GOM*TLC=Angry Shiva

Two evenings ago Deb and I were watching a TLC program about the top 10 extravagant restaurant experiences in the world. The "critics" were from Forbes magazine, the marketing director for Dom Perignon, and three more lifestyle sycophants in the tradition of Robin Leach from different magazines. It was about how much you can spend on a meal that is so over the top that all your friends will ooooo and aaaahhh that you have sufficient discretionary funds that buying a white truffle tasting or a $5000 burger or $1000 pizza will show your extraordinary refinement and oh so sophisticated you were that (a) you knew where these places were, and (b) you had the disposable income to (1) get there, (2) get a reservation, and (3) pay for it.
I'm sorry, but living in India has changed my perspective on conspicuous consumption. Even trying to align my marketing hat, this program put me over the top. We're plopped down in a country of over 1 billion people of which 3/4 are poor and more than half of them are on starvation rations.
OK, I suppose I should stop being such a grumpy old man and I have to say that, because of David and Sarah's appreciation of fine dining, we've had the opportunity to experience some extraordinary culinary treats in NYC. But the perspective of the TLC program was so self-indulgent and the commentary of the "critics" was so lugubrious, that I think I sprouted another six sets of arms and was ready to open Shiva's third eye by force. I shall never order Dom Perignon thanks to the inane comments of their marketing director. Of course, I won't buy Cooks either, even to cook with.
I feel much better now. Have a great day.

What you won't see on the evening news!

Since December 31, the issue of statehood for Telangana has been a constant part of the newspaper coverage, but with the exception of the reading of the six option convoluted report that was finally delivered on January 6, nothing else has been shown on the news. We just learned that the rioting on the Osmania University campus was purposefully not covered by the TV news by request of the Chief Minister. But since we live in the colony populated by members of the legislative assembly (MLA), we get "special" treatment like the barbed wire cages and the bales of razor wire ready to pull across the street. These are manned by police in riot gear and armed with AK-47s. These folks were not happy when I was in our little shopping area taking pictures, asking me politely NOT to take their pictures. OK, fine! No problem!

This little shopping district, one of literally hundreds that dot the neighborhoods of Hyderabad, is a hub of activity for the thousands of working folk who do everything from construction to delivery people to the maids and cooks for the households in the neighborhood. There are chai carts and vegetable and fruit vendors.

Just beyond the screens is Apollo Supply, an event services business. They dry their carpets in the street so that all the traffic (us included) run over the red or blue carpets as we drive to or from our homes. Ya gotta love it! But it does bring to mind the facility I used in Barquisimeto, Venezuela which was a very large pole barn with a dirt floor. I had it carpeted with what had to be the rejected $2.99/yard carpet from the now defunct New York Carpet World. When I asked the decorator to sweep the carpet, that's exactly what they did. About 20 people with brooms began at the far end of the building and swept the royal blue carpet. You have to believe that with an uneven dirt floor, this expanse of blue carpet rolled and swelled like a Turner colorized opening of NBC's Victory at Sea series from 1952 .

From what we understand, the decision on what will happen to the statehood issue will be in about a month and we'll be back in the States by then. Until that decision, the chai stand guy is going to do a booming business serving the police stationed here a few times a day.

Technically being "winter" you see folks with ear muffs and coats on in the morning when it's at the lowest, 60 degrees Fahrenheit. The afternoons is in the low 80s, so it is absolutely great!

Must go for now but with all the police protection I feel safer than a man just getting through a thorough TSA patdown!

Memento Mori

This unimpressive portal is one of our latest adventures, a small one, but impactful nonetheless. This was one that even Ashraf, our Hyderabadi driver, was unaware of.

Deb and I went in search of this graveyard/tomb complex yesterday. It was a mostly-forgotten family plot tucked away in a poor neighborhood across from a large medical complex south of the city center. The family was the Paigahs, descended from Saudis who came here and prominent members at court as the Nawabs to the rulers of Hyderabad. One of the family members buried here had the Falaknuma Palace built.

But no matter how splendid the home he built (it was actually more elegant than the Nizam's Chowmahalla Palace. Why would you build a house to stick in your boss' face? But that is another story) here is where he rests.

As we went through the complex, attended by a watchman who seemed happy to see someone visit besides the local children who ran up and down the open spaces, I couldn't help but think of Thomas Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard". While Gray spoke of common folk, the poem speaks of what splendid things we all leave of this life and come to the same mortal end (we're not going anywhere else in this musing). These tombs were meant to be a garden, but as we know, the garden needs to be tended and like so many of India's treasures, nature was reclaiming the Paigah's legacy as well.

I can only conclude with the last lines of the poem's epitaph:
"No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God."

