Do we have to go?

This is what Zion has been asking for the past two days. Up til then he was pretty gung-ho about returning to New York. He wanted to see his friends, cuddle his cat, play with his legos and run around in his yard. He wanted to meet his new baby cousin, and visit his great-grandmother.

And he still wants all of those things, but it hit him quite suddenly that those things would come at a price, and that the price was leaving India, with return uncertain.

Yesterday, as left Second Temple Road (we'd visited his favorite temple-- the Gangamma temple, and Liel's favorite-- the Nandi temple) he stopped and said, "I can't believe I might never see these beautiful temples again."

His experience is mirroring mine pretty exactly. I am excited to see my friends and family (and yes, our smash faced cat!). I'm excited to eat salad, and be in almost the same time zone as my mom (so much easier for quick phone calls). But the price is pretty damn high, and I'm sad.

Today we went to Malleswaram for the last time. We had our last auto ride. Even sadder, we had our last coffee with Tiju.

Tomorrow, we pack, and have our last meal at Prakruthi.

I will say this: Zion appears to come by his melodrama naturally ;) 

Excuse me, sir...

A lot of the conversations we have with strangers here in India begin with those words. Most of the strangers who approach us are men, and all of them, men and women both, address Robert.

Today we were walking along the road on campus when out of the corner of my eye I saw Zion push his sister. I stopped to demand answers, which quickly turned into Robert and I telling both kids to knock it off and be nice to each other, for the love of G-d.

As wer were standing there scolding our offspring a guy on a motorcycle passed us, slowed down, started to turn around and then apparently thought better of it and kept going.

"That was weird", Robert said, as we all set off again.

Just then the guy did turn around. He puttered slowly back to us, then cut the engine on his bike, hopped off, and addressed Robert.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Hi", Robert said.

"You have very nice tattoos. Could I take some pictures of them?"

This was a new one. No one's ever asked for pictures before!

"Sure", said Robert, and pushed up his sleeves so the guy could see his...sleeves. The man practically yelped with delight.

"Ah! They go all the way up!"

He took at least half a dozen pictures of Robert's arms from different angles, being careful to get as much of the design as possible. He chatted while he took pictures, asking us where we were from, if we liked Bangalore...the usual kind of casual chatter.

"Thank you, sir", he said when he was done. Then he looked at me somewhat uncertainly. He girded his courage and said, "Could I take some of your tattoos as well?"

"Of course", I said, secretly pleased that my tattoos weren't being left out. He took fewer pictures of mine, and didn't get as close to me as he had to Robert.

He straightened up when he was done and said, "There are people who do tattoos here, but...nothing like this. Nothing like this level of detail and quality."

"The same guy did almost all of both of our tattoos", said Robert. "We're lucky; we just happen to live really close to him, and he's great."

Then our tattoo admirer smiled, jumped on his bike, said goodbye, and gave us a thumbs up as he drove away. I swear, every day here brings new and surprising things! I love it.

Here are a couple of pictures of my mini photo shoot. Note that the guy is wearing a shirt with an American flag, and part of the NYC cityscape  that says, "My heart beats for Brooklyn".

Leaving makes you popular

Not that we weren't popular before, mind ;)

But we're down to 4 full days left in Bangalore, and suddenly our social (read: meal) time is filling up fast! We want to be able to see everyone and say thank you, and good bye. And yes, just typing that made me feel a bit sad. We've got friends here I'll miss a great deal. Hell, I feel sad thinking of saying good bye to the people who work at Nesara and Prakruthi! Especially Zion and Liel's admirers. The granny who always comes over to pat Liel's back and tuck her hair behind her ears, the auntie who beams when we thank her for clearing the table and pinches Zion's cheeks, the usually surly girl who works at the register who smiles when the kids come up to order more food, the guys behind the counter who crack up watching Zion methodically consume vast quantities of food, and the coffee guy who often pours the kids a little treat when we go to buy tea or coffee. We can barely even communicate to them, and yet they've taken us under their collective wing, and showered us with kindness. We will miss them, too.

And, despite the summer heat (and the traffic, and the waste disposal woes...) I'll miss Bangalore itself. I could be wrong, but I have this feeling that when we go back to NY we'll adjust really quickly, and our life here in Bangalore will seem like something out of a dream. 

