India Gate and @Live

Yesterday after spending the morning working on our respective computers, we decided to go to India Gate and then have dinner at a nice bar that has a nightly band.  Before we reached India Gate, Lavanya had the driver take us through the government buildings, some of which her parents had worked in.  All the buildings were very beautiful.  Most were examples of classical architecture, but were constructed of a dark red stone instead of the classic white.  I was able to take a few pictures of these buildings while we drove through the corridors.  But, since we were required to keep moving, I was unable to get any good pictures of the Capital Building and some of the other buildings.  

We then drove toward India Gate, which lays in the distance, even with the Capital Building.  Lavanya told me that the goal was to build the Capital so that the President could see India Gate from his office.  It does not quite work, she says.  But, as we drove away from the Capital we saw the Gate in the distance.  Lavanya tells me that India Gate is the symbol of Delhi.  And, it is a pretty impressive symbol.  Behind the gate is a small monument that used to house a statue of King George (I think), but that statue was removed after Independence.  Lavanya was telling me that the Indian government wanted to put a statue of Ghandi in its place, but there had been a protest from some who claimed that "Ghandi never had anything over his head."  "What ever that means," says Lavanya.  So, a statue of Ghandi was never put in this monument, and it stays empty.  I did not attach a picture of this smaller monument to this blog because it was not as impressive as the Gate.  

The India Gate as by far the most touristy place I have been since I came to India.  In one place there were more white people than I have seen in my entire trip.  I tried to get a good picture of the line of middle aged tourists in Hawaiian shirts all taking pictures of the monument.  But, I was constantly reminded of my status as a tourist as some shady vendor would walk straight into the frame and try to sell me a flower, convince me to get a henna tattoo, or some bracelet.  I guess that is what I get for trying to make fun of an extreme form of myself.  As you can see, I did end up getting some good pictures of India Gate despite the police blockades.  

Note:  The India Gate is not always blocked off.  Right now it is blocked off in preparation of a big parade that happens near the end of January.  However, this is not the reason the guard kept inching his way into my pictures . . . this I cannot explain.

Afterwards we went to Cannaught Place, the center of New Delhi.  I believe I have written about this place before.  There I witnessed some first rate bargaining (or non-bargaining).  I was buying some gifts at a stall in one of the corners of the market.  Lavanya had taken me to this stall because she had gotten a nice bag for a good price there and I thought a bag would make a good gift.  Instead I was attracted to his other goods.  When I had decided what I wanted to buy, the haggling began.  Using a calculator he typed in 3000 and showed it to Lavanya.  She said no.  There was a little discussion after this and then he took the calculator back and typed in 2600.  Still too much, we said no.  He then wanted us to name a price.  Lavanya, does not haggle this way.  She breaks the rules and refuses to name a price.  She tells him (the whole conversation was in Hindi, but she told us afterward some of what they were saying), "You know what these are worth, you name a more reasonable price."  He then goes on about how these are quality and the price he gave is a good one.  She says she can get them at another store for much less.  He tells her that these are much better quality than at that store.  This goes on for a while.  And, mostly the conversation gets down to him repeating a request for our bottom price and her refusal to give it.  Finally, he says, I am going to call my son and Lavanya says, I am going to call my mom.  So, Lavanya talks to her mom about the price and the son comes to the stall and enters the haggling.  He too talks about the quality of the items.  After more haggling and an agreement to start a business relationship (Lavanya will return to buy more and bring other friends to this same vendor) the son makes a few calculations and then types 1600 in the calculator.  I say yes.  And, I saved 50%.  Unfortunately, I still paid a hefty "white tax."  Because I am a tourist I still paid at least 600 more than I probably would have otherwise.  But, the experience and the obvious savings made the experience worth the price.  And, all said and done, the items were better quality than at the other store Lavanya had mentioned (she just refused to show her cards).

Having bought our items we went to dinner.  It took a little time to find the restaurant.  It  was on outer circle, block K.  We finally figured out as we drove the large circle that we were on block N.   Then we hit block H.  I thought we had missed it and worried that we would have to drive the entire circle again.  But, then we hit block K and find the place.  How we went from N to H to K, I don't know. 

The bar was very nice and after a couple of hours there was live music.  The band played classic rock tunes and some other pop hits.  And, the food was fusion everything, but very good.  So, with a slightly western restaurant experience after some heavy haggling, I think I am getting a pretty well rounded look at Delhi.

