Stop and Stare

I've been driving for about 6 months in India. Every day I drive myself to school in the morning. My commute takes me about 25 minutes from the parking spot at my apartment to the spot, that's covered in some mystery water, in the basement garage at school. On my commute, I navigate around children pouring out of rickshaw school buses, men playing chicken as they cross the street to use the public restrooms and red buses who I honk at as I speed up to pass them by in the hope that they'll stay in their lane and not move into mine.

When I started driving in Mumbai, I noticed people staring at me as I signaled and sped and honked my way to school. It was the taxi driver next to me who didn't turn when he could because I distracted him. It was the mother wearing a burka walking her two sons across the street to Catholic school who caused me to quickly shift back into first from second. It was a motorcycle passenger whose head swiveled, almost to the same degree as a barn owl, as they passed me by.

I don't notice it so much anymore. The stares. Well I hadn't until this week.

For the first time I drove home from work too. My driver had the day off so I decided rather than bum a ride from a friend, to instead just do both legs of the commute.

Before I left school, I felt a little nervous. How much traffic would there be?  How much today at 4:18?  What's funny is that I thought it'd bother me. After a busy school day I thought a drive would stress me out but instead I loved the freedom. I loved being alone in the car and in control of the music. I was in control of the temperature and which gear we used along the American-like open road stretch in BKC. It kinda surprised me.

Light traffic in BKC on the way home.

Even with these feelings and truly enjoying the ride, I noticed the stares again. The man and woman in the back of the taxi who didn't take their eyes off of me the entire time we waited at the stoplight. The man in all whites in the rickshaw behind them who did the same. A taxi driver who nearly hit the car in front of us because he was looking at me.

I've gotten used to them. They don't bother me anymore. I just keep doing whatever I was doing. Singing, looking around, waiting patiently for it to be my turn to zoom to the next signal and wait again.

What I wonder about is why. Why the stares? Is it because I'm a woman? A western woman? Is it because I'm alone?  I just wonder. I hadn't wondered in a while but I did again this week. No need for answers but just something I noticed. Funny how one small change, like the time of day you do something, reacquaints you with something old again.

Hello?

Today I went out for breakfast and wedding jewelry shopping with friends.

While at the jewelry store, my phone rang. Of course it was a number I didn't recognize. It's common to receive random numbers calling you here.  But I've learned that unlike other places I've lived, I need to answer because most times, it's someone trying to help me do something.

"Hello?" I heard a voice say.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Yes, hello?"

"Hello. Yes? You called me?" I said again.

Talking but nothing understandable.

"Yes, hello? Can I help you?" I asked.

"Hello?

Again knowing that someone's trying to tell me something I said, "Yes?"

"Something, something, internet." Ah...now we're getting somewhere. This is someone calling about my internet.

"Yes, you need something about my internet?" I replied.

"Something, something, something," said a different voice.

"I'm sorry I can't understand you. It's loud where you are," I replied.

A third voice then said, "Hello?"

By this time I hadn't even too much patience yet. I'm thought I need to pay my internet bill. I haven't done it in a while.

"Hello?" I replied. "You are calling about my internet?"

So, the voice said, "Something, something, home."

"I'm out. I will be home after 3."

"Okay 3," replied the third voice and we hung up.

So here I sit. It's after 3 and hopefully somebody soon will come to collect my payment. It may have taken us both a little patience on the phone. That's a frequent thing in India for both expats and Indians. We all have a difficult time understanding one another. Some days it doesn't bother you and others can drive you crazy. Today I'm feeling the former.

But how can you complain when the internet company calls to tell you you need to pay your bill and they're going to send someone to your door to collect it?

A little patience paid off. And hopefully my bill will be paid off soon as well.

Heavy-Weight Champion of the World

Yep. That's my new goal. 

This goal begins with a little background information. 

My school's under construction. They're calling it 42 Tons. Meaning we've started major renovations during the final few weeks and we're moving 42 elephants worth of stuff. These gaurantuan efforts will lead to one new elementary campus and a renovated middle and high school campus in the fall. Very exciting. 

So, Thursday, the 42 elephants began their move. This includes relocating early childhood classes, the fourth grade, art, specialists (too many of these wonderful people to name) and the elementary office. The actual moving began at 1:00 p.m.  

