Meet the Construction Guru - Me!

So the rains continue to make my life a living hell both outside the house and inside.  The record monsoon, combined with the complete ineptitude of Indian contractors has resulted in our house looking like an abandon prison on some lost island in the south pacific.  First the water caused an orange discoloration, then the paint began to peel followed by mold.  Now, just when you thought you've run the gambit of water related disasters, we now have bugs.  Yes, Muther Freak'n bugs!  You can't make this stuff up.    


Last week, as I was being shepherded between meetings at the US Embassy and the Indian Government (another surprise aspect of my job, but that is for another time), Olga calls me to tell me she has discovered bugs. Apparently our new roommates were enjoying the warm moisture of the walls of our two rarely-used bathrooms and had settled in for the long winter.  I came home, met the new tenants and called the landlady for their immediate eviction. In her casual, non confidence-inspiring manner, she said she would call the contractor and went back to whatever it is that Punjabi women do in Delhi in the late afternoon.  


Friday came and went and no contractor.  Saturday, I wrote the landlady a relatively scathing email about sub-human living conditions and the plight of being abandon in a foreign land - blah, blah, blah.  Not my best stuff, but good enough to solicit the appropriate reaction.  At 5:00pm, a small Army of Indians arrived at my door.  The landlady, her brother (lives downstairs), the contractor, three of his minions and Gupta Ji (the building....well... uh... the guy that opens the gate and sits downstairs - I am sure there must be a name for the position, but I find myself at a loss).  We, myself and the construction expeditionary force, then set off to identify all things pissing me off.  It was not a short trek.  


We started with the big things like the leaking, discolored, moldy, bug-infested walls and work our way through the clogged drain in the shower, the doors that would not close and even the creaking door from the apartment below that wakes us up at 5:00am every morning.  On and on the list went and the longer it went, the more irritated the contractor got.  


Now, in my opinion, the contractor is kind of a boob.  I think he has been bull shitting the landlord and her family for the best part of two years and had not planned on stopping today just because some American was present.   As we walked the apartment, he gave every excuse in the book for his crappy workmanship except that it was his crappy workmanship.  He blamed the water seepage (that was clearly due to him not sealing the roof) on the air conditioners creating too much condensation.  He blamed the backed up drain in my bathroom on hair.  My hair? Really? (I have so much forehead I have fivehead).  Needless to say, I called him out on these comical excuses and quickly established myself as the only authority on building construction in the group. I did have two houses built and sometimes even stopped by to walk the site and I do read the Blog "Why Dwell" which has given me great insight into a remodeling project.  Oh, and I played with Legos. Come to think of it, I may actually be the most qualified person in Delhi on the subject. Anyone following the Commonwealth Games - or as we like to call them here in Delhi, "The Shame Games" - would agree.  


Anyway, Sunday morning, the two guys who looked like they had been pulled from the movie "Slumdog Millionaire" showed up with some sandpaper, a plastic sheet and a ladder made from bamboo with the rungs tied on by string.  After a time consuming set up, Jamal and his brother Selim began the tough job of sanding through the wet paint to the concrete below.  Anyone ever tried to sand wet paint with sandpaper?  Again, simply reinforcing, I am the construction Guru of Delhi.  These guys worked all day removing the paint at a painfully slow rate.  When they finally called it a day, we were blessed with huge patches of exposed, wet concrete.  Some areas were so wet, you could scoop the concrete out with you finger.   As the foremost authority on concrete construction in Delhi, I am going to say that probably is not good.  

The Foyer before the crack workers began to work their magic 

After - Need I say more....

Anyway, now the Indian version of dumb and dumber arrive every day and check to see if the walls are wet in anticipation of refinishing them.  It would be funny if it was not happening to me.  


Laugh it up, chuckles!

A Day Out

For the last several months, we have spent our weekends huddled closely around the air conditioner looking for any excuse not to go outside.  We have limited our ventures to necessary shopping and the occasion restaurant, but even that is a sprint from the car to the shop.  This weekend, though, the weather broke and we thought we would venture out of the apartment and see a little of this city we call home.


