Oh, yeah! We all love Happy Endings, don’t we?
“Hey guys,
I would like to thank all the dildo lovers who warmly proposed to help us, and especially T.B. who first found the dildo, and then found my note on yuni-net !
You all have been really cool, sometimes witty, sometimes hot. It makes me think of forgetting many dildos in this crazy city for expats.
Cheers, take care, have fun
C.”
The End. Standing ovations, shouting, lights, curtain.
Some time ago I heard someone saying, that Indians, despite the fact, that Kamasutra comes from here, nowadays have forgotten everything about the art of love, except for art of making children.
I’m not entitled to verify the statement (although the part about making children is obviously truth – hard numbers support it), but sexual life is obviously much more of a taboo here, then in most western countries. And it is slighly difficult to openly talk about it with Indians, in particular – the least educated ones (have you ever tried buying condoms in Indian pharmacy?)
On the other hand, many Indians see “westerners” are sexually possesed. I remember once the group excercise with AIESEC, where we were divided into two groups – foreigners and desis – and asked to pick five values which are, according to us, the most important for the other group. We were quite shocked, when on the list of 5 values sex appeared twice. “Because you guys seem to think only about it” the explanation was… It was supposed to be funny, but turned out to be sad observation.
We tried to defend ourselves, but later I realized, that it’s quite pointless in the light of such events like this one. I just got a message through a Yuni-net (a group that has at least few hundreds subscribers, including Indians), which totally made me roll on the floor laughing for good five minutes. I’m not sure if it’s a joke or seriously – you judge it. Initially I wrote I love it. Now – I’m not so sure anymore… It’s hilarious, but isn’t it a bit tastless? And, well, bridgeing the culture gap between western and Indian perception of sex is one thing, but well – I would have to first bridge mine with the author of this message.
Here it goes:
“Subject: Crucifix dildo in the restrooms of Imperial hotel
Tue Feb 2, 2010 7:05 am (PST)
This may sounds wierd but here comes my request :
My girlfriend forgot her dildo in the restrooms of Imperial hotel yesterday night. If anyone of you expats is planning to have some fun there very soon, please let us know, because we’re on a trip to Khajuraho right now and we don’t dare to tell the hotel workers directly. We’re new in India and we don’t know how to deal with the culture gap even if indians are supposed to be masters in the erotic field.
Please do take this seriously, this crucifix dildo is a gift and it has a strong sentimental value for both of us.
I know some of you guys can understand.
Thanks a lot if anyone can help,
C.”
I mean, guys, now seriously , if you find anything – let me know and I’ll give you the e-mail address of the author of this memorable post. Life in Delhi isn’t easy and we have to support each other. Ain’t we?
BTW. Who the heck buys crucifix dildo? Now, this is sick.
After nearly two years of experience of living in India, I would risk a thesis, that cultural difference is nowhere as visible, as on its roads. Westerner who makes a foolish mistake of heading out on the road without proper preparation, would find himself in a “shock and awe” within a minute from starting his car (or any other vehicle for that matter).
As a quite experienced driver in India – both bike and car – I think I’m ready to share sort of a basic guide, a crash course… (believe me, every attempt to drive here inevitably begins or ends up with a crash) on driving in India.
But no worries, driving in India is actually way simpler than anywhere else in the world. Forget all the complicated rules and trust your intuition. Drive where the place is on the road, no matter which lane is it or even which direction. If you follow few basic rules mentioned below and move slow but consequently, so that others could adjust their behaviour to yours, you’re on the safe side. Remember – nothing is impossible!
Ladies and gentleman. Fasten your seatbelts if you have any!
Yesterday I was passing by a wine store and I’ve noticed a huge sign “Palone” on it. It reminded me of a story from beginning of my stay in India I wanted to share with you.
I’m really a beer fan and I’m particularly fond of dark beers (not ale, stout or porter, but a Czech type of dark beer, like my favorite Velkopopovický Kozel Dark). Poland breweries specialize rather in light kinds of beers, mostly lagers and pilsners, but one of the eldest breweries – Okocim – released some time ago a beer called Palone. A dark, smooth beer, with slightly coffee/caramel flavor. That was it – I didn’t have to go to Czech Republic to bring myself a couple of bottles of favorite beverages…
It was some year ago, maybe slightly more, when I was still relatively new in this country, but already fed up with Kingfisher beer, when I entered a wine store and spotted well known colors and design of my favorite Polish beer. I couldn’t believe at first – it’s not our biggest brand, not a local specialty and definitely – not something that would sold well in India….
I didn’t hesitate long though and I bought a can on spot.
At home in the evening I prepared a book and a nice beer glass and got myself ready for a little bit of long forgotten orgasmic pleasure. I particularly enjoy the moment of pouring beer into the glass, observing how it forms a nice thick foam layer and looking through the glass to observe how the light glitters in the reddish-brown liquid.