I offered my efforts to the fourth grade team. They're moving from the bottom floor to the top. Up 5 flights.

Classes start again on Monday morning and it's important to me that all of the students who are moving spaces have easy transitions. I also know I've set up enough classrooms to offer my help and services that I could be a good resource for them. Pretty much I told them just to boss me around. 

Our campus has 2 elevators. Small ones. Tiny ones. Obviously to me the men carrying desks, shelving, etc had priority using the elevator over me. Plus I saw climbing the stairs as a bit of exercise. 

I went up and down the stairs several times. Bringing ladders to hang things on the walls, asking questions, making sure things were made as easy as possible for this team. 

To help with this, I made stops along the way to visit with colleagues in other divisions to cool off and take short breaks.  

I'm outta shape, I admit it. Badly. I passed the same group of people several times. Each time I passed, I said hello and smiled. They did the same.  

My final time up, I must have looked tired. It also was the end of the day too. And just before a 3-day weekend. 

One of the staff members I'd passed a few times, who's position and name shall remain nameless, said, "If you climb the stairs many times, you will be the heavy-weight champion of the world."
 

I smiled and thought, "Why not say "stronger" or "you'll loose weight" or have "strong legs?" Nope. Heavy-weight champion.  I replied, "You're right," and when out of sight just shook my head pondering the honesty.

Gotta embrace it, right? So get ready world and especially those of you who occupy the fourth floor, I've got a new goal and you're gonna see me on the stairs working toward it.

The Magic Carpets of Mumbai

Last weekend I went on a magic carpet ride with a couple of friends.  We visited Manzoor's carpet shop.

In the fall Manzoor had a carpet party (there's a party for everything these days), a gathering, at a colleagues' apartment.  He brought carpets from all over Asia.  Iran, Turkey, India and Pakistan were just a few of the countries represented.  At that time, he brought a few carpets over to my apartment that I "tried" out.  Some other friends did too.  Kelli wrote a post about it as well here.

By "try out" I mean that you keep the carpet at your home.  You use it.  Walk on it, lay on it, play board games, whatever.  Manzoor will periodically check-in to see how you like them.  If you've narrowed it down, he'll come by and pick-up those you don't want.

 I've gotta give Manzoor credit.  It's a good business strategy.  Get the product into someone's home so they can see just how much they "need it."  My "trial" forced quick carpet attachment. I found I "needed" one.  One for my bedroom.  That carpet I fell in love with and bought.

From this purchase, Manzoor learned about the types of carpets I prefer, kilims.  My weakness.  More modern tribal designs.  Bright colors.

A couple of weeks ago, Manzoor sent me a text sharing that he'd gotten some more kilims and asked if I wanted to come to his shop and see them.  He said he'd arrange transportation for me and some friends.  Around 11:30, Manzoor arrived to my apartment with a carpet in hand.  A large one that he instantly rolled out onto the floor (I'm still thinking about that one too).

Then we got in the taxi he organized and picked up Jenn and Gretchen.  Manzoor's carpet shop is near Chor Bazaar in the central of Mumbai.  It took just about an hour to get there from Bandra.  It was the first day in a while where just riding in the taxi made you sweat.  Gotta love the heat in the city!

We arrived to a building that was well over 100 years old.  We climbed the stairs that had impressions from years of wear.  We gripped a beautiful railing and saw the exposed wires that we've gotten accustomed to seeing which run along the walls.  We reached the third floor and entered a room.  A room about the size of my apartment living room.  The room was divided into 2 parts.  One part behind a wall seemed to contain a bathroom and kitchen.  We sat in plastic chairs and the carpet shopping or unrolling began.

Carpet after carpet was laid out before us.  Initially, as Manzoor always says, "Just look."  After they had unrolled about 20 carpets, they began to roll them back up. If any caught out eye, we asked them to pull them out and put them to the side.



This process continued for about 2 hours. First they showed us my preference, the kilims.  Then they shared other carpets that he thought Gretchen would like.  At the end of our time, we did a final check.  I found 12 carpets I wanted to try out.  Gretchen found several as well.  Jenn didn't take home any.

So this week, I've narrowed down the field as you can see.  There are still four carpets I'm testing out.  Three in the slideshow and one that I forgot to capture.  I'm taking my time and going to really "try" these carpets out to see if they'll join the other one I purchased earlier this year.

