Another Delhi Excursion

Last weekend a few colleagues came to India on a business trip.  They arrived late on a Saturday night from a week in China.  Since no one works on Sunday in India, they were lucky enough to get a day off to explore Delhi.  This is roughly the 3rd group to have scheduled their trip in this fashion, so I am getting pretty good at being an Indian tour guide.  This, of coarse is good new for all of you when you decide to make the 23 hour+ journey to visit.

There are a several different itineraries I have devised to allow flexibility for weather, party size and general disposition of the group.  For the more adventurous group, I begin in Old Delhi amongst the throng of Muslims and Hindus packed in the narrow alleys selling their goods as they have done for 700 years.  I love this area, but Olga has sworn never to go back.  It is congested, dirty and smelly, but it is exactly as it was 500 years ago.  The group was small, young and the weather was awesome, so we began in Old Delhi.

The approach to the Mosque, Jama Masjid

Like the adventure Olga and I took a few weeks back, we began with he Jama Masjid or the Friday Mosque.  It is in the center of the Old City and is a not-to-be-missed site in Delhi.  For variety sake, I tried a different route from the main street to the Mosque and was rewarded with a grand approach.  I was also rewarded with the "you must be a tourist coming this way, so I will try to rip you off" approach.  This is my third visit to the Mosque and I know both the fee structure and how things are supposed to work.  Since it is a working mosque, there is no fee to enter. There is, though, a fee of 200 Rupees ($4.50) if you want to take a camera.  As we approached, the old man at the gate asked me to pay 200 Rupees for each person, I kindly explained that I was no rookie and entry is free.  He persisted and I persisted back until I called him out for trying to steal from people on holy Islamic site.  This took him by surprised and he stopped his opposition.  Ah, religion!  So effective when used properly.

Inside looking back at the Main Entry Gate

To enter the Mosque, all shoes must be removed and all women must be covered.  This is universal for any mosque, but this being a tourist site, they have a special process that meets all the requirements of Sharia Law and yields a pretty profit, as well.  The mosque courtyard and steps are made from huge, red sandstone slabs that retain the heat of the last 300 years.  When you remove your shoes to expose your bare feet to this geothermal wonder, the first thing that you think is "damn, I should have brought sock!"  Lucky for you before you can finish the thought, the shoe-watchman is in your face with, you guessed it, socks!  Now, this guys knows you have traveled thousands of miles and hundreds of hours just to see this mosque and is counting on you not letting a pair of overpriced, poor quality stockings stand between you and tourist bliss.  He is also smart and will simply charge you what you would pay back home - at Nordstroms - which is roughly 500x what you would pay at a store in India.  Win - win!  Another old man will drape your women-folk in brightly colored and slightly stinky scarves - one for your arms and another for your legs.  Ironically, you can leave you head uncovered - it is probably a case of hygiene trumping religion.    This guy also wants to a tip for carefully wrapping, but not touching.  Not happening!

Inside the Jama Masjid

The shoe guy also knows it would be difficult to leave the mosque without your shoes, so he is very good about asking for a tip when you hand over your shoes.  He gives a nice summary of how you need to leave them with him as there are some unsavory characters, but he will keep them safe.  The only honest guy in India.  I have devised a way to circumvent all of this.  Firstly, I bring my own damn socks and secondly I carry my shoes in a bag.  This, I may add, drives the shoe-walla crazy for it if caught on, he would be broke.  I do enjoy pissing off the shoe-walla.  I did, though, bring a camera this time, so he got his 200 Rupees. 


We exited the mosque made our way through the narrow streets of Old Delhi.  It was actually pleasant.  The weather was good and the congestion was particularly entertaining with a group of southbound rickshaws blocking the way of their northbound counterparts and no one giving quarter.  With the narrow streets, once gridlock unfolds, it can take hours to sort out between the rickshaws, motorbikes and the people.  There is a lot of screaming, but not much progress.

