A few notes on India's quirks


Phone bills, travel, queues (again), and "space."

We got our first phone bill, which covers December and January. To our surprise the bill was a little over 2000 Rs (somewhere around $45). We were surprised because we have been using, almost exclusively, our mobile phones to make calls. Of course, this being India, there is no itemized bill. The bill has a figure for "usage," and that's it. So we have to figure out why it is so high, a hassle that could take the better part of a day going to the phone company office and requesting an itemized bill (for which, of course, there is a charge).

This being India, one can't expect much logic or order in the way things are done. At airports, for example, checked bags must be screened before checking in. Sometimes there is one screening machine for all airlines, sometimes there are two or three machines and each airline's passengers are to use a particular machine. At the Chennai airport on Friday, we got in line to check in but were told check-in for our flight would not begin until an hour and a half before the flight, even though the airlines instructs passengers to arrive two hours prior to their flight. When the time arrived, we queued again for check-in. This time we were told that there was a system failure and it would take a half hour before the computers were up and check-in could begin. An Air Deccan employee advised everyone to take a seat and come back in a half hour. All of the westerners in line insisted on staying in the line, probably like us basing the decision on past experiences of checking in. We knew that in another half hour the queue would be huge, and already there were people (Indians), who were hovering on the flanks, surely expecting to push their way to the front once the counter was open.

We commiserated with a German passenger, and overheard some other Europeans in line complaining. Our approach, for better or worse, has been to take it in stride. We received some wonderful advice about life in India before we arrived. We were told not to expect to change India. In other words, things happen the way they happen, and are almost entirely out of your control. In this case, the one thing we could control was our place in the queue, at least to a certain extent. But rather than complaining about the way things should be done, we waited patiently.

When the counter finally opened (not because the system was restored but because employees began checking passengers in manually), minor chaos ensued. First Air Deccan asked people to form two lines, one for those who would be deplaning in Kochi, where the plane stopped before continuing on to Trivandrum, and another for the Trivandrum-bound passengers. But there was confusion when people were told they were in the wrong line and refused to go to the end of the other line. I managed to push ahead of a few Indians who had slivered their way to the front, without waiting in line like everyone else. An Indian woman with a small child was waiting in line beside us. We all had been waiting in line for over an hour, so I made a minor ruckus about women with children who had been waiting in line needing to get checked in first.

In the end, all the commotion settled down, everyone got checked in, and then we all waited for more than an hour for our delayed flight. Such is life in India.

One of the problems we're having with life in India has to do with "space;" or, more specifically, a lack of comfortable spaces. This is obviously a function of basic cultural differences. What I mean is that there is nowhere, outside of your home (and even here sometimes one lacks the ability to keep uncomfortable elements out), where one can be at ease. I'm not even talking about the heat. If the climate were different, it might be conceivable to spend more time in outdoor spaces, but even then one would have to endure what Pico Iyer calls India's constant "chatter." I've been up since 5:30 this morning, and even from within the relative isolation of the Aswathy Gardens compound, I can hear music coming from several different places, loud firecracker-like booms at nearby temples, and the omnipresent barking dog.

As for maintaining one's home as a comfortable space from which "outside" intrusions are prevented from entering, insects provide a perfect example of the challenge. We've largely gotten the cockroach situation under control, though a few are still spotted now and then. In fact, they live all around us, so it is a rather futile exercise trying to keep them out of the house. Ants are actually the greater annoyance. There are several different species of ants that have become quite a bane to Marion. Any food that is at all sweet has to be kept either in the fridge or in special stainless steel canisters we've purchased. Except for lacking a bear-proof lid and latch, these canisters are not unlike what one would take into bear country on a backpacking trip. But these ants are so persistent that they even penetrated one of the canisters when the lid was left just slightly unsecured. As another example, when we got back from Chennai, we found ants in the cereal Laura and Eliza sent us from Trader Joe's. Had the cereal been left out, this would have been no surprise, but it was sealed in a brand new zip lock bag. Apparently the ants ate through the bag to get to the cereal. Even our living space, it seems, is constantly under siege by India's chatter.

But let me get back to my main point by comparing the experience here to our life in El Cerrito. When Luc used to wake up at 5:30, I could take him on a walk, and any of the public spaces we might have strolled through would have been peaceful. Whether a city street, El Cerrito Plaza, a park, or Peet's Coffee (which doesn't officially open until 7 a.m. but regulars know you can get a cup of coffee well before that), if I was able to get past the resentment of a child waking so early, I could have some relative peace in any number of spaces.

I know there has been a lot of rain this winter in the Bay Area, which causes parents who depend on escapes like the East Bay's great parks, or even simple outings like walks, Tilden Park, to start to feel a little constrained in what they can do. As a last resort, some parents go shopping. Even in commercial spaces, there is a certain amount of comfort. Again, I understand that part of this comfort is culturally based, and comes from the sheer familiarity of these spaces (everyone in the East Bay knows how to negotiate the parking structure at Emeryville's Bay Street Mall, or knows of a secret side street off College Ave. in Rockridge where there's always a parking space, or knows how to navigate the maze at Ikea). But I don't need familiarity, I just need a space that is not cramped, that does not smell of urine, feces or trash and that is moderately quiet.

Even if it were cool enough to go for a walk, the nearest "destination" would be a cluster of shops at Menamkulam Junction, just a kilometer or so away. But none of these shops (e.g., a tailor, a DVD shop, a chemist, and several of what amount to convenience shops) have any walk-in space at all. The street is sandy, dirty, and smelly, and not a pleasant place to stand even if you could find shade. In Kazhakuttom, where one can actually find shops with space to walk in, browsing is impossible. Either the space is too crowded, or the shop owner wants to take one shirt after another off the shelf, remove it from the bag (everything is in bags because of the dust), and lay it out on the counter for you to consider. It's just not a pleasant experience.

There are no parks to speak of, at least not near us. I haven't even seen a park in Trivandrum, come to think of it. The zoo would be the closest thing to the kind of space I'm seeking. One day we tried visiting what our guidebook described as a "children's museum," but discovered it was nothing more than the office of the city's children's services department, with a room that had some pictures of kids all of whom were either very ill, beaten or deformed (in all fairness, there is supposedly another room with a display of dolls, but still hardly what I would call a children's museum). Even monuments, such as those in Mahabilpuram, only remotely resemble the kind of spaces I seek. They are only slightly less trash-strewn than your typical city street, and if it's a popular tourist spot, touts make sure you won't have anything resembling a peaceful experience.

These are all part of the experience of India, and the way in which I understand India's tourism motto--"Incredible India!"

I am sure the experience would be different without children in tow. Marion and I would have much more tolerance for some of India's quirks if we didn't have to look out for the health and safety of two children. I'm also sure it would be different for any visitor who isolated him or herself in the best hotels in India (though even here "Incredible India" has a way of creeping in). The biggest question is how long a space-deprived person can persist in these conditions...

Posted: Sat - February 25, 2006 at 05:20 PM          

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