Life in Another Country - Long Version
Discussion
Following a request from another thread, here is a piece on what it's like to be plucked from a comfy existence in leafy South-East England, and dumped, alone, in a far off land for at least 6 months - in this case India. Mumbai specifically.
It's going to be a long read, so no shame if you CBA. It's as much a place to record my thinking as much as anything.
(Forgive any strange formatting or lack of structure, I've got a tendancy to ramble)
Background: I'm a civil engineer - a highway designer (I make no secret of it!), and I was asked by my company to come out and use local resources to build a team of designers, and lead them, help them find their feet and produce designs at a fraction of the cost of similar schemes in the UK.
When they first said "India", I was quite apprehensive. My knowledge of India was limited to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and of cows laying in the road. I took the opportunity because it meant a substantial tick on the CV, and a few months of much cheaper living, allowing me to save some much needed funds for a house. I thought of it as a destination for backpackers "finding" themselves, and extreme poverty. My mother was born there and lived there as a child, but that was 70-odd years ago, and she had no real memories of it to speak of.
So, in April, I found myself in possession of 20-odd injections, a visa, and a one-way air ticket to Mumbai International. This is what I've discovered since.
The country is big. Really big. Many people think of it as just the "V" shaped piece of land sticking out in to the ocean between the middle east and the Indonesian peninsula. The actual country stretches a long way north, into the main Asian continent - at least the same again as the piece bordered by the oceans, heading up to the Himalayas, over (and past) the chinese bordero on one side and the Pakistan border on the other. And it holds, currently, 1.25billion people. 1 in 5 people on the planet live in India. It really makes the UK feel tiny. And it's only 4.5 hours ahead. I had never realised there were "half" time zones until I came here. Although I've been able to tell the time for a few years now, it makes working out the exact time back home a little tricky and not very "off the cuff".
It's poor. A very poor country indeed. There are a lot of very rich people here, but comparitively the vast majority don't have a proverbial pot to pee in. The first thing you see from the window of the plane is the vast slums bordering the airport. Blue tarps on all the roofs. And an awful lot of satellite dishes. In a city of around 18 million people, the slums hold a good proportion of them. However, "slum" doesn't hold the same connotations as in the UK. It is merely an unofficial house. I know and work with many people who live in the slums, and they turn up for work every day in crisp shirts, clean shoes, and an inspirational "can do" attitude. You get one family per dwelling - which may be a single room about 10 feet by 12 feet. The family may be mother, father, brother and wife, grandparents and kids. They all live there, eat, sleep etc. But they've all got the Indian version of Sky (maybe a pound a month for all channels including live Premiership matches!), big flat screen TVs, smart phones. They don't need much space as they have a decent climate, and spend most of the down time outside, socialising, sitting together, playing cards etc. It's not unusual to see a row of brand new cars outside the slums. And millions of motorbikes - nothing bigger than 200cc, but that's plenty big enough to take a family of 5 across the city if needed. My best I've seen so far is 4 adults and 2 kids on one bike.
The slums don't have sanitation. They may have running water for cooking/washing, but no toilets. They are communal affairs, and you know when you go past them. They really do stink. Many slums outside the city (but still in the suburbs) have fields where they all head off to in the morning, it's quite normal to drive to work and see a few dozen heads popping up out of the bushes, watching the cars go by. There's no shame in it, you just don't look too hard.
Developers will pay the slum dwellers an awful lot of money if they want to build on slum land. My driver has been offered the equivalent of £40,000 for his slum. He knows it's worth more, so is holding out. He is very happy there, he says he lives in the most social place on the planet, and lives free. His kids have friends everywhere, can play out til midnight and be perfectly safe. There's no traffic in the slums, and very little crime - everyone is an aunty or an uncle, and everyone looks out for each other. The slums have their own industry too - little shops and stalls, and factories and the like - the big slum is rumoured to have an internal industry worth half a billion US$ a year. I believe it.
There are families who don't even live in the slums. It's common to see entire families, from babies to the elderly, all sleeping on the side of the main roads, under flyovers, some under tarps but many times just laid out on the pavement, sleeping where they can. If you stop at a junction near them, you get a "tap tap tap" on the window, kids begging, wanting a few rupees from the rich people commuting. It's hard, but you can't give to them all, so best not give to any - otherwise you would be swamped and never get anywhere. Sounds harsh, but it's just the way it is. There's no ill-feeling if you don't give, they just have an attitude of "well, you've got to try". But it's hard to see the big white eyes in the brown faces and not feel a twinge of unfairness about having been born in a rich western country.
There is construction EVERYWHERE. Half finished high-rises, stopped due to a lack of "black money" being paid, or the developer has gone bust, or the construction is just glacier-like. People still live in them, right up to the unfinished floors with the rebar still sticking out, going rusty.
The food is simply amazing. Beef is banned, but you can get buffalo, which is close enough. Chicken is fresh - you can find a butcher's stall where they kill and prepare the chicken/goat right there, quick and easy and as fresh as can be. The animals are well kept right up until slaughter, and it tastes like it too. In the UK, curries are simply over-chilli'd dishes, the hotter the better. Here, they are spiced to perfection, cooked well, served in decent portions, and are incredibly cheap. A streetfood chicken curry and bread and cokes for 2 people will set you back about £3. I have put on a stone since April, and I have no doubt the gain will continue as long as I'm out here.
Getting a decent cup of tea is impossible. They do a strange all-milk tea, in a tiny cup. Oh how I long for a mug of rosie from the vast tea plantations of Yorkshire. This is what I get:
The traffic. Well. That has to be seen to be believed. I'm not lying or exaggerating when I say that the lines painted on the road are seen as decoration. If there's space to put a car/bike/rickshaw there, then they will put one there. Car horns are everywhere. In the market areas, there are many shops dedicated to replacing work out car horns. You get armies of guys on the streets repairing, re-wiring and testing car horns, and they'll fit one to your car for a couple of hundred rupees (£2). On the roads - rules are slack. They generally drive on the left, but if that's blocked, then they'll drive on the right, on the footway, anywhere. Roundabouts - pick a direction. Clockwise, anticlockwise, forward, reverse, anything goes. Headlights optional. There is no checking of bulbs. Flashing your headlights means "I'm coming through, get out of the way!" - but saying that, I have only seen one small knock since I've been here, when a car rolled back at some traffic lights and cracked the front light of a rickshaw. It looks chaotic, but the drivers are properly skillful. There is zero road rage. If someone cuts you up, you get on with it. Flash your headlights to make someone move out of the way, they move (if they can) and everyone just carries on.
Cars are all Mahindras, Tatas, Hyundais and Suzukis. Theres a fair few VWs, Renaults and Mercedes too, but the vast majority are Indian-built models. They are basic (4x4s with leaf springs all round), and cheap, but they appear to be reliable. I've seen a handful of Porsche Cayennes, a single Boxster, and a few BMWs. My car here is a Toyota Innova, a Hilux-based people carrier, very comfy and robust. You can buy a brand new Royal Enfield 500cc bike for about £1300. Smaller bikes are under a grand, brand new. The Tata Nano is a crazy little car, I wouldn't want to have a prang in one. No airbags, keep-fit windows, but AC and a semi-auto paddle shift box. Strange priorities here.
My car and Mastan, my very cool driver.
Public transport is very chaotic, but at the same time extremely ordered. The trains leave exactly at the time on the timetable, and if you're not on, tough. The doors never shut, so you get a lot of people jumping off early, or jumping on while the train is still moving, and the people already on the train will grab you and make sure you're on safely. To cross the city can cost as little as 5p in second class, or a whole 100r (£1) if you want the padded seat luxury of first class.
The people are, by and large, mad and brilliant. There is very little cross-sex contact - you won't see many boyfriends/girlfriends holding hands. The guys hold hands with other guys, and it's just seen as a sign of friendship. It's a strange thing to see, but you soon get used to it. Even somewhere as metropolitan as Mumbai, a white face anywhere except the tourist areas is met with inquisitive glances, kids running alongside shouting "Hello sir! What is your name? Where are you from?". Older kids and more image conscious teens wearing skinny jeans and bright shirts will ask you for a photo - I've had hundreds of kids ask me for photos, they give their phone to a friend, grab your hand and say "smile please sir!" - I'm probably on hundreds of Facebook profiles. You get babies thrust at you to hold and have pictures with. My suspicious mind used to think that it was a ruse to get money out of me, but now I realise it's meant in a very innocent way. Their smiles are genuine, they are all (in my experience) honest, decent, and quite humble. I've got a lot of time for them.