The streets of Old Delhi

Anyway, we then drove over to Qutb Minar, the largest freestanding stone tower in the world.  I have written about this before, but it is really a very cool place to spend some time.  There are a lot of ruins of different ages and it is laid out in a park setting.   The one thing that I will note is that there is an iron pillar that was constructed in 375 AD in the center of one of the ruins.  What makes it so interesting is that the composition is 98% pure wrought iron, yet has not shown any signs of rust in 1600 years. It has baffled archeologist and metallurgist alike.  Unfortunately, I did not take a picture of it, but I do have a great shot of the tower.

Qutb Minar

The grounds full of ruins

Our next stop was Dilli Haat.  This is a government crafts bazaar in which local craftsmen from all over India come to sell their handiwork.  It is a favorite of the local population and although you see tourists there, it is mostly Indians shopping.  Here, you can get little Hindu carvings of the gods, paintings and even furniture.  The craftsmen rotate every so often, so there is always something new.  They also have food stands from all the states, so if you are adventurous, you can try cuisine from every corner of India.  Because it is not a tourist trap, the items sold are authentic, the quality is very good and the prices (after negotiation) are very reasonable.

Finally, as with every trip, we ended up at the President's House.  This mansion sits at the end of a long drive that cuts across New Delhi like the National Mall in Washington.  As you get close to the President's house, the drive is flanked by the Offices of the Indian Government with Parliament just behind.  The whole area was the last real projection of British power when it was finished in the 1930s.  Who knew just 10 years later they would be removed as landlords.  

President's House with guard detail

Looking away from the President's House down the lane
 with the administrative offices on its flanks
- if you look closely, you can see the India Gate in the distance

One of the cool things about living in India is that all of this is right on our doorstep and we can be tourists in an exotic land at a moments notice.    The downside is that we never leave!

Move In Day

Monday, our shipment arrived from Minneapolis. This has been a day to which we have both looked forward and dreaded. I think back to the days when we packed and most of the week was routed in pure chaos. The inventory list was not completed to the standard that I wanted and I was not able to keep my arms around the army of packers to ensure what needed to go to India went to India. At the end of the day, though, this is very typical for an international move. You try your best, but things fall through the cracks... or just crack!

Note the guy sleeping in the truck 

Like the air shipment, the trucks (note the plurality of the noun) arrived around 7:00am. In Delhi, trucks cannot travel within the city from 8:00am to 10:00am and from 4:00pm until 8:00pm, so they need to get here before the ban begins. I heard their intrusive diesel engines grinding to a halt just below our bedroom window, but by the time I looked out the drivers were already sound asleep with their arms hanging lifelessly out the windows. Around 9:00am, they began to assemble with the excitement of cattle at the slaughterhouse. They gathered for some tea, a light chat and then grabbed the first boxes off the nearest truck and climbed the 5 floors.

The unloading begins

In India, the caste system is alive and well. I believe, as well, there is an unwritten rule that if you are perceived to be above someone, you must inconvenience them in every way possible. I believe it is the law. This hierarchy, though, is more complicated these days. In modern India there is socio-economic movement, so your "caste" is no longer solely determined by your name, but by other factors such as your job title, education, lightness of your skin and, to be honest, your general tolerance towards taking shit from other people.

Our air shipment supervisor had a small crew and was as decisive as a clown flight, so the watchman, Gupta Ji, made his crew carry all the boxes up the 5 flights of stairs and forego the elevator. This was simply cruel, but the fact that it was 100+ degrees with 98% humidity was downright sadistic. The sea shipment supervisor, on the other hand, was educated, had a large crew and spoke English. Moreover, he definitely was not playing that game and it quickly became clear that a moving supervisor was higher than a watchman in the unofficial caste system of my building. Good to know!

