India, round 3. Two years later.
I arrived last night to new friends and old colleagues. It was a welcome change. I exited the airport to the sea of Indian faces all holding placards for businesses and the various Mr. Smith and Mr. Praveen Kumar's to pick them up and take them to some place far away. When I entered the corral I was greeted with "MATT!!!" by three of my colleagues and it was wonderful to have the feeling of welcome some place so far away. We met on the outside and hugged, smiles all around. Some days we yell at each other, most days we empathize, days like today we smile like old pals.
I know that I will always have friends in India. <3
But even so, the ride through Bangalore was long, cold, and dark. It's monsoon season so it's raining nearly every day and this turns the roads and side streets to mud. The noise is omniscient and ceaseless. The weather is hot and muggy. Your towels are never dry, your legs always sweaty. Everything is damp.
We ate at a familiar place called "Cilantro" (at 2am) near to my old apartment where I lived before and it really did feel like coming "home" in a way. I knew the streets, I knew the area, hell, I even knew the waiters! "Africa" played over the loud speakers at the open-air (covered) restaurant while it rained heavily outside. We all immediately sat down at the buffet, eating the traditional way with our right hands with many different Dhal's and fresh Roti (kind of like Naan only thinner, grilled hot, and buttered! YUM). Luckily, I picked up the skill of tearing the Roti with just my right hand to eat my food on my last visit. It has won friends many times over. "Ah! You eat with the Indian style!" This, in a way, reminds me of eating with chopsticks in Japan. If you can, you don't stick out as much and tend to be a bit more accepted as a foreigner. Drinking chai afterwards helps, too!
I am staying my first day or so at the TERMINUS which is a small hotel down the street from the old office. When I arrived around 3am I was able to visit the building and see old faces as well as meet new ones. Most of which I had spoken to on the phone over the course of the last year by interviewing (and subsequently hiring), but had not met in person. It was really cool. I knew these people and they knew me!
Today I am going to try to have a "weekend" which means two days of being awake during the day and sleeping at night before I screw myself by switching to working nights on Monday.
This temporary place has no microwave nor sink so I must go out immediately to find bottled water and other necessities like food and toiletries. It has a small fridge and other basic things, but it's not really some place for an extended stay unless you want to eat room service for every meal.
...Fuck. The honking is endless. I had forgotten and NOTHING can prepare you for it.
Tonight I am meeting with my recruiting manager here, Anil (I should mention I'm his manager- it makes it sound like it's the other way around?) and eating dinner at his place with his family. This should be interesting! Traditional meals and homes in India are a combination of custom, service, and religion. It is an attack on the senses with pungent smells of spices, unique architecture, religious figures at every turn, and bright colors. The focus is not the TV- the focus is the family and the relationships. The conversations. I feel very much like an outsider in one. I don't mean this in a bad way, rather, only to leave a note for the future. This is their life, and I am trying to become accustomed to a millennia of tradition through a handful of visits.
I've messaged an old Indian co worker of mine who is on a sabbatical of sorts here and we're going to meet up soon. We were always friendly, but once we got to know each other better after she left the company, it was clear that we connected on another level with regards to spiritual self-growth (she is also supposed to introduce me to one of her gorgeous friends I met on facebook, too!) I am excited for her as she brings a very positive energy in to my life that is much needed here.
All this said, my body recognizes where I am and I can feel it preparing for the challenges ahead. It is resisting. The noise, the food, the smells, the stares, the lack of familiar faces and most of all my lack of space. My hobbies are put on hold. The ability to work from my porch and get coffee from the store are gone. To get a burger is a day trip requiring planning, not a quick trip down the street in my Prius. Every trip some place requires negotiation unless I walk. I do not have the internet or the social connection via my phone. No sex. No kissing or cuddling. No moonlight trips on the lake, no dates to Seattle to watch the sunset. My life replaced by hammering, dust, strange food, the sound two-stroke engines that power the autos. Unreliable power and intermittent outages on a daily basis. The sound of generators powering buildings. My days become the night. Compounded with real reason for the trip: the pressure to somehow improve the performance of a team of 30 people in a place so different from where I'm from that it could be mistaken for another planet entirely.