India Gate

Sniffly Susie

I do not have much stamina to write at the moment because I have come down with a cold.  Hopefully I will get over it soon and get back to enjoying my visit to India.  But, for now I have been lazy and have spent the day in bed.  

Yesterday (the 4th) we went to the craft bazar, which is a craft market controlled by the government.  It is a tourist trap.  But, it is also a place you can buy crafts and art from artists from around India.  The government takes applications from artists and artisan families and offers temporary vendor space to those who qualify (primarily artisans and families that want to sell their own wares).  It was a neat place to see.  And, it was my first time in a market with a large amount of crafts.  It was hard not to buy everything I saw, it was all so beautiful.  The shopping experience was also a lot more calm.  Because the market is controlled (you have to buy a ticket to get in) there are no beggars and most of your fellow shoppers are tourists.  Here I felt a little more comfortable leaving Lavanya and Dan to do my own shopping.  I even did a little bargaining.  I did not save much, but it was pretty cool to try.  In the end, the merchant insisted on R225, which seemed silly since my suggestion of R200 would have been much easier to make change for and would not have led him to ask the woman in the next stall for R15.  Either way I got my souvenir and touristy experience and was happy with them.

There were so many large items that I wanted to buy that I would never be able to bring home.  Large pieces of painted art and sculpture.  The picture below of the man lacquering a painted carving of Ganesha is an example of some of the work I longed to buy.  His carvings were a little out of my price range R25,000 (around $500).  So, I had to settle for a few smaller pieces.  I wish I had bought some more, but I am sure I will have more opportunities when we go to some of the more touristy areas later.

We also ate at the food vendors at the craft bazar.  It seemed a little safer to eat at these outside vendors since the market catered to tourists.  I apologize for not remembering the names of the foods I ate.  But, I do know that Lavanya and I ate at a stall that served food from Bombay.  We had fried tapioca fritters that were pretty good.  And a mashed vegetable stew (with masala) and what looked and tasted like Texas toast.  It was real good.  And, neither of us got sick!

[P.S.  I got to use my girl scout camping skills and use the public toilet.  It was an open aired bathroom with stalls.  But, the stalls were equipped with a porcelain hole to pee in.  It was flush, but there was no toilet paper.  But, I was prepared both in skill and with paper--my girl scout leader/mother should be proud.]

After the craft bazar we made like true "Delhiittes" as Lavanya says, and crossed a few very busy roads by making sure someone else ran between us and the coming traffic.  Across from the craft bazar was the Mohan Singh Market where many of the military families shop (we were very close to the military housing).  This market was not a tourist market.  For sale was everything from kitchen supplies, to shoes and shawls, to vegetables.  This market was indoors with small passageways between the stalls.  The occasional shop owner would say to one of us "miss, Kashmiri shawls," "sir, fine shoes."  It was an interesting place, but since we did not have much need for any of the goods available, we decided to head back across the street and wait for the driver.

The highlight of the day was seeing the elephant slowly walking down a busy street.  The worst part of the day was the ride home when the driver hit spikes in the road and blew out the right two tires.  We spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening figuring out what to do and waiting for a family friend to bring us another spare tire.  Everything worked out.  I watched people out the window and felt myself developing a cold.

The remedy, lots of sleep, Harry Potter, and one of the most classic Hindi films.

The American Day

On the 3rd our plan was to escape the phone and door bell by going to a movie.  In India there are theaters that have what is called "gold service" where the seats recline 160 degrees and there is valet service.  So, with this as our goal for the day, we began an "Americanized" day.  Well, except for the fact that we had a driver.  

The itinerary:

12pm: sit in traffic on the way to the Green Market.  Ignore begging children playing drums and tapping on the window.  

12:30pm: drive around Green Market looking for Mac Store.  Get car stuck in mini traffic jam on a very small one lane drive.  After a little backing up, a little honking, and some help from a bystander, get two cars facing each other to move and turn down the correct corridor.  

1pm:  finally find the Mac Store in the Green Market.  Walk around the back into the ally, up two flights of stairs, and behind the dusty door.  4,000 rupees later, new mac book charger in hand.

