Somtime in the month I was gone, William truely discovered the meaning of "my" and "mine." It was inevitable. Now we have many discussions about who can call what "mine." He doesn't really understand "yours," but then again, he doesn't really understand "you" as opposed to "me," so I suppose that makes sense.
This evening, William spent an hour outside peddling on his trike while Greg was at yoga class - using the peddles was another new-found accomplishment while I was in Calcutta. He didn't want to be in the apartment courtyard, because the elementary school aged girls where there. They like to pick him up, pinch his cheeks, call him "sooo cute," and generally annoy him. So, after about 5 minutes, William said, "See Babu." (Babu means "boy" in Telugu, and that is what everyone calls the complex security guards at the gate.) Peddle out to the gate we went!
All the different security guards on our block seem to know William. Given the red hair and that he goes outside at least three times a day walking Bagwelle, I suppose that's not too surprising. So, as we peddled around, William called out, "Hi Babu! This is my cycle." One of them in particular was having fun with him and said back, "no - my cycle," which of course made William say in a very stern voice, "NO! *MY* cycle!" He'd peddle away, then come back, and then repeat the exchange.
Then the security guard started trying to get William to say it in Telugu ("Idi naa cycle" or "Ii cycle naaku"). William didn't really pick it up, but the guard kept on trying for a good 30 minutes until Greg came home ("That is MY car") and we went upstairs for dinner.
I've found it interesting how the dynamics of the apartment complex become like a mini village. All the guards look after the kids, all the kids play in the courtyard and just run into each other's houses, all the parents know what the other parents are up to. The only way to have a secret, I think, would be to not hire any help and to not talk to anyone ever.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
India prego chronicles - part III (?)
I might be on part IV or V, it's hard to keep track. In any case, here's the latest and greatest on the developing insider...
1. Travelling was no good for weight gain - I ate out too much and probably also ate too much when out! I ended up gaining 4Kg this month (only 2Kg recommended per month), in spite of having Delhi belly and lingering effects for some time. So, my punishment is that I have to get my blood pressure taken each week (I did some research - I think this is an easier way of checking for some complications rather than doing extra blood work or urine screening). If this next month I stick to 2kg and continue to have consistently low blood pressure, then I'll be off the hook.
When pregnant with William, I was walking all the time, swiming for 30 minutes 3 or 4 times a week, and doing yoga. Hence, I had to focus more on gaining weight - and I really enjoyed eating extra avocado on a BLT or (sometimes and!) a scoop of ice cream each night. Sadly, my current sendentary desk job does not appear to permit such indulgences for this second pregnancy.
2. I now feel like a display when out and about. Pregnant Indian women wear saris or loose salwar kameez, both of which do a pretty good job at hiding pregnant bellies. And, from what I gather in conversation, those that are of a certain class (i.e., upper, where we fit in this stratified society) certainly don't work (especially the last trimester) and never go anywhere alone. Thus, according to local custom, I'm certifiably crazy.
My US prego clothes show an obvious belly, and I have no qualms about going anywhere. I don't have any problems putting in a full day at work. Basically, except for a protruding mid-section which is just starting to make me waddle a bit and occasionally makes me have to angle through a tight space, I am living my regular life. Sarwary was quite upset when I told her I tried driving this morning! Pregnant women should never drive! Horrors!
Between all these things, I end up drawing quite a lot of attention - but can't help and wonder (hope?) that perhaps I'll change someone's conception about what a pregnant woman can and can't do.
3. We found out the cost difference between the "regular" and the "super deluxe" delivery options at the maternity hospital. The "regular" delivery option means: labor in a ward, separated by curtains from other women, followed by delivery in a different place, and then two nights in a double- or triple-room. Price? Rs. 10,000 (i.e., $200).
The "deluxe" option has a privatae LDR room (ie, stay in the same room from arrival until after the baby is born), and a private room for the next two days. The "super deluxe" package has the same LDR room as the deluxe option, but includes a post-partum suite, with a second room that has a table, four chairs, and a second bed. Price for the super deluxe? Rs. 65,000 ($1,300). We didn't ask the deluxe price, because at that price-level, we can just go for the super-deluxe and have extra room for William to play when he visits.
1. Travelling was no good for weight gain - I ate out too much and probably also ate too much when out! I ended up gaining 4Kg this month (only 2Kg recommended per month), in spite of having Delhi belly and lingering effects for some time. So, my punishment is that I have to get my blood pressure taken each week (I did some research - I think this is an easier way of checking for some complications rather than doing extra blood work or urine screening). If this next month I stick to 2kg and continue to have consistently low blood pressure, then I'll be off the hook.