Drinking Tata tea, Leigh, Deb, and Me

Our Christmas Eve in the backwaters of Kerala on the border with Tamil Nadu was interesting. We intended to take a morning boat ride but it seems that every other person in a 500 kilometer radius had the same idea. Our driver had tried to hold a place in the queue, but was unsuccessful. So Leigh and I went to an organic spice plantation not far from our hut (Spice Village, duh).

Alas, the only fauna were herbivores, and as many of you know, I hate all deer species after my years of fighting off the white tail variety from eating everything green in our yard in Rochester.

But enough of the unpleasant memories. We left Spice Village and made our way back out of the mountains. Fortunately, this time in the light of day. Little did we know as we were driving up there in the dark, we were going through tea plantations.

These plantations, which stretch for miles and are in some pretty rugged terrain, are owned by Tata. Yep, the people who bring you the flaming Nanos have their hands in just about everything else. Owning these vast plantations in a communist controlled state does cause a bit of concern as to whether (1) the government are CINOs (communists in name only) or if Tata, as the largest private land owner, is really the governing body of Kerala.

No matter, we travelled on our merry way and all because it was. . .Merry Christmas Day! So, as part of the celebration, Vinoo suggested we take a slow boat ride on the big lake before we hit the beach. So, once again looking like scenes from Apocalypse Now, we took a boat ride on another body of water that CCR sang about in "Green River".

After the leisurely boat ride, we set off for Marari Beach. We were checking in with fresh coconut milk and a tour.

When my dad talked about his experience in the Pacific during WWII, he often talked about how beautiful the beach and ocean scenes were and how you told the weather (red sun in morning, sailors take warning and all that). I first experienced this on Borneo in 1999. I am not a beach person per se, but this was a great respite with the exception of the old European guys in Speedos as I had mentioned before. But Deb, Leigh, and I got to be beach bums for a day, living in a thatched hut. We hung out at the beach and waited for the sunset.

But our adventure continued and I will as well. Later!

Acarolling in Kerala we go!

Kerala is the southwestern-most state on the subcontinent. It's local language is Malayalam which means "thank goodness for Tamil Nadu and the Bay of Bengal or we'd all be Malayans, or worse, Burmese". It's the closest to the Equator that Leigh or Deb had ever been. Of course, this is glaringly apparent as these two very blond, very pale-skinned women stepped off the plane onto the tarmac at the Cochin airport. The airport is 40 kilometers from Cochin, but the biggest city in the state gets to claim ownership of this one-runway "international" airport. However, as we experienced later, they were not alone. Kerala is a European magnet much like Goa. I took no pictures because Speedos on old guys on the beach or on the deck of a houseboat is just so wrong, but they were there as well. Buuuuuutttttt, I digress, again.
At the airport, we were met by our driver, Vinayan, pronounced Vinoo, who was a Kerala backwater kid who came to the big city and has been driving ever since. His English was OK, but he had a great sense of humor and, as we've learned from our previous driver experiences, is well-known by retailers, tourism guides, and vendors in the touristy areas of Kerala. We drove straight away out to the backwater area beginning with a typical two-lane road which seemed much like the drives we had experienced before outside Chennai or Bangalore or Delhi. But within an hour, we turned off the highway and started up winding roads lined on both sides by rubber tree plantations. One of the first things you notice is the number of Christian churches, but Duh, The Portuguese were the first western traders here and they brought along the shock troops of the Catholic church: the Jesuits. But you also see a great number of Hindu temples as well as a smattering of mosques. but was is really interesting about the number of religious institutions is that Kerala is and has been a communist-controlled government for decades. So much for godless commies! But enough politics! Off we go into the mountains. The state is dotted with small villages which we drove through maybe a gazillion on our way to Theddakay. We passed through one that was starting a festival with a drumming group. We were climbing up on a fairly steep grade when we started to get into the switchbacks which were quite exciting because the roads narrowed enough that the hundreds of buses we passed needed the entire road to make each of the switchbacks. This wasn't a real problem -- until after nearly five hours drive, it started to get dark -- and rain -- but the traffic did not subside. The back roads traffic seemed like something you would expect in Hyderabad -- passing, beeping horns, speeding up only to hit a switchback and find an on-coming bus. Well, Deb and a a>Leigh, both in the back seat, were car sick from the many twists and turns. I was unable to stand up straight from tensing all my muscles during the drive as if I came off the wildest roller coaster at Six Flags Over the Wagah border crossing during the daily flag lowering ceremony. We reached Spice Village about 8pm. We had some dinner and went to bed. And reliving it has exhausted me, so I'm gonna call it a night.

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Belated Merry Christmas!