The women mostly wear saris, which generally show a considerable amount of flesh - and the bright colours match their nail varnish, lipstick and their gold ear-rings, necklaces, toe-rings etc. They look extremely attractive, maybe not so much in the face but the overall package is such that you have to make sure you're not caught staring. And they have very wiggly hips. (That's a bit sexist maybe, but it's definitely something you notice!)
The markets (Chor Bazaar - the Thieves Market) is amazing. You can get and see anything. From a vintage ships signalling lamp, to a handmade suit, to a car door, to a kilogram of cinnamon. Everything and anything. Food, drinks, furniture, tools, anything. Oh, and bananas. I've never seen so many bananas as here. Carts and carts full.
Because the population is so large, the thinking is "Why embrace technology when you can get people to do the labour?" Trimming the bushed on the central reservation of motorways is done by armies of women with scissors. The roads are swept manually, daily. Deliveries are all taken from the trucks to the shops by hand, construction materials (steel, concrete etc) delivered on hand carts, everyone has found a means of earning a few pennies to get by every day.
There is rubbish everywhere, it's not a clean city, but after a few weeks you get used to it. So many people in a developing country means that it will never be as clean as a European city, but the piles are out of the way and people muddle their way through.
I've been up to Delhi and Agra (to see the Taj) and they really are tourist traps. I didn't enjoy the constant calls to see this shop, that shop, "rickshaw sir", "Tour guide?", but I guess they make their living off people going to see the various sights. The Taj Mahal is stunning though. As a non-Indian you pay 40times that of an Indian to get in, but once in you get a reserved route and special photo platforms etc that the locals can't use. Check out the price differences...
As a white face, every restaurant you go in to you are served by the manager, and more than once the manager has kicked out Indians to free up a table for us - I feel awful when it happens, but the locals seem to accept it with good grace, and give you a smile as they take their plates to the benches outside. It's very humbling.
The wildlife is interesting. Mumbai has a high population of black eagles - they fly around the city, circling all day, and are quite impressive. There are rumoured to be crocodiles in the lake near me, and in the national park there are wild monkeys and big cats.
So, overall, life is good. There's no denying that life as a westerner here is one of privelege. My UK salary is probably 6 times what the equivalent level employee here earns, so it's always on your mind when you go for drinks that it;s much easier for me to get a round in than it is for them, or to shout them all lunch twice a week, or to not complain when my allowance cheque comes through late.
My preconceptions were all wrong. I blame the media - they, of course, want to show the massive differences between the cultures, but to be honest, I've slotted in to day-to-day living very easily, people are people, and if you treat them with respect, they will return it a hundred times over. I will miss the place when I go home, hugely. In fact, I've started calling here, "home". It's great. Frustrating, noisy, chaotic, busy, but a great adventure nonetheless.
I'll try and add some more parts as I think of them/discover the photos on my phone and camera. I'm off to the Andaman Islands on Sunday, it's a £50 flight from here, and hotels there are the equivalent of £10/night - such a hardship!
If anyone has any questions, or would like any more info, please feel free to ask - I've got lots of boring photos and stuff I can post up if anyone wants anything more specific.
Thanks for reading
ETA I've got more to add but that will probably be tomorrow now.
(Reminder to self: Expats, work, language, procedure, corruption, attitudes towards marriage etc)
It's going to be a long read, so no shame if you CBA. It's as much a place to record my thinking as much as anything.
(Forgive any strange formatting or lack of structure, I've got a tendancy to ramble)
Background: I'm a civil engineer - a highway designer (I make no secret of it!), and I was asked by my company to come out and use local resources to build a team of designers, and lead them, help them find their feet and produce designs at a fraction of the cost of similar schemes in the UK.
When they first said "India", I was quite apprehensive. My knowledge of India was limited to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and of cows laying in the road. I took the opportunity because it meant a substantial tick on the CV, and a few months of much cheaper living, allowing me to save some much needed funds for a house. I thought of it as a destination for backpackers "finding" themselves, and extreme poverty. My mother was born there and lived there as a child, but that was 70-odd years ago, and she had no real memories of it to speak of.
So, in April, I found myself in possession of 20-odd injections, a visa, and a one-way air ticket to Mumbai International. This is what I've discovered since.
The country is big. Really big. Many people think of it as just the "V" shaped piece of land sticking out in to the ocean between the middle east and the Indonesian peninsula. The actual country stretches a long way north, into the main Asian continent - at least the same again as the piece bordered by the oceans, heading up to the Himalayas, over (and past) the chinese bordero on one side and the Pakistan border on the other. And it holds, currently, 1.25billion people. 1 in 5 people on the planet live in India. It really makes the UK feel tiny. And it's only 4.5 hours ahead. I had never realised there were "half" time zones until I came here. Although I've been able to tell the time for a few years now, it makes working out the exact time back home a little tricky and not very "off the cuff".
It's poor. A very poor country indeed. There are a lot of very rich people here, but comparitively the vast majority don't have a proverbial pot to pee in. The first thing you see from the window of the plane is the vast slums bordering the airport. Blue tarps on all the roofs. And an awful lot of satellite dishes. In a city of around 18 million people, the slums hold a good proportion of them. However, "slum" doesn't hold the same connotations as in the UK. It is merely an unofficial house. I know and work with many people who live in the slums, and they turn up for work every day in crisp shirts, clean shoes, and an inspirational "can do" attitude. You get one family per dwelling - which may be a single room about 10 feet by 12 feet. The family may be mother, father, brother and wife, grandparents and kids. They all live there, eat, sleep etc. But they've all got the Indian version of Sky (maybe a pound a month for all channels including live Premiership matches!), big flat screen TVs, smart phones. They don't need much space as they have a decent climate, and spend most of the down time outside, socialising, sitting together, playing cards etc. It's not unusual to see a row of brand new cars outside the slums. And millions of motorbikes - nothing bigger than 200cc, but that's plenty big enough to take a family of 5 across the city if needed. My best I've seen so far is 4 adults and 2 kids on one bike.
The slums don't have sanitation. They may have running water for cooking/washing, but no toilets. They are communal affairs, and you know when you go past them. They really do stink. Many slums outside the city (but still in the suburbs) have fields where they all head off to in the morning, it's quite normal to drive to work and see a few dozen heads popping up out of the bushes, watching the cars go by. There's no shame in it, you just don't look too hard.
Developers will pay the slum dwellers an awful lot of money if they want to build on slum land. My driver has been offered the equivalent of £40,000 for his slum. He knows it's worth more, so is holding out. He is very happy there, he says he lives in the most social place on the planet, and lives free. His kids have friends everywhere, can play out til midnight and be perfectly safe. There's no traffic in the slums, and very little crime - everyone is an aunty or an uncle, and everyone looks out for each other. The slums have their own industry too - little shops and stalls, and factories and the like - the big slum is rumoured to have an internal industry worth half a billion US$ a year. I believe it.
There are families who don't even live in the slums. It's common to see entire families, from babies to the elderly, all sleeping on the side of the main roads, under flyovers, some under tarps but many times just laid out on the pavement, sleeping where they can. If you stop at a junction near them, you get a "tap tap tap" on the window, kids begging, wanting a few rupees from the rich people commuting. It's hard, but you can't give to them all, so best not give to any - otherwise you would be swamped and never get anywhere. Sounds harsh, but it's just the way it is. There's no ill-feeling if you don't give, they just have an attitude of "well, you've got to try". But it's hard to see the big white eyes in the brown faces and not feel a twinge of unfairness about having been born in a rich western country.
There is construction EVERYWHERE. Half finished high-rises, stopped due to a lack of "black money" being paid, or the developer has gone bust, or the construction is just glacier-like. People still live in them, right up to the unfinished floors with the rebar still sticking out, going rusty.