As with everything else in India, shipments within the country are a bureaucratic mess. In most civilized countries, a container arrives at the port, is unloaded off the ship, inspected by customs (which involves opening it and looking half-heartedly for guns and drugs), put on a chassis and sent to the receiver. In India, this is not so. The container arrives at the port and then is unloaded completely into a warehouse. This is done, in my opinion, to allow the customs officials to shop the shipment in case there is anything the wife may need at home. Once the customs official is convinced there is nothing he needs, the shipment is loaded onto a long-haul truck and sent to another warehouse near the delivery point where the shipment is once again shopped for the family. The shipment is finally reloaded onto smaller, city approved trucks for final delivery. Each time the shipment is handled it adds risk of damage (and theft).

The rental furniture - Ugh!

With bellies full of tea, the moving began in earnest around 10:00am. They started with the smaller items as the crew supervisor expressed concern that the owner of the building would come out and object to the use of the elevator. Apparently owner trumps supervisor (I have so much to learn). The first few boxes were in pretty bad shape and I actually felt my stomach sink, but eventually the boxes began to look better. They were, though, pretty effective in moving the boxes from the street into the elevator and into the apartment. I have to say that I was pretty impressed with their professionalism and ability to re-assemble much of our furniture without incident.

American packing meetings Indian mishandling

As the boxes arrived and apartment began to fill, I was concerned. Firstly, the rental furniture had not been picked up, so we were running out of room, but more importantly, we were still on the first truck and we were running out of room. How could this be? We gave away or threw out more crap than a small island nation produces in a year. But the boxes kept coming and the mind began to wonder back to the decision of trying to get as much on the container as we could to save on storage costs. Maybe not my best long-term plan.

The room begins to fill

And then...... like any good story...... drama! The furniture guys arrived to remove the rental furniture. This crew consisted of a half-witted supervisor and a couple guys he picked up off the street (no really, this is a common practice). Under the direction of this dullard, the team picked up the couch and disappeared down the stairs. In less than a minute, the watchman, Gupta Ji, was in my doorway pointing down the stairwell. He diligently pointed out, without words, the huge scrape that went down the railing. He seemed quite happy with himself as if this was his revenge for the elevator diss by the other crew earlier. I approached the dunderhead furniture rental guy and pointed out the issue. He quickly denied it. Hum?

Note the dudes with the rags on their head -
this would be the furniture crew  recruited from the streets of Delhi

Rather than getting in the middle of this argument, I employed the aforementioned knowledge of the unofficial caste system. If watchman bosses furniture guy and shipment supervisor bosses watchman, then I will get shipment supervisor to fight this battle for me. I simply accused the shipment supervisor's crew of damaging the railing, told him that furniture guy said it was so, and let him lose. There was some screaming, but it was over in a matter of seconds. Furniture guy came to me and told me he had called the carpenter for repairs. I am learning. (Oh, by the way, if you were wondering, short, fat, balding white foreigner trumps all.)

With the rental furniture removed, the apartment looked like it could swallow a bit more. We were happy to hear that the first truck had been unloaded, but were a little uneasy that we were possibly only half way through. Luckily, the second truck was not completely full and when all was unloaded, the apartment looked as if we may have a place for everything. Well, everything that was still in one piece.

The porch furniture is unpacked on the roof terrace

As I described, there was a lot of handling of my shipment and the packing looked worse for wear. Many of the legs and corners had poked through and were exposed. Generally speaking, there were few pieces of furniture that did not have the packaging damaged in some way. There were a few broken dishes and a few scrapes on some of the furniture, but the real damage was on the couches. The feet were pretty torn up and the suede was flattened on the corners. It is small and you cannot really see it unless you look, but like the creepy dude staring at you in the airport lounge (another time, another story), I know it is there!

Scraped up tables

More scrapes and torn packaging ..... and a foot

The crew finished unloading and unpacking around mid-afternoon and Olga, Veena and I set about arranging furniture, washing dishes and putting stuff away. I have moved a lot in my time and each time you get your shipment, it feels like Christmas. Not that you unwrap a lot of stuff, but the real gift is you get to sleep in your own bed again!