When pregnant with William, I was walking all the time, swiming for 30 minutes 3 or 4 times a week, and doing yoga. Hence, I had to focus more on gaining weight - and I really enjoyed eating extra avocado on a BLT or (sometimes and!) a scoop of ice cream each night. Sadly, my current sendentary desk job does not appear to permit such indulgences for this second pregnancy.
2. I now feel like a display when out and about. Pregnant Indian women wear saris or loose salwar kameez, both of which do a pretty good job at hiding pregnant bellies. And, from what I gather in conversation, those that are of a certain class (i.e., upper, where we fit in this stratified society) certainly don't work (especially the last trimester) and never go anywhere alone. Thus, according to local custom, I'm certifiably crazy.
My US prego clothes show an obvious belly, and I have no qualms about going anywhere. I don't have any problems putting in a full day at work. Basically, except for a protruding mid-section which is just starting to make me waddle a bit and occasionally makes me have to angle through a tight space, I am living my regular life. Sarwary was quite upset when I told her I tried driving this morning! Pregnant women should never drive! Horrors!
Between all these things, I end up drawing quite a lot of attention - but can't help and wonder (hope?) that perhaps I'll change someone's conception about what a pregnant woman can and can't do.
3. We found out the cost difference between the "regular" and the "super deluxe" delivery options at the maternity hospital. The "regular" delivery option means: labor in a ward, separated by curtains from other women, followed by delivery in a different place, and then two nights in a double- or triple-room. Price? Rs. 10,000 (i.e., $200).
The "deluxe" option has a privatae LDR room (ie, stay in the same room from arrival until after the baby is born), and a private room for the next two days. The "super deluxe" package has the same LDR room as the deluxe option, but includes a post-partum suite, with a second room that has a table, four chairs, and a second bed. Price for the super deluxe? Rs. 65,000 ($1,300). We didn't ask the deluxe price, because at that price-level, we can just go for the super-deluxe and have extra room for William to play when he visits.
Back home!
I'm back in HYD for good, now - no more travelling until a certain insider becomes an outsider.
Saturday morning I spent about an hour with Sarwary catching up on everything house- and William-related that happened while I was gone, which she said Greg handled pretty well but it seemed there were a few things she saved to tell me. Most was pretty mundane (a new sink leak, a new plug adapter needed for the iron, etc), but one story stood out.
William suffered from a bit of indigestion, but was still happy and eating and drinking, so no one was too worried - except, perhaps, his little bum from the frequent diaper changes. Over the phone, the doctor said as long as his appetite was fine, there was no need to bring him in; all we had to do was wait it out. Sarwary, apparently, did not think this was appropriate, so the next day, she brought in some red chillies and salt. What for? To circle round his head and throw a little salt over his shoulder to ward off the evil spirits. Of course the next day William had no runny poops, and his next BM two days later (and every day since) was normal.
I looked skeptically at Sarwary when she told me this, but she just looked at me and said, "Madam, Western people not understanding. You are in India so we have to do it India way." She reassured me she would never feed William anything without asking, so I figure a little chili pepper superstition can't hurt anything. I'm just waiting to see if she's going to tie anything to the side of Floyd's crib!
Saturday morning I spent about an hour with Sarwary catching up on everything house- and William-related that happened while I was gone, which she said Greg handled pretty well but it seemed there were a few things she saved to tell me. Most was pretty mundane (a new sink leak, a new plug adapter needed for the iron, etc), but one story stood out.
William suffered from a bit of indigestion, but was still happy and eating and drinking, so no one was too worried - except, perhaps, his little bum from the frequent diaper changes. Over the phone, the doctor said as long as his appetite was fine, there was no need to bring him in; all we had to do was wait it out. Sarwary, apparently, did not think this was appropriate, so the next day, she brought in some red chillies and salt. What for? To circle round his head and throw a little salt over his shoulder to ward off the evil spirits. Of course the next day William had no runny poops, and his next BM two days later (and every day since) was normal.
I looked skeptically at Sarwary when she told me this, but she just looked at me and said, "Madam, Western people not understanding. You are in India so we have to do it India way." She reassured me she would never feed William anything without asking, so I figure a little chili pepper superstition can't hurt anything. I'm just waiting to see if she's going to tie anything to the side of Floyd's crib!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Total Eclipse
I've always wanted to see a total eclipse - so what luck, I thought, that Kolkata would experience a 90% eclipse while I happened to be here! I heard about two gathering places in the city to watch it - at the Birla Planetarium and at Science City. I considered going, but in the end decided to try and watch from the courtyard by my temporary apartment.