Still surprising me

We went to Nesara for dinner tonight. We ordered dosa (less than last time!) and some Chinese food, and while we were waiting Robert said, "I can't believe that we've been to these restaurants (Nesara and Prakruthi) more than we've been to any others, and pretty soon we're going to leave and probably never come back again."

I agreed. And I leaned back in my chair and looked around at the room that had seemed so foreign at first, and was now so familiar. When we arrived in Bangalore I took pictures of the menu (remember that?) because there were so many foods on it that were new to me and I needed to go home and look them up to figure out what they were. Now I know that menu by heart.

And then our food arrived and we tucked in. And Nesara, this place I know so well, surprised me. Because tonight the chutney that came with our dosa wasn't particularly coconuty but it was particularly minty! It was incredibly delicious...so delicious that we ended up ordering another dosa, mostly to serve as a vehicle for the chunety.

This is one of the true joys of India. Even after months here-- after months of eating at the same restaurant for heaven's sake-- it still surprises and amazes me.

(The tea I had after dinner was surprising too...surprisingly over-steeped. Oh well. They can't all be the kind surprise that makes your eyes roll back in your head with delight.)

Lasts

We have just over a week left here in Bangalore, so now almost everything is a last. I probably won't catalogue all of them, but since the lasts are just starting they're seeming kinda new and fresh so I'll try my hand at it for a while.

Today I got my last grocery delivery from BigBasket. Now that I've used this company for months I can give my final, updated verdict: they are excellent. If you live in India (or are visiting India and need groceries delivered), and are in a city where they operate, give them a shot. The few times I've been disappointed with the quality of something I bought from them they've fixed it right up. Good stuff.

Now, despite the fact that I ought to have a fully stocked kitchen, my dinner options continue to suck. Mostly it's that we're all pretty tired of the 3-4 things I can reliably get ingredients for and cook in the rice cooker. It's a bit after 5pm right now, and I'm staring down the barrel of dinner prep...and thinking I'll be sauteeing some veggies and then adding a "ready to eat" curry and some rice. Which will excite no one, but on the upside, it won't require a 2 mile round trip walk + the application of bug spray. I'm mostly coming down on the side of pre-packaged curry being the better option, but meh. Not thrilled. Maybe I'll smash a coconut to go with it. Or gorge myself on Mysore Pak afterwards. Mmmm. Mysore Pak.

Oh, here's another bit of news from my day! The coffee guy asked me what my necklace was. I was surprised he was asking (it's fairly obvious), but I said, "Ganesha!" and he laughed with delight. Tiju thinks that he didn't expect me to know Ganesha and was pleased (and surprised) that I did. 

Golden Afternoon

This morning went to Malleswaram (yes, again...are you seeing theme here?) and finished up our "leaving India" shopping. I suppose that's a bit bittersweet, but since I was having stress dreams about not having done everything I needed to do, I'm feeling pretty pleased. Really pleased, in fact.

One of the last bits of shopping was a little tricky. I wanted to buy fabric for a suit set for my grandmother, which sounds not tricky on the surface. But my gram prefers light colors, which aren't overly represented in the Indian palette, and we're leaving in 8 days, which isn't a lot of time to get the set made. But I triumphed! With great triumph!

First, I found cloth for the kurta that I think is in the right color family, and will look smashing on her. Then I found fabric for the salwars that matched very well (it even got the fabric store worker's approval!). Finally, I took them to the tailor, explained they were for my gram, that she wasn't the same size as me, and told her what sizing and styling I wanted. And she said she could have them done in time for me! Man, I love this tailor. She's rockin'.

Then we ran into Tiju, and had a lovely lunch with him. Once home the kids did math work, reading, and Zion learned about Hanuman (his favorite Hindu g-d) and no one cried or even complained about schoolwork. Admittedly Liel ended up shrieking at Robert over the authentication for the proxy server (I will not miss the proxy server at all!), but still. It was mostly win.

Now it's late afternoon. We have the curtains in our apartment drawn against the hot south Indian summer sun. Zion is playing chess against the computer while Liel watches, narrates, and sometimes makes suggestions. I have dinner cooking in ye olde rice cooker, and we're listening to Huey Lewis and the News. I feel like this is one of those perfect, golden moments where everything is entering my memory all crystallized and sharp and beautiful.