The food is simply amazing. Beef is banned, but you can get buffalo, which is close enough. Chicken is fresh - you can find a butcher's stall where they kill and prepare the chicken/goat right there, quick and easy and as fresh as can be. The animals are well kept right up until slaughter, and it tastes like it too. In the UK, curries are simply over-chilli'd dishes, the hotter the better. Here, they are spiced to perfection, cooked well, served in decent portions, and are incredibly cheap. A streetfood chicken curry and bread and cokes for 2 people will set you back about £3. I have put on a stone since April, and I have no doubt the gain will continue as long as I'm out here.
Getting a decent cup of tea is impossible. They do a strange all-milk tea, in a tiny cup. Oh how I long for a mug of rosie from the vast tea plantations of Yorkshire. This is what I get:
The traffic. Well. That has to be seen to be believed. I'm not lying or exaggerating when I say that the lines painted on the road are seen as decoration. If there's space to put a car/bike/rickshaw there, then they will put one there. Car horns are everywhere. In the market areas, there are many shops dedicated to replacing work out car horns. You get armies of guys on the streets repairing, re-wiring and testing car horns, and they'll fit one to your car for a couple of hundred rupees (£2). On the roads - rules are slack. They generally drive on the left, but if that's blocked, then they'll drive on the right, on the footway, anywhere. Roundabouts - pick a direction. Clockwise, anticlockwise, forward, reverse, anything goes. Headlights optional. There is no checking of bulbs. Flashing your headlights means "I'm coming through, get out of the way!" - but saying that, I have only seen one small knock since I've been here, when a car rolled back at some traffic lights and cracked the front light of a rickshaw. It looks chaotic, but the drivers are properly skillful. There is zero road rage. If someone cuts you up, you get on with it. Flash your headlights to make someone move out of the way, they move (if they can) and everyone just carries on.
Cars are all Mahindras, Tatas, Hyundais and Suzukis. Theres a fair few VWs, Renaults and Mercedes too, but the vast majority are Indian-built models. They are basic (4x4s with leaf springs all round), and cheap, but they appear to be reliable. I've seen a handful of Porsche Cayennes, a single Boxster, and a few BMWs. My car here is a Toyota Innova, a Hilux-based people carrier, very comfy and robust. You can buy a brand new Royal Enfield 500cc bike for about £1300. Smaller bikes are under a grand, brand new. The Tata Nano is a crazy little car, I wouldn't want to have a prang in one. No airbags, keep-fit windows, but AC and a semi-auto paddle shift box. Strange priorities here.
My car and Mastan, my very cool driver.
Public transport is very chaotic, but at the same time extremely ordered. The trains leave exactly at the time on the timetable, and if you're not on, tough. The doors never shut, so you get a lot of people jumping off early, or jumping on while the train is still moving, and the people already on the train will grab you and make sure you're on safely. To cross the city can cost as little as 5p in second class, or a whole 100r (£1) if you want the padded seat luxury of first class.
The people are, by and large, mad and brilliant. There is very little cross-sex contact - you won't see many boyfriends/girlfriends holding hands. The guys hold hands with other guys, and it's just seen as a sign of friendship. It's a strange thing to see, but you soon get used to it. Even somewhere as metropolitan as Mumbai, a white face anywhere except the tourist areas is met with inquisitive glances, kids running alongside shouting "Hello sir! What is your name? Where are you from?". Older kids and more image conscious teens wearing skinny jeans and bright shirts will ask you for a photo - I've had hundreds of kids ask me for photos, they give their phone to a friend, grab your hand and say "smile please sir!" - I'm probably on hundreds of Facebook profiles. You get babies thrust at you to hold and have pictures with. My suspicious mind used to think that it was a ruse to get money out of me, but now I realise it's meant in a very innocent way. Their smiles are genuine, they are all (in my experience) honest, decent, and quite humble. I've got a lot of time for them.
The women mostly wear saris, which generally show a considerable amount of flesh - and the bright colours match their nail varnish, lipstick and their gold ear-rings, necklaces, toe-rings etc. They look extremely attractive, maybe not so much in the face but the overall package is such that you have to make sure you're not caught staring. And they have very wiggly hips. (That's a bit sexist maybe, but it's definitely something you notice!)
The markets (Chor Bazaar - the Thieves Market) is amazing. You can get and see anything. From a vintage ships signalling lamp, to a handmade suit, to a car door, to a kilogram of cinnamon. Everything and anything. Food, drinks, furniture, tools, anything. Oh, and bananas. I've never seen so many bananas as here. Carts and carts full.
Because the population is so large, the thinking is "Why embrace technology when you can get people to do the labour?" Trimming the bushed on the central reservation of motorways is done by armies of women with scissors. The roads are swept manually, daily. Deliveries are all taken from the trucks to the shops by hand, construction materials (steel, concrete etc) delivered on hand carts, everyone has found a means of earning a few pennies to get by every day.
There is rubbish everywhere, it's not a clean city, but after a few weeks you get used to it. So many people in a developing country means that it will never be as clean as a European city, but the piles are out of the way and people muddle their way through.
I've been up to Delhi and Agra (to see the Taj) and they really are tourist traps. I didn't enjoy the constant calls to see this shop, that shop, "rickshaw sir", "Tour guide?", but I guess they make their living off people going to see the various sights. The Taj Mahal is stunning though. As a non-Indian you pay 40times that of an Indian to get in, but once in you get a reserved route and special photo platforms etc that the locals can't use. Check out the price differences...
As a white face, every restaurant you go in to you are served by the manager, and more than once the manager has kicked out Indians to free up a table for us - I feel awful when it happens, but the locals seem to accept it with good grace, and give you a smile as they take their plates to the benches outside. It's very humbling.
The wildlife is interesting. Mumbai has a high population of black eagles - they fly around the city, circling all day, and are quite impressive. There are rumoured to be crocodiles in the lake near me, and in the national park there are wild monkeys and big cats.
So, overall, life is good. There's no denying that life as a westerner here is one of privelege. My UK salary is probably 6 times what the equivalent level employee here earns, so it's always on your mind when you go for drinks that it;s much easier for me to get a round in than it is for them, or to shout them all lunch twice a week, or to not complain when my allowance cheque comes through late.
My preconceptions were all wrong. I blame the media - they, of course, want to show the massive differences between the cultures, but to be honest, I've slotted in to day-to-day living very easily, people are people, and if you treat them with respect, they will return it a hundred times over. I will miss the place when I go home, hugely. In fact, I've started calling here, "home". It's great. Frustrating, noisy, chaotic, busy, but a great adventure nonetheless.
I'll try and add some more parts as I think of them/discover the photos on my phone and camera. I'm off to the Andaman Islands on Sunday, it's a £50 flight from here, and hotels there are the equivalent of £10/night - such a hardship!
If anyone has any questions, or would like any more info, please feel free to ask - I've got lots of boring photos and stuff I can post up if anyone wants anything more specific.
Thanks for reading
ETA I've got more to add but that will probably be tomorrow now.
(Reminder to self: Expats, work, language, procedure, corruption, attitudes towards marriage etc)
Edited by OpulentBob on Wednesday 26th August 18:54
Great write-up, and as a regular visitor to Mumbai, everything you say resonates with me. Such a country of contrasts, Mumbai more so than anywhere else. In your second picture, the highest building is (I think) Antilia, which is supposed to be the most expensive private residence on Earth (owned by Mukesh Ambani) and worth $1bn or so - and yet not 1 mile from there are thousands living on the streets.
Whereabouts are you staying whilst over there? I'm typically in Powai (and there are crocodiles in that lake!)...
ETA, If you get the chance, go to the AER Lounge on the 34th floor at the Fourseasons - it's an outdoor balcony bar, and is great place to watch the sun go down over the ocean, the Indian 'beautiful people', and listen to some cool sounds.
Whereabouts are you staying whilst over there? I'm typically in Powai (and there are crocodiles in that lake!)...
ETA, If you get the chance, go to the AER Lounge on the 34th floor at the Fourseasons - it's an outdoor balcony bar, and is great place to watch the sun go down over the ocean, the Indian 'beautiful people', and listen to some cool sounds.