Rental Bed 

Our Bed!

Good Night!

Big In India

Yesterday was a milestone for me.  I have traveled the world, skied the Himalayas, sailed a 30ft boat across the North Sea and have eaten a 42oz Prime Rib in Pottstown, PA, but nothing compares to the first time you appear in a magazine.  Granted, it is the Apparel Trade Magazine in India, but a magazine none the less.  Better yet, I appeared and was quoted in two separate, albeit subsequent, articles.

Page 1

Page 2

Apparently, I'm big in India and should start to count my media hits!  These would make a total of ... 2. 

Beef! Its Whats For Dinner

Since we have moved to Delhi, my industrious wife has discovered the best bakeries, the best vegetable markets, the best grocery stores and the best ex-pat network.  This has made our transition and overall lives much easier and tolerable.  We now get fresh baked goods to go with our evening tea and the freshest vegetables for our cook.  We even know where to buy nacho flavored Doritos, albeit for $8 a bag.  But all this pales in comparison to her latest discovery..... (wait for it)........ BEEF!

Through her network of expatriates, my wife has found a little know (because it is illegal) Japanese store that sells "meat." To the untrained, non-meat eating eye, these vacuum packed bundles may look innocent enough, but to the western carnivore, these are culinary gold.  Yes, Beef!  The forbidden meat; the devil's delicatessen, lucifer's larder.

So tonight, came home to green peppers stuffed with ground...(wait for it).....beef in a lovely, light tomato sauce with.....who cares - it was stuffed with beef!

Newark

I have flown this route every other month for the last 4 months and Newark, New Jersey has become my first and last stop in the United States. Luckily for me, the Newark Airport is better equipped that Newark itself and is not my least favorite airport through which to pass. The best part is that it is Continental's hub, so there are plenty of President's lounges scattered throughout the airport.

Outgoing is not really an issue, since you arrive in the middle of the afternoon and everything in the airport is at full speed. All the restaurants, shops and lounges are open and the place is abuzz with commerce and activity. It also makes for excellent people watching as it is the combination of two great inputs: ignorant travelers and people from New Jersey. It is like being surrounded by thousands of Janices from Friends. Ohhh Myyy Gawd!

The inbound trip is a little less exciting and a lot more challenging. There are several terminals at Newark Airport which are not actually connected to each other. My flight from Delhi arrives at Terminal C around 4:00am. I am usually one of the first off the plane, so add another 15 minutes for customs clearance and then another 10 to 20 for baggage claim. After retrieving your bags, you must then re-check them after passing through baggage inspection. This adds another 10 minutes. So now it is 4:45am.

My flight to Minneapolis leaves from Terminal A at 9:00am. Terminal A is a long way from Terminal C, especially since after you pass through the aforementioned customs and baggage process, you are outside of security. As well, the lounge at terminal A does not open until 7:00am. This leaves 2 hours to mill about an empty airport - or so I thought.

My first pass through Newark, I did exactly what logic would dictate. I went through the arrival procedure and diligently hopped on the train between terminal C and terminal A. I arrived at terminal A at about 5:20am, pass through security and sat in an empty gate area for 2 hours awaiting lounge service. There needed to be a better way.

Before the next trip, I did a little research on the airport and found that the lounge in Terminal C actually opens at 5:00am. The pickle seemed to be that I would need to clear terminal C security with a terminal A ticket, sit in the lounge for 2 hours, exit security, travel to terminal A and re-clear security. Seemed awfully complicated.

On trip #2, I gave it a whirl. There was a little bit of hassle at security as I explained to the English as a second language TSA employee that I just wanted to use the lounge. Eventually he got it and let me through. The lounge opened at 5:00am as billed and my diabolical plan was working.