Unfortunately, this eclipse happened during the monsoon, which means lots of potential cloud cover. Though the paper today had great pictures from viewing in the town of Varanasi, where heavy rains the night before cleared out the clouds by morning, Kolkata was not so lucky. Some parts of the city experienced a three minute break in the clouds right near the peak, but unfortunately my viewing spot was not so blessed. And, because it occurred around at 6:30 in the morning with faint morning light, I could only just perceive the sky darkening. Noise provided the most obvious sign of the eclipse to me - all the birds and dogs made a ruckus right at the peak time. Strange, but people say animals have a stronger internal sense for some things, right?
My quest to see an eclipse will thus continue. I doubt I'll be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time again, but with this job, who knows?
Unfortunately, this eclipse happened during the monsoon, which means lots of potential cloud cover. Though the paper today had great pictures from viewing in the town of Varanasi, where heavy rains the night before cleared out the clouds by morning, Kolkata was not so lucky. Some parts of the city experienced a three minute break in the clouds right near the peak, but unfortunately my viewing spot was not so blessed. And, because it occurred around at 6:30 in the morning with faint morning light, I could only just perceive the sky darkening. Noise provided the most obvious sign of the eclipse to me - all the birds and dogs made a ruckus right at the peak time. Strange, but people say animals have a stronger internal sense for some things, right?
My quest to see an eclipse will thus continue. I doubt I'll be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time again, but with this job, who knows?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Happy Bandh Day!
What is a "bandh," you ask? It's a strike and it's something very dear to Kolkata's identity. Having a communist state government for the last 27 years (that's what I've been told, fact not verified), strikes are common -- but of late, the strikes have been rather pitiful, locals report. Today's however, was a full-fledged bandh as not seen in the last six or seven years.
I'm still a little unclear as to what brought about the bandh, which, actually, was called for by the opposition Congress party in an attempt to show the ruling Congress party how much power it actually holds, even though it's in the opposition. It started last night with the burning of six city buses. Today, all shops were ordered closed and people not to report to work. If you went to work, a distinct possibility existed that you would be harassed and/or your car commandeered by hooligans. The street cars were running, and some daring taxis were also operating (and charging double the fare for the "risk").
The only businesses that seemed exempt to the bandh were hotels. Thus, the restaurants at hotels were packed with people (such as myself) who had no where else to eat lunch - or nothing else to do since everything was closed.
My office, of course, was open. And 120 of 140 visa applicants showed up - which, according to local staff, means the bandh was only marginally successful. A truly successful bandh has a no-show rate in the 50% range. I wonder if the local news reports on such a statistic :)
Thankfully, this was only a 12-hour bandh, from 6AM to 6PM. In Indian time, this really means from 10AM to 4PM. As I walked out of the office around 4PM just to see what was going on, a few daring street vendors were definitely setting up shop again, hoping to catch a captive audience bored from a day at home. And, thankfully, Greg's plane isn't landing until late this evening by which time all remaining vestiges of the bandh will be over. The airport didn't shut down during this bandh, but it has in the past.
All this has me and the other American staff wondering - who really gains from the bandh? It's not the people, I don't think. All the small shopkeepers lose a day's business (or face a real threat of vandalism) -- only the large companies with extensive security can afford to stay open. It's not the taxi drivers. It's not the tax payers, because the government has to replace all the damaged property. So, the concept of a bandh doesn't seem logical to me - but, in fairness, no one has ever mistaken me for a communist.
I'm still a little unclear as to what brought about the bandh, which, actually, was called for by the opposition Congress party in an attempt to show the ruling Congress party how much power it actually holds, even though it's in the opposition. It started last night with the burning of six city buses. Today, all shops were ordered closed and people not to report to work. If you went to work, a distinct possibility existed that you would be harassed and/or your car commandeered by hooligans. The street cars were running, and some daring taxis were also operating (and charging double the fare for the "risk").
The only businesses that seemed exempt to the bandh were hotels. Thus, the restaurants at hotels were packed with people (such as myself) who had no where else to eat lunch - or nothing else to do since everything was closed.
