Update

I am planning a change for this blog.

I'd rather write in Italian, and stop trying to be politically correct.

We'll see. I also have a penchant for verbally abusive blogs, and am quite good at it myself (the verbal abuse). English is too sublime a language for what I really want to say.

Anyway: I'm going back to The Cold Country in three weeks, where I'll stay till the new year and I will eat MEAT at every meal: cow meat, pork meat, turkey meat, boar meat, moose meat (delicious), hopefully even whale meat.

And I will drink, and I will go out after dark on my own (ooooh...) and I will be able to walk the streets without fucking retards calling me pussy or suggesting I sucked their cock.

In the meantime, I'll keep you (who? there are no readers) posted.

Morning glory

This morning I woke up exhausted, after enduring eight hours of deafening fireworks last night; it was Diwali, the fesitval of lights, which as far as I could see consists of buying sweets, eating a big meal with the family, and then going out shooting crackers all night. It was like being in a warzone, the explosions so loud it was impossible to do anything like talking, reading, watching TV.

I hated this place with all my heart last night.

So anyway; I make coffee and I am pacing the terrace looking at several cracker butts scattered all over the floor. Then I look up and I see, on the roof, two large monkeys staring at me. The male start fucking the female and laughing at me. Well, morning sex is supposed to be good for you, isn't it? Then the two monkeys jump down on the neighbour's roof and the male, after uncovering the water tank, starts his ablutions. He washes his legs, his crotch, his face.

I am quite taken by the sight, feeling like I am watching some documentary about urban monkeys. Suddenly they both jump to my terrace, getting very close to me: I wisely retreat into the bedroom and watch them from behind the door. Wisely because before I know it, the male stares at me again, then starts messing with my plants, fiddling with the soil, pulling away the leaves... and then he charges towards me!

I slam the door in time.

I can hear they are playing havoc with the furniture, overturning the table. I hear the glasses shattered on the floor, and the monkeys' insouciant screech.

I have spent at least half an hour locked in my room, terrified. When I finally got out, the terrace looked like a mess, but thankfully the fuckers were gone.

Can anyone please get me out of here, please?

Newsround

A quick review of some of the past week's news from this burgeoning superpower:

Big events: Delhi is set to host the 2010 Commonwealth Games, starting exactly one year from today. The preparations for the games are so behind that the president of the commission (an Australian) warned India that if it goes on like this, the whole thing will fail. He urged India to take in foreign experts who could implement an effective management plan, and he even asked to meet India's Prime Minister personally to talk about the dismal situation. The reply from Delhi's powerful ones: we do not need any external help on this. If the work has been a bit slow (with only one year left, it is estimated that only about 20% of the hospitality structures are in place) it is because we are a democracy.

Public transport: the buses called 'Blueline' (which are in fact green, but this is India) killed about 100 people this year. The latest case is that of a student who was hanging half outside the overcrowded bus, as it's customary over here, when said bus hit another parked vehicle, smashing the head of the student. The driver has been charged with 'negligent driving'.

Modern love: a young guy wanted to marry a 16 year old girl, who rejected him repeatedly. Unfortunately, the girl's family had agreed to the marriage, but the obstinate girl still refused. Angry and frustrated, the guy showed up at the girl's house, attacked her, abused her and forced her to drink acid in front of her relatives, who didn't do a thing.

Note that news like this are reported everyday in the paper. Everyday. In fact, right now police are questioning the family of a young woman who died in mysterious circumstances a couple of days ago, and was immediately cremated: it transpired that the woman had married a guy from a different caste without the family's approval. As preventive measure, anyhow, the husband has been put in jail.

Shoppers' delight: in case you don't know, India is big on security measures. Every time you enter the metro, a cinema or a shopping mall, you have to pass through a metal detector and your bag is searched for dangerous items.

Police have run a security test in 13 malls in Gurgaon (a suburb of Delhi) using plainclothes policemen, armed with guns, detonators and knives. The result? None was caught. They all managed to pass the security and even leave the fake bomb packages around the mall without anyone detecting what was going on.

Have a nice weekend!

Delhi is a shithole

View of Paharganj: the neighborhood lies in the very centre of Delhi.

A fellow blogger's view of India's capital city:

First of all, let me just say one thing about Delhi. It’s absolutely fucking filthy. I mean, London is filthy, most cities are filthy, granted. But New Delhi is just in a whole league of its own. During monsoon it gets especially worse because of the rubbish sewer systems and apparently non existent waste disposal services. You can imagine how torrential rain does nothing to improve this. Contrary to what you may think about the rain cleaning the streets and washing away the cities filth what it actually does is just turn the roads into muddy rivers of garbage and human excrement and the junctions into swirling cess pits and quagmires of shit, rubbish and grime. Its difficult to imagine why anybody would want to come here. I saw most of the interesting sights in one afternoon drive around the city and frankly that was enough.

My room was a shitty little box with a toilet that didn’t work and a window that didn’t open (lonely planet recommends this place so god knows what the bad places are like) and it was a staggering 400 R’s per night. Compared to my pleasant 250 R’s a night room in Varanasi this was a rip off.