Edited by anonymous-user on Wednesday 26th August 18:22
had ham said:
Great write-up, and as a regular visitor to Mumbai, everything you say resonates with me. Such a country of contrasts, Mumbai more so than anywhere else. In your second picture, the highest building is (I think) Antilia, which is supposed to be the most expensive private residence on Earth (owned by Mukesh Ambani) and worth $1bn or so - and yet not 1 mile from there are thousands living on the streets.
Whereabouts are you staying whilst over there? I'm typically in Powai (and there are crocodiles in that lake!)...
ETA, If you get the chance, go to the AER Lounge on the 34th floor at the Fourseasons - it's an outdoor balcony bar, and is great place to watch the sun go down over the ocean, the Indian 'beautiful people', and listen to some cool sounds.
I'm staying in Powai - my work is over in Mahape, Navi Mumbai, so it's nice to be in the suburbs. I've tried to get the the AER lounge, but it's monsoon season and is always raining every time I plan it... May have to wait for September. Whereabouts are you staying whilst over there? I'm typically in Powai (and there are crocodiles in that lake!)...
ETA, If you get the chance, go to the AER Lounge on the 34th floor at the Fourseasons - it's an outdoor balcony bar, and is great place to watch the sun go down over the ocean, the Indian 'beautiful people', and listen to some cool sounds.
Edited by had ham on Wednesday 26th August 18:22
I've heard about the Powai crocs - it's a shame, the lake looks SO tempting for a dip! The locals don't believe there is one, but I've seen the photos...
OpulentBob said:
I'm staying in Powai - my work is over in Mahape, Navi Mumbai, so it's nice to be in the suburbs. I've tried to get the the AER lounge, but it's monsoon season and is always raining every time I plan it... May have to wait for September.
I've heard about the Powai crocs - it's a shame, the lake looks SO tempting for a dip! The locals don't believe there is one, but I've seen the photos...
You'll often see locals swimming/fishing from inner-tubes in there, wouldn't do that myself, I'm sure I saw a croc from the pool area at the Renaissance (my usual hotel) 4 or 5 years back!I've heard about the Powai crocs - it's a shame, the lake looks SO tempting for a dip! The locals don't believe there is one, but I've seen the photos...
Apologies for the lack of photos now: I’m at work, and haven’t got my hard drive with the pictures on – if I get a chance later, I’ll add some more.
I suppose I should get the most obvious thing out of the way first. The dreaded Delhi Belly! To be honest, it’s not THAT bad. It’s caused by the water being too rich for our delicate western stomachs, nothing to do with the food or a lack of hygiene. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make you feel sick, it’s purely a runny tummy and you just make sure you’ve not too far from a toilet for a couple of days. It’s understandable, it’s expected, and there’s no embarrassment in it. It happens.
Jabs wise, I’ve had the full raft. Hep A/B, rabies, typhoid, Japanese encephalitis, and some others – but to be honest unless you do anything really stupid, I can’t see any of them being more than an extreme precaution. Medicines are all available over the counter without prescription, and are CHEAP. A pack of antibiotics will be about 35p, 6 immodium 40p, etc.
Wandering around outside the real tourist areas, you don’t see many European faces. I mean, there are a few but as a percentage of the whole it’s far FAR were than the comparison in reverse anywhere in the UK. It’s quite common to get in to a conversation with a “creamyface” in a bar or restaurant, and the conversation always starts with where you’re from, and how long you’re there for – and normally ends with swapping phone numbers or emails. It’s like being at big school on the first day – you have to learn to make friends again. It’s not that easy being mid-30’s, but once you get used to it, it’s a great feeling. In 4 months, I’ve developed a great group of friends – American, Brazilian, French, Italian, German, Welsh, Nigerian, Ghanaen, S. African, and an Israeli. We all live in the same area, if any of us are bored we send out a group What’sApp and can normally whip up a drinking/hiking buddy in no time.
(What’sApp is absolutely huge here. If you want to book a meeting with the bank manager, book a car, book a table at a restaurant, ANYTHING, you use What’sApp. All you ever hear is that bloody Samsung whistle!)
It’s perfectly pleasant to wander round in shorts at any time of the day or night. I am yet to feel cold anywhere except the cinema – for some reason it is genuinely like a fridge in there, probably close to single digit temperatures. It’s so humid too, you can’t help but sweat. It’s clean sweat though, not like grafting all day sweat. Kind of like sauna sweat. (Too much info?) And it’s monsoon season now, which, to be honest, is just like April in the UK, only a constant 30 degrees. It’s not too hot, too cold, too wet. I’ve survived so far and I’ve not even got an umbrella. I think I’ve been properly caught out and soaked once. But it’s their only rain, between June and September every year, and they love it, celebrate it and the green-ness it brings. But, being a Brit, it’s just rain. Get over it!
We all, obviously, speak English. As do most of the locals. Some Indians speak a bit of French, some a bit of Portuguese, but given that India has about 20 official languages, most people have decided that English is the common tongue. That doesn’t mean you can understand them, or they can understand you, but it’s a start. Strangely, the people who are understood the best are the French guys, speaking English with a very French accent – they never, ever have to repeat themselves. I practically have to use sign language, but then I speak like a country bumpkin, buh. The language here, from the locals, is beautiful. Women speaking Hindi (or the local dialect, Marathi) sounds as romantic/sexy as anything. The men speaking it sound like they’re spoiling for a fight, so I don’t listen out for them! Their English is very 1930’s – they use words like “thrice” and phrases like “each and everything” “with all my thankfulness”, and “do the needful”, which makes me chuckle.
Getting anything done here takes a long time. The country appears to be stuck in the pre-Internet age, yet is fully digitally connected. It goes back to my original point about using lots of labour to do what a single computer/machine could or would do in the western world. If you want to register as a tax-paying foreigner (FRRO), then you have to go to an office, and see about 6 different people – each gives you a different piece of paper to sign, and then stamps it, and sends you on to someone else. It’s inefficiency in the extreme, but it employs people. It’s the same with something as simple as shopping. The local supermarket: One person to greet you, one to pass you a trolley, DOZENS of assistants helping you find stuff, one person on the till, one person bagging, one person passing you the receipt, one person stamping the receipt on exit. Crazy, but once you get used to it, it flows quite well. Browsing, however, doesn’t happen. Stop for more than 5 seconds and they descend on you, trying to help or suggest something you’d like, show you the offers etc. It can be a bit overwhelming sometimes…
It’s the same with work – we’ve employed someone to do the expenses, yet he needs an assistant for a reason we can’t quite figure, who he just copies in to all emails. It’s cheap to employ him, and if we ask if he’s necessary then we get told quite firmly that the expenses guy couldn’t do it alone – but still, it’s amusing to see them working away together, one is definitely more senior, and he lets the other guy know at every opportunity. They LOVE a job title here. If one person is an Engineer, and another is a Senior Engineer, then the senior will have to refer to his job title almost constantly. Every email has the full signature, every letter, or form, or phone call he identifies himself as Mr Bramhankar, Senior Engineer. (Personally, as long as they pay me, I don’t care what they call me, I’m an engineer, that’s good enough for me – but here they LOVE the professional recognition!)
That doesn’t mean that professionalism is everywhere. I’ve had to give a few hundred rupees here or there to get things happening. When I was looking for an apartment, I had to have an interview with “the society”, which is a group of the more respected/long term residents who decide if new tenants are suitable for their building. (The apartment buildings are 30+ storey buildings, with anything from 2-6 apartments per floor). Being an unmarried man, they wouldn’t accept me. They don’t see a long-term partner as a wife, in fact mention the word “girlfriend” and they think you’re some sort of playboy. They asked me how many girlfriends I have in the UK, and would they be visiting – and when I said I had one, and yes she would, you could see the disapproval dripping from under their noses. I gave up in the end and have decided to stay in a hotel long term, I’ve negotiated a room and a rate, and short of a kitchen it’s not much different to a serviced apartment. It also avoids a lot of the other pitfalls.