(A word about Huey Lewis and the News. I've loved them since way back in the day...the day being the early/mid 80s. My parents owned all their records, and my brother and I loved listening to them and "dancing". That's in quotes because it mostly involved jumping off the furniture and running around like crazy people. Anyway, as the 80s, and then the 90s wore on there was very little Huey in my life, aside from the nights I'd come home to find my parents dancing to him in the living room, usually to "Buzz Buzz Buzz". Once, when we were travelling in Costa Rica, it came out that my mom thought the lyrics to this song included the line, "the sound of your little boy Stanley", which had the rest of us literally crying with laughter.

Then, when I was doing my PhD, Robert and I spent a fair bit of time wine tasting in Santa Ynez, and made some great friends at our favorite winery. I even worked in the tasting room for a short while. And that winery (Buttonwood) had all vinyl Sundays, instituted by our friend Graham. And all of the all vinyl Sundays included a lot of Huey Lewis. It was really idyllic-- picture the tasting room of a winery in the beautiful Santa Ynez valley. Sun streams through the windows, there's a lovely breeze and a view of vines, orchards, and mountains. There are happy people tasting wine, happy people pouring wine, and Huey Lewis and the News blasting at a perfect volume. It was pure delight, believe me. As if all that weren't enough, my friend Pete and I have spent many a happy evening drinking wine and watching Huey Lewis videos. All of which is to say, I associate Huey Lewis with some of the best things in my life: my childhood, my brother, my parents, Robert, wine tasting, my family and good friends. And now I can add India to that list!)

Adventures with auto rickshaws

Auto rickshaws are one of the primary form of motorized transportation around here. If you google "auto rickshaw bangalore", or ask someone in Bangalore about the autos, you'll get fairly pessimistic responses. "The drive won't want to use the meter", I was repeatedly told, "but you must insist!" and "Don't get in the auto if he won't use the meter!"

But, at the risk of jinxing myself, every auto driver I've used has automatically turned on the meter. I figured we'd just been lucky, which may be the case, or perhaps attempts to skirt meter use are more common in other parts of the city. I have no idea.

Today we went to Malleswaram to do some shopping after lunch. We had to walk a bit before we found an empty auto, but the first one we saw agreed to take us where we wanted to go, and as usual, switched on the meter. The shopping itself was excellent, and I just adore Malleswaram more and more each time I go there. Parts of it kind of remind me of Barcelona, of all the damn things. It's such an alive neighborhood, full of families out shopping, fruit vendors, bakeries (the scent of these reminds me powerfully of Mexico when I pass them) and cloth, cloth everywhere. Many streets have huge shade trees arching across them, and there are women sitting on the sidewalks selling strings of devotional jasmine. Have I mentioned that I love Malleswaram??

Anyway, after we did our shopping we got an auto back to the institute. But for the first time ever the driver didn't turn the meter on. We asked him to, and he did, but told us it would 20 extra. We said no, and he said he'd take us for Rs 100. The normal cost of this ride is Rs 50, so again we said no, and asked him to let us out. "80!", he said. "No, 50. We do this all the time, it costs 50", Robert replied as we piled out of the rick. "80!" said the driver again.

Luckily another drive had just deposited a family where we climbed out, and we asked if he'd go to the Tata Institute. He said he would, though he wanted more to take us through the campus. We were happy to have him drop us off at the New BEL road gate, so we agreed on 50 and set off.

About halfway there a tiny, black cat streaked across the road in front of us. The driver was immediately concerned, and looked back anxiously. Then he pulled over and stared at the place where he'd seen the cat. Finally he pulled all the way off the road, cut the engine, and jumped out. He walked back to the little median with plants in it and peered around for the cat. He asked some onlookers about it, and looked around some more. Eventually he came back, smiled at us and said, "Cat! On road." and spoke to a nearby auto driver, presumably about the cat. I found his concern for the animal very sweet...I can't think that too many cab drivers in the US would be that concerned for an animal they didn't actually hit.

And then we headed off again, and were safely deposited at our front gate. We still have a few more shopping errands, but our time here is rapidly running out.

So with that in mind, I think we'll head to Prakruthi for dosa tonight!