My Daydream

Today I daydream of life as a travel photographer. How do people get into such a field? Or a long trip to India, months travelling from Kerala up the west coast through Karnataka, Goa, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Punjab, Miachal Pradesh, and finally Kashmir. 4 to 5 months. I need to settle my debts and go!

I Bleed

Random India Travel Tip

Most towns in India do not have street signs. In fact, I don't recollect ever seeing a single one. Don't let it get you down. Street names can easily be found on the signs of stores lining the street.

Cricket

Along with charming phrases like "water closet", the British imparted the Indians with a passion for cricket. Their loss to their southern neighbors, Sri Lanka, was not taken lightly. Flipping through TV channels, Star News showed people beating effigies of the players with their shoes (left, I assume). Their prior loss to Bangladesh prompted attacks on the players' homes.

The first time I played cricket was with the TCS guys at a company picnic. Clueless about the game's objective, I just followed their directives. "Run run run!" Batting was awkward. I didn't quite know where to run too. Nor did I know which balls were worth chasing.

On Friday, about 30 of the guys at TCS wore light blue India cricket team jerseys to show support for the Indian cricketers. After photos, we went over to the TCS basketball court for a couple quick matches. Batting feels awkward. I never spent much time on baseball, yet my natural tendency was to hold the bat like a baseball bat. Completely contrary to this notion, the cricket bat is held down low more like a golf club. I only batted a few times during practice. The wickets were a big stone, dragged onto the court, and the basketball hoop post. People in the outfield do not use glove like baseball players. Every catch they make is using their bare hands.

We "fielded" first (I read up on cricket the night of the Bangladesh match). The ball comes my direction only a couple times. I stopped it once. The other time it passed low between my legs. I felt like a klutz. They got 20 runs before it was our turn to chase. Santosh batted. Murali batted. Kollol batted. Chandra batted. Kiran batted. Mohan batted (quite the cricketer Mohan is). I deferred batting not wanting to blow it. Our batters manage 21 runs for the win. This brief cricket match has done more for my relations with these guys than all of my two weeks spent here.

Not only this but I still went down to the bar tonight for a Kingfisher to watch the match with the rowdy South Africans. In my hotel room, I watch while I wait for Holle's plane to land.

My Feet

My feet smell. Sitting at my desk. I thought this wasn't supposed to happen with sandals. Crammed in the small glass meeting room, I hope no one can smell them. I scrubbed them with the white hotel hand towel. Dried overnight. They still smell today. They're getting worse. My feet are fine. The sandals are to blame. The insoles soak up crud. Foot sweat lubricates and out comes the smell.

Mutliblog

First a confession, I made my first phone call in India last night. It was just a call to a restaurant to check if it was open.

Yesterday I visist Ramoji Film City, the centerpiece of Tollywood. There were many many buses and bus transfers needed to move about when in the park. Getting on the buses was insane. Everyone would essentially rush the one person wide door. Imagine a funnel with people in it. Everyone sticking an arm out to get in before the other guy. It's amazing that there really isn't any hostility involved, everyone's just gettin' on the bus.

Today, I ate lunch with Kollol's family. Everything went pretty well with the Namastes. Then Kollols mother stuck her hand out and offered me a seat. Unfortunately, my handshake trigger fired on sight of her outstretched hand. Outstretched hand newly met person = handshake, right? I grabbed and shook her hand. Her limp hand reveled she was not expecting it. Damn. The lunch was delicious a Bengali fish dish, Dal with Coconut, Kollol's shrimps and prawns for dessert we had Vermicelli. MMmmm. So much for working on the resume all day. I did spend some time on it this morning.

Now I should go to the Ugadi Ballet, but I'm feeling lazy. Go ahead, tell me I'm an idiot.

Chilled Water

A strange process accompanies ordering any cold beverage in Hyderabad. The patron orders a chilled bottle of water. A moment later, the waiter returns with said water. He holds the bottle out to the patron and requests he "Check the chill, sir." The patron then touches the bottle with his hand to confirm its temperature. If OK'd, the water is poured. If not, the waiter must produce a colder bottle of water the patron will hopefully approve.

Each time I'm asked to do this, I touch the bottle and OK it. "Yes, chilled." This step in ordering chilled beverages seems like pointless gesturing to me. Tonight, I saw some Hyderabadis perform the same check. The waiter held out the water, one man touched it then deferred the decision to another man at the table. The second man touched, thought it over for a split second. Then he gave an "it'll do" gesture and the water was poured. No where else have I seen this practice other than in Hyderabad. Why only here?