For example, when many of the apartment buildings were built, they displaced slums. The slum dwellers negotiated with the building developers (and “societies”) that they would retain the employment rights to move furniture in and out of the apartments. So if you get something delivered on anything other than a Saturday, and don’t get the “mob” to move it in, they will blockade the gate, and threaten (and beat) the delivery driver unless they get a pay off. It’s like something from the 1920’s. An expat friend got a table delivered on a Tuesday, and ended up in a (physical) fight with about ten of these mobsters who were trying to extort about GBP100 from him to allow the driver to enter. This is accepted and normal and happens all the time. One of the darker sides to “life” here, rather than just coming for a holiday! But it happens. If you go moaning to The Society, and start raising your voice, you can normally get half the money back. It’s very fluid, and depends how much you want to argue.
The arranged marriage thing is a funny one. I say arranged, it’s more “assisted”. It holds a hangover to the s
tty outdated caste system, but it also has its merits. The parents will help the son or daughter find a partner, there is no obligation. People are free to go and find wives off their own back, but the approval of the family is very important. In many households, the son earning will support the rest of the family in old age. (My driver supports his wife, children, parents, and brother/brother’s family on the wage and tip that I pay him.) A colleague of mine has probably met 100 girls over the last couple of years, mostly through family introductions, but none he wants to marry. Whilst he seems a bit gutted, there is no stigma in meeting and not getting on – although I think there’s more to it than that, and that the caste system/skin tone plays a part. There’s definitely a thing about having paler skin. All face washes, creams etc here are openly advertised as “whitening”, or “enhance your fairness”, “fair and lovely” etc, and I think the darker the skin the lower in “the system” you are – that kind of grates a bit but again, appears to be widely accepted here.
It was mentioned above about restaurant managers moving locals off of tables to allow us westerners to sit. We certainly don’t ask for it – I can only guess it’s an economic decision. We, generally, spend a lot more on food and drink than locals. They may sit and share a curry between 4, with chapattis and tap water. We would likely sit, have a curry each, a few naan, a pudding, and 3 or 4 beers each – and then tip more than most people pay for a meal. It’s not trying to show off and be the big rich white man, but if everyone leaves the equivalent of a quid’s tip, then that can quite easily double the waiter’s wage for the day, and it’s a quid each. If it makes that much difference to them, they’re welcome to it. It’s the same with Mastan, my driver. I tip him a tenner a week, and that pays for his daughter’s schooling. I won’t miss ten quid, and considering he runs me all over the place, at any time of the day or night, I should probably give him more. When I go home permanently, I’ve already decided he’s getting whatever’s left in my living expenses account, and my “old” laptop and phone. It’s the least I can do.
Rickshaws. Now then. These things are either a blessing or a bane. There is no denying they are CHEAP. 17p for the first 3km, and then about 7p/km thereafter. You can cross the city, or go from South Mumbai to the northern suburbs after 1am for about 3 quid. But they are like wasps, like annoying, buzzy wasps. The horns, constantly going. The drivers constantly trying to tell you the meter isn’t working, so the trip will be 100r. But, get a good driver, who uses the meter, and doesn’t take the long way round, and they are such a great way of travelling. Yes, you feel exposed, and yes, the level of driving sometimes leaves a lot to be desired, but again I’ve never seen an accident with one, they are cheap and easy to repair, and they are ultra-maneuverable. They get driven in the same way a cat uses it’s whiskers – if the front fits, then there’s room. Easy to hail, easy to pay, and the drivers are incredibly knowledgable about the various destinations.
That’s it for now, part 2 mega waffle over – I’ll try and update with photos later on, but as before, if you have any specific questions or comments or want to know more about anything about life out here, just say
I suppose I should get the most obvious thing out of the way first. The dreaded Delhi Belly! To be honest, it’s not THAT bad. It’s caused by the water being too rich for our delicate western stomachs, nothing to do with the food or a lack of hygiene. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make you feel sick, it’s purely a runny tummy and you just make sure you’ve not too far from a toilet for a couple of days. It’s understandable, it’s expected, and there’s no embarrassment in it. It happens.
Jabs wise, I’ve had the full raft. Hep A/B, rabies, typhoid, Japanese encephalitis, and some others – but to be honest unless you do anything really stupid, I can’t see any of them being more than an extreme precaution. Medicines are all available over the counter without prescription, and are CHEAP. A pack of antibiotics will be about 35p, 6 immodium 40p, etc.
Wandering around outside the real tourist areas, you don’t see many European faces. I mean, there are a few but as a percentage of the whole it’s far FAR were than the comparison in reverse anywhere in the UK. It’s quite common to get in to a conversation with a “creamyface” in a bar or restaurant, and the conversation always starts with where you’re from, and how long you’re there for – and normally ends with swapping phone numbers or emails. It’s like being at big school on the first day – you have to learn to make friends again. It’s not that easy being mid-30’s, but once you get used to it, it’s a great feeling. In 4 months, I’ve developed a great group of friends – American, Brazilian, French, Italian, German, Welsh, Nigerian, Ghanaen, S. African, and an Israeli. We all live in the same area, if any of us are bored we send out a group What’sApp and can normally whip up a drinking/hiking buddy in no time.
(What’sApp is absolutely huge here. If you want to book a meeting with the bank manager, book a car, book a table at a restaurant, ANYTHING, you use What’sApp. All you ever hear is that bloody Samsung whistle!)
It’s perfectly pleasant to wander round in shorts at any time of the day or night. I am yet to feel cold anywhere except the cinema – for some reason it is genuinely like a fridge in there, probably close to single digit temperatures. It’s so humid too, you can’t help but sweat. It’s clean sweat though, not like grafting all day sweat. Kind of like sauna sweat. (Too much info?) And it’s monsoon season now, which, to be honest, is just like April in the UK, only a constant 30 degrees. It’s not too hot, too cold, too wet. I’ve survived so far and I’ve not even got an umbrella. I think I’ve been properly caught out and soaked once. But it’s their only rain, between June and September every year, and they love it, celebrate it and the green-ness it brings. But, being a Brit, it’s just rain. Get over it!
We all, obviously, speak English. As do most of the locals. Some Indians speak a bit of French, some a bit of Portuguese, but given that India has about 20 official languages, most people have decided that English is the common tongue. That doesn’t mean you can understand them, or they can understand you, but it’s a start. Strangely, the people who are understood the best are the French guys, speaking English with a very French accent – they never, ever have to repeat themselves. I practically have to use sign language, but then I speak like a country bumpkin, buh. The language here, from the locals, is beautiful. Women speaking Hindi (or the local dialect, Marathi) sounds as romantic/sexy as anything. The men speaking it sound like they’re spoiling for a fight, so I don’t listen out for them! Their English is very 1930’s – they use words like “thrice” and phrases like “each and everything” “with all my thankfulness”, and “do the needful”, which makes me chuckle.
Getting anything done here takes a long time. The country appears to be stuck in the pre-Internet age, yet is fully digitally connected. It goes back to my original point about using lots of labour to do what a single computer/machine could or would do in the western world. If you want to register as a tax-paying foreigner (FRRO), then you have to go to an office, and see about 6 different people – each gives you a different piece of paper to sign, and then stamps it, and sends you on to someone else. It’s inefficiency in the extreme, but it employs people. It’s the same with something as simple as shopping. The local supermarket: One person to greet you, one to pass you a trolley, DOZENS of assistants helping you find stuff, one person on the till, one person bagging, one person passing you the receipt, one person stamping the receipt on exit. Crazy, but once you get used to it, it flows quite well. Browsing, however, doesn’t happen. Stop for more than 5 seconds and they descend on you, trying to help or suggest something you’d like, show you the offers etc. It can be a bit overwhelming sometimes…
It’s the same with work – we’ve employed someone to do the expenses, yet he needs an assistant for a reason we can’t quite figure, who he just copies in to all emails. It’s cheap to employ him, and if we ask if he’s necessary then we get told quite firmly that the expenses guy couldn’t do it alone – but still, it’s amusing to see them working away together, one is definitely more senior, and he lets the other guy know at every opportunity. They LOVE a job title here. If one person is an Engineer, and another is a Senior Engineer, then the senior will have to refer to his job title almost constantly. Every email has the full signature, every letter, or form, or phone call he identifies himself as Mr Bramhankar, Senior Engineer. (Personally, as long as they pay me, I don’t care what they call me, I’m an engineer, that’s good enough for me – but here they LOVE the professional recognition!)