As I was exiting the lounge, I thought I would ask the question about getting to Terminal A just to make sure I had not missed anything. Sure enough, there was a shuttle bus! Yep, a bus that kept you this side of security and took you directly to the terminal. I was all a flutter with the excitement that I had enhanced my already brilliant plan.

As I deplaned this morning, I had my plan all set. I re-checked the bag, passed through terminal C security, enjoyed a bagel and a decaf coffee at the Terminal C lounge, hopped the Terminal A bus and resettle in the Terminal A lounge. I write this from the Terminal C lounge at 7:45am and can report that the plan is perfect!

Although this may seem like I put in a great deal of effort on this, I do get that tingle of satisfaction for solving something that actually never really needed solved in the first place.        

Bangalore

Bangalore has a great location.  Located in southern India, the city sit atop a mesa and therefore has excellent weather all year round - never too hot, never too cold, never too humid.  The city has been the favorite retirement community of India's educated for many decades, but in the last 10 years has turned into a corporate mecca.  Intel, HP, and Dell all compete for India's IT talent, while many other foreign companies fight for the the non-technical pool.  There are huge office parks surrounded by huge office campuses mixed with Raj buildings and small bungalows.  Although the population has exploded in the recent years, Bangalore still has a charm you do not find in Delhi.

Life in Bangalore moves just a tad slower than in Delhi.  People seem less aggressive and the overall feel is less intense.  People take a little more time to enjoy life rather than rushing from place to place. There is still traffic, but it has neither the density or volume of Delhi.  The streets are tree-lined and shady and the city proper seems to be more thought out than the rapid growth in the north.  Some part of the city actually remind me of Ho Chi Minh City.  This is still India, though, so I speak in degrees, but compared to Delhi, it is a pretty pleasant place.

I stayed at the Leela Palace - Kempinsky which they claim is a 5 Star hotel.   Upon arrival, one might conclude it lives up to its billing.  You are greeted with a huge open air entry area that is straight out of the Disney playbook.  It immediately reminds you of the picture of Indian palaces that the movies have created over the years with the large open air rooms and dentiform archways.  The rest of hotel is pretty much the same - a kind of Disney theme hotel with overly exaggerated details, many palace paintings and furniture that is both period and mass produced.  This is, though, India, so although the goal may have been to create a 5 star Indian, Disney-like experience, it, like so many other Indian projects, falls just a tad bit short  

Hotel entryway looking out into the driveway

The rooms were very, well, plush with large over-designed, cluttered, pieces of furniture adorned with gold and heavy details.  The room was fairly large, though, so it all kind of fit together.  My initial impression was Tony Soprano would love this place.  I was not a huge fan as my tastes run toward the simpler, less ornate, but if you were looking to host a New Jersey Mob/Union gathering, this should be on your list.   I will say, though, that the rooms were quiet and bed was comfortable, so from the "Trip's Hierarchy of Hotel Needs" they had two of the important basics covered (eat your heart out Maslow).

Nothing really more to say

I spent most of my trip yelling at vendors and looking at factories, but we did spend some time doing something unique.  My company gives huge sums of money away to mostly children's causes, about $3 million a week, throughout the world and my team has given money and volunteer hours to a special needs children's school in Bangalore called The Spastic Society of Karanataka. My Bangalore team, and I  about 10 of us, took one morning and went to this unique school to work with the children and get to know the staff.  I was asked, ironically, to speak to a class of 10th-12th graders with learning disabilities (i.e. dyslexia, dysgraphia, etc).  They were really interested and had a great deal of questions since I was the first person with whom they had spoken who had a learning disability and was in the "main stream."  In India, there is a stigma around any type of disability, so for the most part these kids are segregated and labelled slow if they stay in the state schools.  This school allows them to learn at their own pace and gives them confidence to go out into the world  A large portion of them, and even some of the children with more severe disabilities, actual attend university.  This is no small feat considering the very low percentage of the population without disabilities that obtain higher education.