Delhi has three distinct personalities.  You have the antediluvian section know as Old Delhi which was built around 1650; the 1930s British Capital designed by Edwin Lutyens; and the New Delhi of the 1960s onward (that is where we live).  We decided to explore Old Delhi.
Old Delhi is the creation of the Moguls who ruled India from the mid 1500s until around 1850.  These master builders came down from Afghanistan and conquered Hindu India bringing with them several hundred years of Muslim rule. The current city of Delhi began to take root in the mid 1600s.  At its peak at the end of the 17^th Century, the old city was described as the most beautiful city in the world and the Red Fort, the Mogul Emperors’ palace, was said to be the grandest in Asia. Unfortunately, several cultures have had their way with the city and it has lost a little (read all) of its luster.  

Now the old city, which once was graced with beautiful Havalis, or Mogul Mansions, and brightened with elaborate gardens, now is just a mess of narrow streets and menacing alleyways.  The once meticulously maintained residences of the Mogul elite have now deteriorated into cramped boarding houses and their inter-gardens now just another place to dump trash.  If it sounds depressing it is – at least on the surface.
As you walk through the teaming streets, your eyes, every now and again, catch reminders of the grandeur that was once Dilli.  Between two molding concrete structures, there may be the façade of a 300-year-old Havali which once housed the advisors to the Emperor.  Although in complete disrepair, the ornate carvings on the outer wall are visible.  It is like a treasure hunt to those who are willing to look.  My wife is not one of those people.

The day in the old city, to her, was like root canal.  Hot, crowded and dirty, there was not much of interest in the 30-minute walk through the ancient labyrinth of lanes.  The street width changes from 8 feet wide to 5 feet wide to 3 feet wide in some sections, but the flow of humanity does not.  There are people selling, cooking, spitting and watching.  It can be a little overwhelming and, if you are not into history, borderline disgusting at times.  

We started our day being dropped off at the main intersection that is nearest the Jama Masjid.  Built in 1656, the mosque is the most well known in Old Delhi and is a great example of Mogul architecture. It, like most of the more prestigious Mogul buildings in Old Delhi, is made from Red Sandstone and is adorned with a huge amount of dentiform (had to look that up) archways. You do not have to pay to enter, as it is a working Mosque, but you do have to pay 200 Rupees ($4.50) to take pictures.  Since I am a hugely cheap bastard, there are no pictures of the inside of the mosque.  It is, though, very peaceful considering it located deep in the epicenter of all the hustle and bustle of the old city. 

Free Picture outside the Mosque

We then walked through the old city to the Red Fort.  We weaved our way through the small streets passing through neighborhoods which all sold similar items.  First a small jewelry district in which the shops were peddling gold and silver, then a group of sweets’ shops and finally a spice market of some kind.  The smells were a combination of mold, body odor, fragrant subcontinent spices and, well, the occasion pile of shit.  OK, maybe Olga has a point.

Chandni Chowk leading up to the Red Fort

We arrived at the Red Fort through the Kashmir Gate (ok, it is actually the only way into the palace, but I thought it sounded more impressive than the tourist entrance).  We paid our 250 Rupees ($5.00) and headed for the highly trained and infinitely committed security police.  If I may digress for a moment.  No matter where you go in India from Shopping Malls to Hotels to Tourist sites, you encounter the security police.  These are clearly the officers deemed too slow or too lazy to work the taxing job of airport security.  As you approach, they slowly rise to meet you looking into the abyss as they pat you down like a 13 year old on a first date.  At the Red Fort, these crack troops even have you walk up a small set of two stairs, so they can pat your ankles.  The freighting thing is that these guys are armed to the teeth, although their machine guns have little red plastic caps on the end like the toy guns of the 1960s.  I don’t know whether to be frightened or to offer him some caps so his gun can make noise. 
Once inside the fort/palace, the cacophony of noise that is Delhi disappears and you end up taking a very nice stroll through centuries of history.  There is a bizarre mixture of beautifully decorated 17^th century, marble structures intermixed with dilapidated, bureaucratic, 1920s British Army buildings.  Apparently, the British used the fort as, well… a fort and to make it useful, they needed to make some room by demolishing some of the historical, mogul buildings.  It is kind of a crime, really, but it is not like the Indians are climbing over each other to maintain what is left.  Despite this, the Red Fort is a very calming place as it is still retains the feel and atmosphere of an old world respite.