1:30pm:  find the McDonald's.  Driver doesn't know.  Lavanya doesn't know.  The two Americans spot the golden arches at the same time.  Eat chicken sandwich, fries, and Coke.  A little taste of home.

2:30pm: drive to mall for the movie.  Go through metal detector.  Get patted down.  Find out the movie is sold out.  Shop in very swanky mall.  Buy some Bollywood films.  Get to see the upper class and diplomatic crowd.  Get bored.

3:00pm:  lose driver.  Call for driver over P.A.  Search parking lot for driver.  Wait for driver.  Find driver!  Go home.

5:00pm:  Get home.  Watch American movie.  Order Dominos (w/ pork pepperoni--yuck).

Dwarka, Sector 6 Market and Sector 11 Market

If it burns your tongue, then it is probably safe to drink

On the 2nd Lavanya needed to get some work done.  Unfortunately, some family drama kept her from getting any research done.  First of all, in upper middle class households in India, the door bell and phone seem to ring off the hook.  In the morning the door bell begins to ring at 8am and continues to ring until about lunch time.  

Ring.  The cook needs let in.  Ring.  Someone is here to pick up the trash.  Ring.  Someone is here to pick up laundry.  Ring.  The mailman is here with the mail.  Ring.  A relative across the hall needs something.  Ring.  A friend needs to use the washing machine.  Ring.  The maid is here to sweep.  

A similar thing happens with the phone.  Some days are not so bad.  Some days Lavanya tells me how much she wishes she were back in the States where door bells do not seem to ring as often.  The 2nd was a heavy door bell/phone ring day.  So instead of doing work, Lavi and I went to get some copies done and find some speakers she needed to do some of her research.  So, once again I got to take a bicycle rickshaw to the market.  I am getting pretty used to the rickshaws, the market, and being an outsider.  So, this trip was less tiring and much more fun.

The markets here in Dwarka are very interesting.  You can buy just about anything you need in one place, but you buy it from over a hundred different shop owners.  The market is about three or four stories, with the shops on the first and second floors and services such as real estate and tutoring on the upper floors.  Most of the ground floor shops have a door that opens to the street or are just an open hole in the building with a counter.  Other vendors sell on the side walk.  No shop is larger than the size of a bedroom in the U.S. and each shop has a very specific purpose.  Pharmacy, hardware store, kitchen electronics, household electronics, entertainment electronics, dry food goods, drinks, clothing, jewelry, computer shop, etc.  So, you can buy anything you need, but you need to buy it from a number of different people.  We stopped at almost 1o different places to find the few items we came to buy.

I bought my first items in India and learned two very important things about money transactions.  1.  Always give and receive with your right hand.  It is insulting to give or take with your left hand.  2.  Never take dirty or worn out notes (dollars).  They will not be easily used with other vendors, so it is best not to get them in change.  I have already forgotten the phrase Lavanya taught me to say to vendors.  But, I do remember that she told me to hold up the change I received and say "new note" until the vendor exchanges it.  Getting the worn out notes seems to be something that is more common when a tourist is around.  But, now I am in the know!

The majority of our shopping trip was spent in the small copy booth waiting for Lavanya's copies.  In India, you do not do much for yourself.  Because unemployment is so high, just about every human activity is turned into a job.  Thus, you go to the copy shop and someone does the copies for you.  So, both Lavanya and I had to wait for the copies to be done.  Since it was going to be a long wait, the very nice copy man found us two chairs and let us sit in his very small shop (not much larger than a walk in closet.) His shop had two copiers, stained with the brown Delhi dust, and a number of different paper products.  It was an open air shop, so it opened to the back of the market with a large counter.  We sat and talked about India, our work, and our department.  During our wait a many came by with a metal tea pot and small aluminum cups (the size of a dixie cup).  The copy shop owner waved his hand as to say no and pulled out some clean disposable cups of his own.  He had three chais poured and gave us each one.  Lavanya and I eyed each other and decided to accept.  We were both relieved when we felt the burning hot cup, meaning that it was most likely safe to drink.  Lavanya told me that this is "real" chai as opposed to what we can get in the U.S.  And, we sat and discussed the dilemma of the culturally sensitive anthropologist being gifted a questionably safe food or drink product.  To drink or not to drink.  But, I decided that since the chai quickly burned the tip of my tongue that it was indeed safe.  And, I sipped what had to be the best chai tea I had ever tasted.