Flower Power

On Sunday morning, Mike and Barbara invited Deb and I to join them for a trip to the Dadar flower market.  I'd seen photos on Facebook from colleagues who'd visited before our holiday break and knew it would be a great place to explore, take a few photos and perhaps make a purchase.

We arrived to the market around 10 a.m.  The flower market, which immediately at the bottom of Dadar  Station steps, opens at 4 a.m.  I wondered what we'd be able to see going later in the morning.  Would there still be flowers and sellers?  Would we be greeted by brooms instead?  We definitely were not disappointed.

The market is a small area in and around the train station. Much of it is a narrow lane that crosses under the road overpasses and into the street on the other side.

Flowers are used in so many celebrations in India and this market is one that merchants and shoppers from across the city come to buy flowers as gifts, garlands for religious celebrations and we even saw a car draped in flowers for a wedding.  I'm sure during festivals, such as Ganpati or Diwali that the market is ten times as busy.

Baskets of marigolds, rose petals and jasmine greeted us.  We tried to keep out of the way while men carried large bags on the tops of their heads through the narrow lane.  It was hard to stay out of the way while admiring the brilliant colors along with flower vendors holding up bunches of roses and pointing out the garlands we should buy.

When it's time for new flowers, I'll definitely visit again and enjoy a train ride while it's still nice and cool in the city.

My Mumbai FRRO

Nope, I didn't spell that wrong.  FRRO stands for Foreign Regional Registration Office.  Although my hair is definitely a bit frizzier here than during rainy season in Brasilia or Chicago in the summertime.  I digress.

India requires you to complete a FRRO visit if you are going to stay in India for longer than six months.   Also you've gotta complete your visit within 14 days of your arrival.

Yesterday there were 11 newbies and 3 oldies who visited FRRO.  As we drove there across the Worli Sea Link, I realized we were going into the older part of the city.  Out the bus windows we saw lots of rickshaws due to the rain, my first cow (Cow Count Goo was 3 days), tents and just people trying to complete their Saturday business.

When we arrived, we pulled up to an old colonial style building.  I took the lift complete with two grate-style, folding doors up to the third floor with a car full of men to meet my friends.

Before I went, I asked a couple who'd gone the day before about their experiences so I could be prepared and know what to do and what not to do during my visit.  I also wondered how this process would compare to the Federal Police residency visit in Brazil.  Additionally, I know the US doesn't make it easy for foreign visitors so I set very few expectations.

Here's what I expected:

• waiting patiently (brought my iPad), 
• sitting quietly while someone reviewed paperwork (sit and say nothing), 
• needing to gather things that were missing (would seek out ASB assistance), 
• rewriting the same information on a computer and then into a blue book and
• long lines of waiting (iPad and friends).  

All of the above happened.

Things that were different than Brazil's process are:

• no fingerprinting, 
• LOTS of other foreigners applying all at the same time,
• one person assigned to help several people simultaneously (lots of queuing)
• purchasing an actual large file folder for your residency paperwork to be put into (mine was a great reddish pink and my school paid for it) and
• beautiful uniforms.

People everywhere wear uniforms for various jobs but for some reason I'd never thought that saris could be turned into uniforms.  The ladies wearing them may have had different feelings but I thought they were beautiful.

The only surprising thing that happened was a large roach crawled up my good leg during our visit.  When you feel a tickle on your leg, you never know what it could be.  Gross.

If you're moving to India or you wanna come for a longer visit, I found this great blog post with some FRRO Survival Tips. Especially if you're not going with a group, her suggestions of what to brig (ipod) and what to do (make friends) are great tips. Please know that her viewpoints are her impression of her FRRO trip.  

My additional tip would be to make friends with the staff.  Notice something about them.  For instance I noticed the woman who helped me was expecting.  While she completed my paperwork, I asked her when she was due. I knew I had to find a neutral topic so I wouldn't offend her or make a joke that slowed everything down.  By asking about her baby, she asked me about the other teachers I was with, why I was living in India, my school and best of all she completed my paperwork quickly. And in case your wondering, her baby's due in January.

All in all, not a bad trip to FRRO.  Some culture, some nature (shudder) and most importantly I got my official blue book that makes me an Indian resident.