feng-shui-cafe

The Show Must Go On… and a K-Mart in India Must be Found!

November 5th, 2006

Day 5 - the 6th of June, 2006.

Show Time!

Getting up this morning is no easy task. When the alarm goes off at 4:15am…

Breakfast at 24/7 is a drag. 5:15am is not my choice time, having come home at 11pm. I take a malaria pill, eat an omelet & toast, and chat with Cheryl (who’s going to her venue for her part of the meeting). In addition to pit toilets, Cheryl’s venue has no air conditioning. Rumors are the food at her venue keeps spoiling. I know I’m in the middle of a field, but I’ve had a normal(ish) toilet & good food.

After breakfast, Cheryl & I head for our respective shuttle buses – mine to the Palace Grounds and “The Tent.”

Did I mention that “The Tent” was built on the huge grounds of a palace & is on top of a hill? That every time I use the wonderfully tiled toilets I fall to the right because the toilets aren’t on the flat part of the hill? That I’ve seen ants that could probably eat my cats? That insects here scare the bejesus out of me? The Tent, an entire living village at this point, will be demolished completely in about 3 days time… I think it’ll be gone sooner!

I arrive at work at 6am as scheduled, exhausted as the furniture movers in the hotel did return, making noise throughout the night.

There’s no air conditioning in The Tent until 7:30am. When I arrive it’s humid. Once the AC is on, it’s 40 degrees F!

Security does a ‘sweep’ for the Indian President. They have adorable bomb-sniffing dogs. Their attire is fabulous – traditional Indian outfits with rainbow cumberbunds & hats. The hats also have rainbow paper ‘fans,’ like folding fans. They wear white socks OVER their shoes & these socks extend to their knees. I think of asking where I can get a costume, but decide I’ll be arrested on the spot.

The “feel” of the security search here is similar to the kind I encountered when I worked on “World News Tonight” at the Republican National Convention at Madison Square Garden in 2004. Very vast, very intense.

For a time, sitting at my station in The Tent, I’m actually a bit worried about what I’ve gotten myself into. I’m not far from the stage where India’s President will speak. I realize, as I watch security scope things out, that if the President of India is blown up, I’m likely going with him. I’m hopeful there’s no assassination attempt for purely selfish reasons!

The show starts around 10am. The President of India speaks. What an interesting and intelligent man! And I have survived to tell about it (what a relief!).

There is a ‘traditional’ Indian Lamp Lighting Ceremony by dignitaries on-stage, and the Indian National Anthem is played twice. I don’t know if it’s the band or Anthem itself, but I find the tune is not very hummable.

All goes well with the meeting.

At the end of the show, the crowd is WOWed by Indian singing sensation, Himesh Reshammiya. Himesh has glitzy dancing ‘fly’ girls and boys, and it’s a real rocking act! The smoke & lights are just the icing on the cake. I think Himesh is the “Ricky Martin” of India!

After the show, you’ve never seen anyone strike gear so quickly! I am the first worker signed off the venue and back to the hotel for MY NEXT ADVENTURE!

Cheryl returns to the hotel about 30 minutes after me. We have a quick lunch at ‘24/7.’

When I meet Cheryl for our ‘adventure,’ she wears light shorts which blend with her pale long legs, so as always, I say as much… Cheryl the tourist. At lunch, Cheryl spills on her shorts. Whew. Good excuse to change, right?

When at last we’re ready to leave, we’re joined by the show’s Producers who are headed to a ‘shopping mall.’ Cheryl & I tag along. Since there are 5 of us, Cheryl & I take our own car.

I use the term “Shopping Mall” lightly, as what they call a “Mall” is a shop with lots of rooms. Like most malls in the U.S., it’s overpriced!

I’m going to take a moment to explain the shopping we’ve seen in India so far:

One goes into a shop. The place is usually divided into anywhere from 5 to 10 rooms. Each room has its own “theme.” Silk scarves in one room, jewelry in another, trinkets in another, carpets in the largest room. A buyer goes from one room to the next, often with a different salesperson in each room (or one salesperson who follows like a hawk) trying to get the buyer to sit in a chair or stool in front of a counter where the seller can show the buyer ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING in the display case. The buyer is tempted with drinks of all kinds.

So back to the “shopping mall.”
It’s one store with a gazillion rooms. I become dizzy. The Producers go back to the hotel.

When we finish, Cheryl & I are ready for further adventure & call our driver (who was waiting). Only it isn’t OUR driver – it’s the Producers’ driver. Doesn’t matter, but Cheryl & I aren’t sure we have the right driver at all! Turns out our new driver’s very friendly.

We ask the driver to take us to a shop called “Ab Fab.” It’s been recommended. Our driver insists there’s no parking there and takes us to ‘good shops.’ Of course, we know full well he’s taking us to places where he gets a cut.

Our driver gives Cheryl and I some interesting tidbits about driving in India:

You must be 21 to obtain a license. For his job you must have 4 to 5 years experience driving. Cheryl & I have the driver for 3 hours, and the entire cost is under $40.

Our driver is excited to talk about his kids. He has a boy of about 6 and a girl of about 4. On his cell phone is audio of HIS CHILDREN FIGHTING. First Cheryl must listen, then I must. It sounds like… 2 children arguing in another language.

The driver tells us he and his wife are dark skinned and he is so happy that his children are both light skinned. He shows us a photo of his son and proudly states: “He looks Japanese, doesn’t he?” We chuckle – he DOES look Japanese!

As we hear often, our driver hopes to come to New York. That seems to be a common theme among the people I’ve spoken with. It appears, however, that people in the service industry will likely never make enough in their lifetime to be able to afford a trip to the U.S.