My office, of course, was open. And 120 of 140 visa applicants showed up - which, according to local staff, means the bandh was only marginally successful. A truly successful bandh has a no-show rate in the 50% range. I wonder if the local news reports on such a statistic :)
Thankfully, this was only a 12-hour bandh, from 6AM to 6PM. In Indian time, this really means from 10AM to 4PM. As I walked out of the office around 4PM just to see what was going on, a few daring street vendors were definitely setting up shop again, hoping to catch a captive audience bored from a day at home. And, thankfully, Greg's plane isn't landing until late this evening by which time all remaining vestiges of the bandh will be over. The airport didn't shut down during this bandh, but it has in the past.
All this has me and the other American staff wondering - who really gains from the bandh? It's not the people, I don't think. All the small shopkeepers lose a day's business (or face a real threat of vandalism) -- only the large companies with extensive security can afford to stay open. It's not the taxi drivers. It's not the tax payers, because the government has to replace all the damaged property. So, the concept of a bandh doesn't seem logical to me - but, in fairness, no one has ever mistaken me for a communist.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Kolkata: first impressions
I've been in Kolkata three days now and, despite its reputation for being the dirtiest of the Indian "metros" (ie, large cities), I'm really enjoying it. The city has a wonderful character about it that I didn't find in Delhi and don't feel in Hyderabad. This could be because my time in Delhi is usually limited to the "diplomatic enclave" where there's not much except for embassies. And in HYD, we usually stick to the new parts of the city and have no need to visit the Old City unless we are showing people around. The great part about Kolkata is, the diplomatic / posh / old parts are still one - so I can stay in the Oberoi, have a 10 minute taxi ride to work, and still feel the character of the city.
The British moved their capital up river from their first encampment and pretty much built the city up. As a result, the downtown area has recognizable blocks with roads that run perpendicular to each other - quite a rarity in India and very helpful for a visitor. The consulate, likely much to the chagrin of the security nazis, is right in the the thick of things. I think it's great because I can walk to places for lunch! What a novel concept! In fact, if it weren't the rainy season (and hence the messy sidewalks), I would enjoy a 20-30 minute walk from the hotel to the consulate - the sidewalks are actually that manageable.
It's no European city by any stretch of the imagination, however, despite the walkable nature and the high-culture character. For instance, just around the block from the consulate, trash pickers have commandeered a segment of the sidewalk for sorting trash (recycling, India-style). It stinks. And looks disgusting. Especially since many Indian men seem to have small bladders and seem to have designated a corner of this trash heap a public toilet. I was waiting at a red light (thankfully in an AC car with the windows closed) and noticed five men stop to relieve themselves in that short period of time -- and many more walking by with handkerchiefs over their noses.
For me, though, accustomed at this point to being in a city in a developing country, the vibrancy of the city is quite appealing. Friendly people, many of whom have a very creative streak whether music, sports or literature, abound. I'm looking forward to the next two and a half weeks, and hope Greg isn't too jealous!
The British moved their capital up river from their first encampment and pretty much built the city up. As a result, the downtown area has recognizable blocks with roads that run perpendicular to each other - quite a rarity in India and very helpful for a visitor. The consulate, likely much to the chagrin of the security nazis, is right in the the thick of things. I think it's great because I can walk to places for lunch! What a novel concept! In fact, if it weren't the rainy season (and hence the messy sidewalks), I would enjoy a 20-30 minute walk from the hotel to the consulate - the sidewalks are actually that manageable.
It's no European city by any stretch of the imagination, however, despite the walkable nature and the high-culture character. For instance, just around the block from the consulate, trash pickers have commandeered a segment of the sidewalk for sorting trash (recycling, India-style). It stinks. And looks disgusting. Especially since many Indian men seem to have small bladders and seem to have designated a corner of this trash heap a public toilet. I was waiting at a red light (thankfully in an AC car with the windows closed) and noticed five men stop to relieve themselves in that short period of time -- and many more walking by with handkerchiefs over their noses.
For me, though, accustomed at this point to being in a city in a developing country, the vibrancy of the city is quite appealing. Friendly people, many of whom have a very creative streak whether music, sports or literature, abound. I'm looking forward to the next two and a half weeks, and hope Greg isn't too jealous!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Bashan!
I have no idea what "BASHAN!" means - and neither does Greg. Of course, William was saying it, so it could mean anything. Or, it could be William's pronunciation of a real word - not just one of his made up words. But, I'm not really sure what "Bashan!" would resemble.