That doesn’t mean that professionalism is everywhere. I’ve had to give a few hundred rupees here or there to get things happening. When I was looking for an apartment, I had to have an interview with “the society”, which is a group of the more respected/long term residents who decide if new tenants are suitable for their building. (The apartment buildings are 30+ storey buildings, with anything from 2-6 apartments per floor). Being an unmarried man, they wouldn’t accept me. They don’t see a long-term partner as a wife, in fact mention the word “girlfriend” and they think you’re some sort of playboy. They asked me how many girlfriends I have in the UK, and would they be visiting – and when I said I had one, and yes she would, you could see the disapproval dripping from under their noses. I gave up in the end and have decided to stay in a hotel long term, I’ve negotiated a room and a rate, and short of a kitchen it’s not much different to a serviced apartment. It also avoids a lot of the other pitfalls.
For example, when many of the apartment buildings were built, they displaced slums. The slum dwellers negotiated with the building developers (and “societies”) that they would retain the employment rights to move furniture in and out of the apartments. So if you get something delivered on anything other than a Saturday, and don’t get the “mob” to move it in, they will blockade the gate, and threaten (and beat) the delivery driver unless they get a pay off. It’s like something from the 1920’s. An expat friend got a table delivered on a Tuesday, and ended up in a (physical) fight with about ten of these mobsters who were trying to extort about GBP100 from him to allow the driver to enter. This is accepted and normal and happens all the time. One of the darker sides to “life” here, rather than just coming for a holiday! But it happens. If you go moaning to The Society, and start raising your voice, you can normally get half the money back. It’s very fluid, and depends how much you want to argue.
The arranged marriage thing is a funny one. I say arranged, it’s more “assisted”. It holds a hangover to the s
tty outdated caste system, but it also has its merits. The parents will help the son or daughter find a partner, there is no obligation. People are free to go and find wives off their own back, but the approval of the family is very important. In many households, the son earning will support the rest of the family in old age. (My driver supports his wife, children, parents, and brother/brother’s family on the wage and tip that I pay him.) A colleague of mine has probably met 100 girls over the last couple of years, mostly through family introductions, but none he wants to marry. Whilst he seems a bit gutted, there is no stigma in meeting and not getting on – although I think there’s more to it than that, and that the caste system/skin tone plays a part. There’s definitely a thing about having paler skin. All face washes, creams etc here are openly advertised as “whitening”, or “enhance your fairness”, “fair and lovely” etc, and I think the darker the skin the lower in “the system” you are – that kind of grates a bit but again, appears to be widely accepted here. It was mentioned above about restaurant managers moving locals off of tables to allow us westerners to sit. We certainly don’t ask for it – I can only guess it’s an economic decision. We, generally, spend a lot more on food and drink than locals. They may sit and share a curry between 4, with chapattis and tap water. We would likely sit, have a curry each, a few naan, a pudding, and 3 or 4 beers each – and then tip more than most people pay for a meal. It’s not trying to show off and be the big rich white man, but if everyone leaves the equivalent of a quid’s tip, then that can quite easily double the waiter’s wage for the day, and it’s a quid each. If it makes that much difference to them, they’re welcome to it. It’s the same with Mastan, my driver. I tip him a tenner a week, and that pays for his daughter’s schooling. I won’t miss ten quid, and considering he runs me all over the place, at any time of the day or night, I should probably give him more. When I go home permanently, I’ve already decided he’s getting whatever’s left in my living expenses account, and my “old” laptop and phone. It’s the least I can do.
Rickshaws. Now then. These things are either a blessing or a bane. There is no denying they are CHEAP. 17p for the first 3km, and then about 7p/km thereafter. You can cross the city, or go from South Mumbai to the northern suburbs after 1am for about 3 quid. But they are like wasps, like annoying, buzzy wasps. The horns, constantly going. The drivers constantly trying to tell you the meter isn’t working, so the trip will be 100r. But, get a good driver, who uses the meter, and doesn’t take the long way round, and they are such a great way of travelling. Yes, you feel exposed, and yes, the level of driving sometimes leaves a lot to be desired, but again I’ve never seen an accident with one, they are cheap and easy to repair, and they are ultra-maneuverable. They get driven in the same way a cat uses it’s whiskers – if the front fits, then there’s room. Easy to hail, easy to pay, and the drivers are incredibly knowledgable about the various destinations.
That’s it for now, part 2 mega waffle over – I’ll try and update with photos later on, but as before, if you have any specific questions or comments or want to know more about anything about life out here, just say
BertieWooster said:
Absolutely fantastic read OP - thanks for sharing. Just a few questions from me:
- What's it like crime-wise? I know you mentioned that the slum areas seem pretty crime free but I was just wondering whether you are at more risk of getting robbed when you are out and about? And is there a big police/security presence?
- How expensive are the supermarkets if you want to buy more western-style food? I assume local produce is going to be fairly cheap.
- With regard to healthcare, have you had any experience of the medical facilities (e.g. hospitals, doctors, dentists), and if so what was it like?
I've not seen any crime yet - nor have I been worried about it at any point. This may be hugely stereotypical to say but if anyone tried anything I would first of all shout loudly (they appear to hate confrontation), then probably try and slap/punch my way out of it. There are police and security guards everywhere though, since the terror attacks. It's an incredibly peaceful (in terms of violence) place. I've seen a couple of bodies though, workplace accidents are scarily frequent here. People falling off buildings, or things falling off and squashing people, who are simply scraped up and put in the back of a flatbed and driven across the city to (presumably) the morgue. You can lose your lunch if you see something like that!- What's it like crime-wise? I know you mentioned that the slum areas seem pretty crime free but I was just wondering whether you are at more risk of getting robbed when you are out and about? And is there a big police/security presence?
- How expensive are the supermarkets if you want to buy more western-style food? I assume local produce is going to be fairly cheap.
- With regard to healthcare, have you had any experience of the medical facilities (e.g. hospitals, doctors, dentists), and if so what was it like?
The crowds appear to be pretty self-policing too. One of the expats was in a car accident - her driver was at fault and clipped a moped rider, causing the moped rider to fall off. A crowd of about 15 people dragged him out of his car, slapped him silly (punches and kicks), and then put him back in the car and drove him (in his own car!) to the police station...
Western food can be expensive. I borrowed a friend's apartment while he was on holiday, and bought the ingredients to knock myself up a carbonara. Pasta is quite cheap, but a standard triangle of Gradano was 800rupees (8 quid!). It's cheaper to eat out. I'm yet to find anywhere that will fill your belly and cost more than a tenner (plus beer).
I've had to go to the dentist here, but I went to a private hospital (work medical insurance) - although saying that, I think everywhere is private to some degree. It wasn't cheap, but the treatment was first class. I'm yet to go to the doctors, but I think I may have cracked/broken a bone in my wrist a few months ago - I cant lift or push anything with it, but can move it OK - so will probably end up at a local docs for an x-ray at some point. I'd have no issue going to use them for anything - be it GP services or anything more extreme. It's fine.
Pistom said:
Great read. If you are enjoying Mumbai, you will love some of the other cities which make Mumbai seem sterile. The only Indians I've disliked are arrogant wealthy ones who treat other Indians like st but suck up to anyone who seems wealthy.
I've avoided talking about that sort. There is NOTHING ruder than a rich Indian. I have twice had to get involved when a rich Indian has started berating a waiter/server for doing the wrong thing, even though the waiter had asked, and been ignored, and decided for themselves the best course of action. I'm no "big social warrior" but they soon back down when a creamy face makes a big spectacle of them in front of all of their colleagues/friends. But yes, they are the rudest of the rude, and an embarrassment to their country. t but suck up to anyone who seems wealthy. Esceptico said:
Interesting that you have had such positive experiences. Mine were different. I found that there was a huge difference between being with family (my wife to be's). They were brilliant. Couldn't have been more hospitable. Really made me feel at home (despite being a gora). However outside of family I found that everyone else was trying to rip me off (probably because I was a foreigner). Just one example. I took a taxi from the train station to Nariman point. After about 15 minutes I glanced out the window...and we were driving past the station! Driver had just done a big loop to add to the fare. Although the amounts involved were small it still got on my nervous by the end of the month I was there.
