the hassle of traveling

After two months of frequent use of the public transportation in India I’ve figured out the secrets of auto rickshaw traveling.

Muslim drivers are nicer, tries to rip you off less and will argue less with you than Hindu ones. They are also more likely to take you the straight way instead of driving in circles. What ever happened to Karma?

The older the driver the less hassle, the younger the shittier. Also, the  driver the more likely are you to have a rickshaw trip as your cause of death since they drive like maniacs.

 

Thus, to find an old Muslim guy is like being in rickshaw heaven. A young Muslim would be the runner up and if there are only Hindu drivers available, go for the oldest you can find.

 

If the meter is ticking with a very loud sound it’s probably fixed to run quicker than it should. If the driver agrees to go by the meter without a fuss, it’s probably also fixed.

If they try to make you pay 600 Rupees for a ride that should be 60, take a photo of them and pretend to write down the registration number while telling them that you intend to call the police, they will immediately go down to the (almost) correct fare (don’t do this if you’re not a girl, they might beat you up instead).

 

The more you wobble your head, the more you speak with an Indian accent and the more words you know for bargaining in the local language, the cheaper the ride will be. Therefore, practicing the head shake in front of a mirror while saying something that sounds like tomajestic (way too much) is a good idea.

 

Happy rickshaw ride :)

the law obiding swede and IFT

When Swedish people face a sign that says Stop, they stop – on the line, when there is a queue we stand in a neat little line waiting for our turn, quietly and without pushing or elbowing the other queuing people. When we’re in traffic we follow traffic rules and if we set up a meeting at 2.30 we’ll arrive at 2.25. Yes, I know, there is something almost perverse about the Swedish obedience culture and people from outside Scandinavia usually finds it extremely odd and too perfect.

The Swedish genes in me therefore sometimes have a hard time customizing themselves to the Indian culture. Standing in a group of people jumping up and down while shouting and pushing is alright, getting other people’s babies or bags put in your lap on the bus if you’re one of the lucky ones with a seat is alright. Driving in a country where no one follows any rules at all is actually easier than driving where people do since you can just drive however you wish and I don’t mind driving past stop signs at all as long as no one gives me a fine for it.

However, the Indian Flexible Time is driving me nuts. I know it’s not only Indians but South Europeans, South Americans, Asians in general and pretty much all countries outside Scandinavia but still I can’t get used to it. After asking my translator forty eleven times yesterday if he was really going to be at the office at 7.30 instead of the normal 9am and having him confirm one too many times that he would indeed be I went home and put my alarm clock on 06.10. I woke up this morning as tired as if I had just finished a marathon but dragged my sorry self to the office and arrived at 7.20. Of course I didn’t expect my translator/driver to arrive early so I calmly sit down outside to read today’s copy of The Hindu. Half an hour later my boss arrives and lets us in but still there’s no sign of the missing man. My mind has by now started to come up with different ways of yelling this person’s face off in a combination of going through ways of doing it in a way that would be at least slightly acceptable due to Indian culture. The longer I wait the less nice my thoughts get and by now at the time of 10.25 and still no sign of him, he is in my mind already crucified since long. What would life be without mind conversations?

learn as long as you live

I think I just learned something new about blogging. Have to see if it works.

<a href =”http://gucke.blogspot.com”>my sister’s blog</a>

No, it didn’t. If someone knows how to put a html-link into a text, please enlighten me.

New try;

<a href="http://gucke.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" >my sister's blog</a>

Nope, not now either.
<a href="http://gucke.blogspot.com" target="_blank">blog</a>
Obviously, I'm not very good at this.
 
 



<a href="http://gucke.blogspot.com" target="_blank">blog</a>



			

scandinavian addition

We got a new room mate yesterday. She’s Indian but born in Denmark which means we can speak ‘Scandinavian’ with each other with out no one else understanding and it’s driving Viren slightly crazy. With Nidhi, who had to take one of the living room beds, we are now  seven people and two dogs living in a four bedroom apartment. The more the merrier :) It’s good stuff she’s a girl too since Abby is moving back to the US next week and Daniela back to Germany in less than four, I’d be the only non-male part of the house without her and I wouldn’t want that.

 

two wheeled freedom

Mum, please don’t have a heart attack now.

After ten minutes of trying to kick start my bike this morning, sweat running all over me and with a paining foot I gave up and pushed my dear Honda with two tons of effort all the way to the petrol station down the road to ask someone help me start it. I then said a little prayer every time I had to stop by a red light that the engine wouldn’t die but it didn’t and I arrived to work in time and in one piece – all cows and children along the way still alive.

Even though I was slightly nervous while zigzagging between cows, rickshaws and drunk men – feeling like I was in one of those computer games from the 90’s where you’re driving along a road and someone is pushing barrels and stuff in front of you – it was an amazing feeling and once I got a hold of it I barely didn’t want to get off.

The bike is now resting at the mechanics for the day since I’ve had to face the fact that kick-starting might not be one of my strongest assets in life. I think I can survive that.

pot making for dummies

Palakshi and I went for a field visit to one of the slum areas close by the office today. It’s an area where people live without government land rights but recently have gotten land allotted to them further north of the city that will be theirs to build on.

We went to snap some pictures of the clay pot making business that’s going on in the community to use as ”HfH propaganda” to convince donors to finance sixteen houses in the new area. After some breakfast on the way we found this man who was the clay pot master, looking like he’d been doing this his entire life (which he probably also had). Anyways, it was great.

Days out of the office are the best.

Indian styled breakfast, idlis and sambhar

You mix mud, water and cow dung into big balls of clay..

..and then you spin the stone wheel with the clay on top..

..shape it while it’s spinning (looks easy, is hard)..

..and you have a clay pot for sale!

For those of you that doesn’t know what I look like in an Indian outfit, this is it. :)