He was saying it with such conviction, and with such determination and in such a methodical manner, it must mean something. Saturday morning, we decided to brave the Delhi heat (it was 98F by noon and very humid) and attempt some sightseeing. First stop, Qutub Minar http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/233 (highly recommended), second stop Lotus Temple http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lotus_Temple (a modern Baha'i temple, not kid-friendly at all), third stop Humayun's Tomb. http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/232 Here, William said, "BASHAN!"
The tomb is similar to the tombs in Agra - in fact, though Humayun's tomb is one of Delhi's top sites, if you're going to or have been to Agra, we actually think it's repetitive and not worth the visit. The main tomb (Humayun) is in the center. At each corner of the building are small rooms, each with one to three tombs in them. Each of these corner rooms had small alcoves with stone-carved lattice protrusions to let the air flow. We didn't take a guide, and I'm not really familiar with 16th century Indo-Muslim architecture, so please excuse the lack of technical terms :)
In any case, we entered the first corner room, and William started running into each alcove, all the way up to the stone-lattice-wall, looked outside and shouted, "BASHAN!" Then he proceeded to the next lattice alcove and repeated. The third alcove didn't have the lattice work, so he skipped it and went straight to the fourth (with lattice) and shouted again. It was very curious - especially because I still don't know what "BASHAN!" means or what prompted this.
We left that corner room, walked into the next one, and he did the same thing - shouting "BASHAN!" in only the alcoves that had lattice walls looking outside. When we walked into the third corner room, he said, "Come here, Mama!" and beckoned me over to the first lattice alcove. I walked over and he said, "Say, 'BASHAN!,' Mama!" Obviously, I had no choice. I then had to follow him to each alcove (again, only the lattice work ones) and say, "BASHAN!" myself. (The fourth corner room was under construction, so I didn't have to repeat again).
He's only 25 months, but given that "self" has become a favorite word (as in, "do it myself - go away") and that every now and then he comes up with very systematic and logical "games," I can't help but be impressed with how someone so tiny can act so old. Good thing there's another baby coming - William certainly doesn't count as a "baby" anymore!
Just FYI, Sunday morning we opted to skip the sightseeing and just played at the Embassy play ground. William had a blast climbing and sliding and driving the bus, despite the muggy heat. In fact, he had so much fun, he decided to keep playing and skip swimming - and he *loves* swimming.
He was saying it with such conviction, and with such determination and in such a methodical manner, it must mean something. Saturday morning, we decided to brave the Delhi heat (it was 98F by noon and very humid) and attempt some sightseeing. First stop, Qutub Minar http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/233 (highly recommended), second stop Lotus Temple http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lotus_Temple (a modern Baha'i temple, not kid-friendly at all), third stop Humayun's Tomb. http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/232 Here, William said, "BASHAN!"
The tomb is similar to the tombs in Agra - in fact, though Humayun's tomb is one of Delhi's top sites, if you're going to or have been to Agra, we actually think it's repetitive and not worth the visit. The main tomb (Humayun) is in the center. At each corner of the building are small rooms, each with one to three tombs in them. Each of these corner rooms had small alcoves with stone-carved lattice protrusions to let the air flow. We didn't take a guide, and I'm not really familiar with 16th century Indo-Muslim architecture, so please excuse the lack of technical terms :)
In any case, we entered the first corner room, and William started running into each alcove, all the way up to the stone-lattice-wall, looked outside and shouted, "BASHAN!" Then he proceeded to the next lattice alcove and repeated. The third alcove didn't have the lattice work, so he skipped it and went straight to the fourth (with lattice) and shouted again. It was very curious - especially because I still don't know what "BASHAN!" means or what prompted this.
We left that corner room, walked into the next one, and he did the same thing - shouting "BASHAN!" in only the alcoves that had lattice walls looking outside. When we walked into the third corner room, he said, "Come here, Mama!" and beckoned me over to the first lattice alcove. I walked over and he said, "Say, 'BASHAN!,' Mama!" Obviously, I had no choice. I then had to follow him to each alcove (again, only the lattice work ones) and say, "BASHAN!" myself. (The fourth corner room was under construction, so I didn't have to repeat again).
He's only 25 months, but given that "self" has become a favorite word (as in, "do it myself - go away") and that every now and then he comes up with very systematic and logical "games," I can't help but be impressed with how someone so tiny can act so old. Good thing there's another baby coming - William certainly doesn't count as a "baby" anymore!
Just FYI, Sunday morning we opted to skip the sightseeing and just played at the Embassy play ground. William had a blast climbing and sliding and driving the bus, despite the muggy heat. In fact, he had so much fun, he decided to keep playing and skip swimming - and he *loves* swimming.
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