Imagine than, how my broad smile on my face (at the moment I heard this characteristic “Psst” of an openning can) turns slowly through to a whim of disbelief to a sheer disappointment (when the fluid pouring into my glass appears to be a light, pale piss coloured joke of a beer) and finally – anger.
Today I made my first chai. With spices, milk, sweet and intense. As for the first attempt – it was surprisingly tasty, although flavour was slightly different than the average chai you get from the tea walla on the street. But lets just say, it was my signature chai. Strictly secret recipe.
I did not make it for myself, not even for my Kapoors family (although Alex got to try some). I made it for the electrician, who spent this morning at the Kapoors mansion fixing several long due repairs. I also treated him with some indian sweets and enjoyed nice small talk, with my few hindi words and his few english. We made friends.
It’s been a long lesson for me. After over a year of constant making mistakes, I have finally realized – or to be more accurate – I have been pushed by my coworkers into realizing, why I was failing so often to get things done.
Poland is now politically, mentally and culturally part of western Europe*. And the way we do things is fairly simple. It’s a business, and in business, there is no place for sentiments. If you call a worker – be it electrician, carpenter or plumber – you are a client, so you demand. You demend him to be there at the time and day convenient to you, you demand the work to be done quick, neatly and smoothly. Once he comes, he’s nearly a ghost at your home – doing whatever he has to do, while you’re doing your own things. You may offer him a tea or coffee or cookie, but its not compulsory. He comes there to do a job for which you are paying. And the payment will be heavy most of the time, cost of human labour is the most expansive thing in Europe. He comes, fixes whatever you require him to fix, handles the bill, you handle him cash and that’s it. Over. You probably won’t see each other for a year or so.
In India things work different way. Gas is delivered in cylinders instead of being piped. Hot water warms up in electric heaters / geysers instead of being piped. In residential areas like the one we stay in, we need to pump the water to our water storage tanks, as it comes only twice a day. In brief, the maintenance that is required in the house and the number of things that can possibly break is about ten times that of back home. So your plumber and electrician are practically your flatmates, coming every once in a while to fix one thing or the other. And in India, especially when you deal with “simple” people, it’s not a business relation like the one I described before. For a minor fix, these workers would get maybe 50, maybe 100Rs. In Europe, it’s 5 times more for just giving a look at things. That’s why perks and personal relations are far more important.
When some time ago I was trying with no result to get a carpenter to fix someting in the house, I was told, that he doesn’t want to come anymore. He was scared and not interested. We were not speaking Hindi, we were demanding and we didn’t offer him anything but a glass of water. He had no interest coming again. Not a friendly chat, not a pleasure of sipping chai, not a small gift for him or his kids. And the job was small, so the money was not attractive enough. He would rather go where the jobs are bigger and hence – better paid. Or where he is friends with the owner (or houshelp) and could count on a nice reception. And he won’t adjust his timing for us, as in India in most houses there is someone all the time – a house wife or a house help. So they can’t understand why we ask them to come in the evening or weekend. They don’t work such hours!
I was also straight forwardly told, that we should keep our workers happy. If there’s festive season – we should give them some small gift, maybe some sweets or toys for kids, or maybe a bottle of Old Monk for themselves. And we shoud act politely with them. If they’re happy – they might even fix something for free for us. If their not – they simply won’t come.
I think this is maybe one of the most important lessons I’ve learned here. Building relationships. Here everything is personal and everything is “human”. Automitization is not a big thing yet in India. Human labor is cheaper. So whatever can be done manually – is done manually. And whenever you want to achieve something, you have to deal with real people. And make them feel you care, so they would care as well.
The only thing I’m wondering about, is if and how it applies to the corporate level business in India? I hope someone could advise me on this?
* – is, but it wasn’t always like this. I was too small to get used to it, but still remember times of my childhood, the end of communism and beginning of transition to a free market economy, times we call “Polish wild wild west”, when all import was smuggled, dollar black market was blossoming, power and water cuts were maybe no daily, but a weekly rituals and none business could be done without a flask of polish vodka involved (either meaning doing business over a glass of Wyborowa, or giving it as a gift when it wasn’t appropriate to open it straight away). Or other kind of favor. Some flashbacks of this mentality still happen from time to time, but they are definitely relict.
This post has been originally written for The Kapoors Family Confessions Blog. Check it!
Foreigners in India have a tendency to do weird things. The world around is just way to tempting with all the jugaad approach around and limitless opportunities not constrained by any rules – legal or whatsoever – one have to strictly obey. Impossible is nothing (although what’s easy and seem obvious is usually quite difficult – but that’s a different story).
I guess this what I love the most about this wicked country. The limit is your imagination.
Examples? Here you are.
From my own experience – definitely organizing unofficial open championships in Cycle Rickshaw Racing would be shortlisted. You can check the video from this amazing event here .