Entrance to the fabled Red Fort

An excellent example of dentiform archways 

(Makes sense now, doesn't it)

The emperor's apartment

Lovely combination of the 1720s and the 1920s 

Remnants of British Imperialism

All in all, it was a good day with nice weather (and by nice I mean not 95 with 98% humidity).  Apparently, though, we picked the right day, because the very next day at the exact time, two terrorist shot up a busload of Taiwanese on the street outside the entrance to the Mosque.  Hum?

The Shower

We have been here roughly two months now and we are slowly, but surely learning work-arounds to some of the more vexatious issues we face.  One such issue is the shower.  


As I have outlined earlier, there is no central water heater, but instead each shower has its own small water heater called a geyser.  These geysers hold roughly 35 liters, or 9 gallons, of hot water.  The real pain in the bum is that you must turn them on well in advance of your shower to heat up.  Now, you might say, just leave it on as we do a central water heater, but these have no thermostat and will not turn off when the water is hot and electricity is expensive.....and I am cheap.  

The Geyser

Note the plug...covered in birdcrap.  Very safe!

So, for the last two months, I have been trying to figure out how to make 9 gallons of hot water last for an entire shower.  This has been my dilemma for the past 60 days.  Every morning, I get into the shower and run the race to shower and shave before the water turns cold (and by cold I mean luke warm, since the geyser is outside and it is 100 degrees).  I am, though, running against the clock, because if I do not figure this out before winter, the water will actually be cold and the shower uncomfortable.


My first attempt was to do the obvious and let the water heat up longer.  This proved to be minimally effective extending the time a minute or two, but nothing worth reporting.  Next, I tried simply taking a less warm shower for a longer period of time.  Again, marginally effective and much less satisfying.  


Through all of this, I had made a mental note that the drain must be clogging, because the shower basin was filling up with water very quickly and not draining.  I remember after every shower I would look down and think this is another freak'n thing with which I would need to deal.  I also remembered one of the things with which I was impressed during my first shower was the great water pressure.  This was unexpected especially since the shower heads are all the large, rain types and we live on the top floor.


In a rare moment of clarity, I put two and two together and turned the water flow down to half.  Miraculously, the water stayed warm for the entire shower, albeit barely, and the basin did not fill up.  Now you might want to diminish my success by saying "duh!" but anyone that has lived overseas knows that in the barrage of crap with which you have to deal, the obvious sometimes is not so obvious.  I mean, really, when was the last time you had to turn down your water pressure.  


Another Indian pickle resolved.

.... and More Rain

Rain has an interesting effect on life in Delhi.  It impacts almost all aspects of your daily routine. This is due to the ridiculously poor engineering and even more ludicrously poor planning on the part of the city developers. I total understand why the rains would take everyone by surprise, though, after all, it is not like they come around....... every single year.... at exactly the same time ... you know, during MONSOON SEASON!  

Besides the biblically stupid drainage, the city planners also thought they would compound the traffic issue by housing the traffic light's electricals in a metal box with no seals.  This way, every time it rains, every traffic light in the city shorts out.  But this is Delhi, so simply snarling traffic would not be enough.  In response to the outage, Delhi's finest turn out to take control.

The police always seem to be on the scene just as the traffic lights short out.  This is an anomaly in Delhi as they seem to be the only department of the Indian Government to anticipate anything, albeit in a very limited scope. They take control of traffic by walking out into the chaos and stopping one direction while waving on the other. Pretty normal. Here is the rub, though, they let that direction continue until it backs up from the next intersection.  Depending on the road, this can take 20 minutes as the next intersection may be miles up the road.  Then, as that direction's traffic begins to pile up, the cop releases the other direction onto the completely empty road ahead.  This continues for hours - 20 minutes one way, 20 minutes the other.  The result is that you can sit in stopped traffic for an eternity.  There is no flow or logic of any kind.  

As the rains this year are more than usual, there are a couple additional unique aspects of absurdity.  The river, Yamuna, which runs along the boarder of the city has been getting more than its share of water from the sky and has already flooded some of the farm land north of the city.  In most cities of the world that have a Monsoon Seasons, they build levees to contain the river in case of flooding.  In Delhi, they issue boats in anticipation of flooding.  You can't make this stuff up.  According to the Delhi Times, if you live in the flood zone, you are encourage to move your belongings to the second floor and wait for the police to come around today and issue you a boat - a freak'n boat! Nothing about how to prepare for a flood, nothing about how to evacuate, nothing about where to go, just when and where to get your government issued boat.