You have to be wise to it, it's true, I've probably paid over the odds once or twice. Now I tell them, straight up, that if they don't mess me around I'll tip them, and sort of argument and they won't get anything extra. Again, a 100r note for us is a quid, so maybe a third of a usual cab ride tip. For them it may double their daily wage, so it pays for them to behave a little. I haven't felt (that much) that they're trying to rip me off. They probably do see me as a potentially good customer with deep pockets (comparatively) but any attempts to get extra out of me have been honest, if that makes sense - Rickshaws aside. Things like they try to serve you the expensive beer, but you only have to tell them once that you want Kingfisher, not the German stuff, and they're fine with it.
I hang out with my Indian colleagues too, which I think offers me some protection from the rip-off merchants. If we were a bunch of whiteys all hanging out together without our drivers etc, then I'm sure we would be targetted a little more. But as one white face in a half a dozen marathi-speaking locals, you can kind of blend in a little!
thainy77 said:
I see you've touched on it a few times with regard to rich/poor and dark/pale but how do you find the class system in general? that was my biggest gripe about India.
It absolutely sucks, as far as I can tell. The whole caste/class thing makes my skin crawl. I have a young lady working for me, she is 25ish. She has had her boyfriend since school, they are great together, they speak all the time, they have got a lifetime of plans ahead of them. But they are not allowed to marry because his mother is aware that she is from a lower caste, and therefore is not eligible for marriage. She's got 2 degrees, works hard, is an attractive, slim, well-off girl, but because her great grandfather was a farmer or something, it's forbidden. She regularly is upset on a Monday morning, coming back to the city having spent a weekend with her family and hearing how her BF's parents have arranged meetings with other potential wives. I've met him, he's a decent lad, but he can't/won't say anything to them out of respect.
I think, before I go home, I'm going to have words with them over the phone. Nothing angry or nasty, just a chat with someone who sees things in a different way. I'm fully aware that it's not my society, and it's not my culture, but I really don't know if they realise how upsetting it is for her, and for absolutely no tangible reason at all.
That's about all I've heard about the system to be honest, I don't think I'd be able to stomach hearing or knowing too much more about it. For all our PH snobbery on here, I think we'd all be quite similar.
PurpleTurtle said:
How have you found the blatant bullstting in business? I deal with Indian colleagues every day (offshore software support and development) and have been over there a couple of times (Hyderabad). My biggest frustration is that Indians, in general, are incapable of saying no, or admitting they don't know something, because of the 'loss of face' issue.
I've had major systems go down, the conversation always goes like this:
Me: "System XYZ has gone down, the log shows return code 1234 from program ABC. Do you know what that is?"
Indian colleague: "Yes"
Me: "OK, what is it?"
Indian colleague: "I don't know"
It is infuriating. I don't expect them to know everything, but the level of bullstting is incredible. We would get on a lot better if they were able to say "I don't know, but I can find out".
I find the heirachical system pretty hard work too. Nobody will question their boss, even if their boss is talking bks. In my field every one wants to be a techie for as short a time as possible, before becoming a manager, because being a manager has status. The problem I find is that it's the best bullstters that get promoted, who were most likely awful techies. They then take terrible decisions that they expect their bright, junior techies to follow, which are batst mental, but the junior techie will never question their boss's "wisdom", even though their boss is a complete fkwit.
tting in business? I deal with Indian colleagues every day (offshore software support and development) and have been over there a couple of times (Hyderabad). My biggest frustration is that Indians, in general, are incapable of saying no, or admitting they don't know something, because of the 'loss of face' issue.I've had major systems go down, the conversation always goes like this:
Me: "System XYZ has gone down, the log shows return code 1234 from program ABC. Do you know what that is?"
Indian colleague: "Yes"
Me: "OK, what is it?"
Indian colleague: "I don't know"
It is infuriating. I don't expect them to know everything, but the level of bulls
tting is incredible. We would get on a lot better if they were able to say "I don't know, but I can find out". I find the heirachical system pretty hard work too. Nobody will question their boss, even if their boss is talking b
ks. In my field every one wants to be a techie for as short a time as possible, before becoming a manager, because being a manager has status. The problem I find is that it's the best bullstters that get promoted, who were most likely awful techies. They then take terrible decisions that they expect their bright, junior techies to follow, which are batst mental, but the junior techie will never question their boss's "wisdom", even though their boss is a complete fkwit. 
All the time.
And yes, they all look up to me for various things because I'm from "head office" (as far as I'm concerned, that means nothing special) and can't/won't make ANY decisions for themselves! How they will cope when I go home, I have no idea...
hora said:
Erm can we have any pictures of these ladies? I'm struggling as I find them to be quite beautiful. 
Believe it or not, I don't have any photos of the ladies - mainly out of respect to the culture here - I would feel a little uncomfortable taking photos of them in the streets. If I get the opportunity to take a subtle photo or two, I will. I don't have any pics of the food yet - I'll remember to take some.
Whilst not a curry, vada pav is a fantastic food. "Indian burger", they call it - like a spiced potato samosa, with a sweet and sour sauce, in a roll. Bloody lovely. It's like a street food snack - I get smiles when I order them, and the guys in the office love it when I order a box full for a mid afternoon snack.
Not my pic, but...
Whilst not a curry, vada pav is a fantastic food. "Indian burger", they call it - like a spiced potato samosa, with a sweet and sour sauce, in a roll. Bloody lovely. It's like a street food snack - I get smiles when I order them, and the guys in the office love it when I order a box full for a mid afternoon snack.
Not my pic, but...
Some random photos. I'm no David Bailey so please forgive them being, well, ste.
Another decorated truck. I love the eye on the front air vent flap.
Ad-hoc rickshaw repairs.
Parked in the way? No problem, we'll dig around you...
The local shopping area. Don't know if you can make it out, but the ceiling fan is the size of a helicopter rotor...
The City beach:
The posh bit (where I live)
And the not so posh - although you can buy or obtain any goods or service you want. Literally, anything. Everyone has a skill or a trade and they're bloody good at it too.
And finally for now, an example of the attitudes and knowledge about sex here - from the Mumbai "Ask the Sexpert" pages of the Daily Mirror...
Hope that gives a bit of a flavour. I will update more as I have it, or as more comes to mind
te. Another decorated truck. I love the eye on the front air vent flap.
Ad-hoc rickshaw repairs.
Parked in the way? No problem, we'll dig around you...
The local shopping area. Don't know if you can make it out, but the ceiling fan is the size of a helicopter rotor...
The City beach:
The posh bit (where I live)
And the not so posh - although you can buy or obtain any goods or service you want. Literally, anything. Everyone has a skill or a trade and they're bloody good at it too.
And finally for now, an example of the attitudes and knowledge about sex here - from the Mumbai "Ask the Sexpert" pages of the Daily Mirror...
Hope that gives a bit of a flavour. I will update more as I have it, or as more comes to mind
Roo said:
Great read Bob.
I remember your thread asking for advice about taking the role and everyone telling you you'd love it.
It appears they were right.
Absolutely. I was worrying over nothing, it turns out. I'd recommend it to anyone - I know it's a cliche'd old thing to say, but if I can do it, then anyone can. I remember your thread asking for advice about taking the role and everyone telling you you'd love it.
It appears they were right.
kowalski655 said:
OpulentBob said:
hora said:
Erm can we have any pictures of these ladies? I'm struggling as I find them to be quite beautiful.
Believe it or not, I don't have any photos of the ladies - mainly out of respect to the culture here - I would feel a little uncomfortable taking photos of them in the streets. If I get the opportunity to take a subtle photo or two, I will. 