But we didn’t push it quite as far as these two fellows, who decided to… buy over a cicle and ship it back to the Netherlands! Well – it’s not easy to stand out in terms of style on crowded Amsterdam bike roads, so I think brave Dutchies came up with just the right idea for a big time style manifesto, fantastic ice breaker and – after all – quite a good heartwinner…
There was also an awesome idea of customized hand painted bollywood poster style thanksgiving card made by Dave&Jenny, which is probably the most famous story of all expat stories in Delhi!
But what I came across today on Yuni-Net has just killed me. And reply – even more…
Mr. John (names changed)
” I would like to buy a (female) cow for milk. Preferably black and white, 1-2 years old. Need to export with me in about a year (to EU). Budget is under 1 lakh, but can negotiate if the cow is right. Pls get in touch. Serious inquire.”
Obviously – it wasn’t left without a friendly and informative advice from one of other members.
“I hear that one can get a custom made one in Karol Bhag*, they also appear to do a great paint job.”
No more comments needed I guess. I wish I heard this one earlier, when I was writing about cows in Delhi. It would have made such a brilliant point to this post.
—
* - Karol Bagh – one of Delhi markets, famous in particular for being a bike/car repairing/customization center of Delhi.
More customized cows here
It took me a while to discover it, and even longer – to fully appreciate it.
Hauz Khas is a secluded area in South Delhi, surrounded by a huge park. I first heard of it and visited it thanks to my friend Mohammed, who invited me to his party in newly opened The Living Room Cafe sometimes around May this year. I came, and I stayed.
Long time I was longing for this kind of place in Delhi. A place, that reminds me of alternative districts of European cities, where I usually hang around while traveling. Filled up with cozy and unpretentious cafe, restaurants, boutiques. A place to hang around walking, rather than run through.
The Living Room became my Delhi house. I can’t make it there too often, since it’s a trip to reach even South Delhi when you’re based in Gurgaon, but whenever I can – I’m there. Unlike most of clubs in Delhi, it’s not trying to overwhelm you with decor and discourage you with bouncers at the gate. It’s designed in a stylish, but homey way, so that you really feel comfortable over there. And its crazy management (100% bloody Indians, but shaped up in London, Montreal, New York and California) is really doing a damn good job to make it a happening place. It’s a heart of “intelligent entertainment” in Delhi now, hosting live shows, pub quizes, art exhibitions, book evenings and parties with DJ’s that go far beyond Delhi standard of “commercial house, hip-hop & Bollywood” (they even gave me and Gilles a chance to fulfill our hidden desire of sharing music we like). Not to omit is a fact, they also serve pretty decent western food and coffee. It’s my Delhi “living room” indeed.
But Hauz Khas is not only TLR. There’s amazing Gunpowder, rooftop restaurant serving good Keralan food at reasonable prizes (they even serve beef!), with stunning terrace view over the lake and really minimalistic but cozy ambience. There’s Park Balucchi - probably one of the best Indian restaurants in Delhi (although slighly on the expensive side – but the settling, in the middle of the deer park, definitely makes it worth the price). There’s Yodakin bookstore, with small, but careful selection of books, with such diamonds like “Tamil Pulp Fiction” or series explaining basics about the most important personas of “independent though” in…pictures. There’s a lot of small fashion boutiques (no wonder – with Fashion Institute just around the corner), small galleries, second-hand furnitures, antiques and so on. And more is coming – I heard about at least 3 new places that are about to open soon… One of the most promising is a cafe scheduled to open in January/February, which will be above of a second-hand/antique store and owned by the same person – really wise and charming old Indian man. I met him in the eve of his departure to … Columbia, where he was going to sell some Indian handicrafts and in exchange bring some REAL COLUMBIAN COFFEE for his cafe…. I can’t await to have a sip!
Hauz Khas is also – can’t believe I say it about Delhi – quiet, clean and peaceful. And cool, in winter even cold. All of these, thank to the fact it’s surrounded from all directions by huge park/forest, with deers&peacocks roaming around and quite vast lake in the middle. Add to it some heritage buildings spread across the area and you have the picture of one of the best leisure places in Delhi.
But atop of it all, it’s people who make the place. And this is probably the biggest advantage of HK over any other place in Delhi I know. The crowd there is laid back, bit crazy, with a little bit of an artistic flavor to it. There’s also a lot of NRI’s/Goras hanging around. Even though it’s slightly expensive, it’s not like other upmarket places in Delhi, where people show off with their cars, suites and high heels. Here’s it’s more about the brains, if you really want to show off…
I can’t wait for metro to be finished so that I could make it there more often…
Foreigners working in India on Indian contracts, AIESEC (and all the other) interns, volunteers with NGO’s, or even “long term tourists” – they all tend to call themselves expats.
Well, but are we? By broad definition – yes we are. According to Wikipedia – expat is a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person’s upbringing or legal residence. BUT, according to the same – In common usage, the term is often used in the context of professionals sent abroad by their companies, as opposed to locally hired staff (who can also be foreigners).
Furthermore “The differentiation found in common usage usually comes down to socio-economic factors, so skilled professionals working in another country are described as expatriates, whereas a manual labourer who has moved to another country to earn more money might be labelled an ‘immigrant’”
So who are we – as (lets say) skilled professionals BUT working with Indian companies on Indian package (no fancy apartments in Leela hotel, drivers, and monthly flights home – just to mention few perks our actual expat friends have). You can read on more on what being an expat means here and here and here (Karol, unfortunatelly – in Polish, but what is google translate for, right?)
Well, come on – we won’t call ourselves immigrants. Moving to India to earn more money? You got the irony, right? And we do not deserve the term expats in the second meaning as well (just a brief glance at our (Indian) bank accounts is enough to tell it). What are we than? Well – thrill riders, experience seekers, home runaways, expat wannabees and back-door-guests to the fancy life.
We’re windowslickers in luxurious shopping or eating outlets aimed at our richer counterparts, based from US, France or UK with “western” packages topped up with a lot of cherries-perks (to compensate for inconveniences they have to bear facing India everyday outside of their A/C car&office windows).
But – like everything in India – also this has double depth. No matter the actual status of our accounts, we are expats to most Indians around. We are walking wallets for beggars and shop keepers, we are dream of the whitening creams advertisement audience, we are the dance floor rockers & prestigious decoration for event organizers. We ARE welcome to most places, just because – yep, it’s cruel but true – we’re white.
Hence it’s not unusual for us to show up in a fancy club in flip-flops and still be able to enter for free (bypassing long line of lonesome Indian fellows arguing with guards to let them in) and even get free booze inside. It’s not rare to be invited to five-star hotel parties, products or clubs launch parties or… weddings of unknown people. Even on the road – when I drive my bike in an open helmet or sleeveless shirt – barely anybody honks at me. Even if I cruise slowly in the middle of the lane – a forbidden space for two-wheelers on Indian roads.
So we are enjoying our brief visits to the “inside-of-a-bubble” world, cheering on freebies and undeserved fame (page 3 anyone?) and ease to get attention from anyone we wish.
Complaining about racism, but hideously enjoying it. Until one of out friends – Indian or far-easterner – stays on the club gate facing the other side of the medal. Then we’re getting rough and once again – abuse our newly acquainted “power of the white men in India” to fight him/her back…
In most of small restaurants in India owners, to attract foreign customers, make an effort to prepare an English menu instead of the usual blackboard or piece of paper in Hindi or local dialect.
But obviously, they do it in “Jugaad” style, so just look around for anyone they have heard of is speaking English (be it cousin, uncle, neighbour’s son etc) and give him the job.
As a result, you’re getting a fantastic read that helps you beat (bit, beet?) overly extended waiting time before your khanna comes.
It can be amazingly creative, unexpected and hence – amusing. There are few words that seem to cause the most confusion. Chowmein for example usually turns into chow main, chamin, or even – and I’m not making this one up – cowman!
But my favourite menu by far was in Jaisalmer, in a roof top restaurant just next to Governmental Bang Lassi Shop and this charming place:
The menu of that restaurant was a real feast for eyes, especially since we were slightly more sensitive towards funny things after visiting the opposing governmental venue. There were dozens of mistakes, but for me, absolute hit was “a piece”. It was in the menu at least four times, and nearly everytime it was spelled differently. So “a piece” first turned to “peas”, than evolved tthrough “pees” and reached a soothing stage of “peace”. I’m sure I’ve clicked a picture of it, but I can’t find it now. But that’s ok, since the post scriptum to that story has been written in a momos stall just next to my office in Gurgaon. And this one I have documented.
Peace!
I just got a mail from one of my office collegues. And educated, smart woman.
“Some of you may know this, nevertheless, I wanted to take a moment to let you know that I am leaving (…) after over 10 years of exciting work.
I have enjoyed my tenure here and I appreciate having had the opportunity to work with all of you. Thank you for the support, guidance, and encouragement provided to me during my time at (…). Even though I will miss my colleagues and the company, I am looking forward to this new challenge in life of being a full time housewife and a doting mother to my kids.”
I’m not judging it. I have learned, that for example arranged marriages happen to work often much better than love marriages. Even though the concept is unacceptable for most of us – firangis – here.
Same with this case – if a successful woman decides to go on maternal leave, that is usually for a limited period of time and in perspective – there’s always return to work. Those who stay as home as housewives usually come from different background and never really had a decent job or perspectives to get one. But here this is a pretty often case.
I just don’t know what will her kids say about that 
hermesmarana