This fact really brings home how lucky I am. And I don’t mean that in a condescending way at all. I’ve been handed opportunity where so many haven’t, and it’s easy to take it for granted. It’s easy to fret about simple things and never think about the enormous obstacles other equally educated people face. It’s not that the people I’ve come into contact with in India aren’t educated or hard working. They are. They just haven’t had the opportunities I’ve had.

But enough of the philosophy of life for now… I was talking about SHOPPING.

After the Mall, our driver brings us to a place that’s different than most others – just 2 rooms: a main room and a room with carpets. The people are quite nice. The tactic, as mentioned above, is to pull EVERYTHING out for the buyer to see. So I get to a point where I say: “STOP! I only want to see xx.” It kind of freaks them out, but they oblige and stop showing me EVERYTHING. Their selling, however, is definitely based on a working model overall. They know if they show you something you like, you’re going to buy it – even if it’s not what you came for. So they try to show you as much as they possibly can. I fall for it more than once!

The driver drops us at another shop but Cheryl & I have spotted a TOY STORE on the main road & decide to go for it. Our driver seems a bit distraught and tries to send us to another of his shops. We aren’t having any of that.

Off we go to the Toy Shop on the main street, the one with people wandering in front dressed in clown and animal suits (like DisneyWorld but not). As we ascend the stairs, I swear “Hallelujah!” starts playing. OK, maybe that’s in my head.

But truly, Cheryl’s first words are: “Oh my gosh! It’s India’s TARGET!” Yes, we’ve found the Target of India. The WalMart, K-Mart! WE HIT GOLD!

When I ask the Pushy Sales Woman for INDIAN toys, she brings us over to Thomas the Tank Engine toys & Superman & Batman action figures. I try to shake the pushy saleswoman to no avail. She is not letting go.

Cheryl locates t-shirts with “INDIA” scrawled across them. YES, YES, YES! Exactly what we need!

Pushy Sales Girl shows me a child’s Indian outfit which slays me.
Pushy Sales Girl tries to sell me Indian shirts. No, I say. No thank you! No. No. No. Still, she tries to push how nice it will look on me. Try it on! Try it on!
“Cheryl?” I inquire. “Can you see me in this?” Cheryl laughs: “No.”
I look at Pushy Sales Girl & say, “See?” But she doesn’t let up. She pushes more shirts at me. She loses the battle of selling me a shirt, but sells me 2 OTHER shirts for friends!

Finally, shopping at India Target is over.

Our driver is coming to pick us up (he’s parked by his pals’ shop & has to bring the car round in MASSIVE traffic, traffic like I’ve not yet seen, in fact).

We wait in front of the shop. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I start to freak about malaria mosquitoes, and am also bothered by the people in animal suits checking us out.

We go inside to wait in a bug-free environment, and we are sucked into yet more shopping. Cheryl finds “India Barbie” AND a Henna tattooist. We have our hands tattooed, buy MORE. The driver finally saves us.

Back at the hotel, Cheryl & I do the “Packing of Souvenirs Dance.” I think we’ve all done this dance at one time or another. We filled an entire extra suitcase…

After the “POS Dance,” we attend a crew party at a nearby hotel, Le Meridien.

The party is in a bar called “Noir” and yes, it’s DARK.

When we arrive at “Noir,” the lady pole-dances arrive. By the time we leave an hour later, our colleagues are beginning to get on-stage with the pole-dancers. I later learn from my next door neighbor, Oz, that by the end of the night pretty much everyone was on the floor with the dancers.

After Cheryl & I leave the party, we go for dinner at the Meridien. It’s pricey for India, but it’s probably because it’s a hotel geared to Americans and Europeans. I hardly feel like I’m in India in the hotel lobby. The buffet is fabulous and I really enjoy my last ‘real Indian meal.’ I feel nostalgic as I eat my final nan in India.

The trip draws to a close rapidly. But there’s one last adventure yet to come!

Cheryl & I take the free shuttle from the Meridien to our hotel. The shuttle driver, as it turns out, has been Cheryl’s shuttle driver all the way through the trip. She seems rather frightened of getting in the van with him again. I understand why when he makes a U-turn on a major road with 3 lanes of traffic in either direction. Cheryl says: “Yeah, he did that every night when we came home from my venue. But that was nothing. You should’ve seen him playing chicken with a BUS!”

I wave Cheryl off as she leaves for a 2am flight (my flight isn’t until 6:30am). I go to my room, work, pack, watch some bad American sit-coms playing on TV. I actually forget for a brief moment that I’m not supposed to brush my teeth with tap water and just as I put the tap water in my mouth, I spit it out, rinse with mouthwash & think: “OH NO! I’m going to get sick on the plane!”

When it’s my turn to go to the Bangalore Airport, I notice it appears to be bombed out. I don’t recall it being THAT bad on arrival. I guess I was really tired.

Security is a circus & I keep saying it’s like I’m on “The Amazing Race.” By the way, I’m in 4th place if we’re on the “Amazing Race” – out of about 30 people!

The departure lounge is a dive. There’s a tiny bookstore I consider going into, but cannot maneuver my hand luggage into such a small shop. The duty-free shop isn’t more than a 10×10 room with booze & cigarettes. I sit in the lounge & sleep.

My plane loads a few hours later, I board, taking my British Airways Business Class seat. I wave Hello to my former next door neighbor, Oz, who is starting to sober up from last night. We both laugh that he’s sitting next to me on the plane, my neighbor once again, for the last time this trip.

Oz asks me to sign his ‘autograph book.’ Yes, he has a book people are signing. I include the ever-popular phrase from when I was 12: “2 Good 2 Be 4 Gotten.”

I conk out as the plane taxis away from this very foreign land, dreaming of first-world Scotland, to where I am headed.

A new adventure awaits tomorrow!

Entry Filed under: India