The class listening attentively to yours truly

My company has also donated an Assisted Technology Lab,  This is a computer lab for children with severe disabilities that allows them to learn everything from basic communication to advanced subjects.  This has had an immediate impact of the pace of learning in the school and has allowed some of the more dire cases, who were simply concentrating on basic skills, to move into more advance learnings.  As well, this lab is one of the first of its kind in India and will be used as a model for the entire country.


We then went on to volunteer some time with children with more severe forms of disabilities. We were asked to help create a collage of transportation modes with a group of 10 year olds.  They were very engaged and happy to do something different.  We spoke about what types of transportation they take to school; what does their dad drive; and what do they see on the street?  Overall, it was a great morning and we plan on making this a routine when I travel to Bangalore.

Some of my team discussing transportation with the kids

The rest of the week went by quickly and tomorrow morning I will be on my way back on the 6:30am Kingfisher return flight to Delhi.  It is 93 degrees there and humid and I am contemplating missing my flight!

My First Domestic Business Trip

Monday morning at 3:30am, I awoke for my first domestic business trip in my adopted country.  Now I am no stranger to 3:30am in Delhi, as anyone that travels internationally can tell you, that is the time you enevitable wake up your first 3 nights after arriving.  This time, though, it wasn't voluntary. 

I slogged through my morning routine a tad bit slower than usual, dallying a bit longer in the shower until being reminded where I was by the hot water running out.  Reluctantly, I made some toast in the dark, put on my suit and checked my bags one last time. 

The driver arrived right on time, chipper as always, and took my breifcase and bag to the car while I attempted to put on my shoes. This normally routine task was, well, kicking my ass until I realize that I was trying to put my left shoe on my right foot.  Oh, what I would do for another hour of sleep.  

Delhi's streets at 4:50am are eeriely quiet.  The normally clogged arteries of the city are completely empty, but for a few lone auto-rickshaws and the occasional car.  This, though, I must add, is the absolute most dangerous time to be on the roads, as the lack of traffic empowers drivers to ignore what few traffic laws there are in Delhi.  Car scream through redlights without even a glace sideways.  Luckily, we did not have any incidents other than a bike crossing in front of us in slow motion.    

The domestic terminal in Delhi has moved to the old international terminal, or T1 for those of us in the know.  The only upgrade is the removal of the customs booths, but outside of that, the airport remains it dreary self, with its irratable guards and confused staff.  I flew Kingfisher Airlines to Bangalore and, although having the reputation for the most beautiful stewardesses (yes, they are still called stewardess here), they are definately not hiring from Mensa. 

There are two business class check-in positions at Kingfisher.  Since there are not a huge amount of domestic business-class passengers, this seems to be the right number.  There are though about 6 business-class check-in women milling about.  Due to the Indian propensity to add more people than neccessary, this routine task now takes on a life of its own.  The first woman greets you about 20 feet away from the counter, takes you passport and goes to one of the "closed positions."  You can't actually stand in front of these closed positions, so like a schlub, you stand in line behind the only other business-class passenger who is also being helped by another woman at another "closed" position.  Then a third guy arrives and since there are no more "closed" positions to run out and help him, he stands in the line behind the two of us.  The rub is that there is a woman in the open position doing absolutely nothing, because there are clearly two people in line in front of him.  She cannot help him, because that would be cutting!  So the woman at the open positon sits there with nothing to do and the third guy stands helplessly in a line that really does not exist. Again, you can't make this stuff up!

You finally get your passport, ticket and card for the business class lounge. If you have not flown internation business class, please let me explain. Unlike in the US, in Asia you need a business class lounge card to go the business class lounge,  Your ticket, which says business class in bold letters across the top, is not enough.  Typically this is because many airlines share a few lounges and it is easier for cattle control, but it does seem redundant.  Anyway, I got my lounge card from the gate agent and off I went.