On the caste thing, abhorrent as it is, how does anyone know what caste someone comes from?If someone comes from the country into Mumbai, surely he has all the opportunities available,or do job application forms ask about caste? Of course,opportunities BEFORE he leaves may be limited by being lower caste I imagine
Job applications, visa etc all ask for caste. It's supposed to be a dead thing, I guess like asking for marital status in the UK, but it's still "a thing". I think it's also reflected in surnames too, but I don't really understand all that. I learned today from the Beeb that "Patel" is a surname (obviously), AND a caste. And the older generation all still live by it. When today's generation is the one calling the shots, I think it will be less of a thing. It's a stigma, like our parents and grandparents have with the whole "gay" thing. To us under 40's, we couldn't give a toss, and I think the same will happen here in time. In 30 years, I think India will be a very different, tolerant and liberal place. The younger generation are all tattoo's, pierced, listen to "our" music, even if they don't fully understand the connotations. One colleague likes Eminem and Dre etc, and he asked me quite openly if we have "n****rs" in the UK, because he's heard the word so often in the music. He couldn't understand it when I told him to never say that word again, that it was simply unacceptable, and if he said it in public in the UK he would be lucky not to get a beating. I asked him how he would like being called a "p**i", and that it had a similarly negative meaning, and he simply said "But I am not Pakistani?". I gave up. Apparantly, even within Indians, the darker you are, the lower you are. Things like that are a little surprising and show the naivety of the place, and that there is still a fair way to go.
I've had a conversation about castes with the expats, in a "what shocks you the most out here" type chat, and all the Europeans felt the same way. The African guys didn't really seem that surprised, but I guess they have probably been on the receiving end of similar or worse in their time. The Germans are the most vocally anti-racism here. They will intervene in any situation where someone is seemingly being put down because they are darker or lower than others. It has definitely made me think about my own prejudices - I didn't think I had any/many before I came here, but I'll be more aware in future. Even things as simple as staring at ethnic clothing - having been stared at and having kids stare and point at you for being different, really brings it home that I could do more/be more accepting/less judgmental.
Here's the story about the Patel caste: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-india-3406533...
The dogs would have eaten the goat guts in no time... They're always licking up the blood when the butchers are slaughtering them.
And yeah, the cows are everywhere, even here. They don't care about traffic, just wander around, lay anywhere, as chilled out as can be, seen them in the car park at the hotel, or laying literally in front of the doorway at the supermarket, or eating the grass on the roundabout islands, they will go wherever they like at a steady 0.5mph. I don't think people drive around them and leave them alone because they're sacred - I think it's just that they would do substantial damage to a car if it hit them, and are too big to move manually!
And yeah, the cows are everywhere, even here. They don't care about traffic, just wander around, lay anywhere, as chilled out as can be, seen them in the car park at the hotel, or laying literally in front of the doorway at the supermarket, or eating the grass on the roundabout islands, they will go wherever they like at a steady 0.5mph. I don't think people drive around them and leave them alone because they're sacred - I think it's just that they would do substantial damage to a car if it hit them, and are too big to move manually!
John_S4x4 said:
Really interesting read - Thanks Bob
How's the actual road building or other projects actually going ? Got anything BIG planned, in regards to infrastructure ? How many people are in your team and how many people do they have under them ? Must be loads !
What's your favorite TV program ? Do you they have any stupid crazy TV programs that you just don't understand ? Can you still get the BBC World service out there ? Do the locals like playing/watching cricket or is that more of a myth ?
I'm not doing any Indian projects as such - it's mainly getting very cheap designs of projects for the UK. I've dipped my fingers in some Indian designs, but there is so much land here that it's very very easy to design roads and bridges. The idea is to teach the guys here UK standards and practices and thinking. Here, if they need to move a village to build a road, they'll just move the village. Although saying that, about half a mile from the hotel there is a sacred tree, and a major arterial in to the City splits around this tree, and there is a temple to the tree in the middle of the road. My team is about 40-strong here, plus another 20 in Delhi, and the same again in Kolkata, and 5 or 6 in Pune. I've got delegates from here in each of the places, sending me back finished work, and there is sufficient tech here that we have regular web conferences and online working. I've not got out to Kolkata yet but I think I'll be going next month. I don't get a chance to see those places really, just fly in, have the design review/resourcing meetings, and fly back. I've seen Delhi a bit, but compared to Mumbai is it mental, ultra aggressive and even more chaotic than here. Fantastic new metro system though. World class. How's the actual road building or other projects actually going ? Got anything BIG planned, in regards to infrastructure ? How many people are in your team and how many people do they have under them ? Must be loads !
What's your favorite TV program ? Do you they have any stupid crazy TV programs that you just don't understand ? Can you still get the BBC World service out there ? Do the locals like playing/watching cricket or is that more of a myth ?
TV programmes are hard to find - everything is in Hindi/Marathi. I generally watch films if I watch TV at all - we get Star Sports which is I think a syndicate of Sky, so I get regular live footy and the Ashes etc, but the time difference is a bit of a b
h. The films are bizarre - everything is subtitled in English and the censorship is CRAZY. Anything that "might" cause offence is bleeped out, although it's unreliable. I've seen "beefburger" bleeped out and starred out of the subtitles, yet in Kill Bill they keep the c**t references AND the subtitles. "Hell" (as in "F'ing Hell") gets translated as "Inferno", it's quite funny. Not allowed Son of a bh, or Ass, or bd. Oh, and no sex or rude bits are shown. No bums, DEFINITELY no breasts, ever. Most sex scenes in films are removed altogether. Drugs are cut out, as is a lot of gore/blood. Yet they will show Kill Bill at 10am on a Saturday morning. I watched Doom the other day, and the film was about 20 minutes shorter than IMDB said it should be. Same with Dredd. Lots of TV programmes that I don't get - it's all about the culture I think, so there are things you would have to be Indian to understand. They do have The Voice/India's Got Talent etc, but I hate those in the UK so I'm not going to watch them here...
The cricket thing is certainly true. They all play it, anywhere and everywhere. On the pavement, in any clear space, the hotel lobbies, anywhere. At half past 7 on my drive to the office, I pass a playing field and 4 days out of 5 there is a full on cricket game going on, all ages play, they play it properly too, 2 batsmen, full fielders, but with 2 breeze blocks as stumps - very "jumpers for goalposts". I went to see the IPL too, saw the Mumbai Indians play the Kolkata Knight Riders at the w
khede (pronounced "wk-a-day" fnar), and the crowd was akin to a huge rock festival. I've never heard such noise at a sporting event, especially not something as "calm" as cricket. It was insane, but bloody brilliant. But insane. Very very loud, deafeningly so. As loud as being at the front of the crowd at Glastonbury, easily. Ears rang for days afterwards.A couple of poor pics - the place was shaking, it was hard to hold the camera steady... All the blue isn't empty seats, it's the big flags they gave to the entirely partisan crowd. I'm taking mine home and framing it for the memories. Saw Malinga do his thing, he is the man. Also Sachin Tendulkar and Amitabh Bhachin (sp?), probably the most viewed movie star on the planet - the crowd went so wild, I thought the place was going to collapse.
Yeah, cricket is huge here. Bigger than football in the UK, up there with maybe a royal wedding, maybe even bigger than that. Never seen anything like it. As stereotypical as head wobbling and bollywood dancing!
anonymous said:
[redacted]
It really is! I use that phrase all the time with my Indian colleagues. They laugh and agree... "But you are paid in Pounds, and we in Rupees - It's the blessing of a creamy face Sir!"
Tax reminds me, I have a PAN card, which is an income tax card normally reserved for Indian nationals - I pay tax here so qualify for one. I use it as photo ID, much easier than taking a passport everywhere. The number of times I've shown it, got an inquisitive look, and been told, "But sir, you are not Indian!" - I have to bite my tongue if it's an armed policeman at an airport. I have a couple of times been exasperated with it though, when hot and tired and when I just want to get a train or plane, and demanded to see the Sargeant. Then he comes over, says the same thing, and you have to go through the spiel - "Look, I live here, work here, and pay tax here - why are you discriminating against me just because I am white?!" which seems a bit weird, and I have to try really hard not to smile or laugh when I say it. But they accept it in the end, with much muttering and discussion (in Hindi) between themselves, co-workers, and even the other passengers... But it means you've got a point of conversation with your fellow travellers who you're sitting next to for the next few hours so it's not all bad. My surname is "White" too, which also amuses them no end.
It's a funny old place!
Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff