June 25, 2010
After going to the mall yesterday, we decided to stay at home. The weather had slightly cooled down, for it had rained a little bit in the morning, but the monsoons were still behind schedule, and if they didn’t show up soon, there would be major problems (including severe water shortage and power cuts).
In the evening, my mother, aunt, and cousin all went to a local bazaar. My mom needed a SIM card for her cell phone, which could easily be bought in store. Unlike in the US, where phones are locked, meaning that each phone can only work with one cell phone provider (like the iPhone can only work with AT&T), in India, the phone and the cell phone provider can be purchased separately. That is why we could use my unlocked phone from Hong Kong with a SIM card purchased in India. After that, we explored the bazaar. We ate kulfi, an Indian ice-cream, purchased from a street vendor, to provide some relief from the humidity, and we looked at all the wares of all the street vendors, who had set up blankets on the street and were asking us to look at the clothes, DVDs, coffee cups, toys, etc that they had to offer. There were many girls getting henna done on their hands in intricate designs (and I was sorely tempted to get henna done, when I realized that it would make more sense to do it right before I leave for India). Buying food from an Indian restaurant for dinner, we proceeded to look for an auto-rickshaw.
As we approached a three-way intersection, we noticed that a car was unable to go through the intersection because cars coming from the perpendicular street didn’t stop. It wasn’t actually a three-way intersection, but there were two roads that merged into one road, and another road that was perpendicular to the first two. Two of the three roads had a stoplight- the road that didn’t have a stoplight was causing the problem. No one was willing to stop, so the car that was stuck was stuck until someone was polite enough to wait. Which no one was. After several people volunteered to act as traffic police, the actual traffic policeman came, and people finally listened to the government official. Which was weird. In India, everyone complains that the Indian government officials (including police) are corrupt, taking bribes from the people and not doing anything productive for society. But here, when they could have cleared the traffic jam by listening to ordinary citizens, they chose not to, instead waiting for a government official. Democracy: Hate it, but can’t live without it. Or as my grandfather says, “by the people, for the people, of the people, should actually be spelled, b-u-y the people, f-a-r the people, o-f-f the people.”
And finally, the World Cup Round of 16 is coming up! Although I should support India, India has never, ever qualified (India is more of a cricket, field hockey nation than soccer) for a single World Cup. Therefore, I support Spain. Although their entry into the next round is a bit shaky, I still believe they can do it (Fernando Torres will somehow find his goal-scoring skill, and La Roja will hopefully beat Chile 3-0). Tomorrow is Judgement Day.
Showing posts with label New Delhi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Delhi. Show all posts
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Shopping at Rajori Garden
Today, the day started out slightly cooler, about 38ºC (100.4ºF). Not wanting to stay out another day, and in a dire need to buy some Indian clothes (after not visiting for 3 years, I wanted, needed Indian clothes). We decided to go to City Square, a mall in a group of five malls in Rajori Garden.
When we got to the mall, I was surprised to hear the music that was playing inside. I was expecting to find the latest Bollywood music being blasted over the speakers; instead, I heard Tik Tok by Kesha, All the Right Moves by One Republic, and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. Although the imperialism that occurred in the nineteenth century is over, a new type of imperialism has replaced it-cultural imperialism. Western culture has so pervaded India that recognizable Western brands have replaced the Indian brands I recognized. Coke replaces Thumbs-Up (Indian equivalent of coke), jeans replace traditional Indian clothing (like the salwar kameez). Most of the stores had a section for western clothes along with a section of Indian clothes. Granted, the western clothes weren’t as up to date fashion-wise as Abercrombie and Fitch or Hollister, but the section was bigger than I had ever seen before. I needed both western and Indian clothes, so I went to most of the stores in the mall that offered both types of clothes. Although I liked some of the clothes I found, I ended up not buying them, either because they weren’t perfect or it was too expensive.
When we went to the mall, we used a taxi service. On the way back, we used the Delhi metro. It was similar to any of the metros used in American cities, except it was all overhead. I was surprised by the quality of the trains, as the only Indian trains I had traveled in before were those that were used to take 16 hr journeys in because it was cheaper than taking a plane. The Commonwealth Games are coming to India in October, so that could be a possible reason for the sudden uptake in the construction of more efficient transportation options. After the metro came our ride in an auto-rickshaw, a three wheeled small car with no windows and doors, and where the price can be negotiated. Since my Hindi is apparently very Americanized, my aunt haggled for us, bring the price down from 100 Rupees to 30 Rupees. The auto-rickshaw re-validated my beliefs about the great disparity between the wealthy and the poor. Where my aunt lived was pretty middle class, but when we meant to the mall, we saw the two extremes. We saw the extremely wealthy, with chauffeured- BMWs and completely branded clothing, but we also saw the extremely poor, sitting in the Metro station seeking respite from the heat, begging for money as their children went around shirtless or with extremely dirty clothing. This contradiction could be seen in our auto-rickshaw driver, who was only making about 500 rupees (or $10) a day, but had a cell phone that my cousin claimed was the same cell phone that her dad had. If India is to become a developed nation and join the US and the European nations at the top, among other things, this disparity is going to need to be reduced.
When we got to the mall, I was surprised to hear the music that was playing inside. I was expecting to find the latest Bollywood music being blasted over the speakers; instead, I heard Tik Tok by Kesha, All the Right Moves by One Republic, and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. Although the imperialism that occurred in the nineteenth century is over, a new type of imperialism has replaced it-cultural imperialism. Western culture has so pervaded India that recognizable Western brands have replaced the Indian brands I recognized. Coke replaces Thumbs-Up (Indian equivalent of coke), jeans replace traditional Indian clothing (like the salwar kameez). Most of the stores had a section for western clothes along with a section of Indian clothes. Granted, the western clothes weren’t as up to date fashion-wise as Abercrombie and Fitch or Hollister, but the section was bigger than I had ever seen before. I needed both western and Indian clothes, so I went to most of the stores in the mall that offered both types of clothes. Although I liked some of the clothes I found, I ended up not buying them, either because they weren’t perfect or it was too expensive.
When we went to the mall, we used a taxi service. On the way back, we used the Delhi metro. It was similar to any of the metros used in American cities, except it was all overhead. I was surprised by the quality of the trains, as the only Indian trains I had traveled in before were those that were used to take 16 hr journeys in because it was cheaper than taking a plane. The Commonwealth Games are coming to India in October, so that could be a possible reason for the sudden uptake in the construction of more efficient transportation options. After the metro came our ride in an auto-rickshaw, a three wheeled small car with no windows and doors, and where the price can be negotiated. Since my Hindi is apparently very Americanized, my aunt haggled for us, bring the price down from 100 Rupees to 30 Rupees. The auto-rickshaw re-validated my beliefs about the great disparity between the wealthy and the poor. Where my aunt lived was pretty middle class, but when we meant to the mall, we saw the two extremes. We saw the extremely wealthy, with chauffeured- BMWs and completely branded clothing, but we also saw the extremely poor, sitting in the Metro station seeking respite from the heat, begging for money as their children went around shirtless or with extremely dirty clothing. This contradiction could be seen in our auto-rickshaw driver, who was only making about 500 rupees (or $10) a day, but had a cell phone that my cousin claimed was the same cell phone that her dad had. If India is to become a developed nation and join the US and the European nations at the top, among other things, this disparity is going to need to be reduced.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Plane Ride/Landing in India
June 23
Today was the first full day that we spent in India, mostly spent inside due to the fact that it was 44ºC, which is over 100º F. But back to the beginning.
Our fourteen hour flight to India was uneventful. We sat in row 20 J,K,L, which was towards the beginning of the economy class section, so the food was served quite quickly. The dinner was pasta with some sort of chicken covered in cheese, served with yogurt. Yogurt makes sense to serve if the entrée is Indian food, but with pasta? Bad choice, and unfortunately a waste of food. With dinner began my movie-watching marathon, which began with the movie Leap Year, a complete chick flick and clichéd movie. But with junior year having just ended, it was this exact mind-numbing movie that I needed to see. After Leap Year, I decided to complete the Bourne Identity, which I had started at a party. The violence and suspense became slightly overwhelming, and so I quickly exited that movie, and I decided to watch Legally Blonde. Possibly the most hilarious movie I have seen a long time, the stereotypes that Reese Witherspoon debunked were quite widely believed as being true. Still, a great movie with a moral that has been used in umpteen movies, “Hard work and determination lead to success.” After Legally Blonde came Cold Case, a CSI-esque show that attempted to solve cases that had never been closed due to a lack of evidence.
I then attempted to sleep. Attempted is the true word for my journey into the dream world. Four hours of tossing and turning resulted in an hour of sleep, after which the tossing and turning began again. With my laptop and textbook underneath the seat in front of me, taking up the oh-so-precious leg room in front of me. After giving up the fight with sleep, I opened up my AP US History textbook to take notes on the Revolutionary War. Reading three pages took the remaining energy that my sleepless body had; while putting the book away, the breakfast service came around. Why anyone would want to eat breakfast was beyond me, but realizing my hunger as the plate slid in front of me, I ate the pineapple and melon and croissant. While eating I watched my absolute favorite movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (which I had seen seven times before). Unfortunately, watching it for the 8th time on a sleepless journey was too much, and I resorted to playing FreeCell. Suprisingly, it was this game that I enjoyed out of all the movies I had watched. It was challenging (I only won three out of the ten games that I played), which made it quite addicting. To the surprise of my mother and brother, I became quite engrossed in the game, hunching over in my seat, muttering to myself in hopes of finding a move that would lead me to another move and another move that would instantly win the game for me. While playing the game, the plane suddenly landed. Choppy landing, but it was great to be back.
Walking off the plane, the heat and humidity immediately hit my face. The captain had said the temperature was about 111º F-temperatures that I hadn’t seen, since, well the last time I had visited India. Immigration was a breeze, but it was the baggage claim that took the longest time. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. Every time we traveled anywhere, our bags would be the one of the last ones out. After recognizing and lifting all four bags from the baggage carousel, we headed out to the waiting area. My aunt and cousin hadn’t reached, so we sat and waited, my brother and I playing with a little girl that we had met on the flight. She was an adorable girl, with brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a doll that seemed equivalent to that special blanket all children had. I had outgrown the blanket stage; I now had a special jacket that (much to the chagrin of my mother) I had insisted on wearing on the plane. After ten minutes of waiting, we called my aunt and then headed outside, as she had said that she was just arriving. The heat was not too unbearable, but I suppose that was because it was the night. Tomorrow would be the real test. When my aunt and the taxi arrived, we found out that the trunk did not have enough space to hold all four bags. Therefore, three of the bags would be placed on the roof of the bag. Throughout the entire ride, I was conscious of every bump in the road, hoping that it wouldn’t dislodge the suitcases (one of which was mine). Even at 9:30, the roads in India were crowded. The journey took half an hour, during which I mostly kept my mouth shut, both feeling shy and taking on the surroundings.
It was my grandfather who opened the door when we reached home, with my cousin peeking out behind him. It was late, and we were all jetlagged, so we quickly changed into our pajamas and sat in one room, unpacking the suitcase that had all the gifts for my cousins. For my cousin brother, who was a mere six months older than me but never failed to mention it, we had bought some clothes; for my cousin sister (who was 10) we bought a fashion design book and mannequin that could be outfitted with various outfits. I zoned out towards the end of the conversation, reading Devlin’s Diary by Christi Phillips and heading towards the dream world.
Today was the first full day that we spent in India, mostly spent inside due to the fact that it was 44ºC, which is over 100º F. But back to the beginning.
Our fourteen hour flight to India was uneventful. We sat in row 20 J,K,L, which was towards the beginning of the economy class section, so the food was served quite quickly. The dinner was pasta with some sort of chicken covered in cheese, served with yogurt. Yogurt makes sense to serve if the entrée is Indian food, but with pasta? Bad choice, and unfortunately a waste of food. With dinner began my movie-watching marathon, which began with the movie Leap Year, a complete chick flick and clichéd movie. But with junior year having just ended, it was this exact mind-numbing movie that I needed to see. After Leap Year, I decided to complete the Bourne Identity, which I had started at a party. The violence and suspense became slightly overwhelming, and so I quickly exited that movie, and I decided to watch Legally Blonde. Possibly the most hilarious movie I have seen a long time, the stereotypes that Reese Witherspoon debunked were quite widely believed as being true. Still, a great movie with a moral that has been used in umpteen movies, “Hard work and determination lead to success.” After Legally Blonde came Cold Case, a CSI-esque show that attempted to solve cases that had never been closed due to a lack of evidence.
I then attempted to sleep. Attempted is the true word for my journey into the dream world. Four hours of tossing and turning resulted in an hour of sleep, after which the tossing and turning began again. With my laptop and textbook underneath the seat in front of me, taking up the oh-so-precious leg room in front of me. After giving up the fight with sleep, I opened up my AP US History textbook to take notes on the Revolutionary War. Reading three pages took the remaining energy that my sleepless body had; while putting the book away, the breakfast service came around. Why anyone would want to eat breakfast was beyond me, but realizing my hunger as the plate slid in front of me, I ate the pineapple and melon and croissant. While eating I watched my absolute favorite movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (which I had seen seven times before). Unfortunately, watching it for the 8th time on a sleepless journey was too much, and I resorted to playing FreeCell. Suprisingly, it was this game that I enjoyed out of all the movies I had watched. It was challenging (I only won three out of the ten games that I played), which made it quite addicting. To the surprise of my mother and brother, I became quite engrossed in the game, hunching over in my seat, muttering to myself in hopes of finding a move that would lead me to another move and another move that would instantly win the game for me. While playing the game, the plane suddenly landed. Choppy landing, but it was great to be back.
Walking off the plane, the heat and humidity immediately hit my face. The captain had said the temperature was about 111º F-temperatures that I hadn’t seen, since, well the last time I had visited India. Immigration was a breeze, but it was the baggage claim that took the longest time. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. Every time we traveled anywhere, our bags would be the one of the last ones out. After recognizing and lifting all four bags from the baggage carousel, we headed out to the waiting area. My aunt and cousin hadn’t reached, so we sat and waited, my brother and I playing with a little girl that we had met on the flight. She was an adorable girl, with brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a doll that seemed equivalent to that special blanket all children had. I had outgrown the blanket stage; I now had a special jacket that (much to the chagrin of my mother) I had insisted on wearing on the plane. After ten minutes of waiting, we called my aunt and then headed outside, as she had said that she was just arriving. The heat was not too unbearable, but I suppose that was because it was the night. Tomorrow would be the real test. When my aunt and the taxi arrived, we found out that the trunk did not have enough space to hold all four bags. Therefore, three of the bags would be placed on the roof of the bag. Throughout the entire ride, I was conscious of every bump in the road, hoping that it wouldn’t dislodge the suitcases (one of which was mine). Even at 9:30, the roads in India were crowded. The journey took half an hour, during which I mostly kept my mouth shut, both feeling shy and taking on the surroundings.
It was my grandfather who opened the door when we reached home, with my cousin peeking out behind him. It was late, and we were all jetlagged, so we quickly changed into our pajamas and sat in one room, unpacking the suitcase that had all the gifts for my cousins. For my cousin brother, who was a mere six months older than me but never failed to mention it, we had bought some clothes; for my cousin sister (who was 10) we bought a fashion design book and mannequin that could be outfitted with various outfits. I zoned out towards the end of the conversation, reading Devlin’s Diary by Christi Phillips and heading towards the dream world.
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