On the otherside of security, I could not find my lounge.  I found one of the brightly colored Kingfisher agents and asked and she pointed me toward this restaurant-ish kind of place.  Hum?  I went in and sat down and the waiter told me that the buffet was free with the card.  It was 5:30am and a breakfast buffet was sounding pretty good..... until I saw it.  Does anyone remember the scrambed eggs that the college food plans serve?  Well image those, but in a vat of water.  Ummm!  I do not need to scare you with the rest.  I ordered my standard decaf coffee and waited for my flight to be called.

Like all non-US, non-bankrupt airlines, the service was superb.  The flight was on-time; my suit coat was taken upon entry into the plane; the food was actually edible and, on a 3 hour flight, they offered a movie and some sit-coms for your viewing pleasure.  The seats had their own TVs and were actually comfortable.  Since I will be making this flight several time a years, this is all very good news.  

I arrived at the brand, spanking new Bangalore Airport right on time.  The office met me at the right spot and off we went to work!

I think I am going to like Bangalore!

The Driver

Not the actual driver

Last week, we had to fire the driver. Before you start in on how cruel I am firing my entire household staff (cause that is a phrase one uses all the time), you must understand the circumstances behind the decision. To understand to full picture, I need to explain two things: the position and the individual driver.

The position of corporate driver used to be very common in India. The archaic traffic laws and the propensity for no one to follow them make driving in Indian not only frustrating, but downright dangerous. As well, for most of the past, private vehicle ownership was cost prohibitive and most people drove bikes or scooters. This necessitated the need for companies to buy cars and hire drivers to ferry its VIPs to important VIP things. As the Indian economy has blossomed, many people have purchased private cars and although this has actually made driving in India more dangerous, corporations are forgoing the full time driver and hiring contract drivers to be available when needed.

There is a significant difference between the level of a contract driver and a full-time, corporate driver. When you are contract driver, you do not get medical benefits, retirement fund, and the high salary of the corporate driver. You are, in essence, a glorified taxi driver. So, needless to say, the position of the corporate driver remains the Holy Grail of driving jobs in India. Most of the remaining corporate drivers are older, have impeccable manners and are extremely contentious in how they conduct themselves. My driver was none of these things.

Munna, my driver was a contract driver before being hired a year and a half ago. There were two executives in the office at that time and the higher ranking of the two has the driver who had been with the company for 15 years. The other hired a new driver, my driver. After a few months, one of the executives was transferred to Bangalore and we now had two drivers for one person. It was decided to let the older driver go, as technically his position was eliminated. Soon, though, the other executive departed and this left the driver with no one to drive.

I arrived in June and inherited the driver. Munna was younger than most corporate drivers, about 25, and had been brought into the organization as more of a personal driver, than a corporate driver. This meant that he and his charge kept matters unto themselves and there was very little interaction for the driver with the rules of the corporation. Upon my arrival, we had to reorient Munna to the fact that he was a corporate employee and that he would be managed as such. This did not necessarily sit well with the youngling's independent spirit. Now the driver's logs were checked on a regular basis and the expenditures were audited. I will not say more about this other than, I guess he was not expected this level of accountability. In the end, he needed to leave us.

So last Wednesday, Kailash, came back to the company. Kailash was the driver we let go last year and we welcomed him to continue his long tradition of driving Managing Directors (I will be his 5th). He is in his late 50s and has proven to be everything the other driver was not. He is prompt, well groomed, courteous and very well mannered. He barely says a word and is happy to show anyone his meticulously maintained books. He is, for all intense and purpose, the classic Indian driver.

Slowly, but surely, we are getting our staff in order!

Commonwealth Games as a Reflection of India

Tonight was the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Commonwealth Games (CWG) in Delhi.  Anyone who has been following the news has seen that up to tonight, this has not been Indian finest moment.  Most of the news has been focused on the complete and utter incompetence of the Indian CWG committee and the unbelievable corruption that has taken place.  All warranted, all true, but all misunderstood.  

