holding their camera and before you know it, you’re posing with a bunch of people you’ll never see again – but you’re in their family album for life. I have to wonder at this point how many families in Hyderabad and Delhi have my grinning face in their collection of “snaps.” It’s like being a very, very, very minor celebrity.
Ma Bell is not the ill communication…but Skype is
Somehow the international calling feature on my cell phone was never activated, and I’ve had difficulty getting hold of AT&T to get it switched on. Making a landline call in India is like putting a wastepaper basket in the middle of a dark room, standing in one corner of that dark room with your dominant hand tied behind our back and trying to toss a small rubber ball into said basket. That’s why everyone here has cell phones.
Apparently, AT&T customer service doesn’t answer emails either. (I know, I know. They’re a phone company.) But that’s OK. In another year or so, they’ll be known as something else with the same lousy customer service and life will go on. You can change your name, but that doesn’t mean you can just change what you are. I say this with the authority of someone who is on their fourth last name.
Anyway, thanks to my co-worker, I have discovered Skype. I used earlier this evening and was really pleased at the quality. I don’t have a webcam on my computer, so they couldn’t see me (jet lagged and haggard) but I got to see my daughter toddling around, laughing, babbling, getting into things, squirming on Daddy’s lap and blowing kisses to me. I also got to see my dog’s tail and ears bobbing as she skittered through the room (happy birthday, Jazz!) My husband and I have sent some emails back and forth for the past day, but it was so unsatisfying. He’s not chatty on email like I am. Skype gave me the next best thing to actually being at home – and we talked for an HOUR for free!