For all our friends and relatives in the US, we sincerely wish you a Merry Christmas. Two weeks ago, Deb and I joined her colleagues from Novartis in spreading some cheer in a couple of places. I want to start with the orphanage. Novartis donated a new building to the Child Haven International facility in Hyderabad. If nothing else, you get the picture of what "wretched refuse" looks like. The children here, ranging from infants to young adults, are the cast offs of prostitutes, ultrapoor families who just can't deal with another mouth to feed, and generally the human equivalent of the pervasive litter on the side of the road. The folks that work full time at the shelter were probably residents here as well.

The kids play in a dusty yard in the compound or in a dusty field that surrounds it. Notice that the operative word is "dusty". I didn't want to think about a description during monsoon. As construction continues on the new building, the ubiquitous rubble piles are all around. A feral dog had puppies and the kids were taking care of her and the puppies as best they could. The mom dog was like the kids looking for the attention of anyone who would look at them with the possibility of something to eat or some attention -- any attention.

For anyone feeling gloomy over these holidays, just look at these folks and realize how many blessings you've got. It's like being part of the "Christmas Present" ghost section of Dicken's "A Christmas Carol". No, I didn't say "humbug" or anything like that.

Our second stop was to a clinic for people suffering with multiple sclerosis. With very few options for healthcare, most people are paying for treatment out-of-pocket, so Novartis supports the clinic with financial support and reduced price for drugs (of course).

Next post will be our trip to Kerala.

Remove your Shoes, Please. Dentist at Work.

We've been here six months and it's time to get our teeth cleaned. Deb got a recommendation from her beauty shop owner so I called to get an appointment. The receptionist immediately thought I was a dental tourist, asking when I would be coming to India. When I said we lived in Banjara Hills, I got an appointment in less than four days! Wow, try THAT with our Jersey dentists. Four months is more like it and that is only for the "high value" patients (read: we're gonna get a shitload of money off THIS one).

We had a misstep on our way as we stopped at the Smilin Dental Clinic rather than the Smiline Dental Hospital. One letter made a whole lot of difference. We finally arrived a couple of minutes late, walked up to the first floor and were immediately met with a sign: Remove your shoes. OK, I'm not certain what the purpose is, but we did it. There had to have been about 40 pairs of shoes lying about. My first inclination was "it's a busy clinic". The office is located in a relatively new building, the decor is modern, almost like the offices in "Nip Tuck". We pad on in and tell the receptionists that we had an appointment. We were given the perfunctory forms to fill out. The lighting in the reception area was soothingly dimmed (again, read: I can't read the frigging form that has to be in 4 point type!!!!). The receptionist who handed us the forms to fill out told us it would be 200 rupees for a consultation. When I said we had appointments for cleaning, a flurry of activity started. Deb asked how much the cleaning would be and now, the receptionist said 800 rupees. That ain't bad! $17 USD??? Slap me silly.

then we were guided to a waiting room that was empty, enclosed, and air conditioned where as about half the owners of the other shoes in the stairwell were seated in a cramped space.

We wait for a couple minutes and then one of the receptionists comes in wearing a pair of sandals and as Deb was feeling slightly uncomfortable barefoot in a public place (she doesn't walk around barefoot in our apartment)she asked him why he can wear sandals and we have to be barefoot. Humiliated, he sputtered something about how his were special for some of the staff and he immediately took his off and nudged them over to me and then barked at one of the cleaning women who were also wearing flipflops and she took hers off and gave them to Deb.

Deb was finally called and left the room. I was amusing myself with a copy of the special gala addition of a magazine that is something of a mix of gossip and fashion of the Indian film stars. It followed the same format of fashion magazines in the US: don't let the editorial get in the way of the advertising. You could have Shah Rukh Khan modeling some Indian designer's clothes for a fashion spread on one page and be in an ad for some other product on the facing page. You get light-headed reading a magazine like this. Of course, that's better than having the little bit of vomit come into your throat from reading an e-magazine article about Lindsey Lohan has straightened out her life and jail was the best thing that happened to her. Butttttttttttt, I digress.

When Deb returned to our semi-private waiting room, she let me know that the cleaning uses a water jet and it gives you the same sensation as being waterboarded. She was right. There was a constant mist on your face while the dentist was cleaning. I got done and was escorted back into our semi-private waiting room again. We waited for about another 5 minutes before another woman came in with the results of our cleaning which said that Deb needed some additional work but I was done. Then we went to pay up and check out when the price of the cleaning went from 800 rupees to 1200 rupees. That required another 10 minutes of head bobbing, intelligible discussion that they don't know what the price will really be until they clean. We had additional tarter that required extra work. We decided not to argue. Yes, it was a 50% increase in price but that meant the cleaning went from $17 to $25.

We've had some eccentric dentists in our time, but this experience was a notch above. Talk to you soon.