Now it's 11am and the shops are beginning to open. Let's do this thing.
Welcome to India.
I know that I will always have friends in India. <3
But even so, the ride through Bangalore was long, cold, and dark. It's monsoon season so it's raining nearly every day and this turns the roads and side streets to mud. The noise is omniscient and ceaseless. The weather is hot and muggy. Your towels are never dry, your legs always sweaty. Everything is damp.
We ate at a familiar place called "Cilantro" (at 2am) near to my old apartment where I lived before and it really did feel like coming "home" in a way. I knew the streets, I knew the area, hell, I even knew the waiters! "Africa" played over the loud speakers at the open-air (covered) restaurant while it rained heavily outside. We all immediately sat down at the buffet, eating the traditional way with our right hands with many different Dhal's and fresh Roti (kind of like Naan only thinner, grilled hot, and buttered! YUM). Luckily, I picked up the skill of tearing the Roti with just my right hand to eat my food on my last visit. It has won friends many times over. "Ah! You eat with the Indian style!" This, in a way, reminds me of eating with chopsticks in Japan. If you can, you don't stick out as much and tend to be a bit more accepted as a foreigner. Drinking chai afterwards helps, too!
I am staying my first day or so at the TERMINUS which is a small hotel down the street from the old office. When I arrived around 3am I was able to visit the building and see old faces as well as meet new ones. Most of which I had spoken to on the phone over the course of the last year by interviewing (and subsequently hiring), but had not met in person. It was really cool. I knew these people and they knew me!
Today I am going to try to have a "weekend" which means two days of being awake during the day and sleeping at night before I screw myself by switching to working nights on Monday.
This temporary place has no microwave nor sink so I must go out immediately to find bottled water and other necessities like food and toiletries. It has a small fridge and other basic things, but it's not really some place for an extended stay unless you want to eat room service for every meal.
...Fuck. The honking is endless. I had forgotten and NOTHING can prepare you for it.
Tonight I am meeting with my recruiting manager here, Anil (I should mention I'm his manager- it makes it sound like it's the other way around?) and eating dinner at his place with his family. This should be interesting! Traditional meals and homes in India are a combination of custom, service, and religion. It is an attack on the senses with pungent smells of spices, unique architecture, religious figures at every turn, and bright colors. The focus is not the TV- the focus is the family and the relationships. The conversations. I feel very much like an outsider in one. I don't mean this in a bad way, rather, only to leave a note for the future. This is their life, and I am trying to become accustomed to a millennia of tradition through a handful of visits.
I've messaged an old Indian co worker of mine who is on a sabbatical of sorts here and we're going to meet up soon. We were always friendly, but once we got to know each other better after she left the company, it was clear that we connected on another level with regards to spiritual self-growth (she is also supposed to introduce me to one of her gorgeous friends I met on facebook, too!) I am excited for her as she brings a very positive energy in to my life that is much needed here.
All this said, my body recognizes where I am and I can feel it preparing for the challenges ahead. It is resisting. The noise, the food, the smells, the stares, the lack of familiar faces and most of all my lack of space. My hobbies are put on hold. The ability to work from my porch and get coffee from the store are gone. To get a burger is a day trip requiring planning, not a quick trip down the street in my Prius. Every trip some place requires negotiation unless I walk. I do not have the internet or the social connection via my phone. No sex. No kissing or cuddling. No moonlight trips on the lake, no dates to Seattle to watch the sunset. My life replaced by hammering, dust, strange food, the sound two-stroke engines that power the autos. Unreliable power and intermittent outages on a daily basis. The sound of generators powering buildings. My days become the night. Compounded with real reason for the trip: the pressure to somehow improve the performance of a team of 30 people in a place so different from where I'm from that it could be mistaken for another planet entirely.
Now it's 11am and the shops are beginning to open. Let's do this thing.
Welcome to India.