This is India and to understand India, one must understand the journey of the Commonwealth Games.  Awarded in 2003, India did not start building the venues in earnest until 2007.  Contracts were awarded to non-existant firms, relatives of the government and other unsavory characters.  Now, in the west, we do not understand how a country could risk national embarrassment for a little money on the side.  I'm not saying we in the west are not motivated by personal gain - just look at the President's appearance at the Chicago Olympic bid on behalf of his friend Valerie Jarrett - but we would ensure that the job was done before we took our graft.  We do this solely because it takes away the political will to investigate.  We're smart that way. 

In India, there is no political will to investigate anything, so one can risk national embarrassment if it is the shorter route to riches. This got so out of hand that with two weeks to go before the games, the athlete's village was declared unfit for human habitation.  They actually found piles of human shit on the floors in the rooms from the workers who had been living there.  The response from the Government was priceless - "The West has a different standard of hygiene than we do in India." You can't make this stuff up!  Then we had the pedestrian bridge collapse and the wrestling arena fall down.  Apparently, we have a different standard of building quality, as well.   

The opening ceremonies from our terrace

There is another story to the Commonwealth games that is equally representative of India and that is the fact that in the end, despite the delays, despite the monsoons and despite the incompetency, they actually pulled it off.  Under pressure, they always seem to come through.  They are not good at planning, or even building for that matter, but they are good at getting across the finish - even if it is just barely! 

Settling In and Getting Out

Anyone that knows us as a family knows that Olga and I typically are not the most social people in the world.  This has given us an advantage as we have moved around the world, since it is not part of a successful transition for us to make tons of acquaintances.  We are happy to get to know our neighbors and a handful of other people if, in fact, this happens organically.   


In Delhi, though, this seems to be changing.  Olga has joined a very active ex-pat group called the Delhi Network.  This ingenious group has about 500 members and, most likely an additional 500 working spouses not on the books.  They completely understand the plight of the non-working spouse in India and have constructed a nice series of weekly, monthly and special events to keep said non-working spouses occupied.  As well, they have cleverly engaged many of the local businesses as partners to fund their activities.  One must understand, though, that many of the active members of Delhi Network left their jobs to follow their spouses, so the business acumen of its membership is probably higher than most multi-national companies.


During the week, the group organizes several coffees to keep the members engaged.  The first is hosted by the Hyatt Hotel and takes place on Tuesdays.  I have never been, but my wife, who attends religiously, says it is actually quite fun.  There are usually in the access of 100 people and the Hyatt provides coffee and snacks to the group for free.  This, by itself, according to my wife is worth the annual cost of membership (which is a whopping $10.54), since you have your pick of all the pastries and different coffees from the Hyatt's pastry shop.  It is also good for me, because the Hyatt has a great pastry shop and offers a 15% discount to members, so I get a few goodies with my tea on Tuesday nights. 


The second weekly event is the neighborhood coffee gathering.  The Network has cleverly identified that ex-pats tend to group in certain neighbors in Delhi and to make things more intimate, they have appointed neighborhood captains to organize smaller events that are closer to home.  On Fridays, Olga meets her fellow Defense Colony residents at a small bakery (are we seeing a trend) for coffee and light conversation.  They usually get 15+ people each Friday.  Also, being in a bakery, I get to enjoy the benefits when I get home.  See win-win.


In addition to the weekly gathering, the group also organizes larger events during the year including dinners, parties and balls.  Last Saturday, we attending one such party at the Hyatt (yes, she actually has me getting out of the house).  It was in their main ballroom with drinks, a full dinner and a night of dancing.  It was actually quiet fun and we did not get home until nearly midnight which as many of you know is way past my bedtime. 


The irony of our moving to India is that we actually have a better social life here than we did living in the heart one of America's most social cities.  I guess it is all about effort!