The entry road into the my office complex

My office complex from the road

Since I do not live in the flood zone, I will just have to settle for my bad-ass jeep to get through the flooded streets, although I could sure use the boat to get to work!  

Monsoons and Mold

The Monsoon season is in full swing here in the subcontinent.  This year Delhi has expereinced recond rains. In one weekend in August, we recieved more than 100% of the expected rain for the entire month. It has been relentless.


Delhi is not engineered for this much rain.  Actually, Delhi is not engineered for any rain. I suppose India has many strengths, but civil engineering is not one of them. Drainage is virtually non-existant and where there is drainage, it usually just moves the water from one non-critical road to one that is an essential artery.  Many of the new expressways have been build with underpasses into which the overpasses actually drain.  As much as I complain about the lack of drainage, at least we are not a couple of hundred miles to the west in Pakistan.  They have a serious drainage problem!


As part of the lack of engineer prowess, they build all their buildings in Delhi out of heat-retaining, highly porous concrete and just for an added measure of WTF they put flat roofs on the top.  These flat roofs act as heat gatherers in the summers and rain gatherers during the monsoons.  Pure Genius.  Our roof is purpose made for this since it has a three foot wall that surrounds it to ensure the water pools and is tiled for extra heat capturing.  The added bonus of the tiles is that since Indian builders pay no attention to detail and do not grout exactly every tile, these slabs channel the water nicely down to the unprotected concrete below which absorbs the excess water like a ginormous sponge.  Very well planned.  


At first we noticed a little discoloring around the tops of the walls in some of the rooms, but as the season wore on, this began to change.  Little by little, the white washed walls began to take on orange varicose veins.  The veins then began to turn into a perverse modern art masterpiece as some of our walls gave in to the moisture.  After another few days........ mold!


The mold arrived like Congress on a kick-back - silently, but purposefully.  It erupted on the scene and before the week-end was over, had move from the corners down many of the walls.  It was a full fledged invasion.  Like any good apartment dweller, we turned to the internet to see what exactly was now cohabiting with us and found a few sights that scared us into a frenzy.  After a few short minutes of browsing, we were convinced we had 12 hours to live!


We called the landlord who came over Monday evening, took a look and in her very nonchalant and not confidence inspiring way, said she would take care of it.  She was, after all, leaving for Cambodia in the morning for a two week vacation.  What to worry.  


In the morning, surprisingly, the contractor showed up with a small army of mold fighting ninjas and set to work removing the unwelcomed guest. The used an odorless and apparently effective chemical, as by the time I arrived home from work, the mold was gone and there was no sign that the anti-mold brigade had ever been there.  


I had also stressed to the landlord that until they fix the roof, the mold would return, but the contractor had insisted that they cannot fix the roof, and in turn, the walls until the rains subside.  I kind of understand this, but it does not make it any less annoying.  So until the next season arrives, we wait with our orange Van Gogh-like walls and the spectre of more mold!   

The Sea of Red (and Khaki)

Every year, my company brings together its leaders from HQ and the field for an annual gathering of the Red and Khaki!  This event consists of the company leaders giving brief overviews of their divisional strategies and vision.  Sounds like a boring afternoon, right?


Well, not really.  You see, everything my company does exceeds the normal grind.  They spend an inordinate amount time and effort making every event a memorable one.  We have an incredibly talented Events Planning Team and the result of their work is usually dazzling and entertaining.   Even the most benign company events, like a corporate vendor conference, are usually high energy evolutions, complete with shock and awe and always with a surprise or two in the mix.  This event is no different.


The day starts out with the entire 10,000+ HQ army and a few thousand additional visitors from the field spilling on the downtown streets decked out in our signature Red and Khaki. City buses, normally crowded with boringly dressed businesspeople, are filled to the brim with the bright red shirts.  As they arrived at there normal stops, the buses spew their like-colored passengers onto the streets and the masses soon fall in line and flow in the same direction like an overflowing river of red.  To add to the homogeny, the surrounding downtown hotels are flooded with the same red and khaki dressed battalions who eventually join the swarm.  It looks like a cult of neatly dressed, well groomed fanatics have taken over downtown.  How mid-western!


For the next few hours, downtown seems relatively normal, but around noon, the herd reappears.  This time in a crosstown flood moving from the city center to the basketball stadium, Target Center, on the edge of the city.  Every street is choked with Red and Khaki and traffic for all intense and purpose comes to a standstill while the 13,000+ strong horde moves through the streets.  This is just the beginning.


The multitudes pile into the stadium where a DJ is spinning upbeat dance tunes and acrobats and cheerleaders whoop the crowd into a frenzy.  Little by little, the seats fill and soon the entire hall is one huge blanket of red. This is the celebration of another outstanding year and what makes it even more impressive is that it was done during a recession.  People are happy!  "It is good to belong to a winning team" is the theme of the day.


The CEO appears on stage to a standing ovation and eloquently addresses the crowd with praises for a job well done.  He has successfully steered the company through tumultuous times and the crowd shows their thanks with numerous, genuine ovations.  This is not mendacious, but true admiration for excellent leadership.


A few more corporate leaders give inspirational and lucid speeches addressing the corporate successes and challenges ahead, as well as thanking the throng for a job well done.  After the first few, the announcer's voice signals the one of the many anticipated moments of the day:  the first mystery performer.


To keep the crowd foaming, the speeches are punctuated by performing artist and famous people that have ties with the company.  Some are exclusive artist to the company and others simply share the corporate altruistic values.  We know there will be performers as we have them every year, but the identities and times that they perform are a well kept secret.  So we listen attentively to each speaker hoping that the next announcement with start out with ".... this grammy winning artist...."  It is like going to Sesame Street-on-Ice as a kid and waiting for Big Bird.  Hugely satisfying!


This year, our first entertainer was Keith Urban.  He came out and sang a few songs and then between songs 2 and 3 brought the house lights up to see the red horde.  He made some jokes and then had his own Red and Khaki ensemble brought out complete with store name-tag and changed into it.  As I said, these are always interactive and entertaining.  He made some more jokes, began his third song, invited a bunch of people from the crowd on stage to sing with him and he was gone.  A good start.


Over the years, this meeting has had some great performers from Rihanna, Elvis Costello and Tony Bennett to Pearl Jam and Faith Hill.  We have even had Shikira humping an amplifier as a warm-up for the Black Eyed Peas, but the most memorable performer is Michael Buble. He has performed twice for us and each time, he comes with a relaxed attitude and good humor.  Last year, he disappeared in the crowd, had a few starstruck women sings duets with him and finished up with allowing half the crowd to take individual pictures with him. A crowd pleaser each and every time.  A few years ago, we actually had Colin Powell come speak to us during the event.  Truly, a once in a life time experience.  As I said, not your typically corporate gathering.


Anyway, a few more speakers marched through to thunderous applause and then the announcer began again ..... "two time grammy winning, blah, blah....please welcome ..... John Legend."  Now we had real pandemonium.  Since I work for one of, if not the most philanthropic companies on the planet, giving more than $3 million a week away in charity, they always like to have celebrities who can further the cause.  The main focus of the charity work has always been children's education and apparently John Legend is a huge supporter.  He played a few songs for us that had not yet been released for a new movie that highlights the plight of children in the US.


The event moved briskly through various leaders highlighting various departmental successes and new initiatives and few more acts including Enrique Iglesias and a few others a cannot recall.  Each leader was eloquent and continued to build the excitement with culminates each year with the Marketing presentation.  My company is a marketing powerhouse and this is the time where we get to see the new market campaigns for Christmas and beyond.  You got to love company that produces adds so entertaining that thousands of people can be mesmerized for 30 minutes just by running commercials.


Sometime during the marketing montage, the final and most anticipated performer is always revealed.  This year was no exception.  In the middle of the final segment, we were treated to none other than Taylor Swift.  Now I am no huge fan of the county-pop crossover genre, but I have to admit, the girl can put on a show.  She danced through the crowd and invited a few hundred up on stage to sing and dance with her.  She brought up the lights and was so impressed with our likeness in red that she took a picture and Twittered it.  But those of you who follow Taylor Swift's Twitter already know all about this.


All in all it was another unbelievable corporate meeting with all the trimmings.  It not only provided a great overview of the corporate vision and direction, but it was damn fun too.


You got to love the Red and Khaki!