The idea of any more than a few days in Delhi makes me want to cry to be honest and I was so happy to get on that train to Varanasi.
The whole time I was there I didn’t take my camera out of its bag, partly because I was very jet lagged and just wanted to acclimatise and get used to India before I became the intrepid photojournalist and partly because the place just didn’t interest me. It was just shitty, muddy, filthy, smelly streets filled with people trying to rip you off, crazed rickshaw drivers, annoying touts and shop owners who see any white person as pay day.
I fucking hated it. As soon as I got off that plane and the heat and the smell hit me I knew I would hate it. The smell, the fucking smell. Mix, petrol, shit, sand, piss, smoke, filthy water, sewage, rotting rubbish, and miscellaneous pollution together and hey presto, you have New Delhi. I’m no cynic, and I wont be this negative about everywhere I go. But let me get this straight. Delhi is horrible. Just horrible. It’s everything I hate about India all in one place.

(text and photo: Jack Laurenson)

Jack gets it absolutely right. No other place is India is as disgusting as Delhi. Which is why I don't go out: no sightseeing, no visiting places, no shopping strolls, nothing. This shithole doesn't deserve my time.

Sunday treat: Airtel

First of all, Airtel is crap. Despite being one of the biggest telecom service providers in this country, their service is lousy at best, downright cheating otherwise.

We got a wireless router for our internet connection. After you pay a hefty price for it, they make you buy the router - nothing is free in India. It cost about 20 euros.

We soon discovered that said router would not work across the flat - which is less that 50 square meters! From my work station, I'd only get a feeble signal, or none at all.

We call the customer service, and the first time someone came who didn't speak one word of English; he changed the router, replacing the old with a new, identical one. Obviously the problem remained. We could not get the message across, even with my best attempts at explaining the situation in Hindi.

Today, someone else showed up. A young boy. No ID whatsoever. How can you tell it's someone from Airtel and not a passer-by is another matter.

He scientifically assessed the situation, and concluded: the router doesn't work because there are walls in this house.

Marvelous. Walls. The problem is walls.

After seeing our faces, he added: Airtel only sells Beetel routers, and they don't work in a different room. To get a strong signal all over your property you need to purchase a Netgear routers.

We asked (drooling with rage): so why the fuck did your installation engineer (engineer being the operative term for whoever handles tools and wires in this country) tell us that this piece of shit would work, and made us pay for it?

What followed was half an hour of discussion involving physics, management, contract breach, various gods being called various names.

Airtel cannot do anything about it. It sells you a product that will not work. If you want it to work, you have to shell out some more money and buy a new router.

The myth of India as a cheap country is, well, a myth. Nothing is ever cheap here. You have to pay 3, 5, 10 times to have things to work just fine. You have to call people, shout at people, accept the fact that service engineers will show up while you are having dinner only to fiddle around with a few cables. You have to know that whatever you buy will break, you will have to bring it back, try to get it repaired under warranty only to discover that the warranty was fake.

Best of luck to the people (the husband!)who are trying to develop business between India and the West.

Some pictures

I am turning into a cow: slow, fat and spaced out.

I need meat. I need meat and fish to survive. I need animal proteins. Not soya. Not bloody beans.

I feel lethargic all day, don't have the energy to do anything more than the strictly necessary. And my body is covered by a jellyish stratum of fat. My tummy is forever bloated but I am hungry all the time. Potatoes, tomatoes, cucumber just don't cut it.

Oh yes, be creative. Experiment new ways of cooking your veggies.

Except they are still veggies at the end of the day. (Same goes for eggs)

Cheese could reasonably improve my dietary deficiencies. But alas, my dear nonexistent readers, the only cheese consumed by India is called 'paneer', a sort of solid, unsalted ricotta. Yummy eh?

Help me.

P.S. So now I really cannot understand how people who live in countries where all sorts of foods are available, tasty and cheap, choose to voluntarily give them up and live off vegetables and grains. And no, I personally do not understand the 'ethical' aspect of it.

White man's wallet

Photo courtesy of World of Stock

Last night the taxi driver tried to scam us. We hired a taxi from Dial-a-Cab, a radio taxi service that seems to work fairly well (they show up almost on time, they almost know the city, they almost speak English). The guy in question was funny and talkative. On the way back, he started chatting in Italian, telling me how he'd worked for Italian tourists for many years. He cracked some jokes and told us about his family. We were having a really pleasant trip home. Then, when we arrived and asked for the price, he looked at intentively into a corner of the car ( where a non-existent meter was supposed to be) and after too many seconds he gave us a ridiculously high price. Fucking ridiculous.

The husband got so angry he shouted for five minutes, we paid what we thought was correct and got out of the car. This incident spoilt an otherwise pleasant evening.

There we were, again, angry and frustrated.

Now. We must look at the bigger picture. Some will say that generalising is wrong, sure: but how am I supposed to meet all Delhiites before I can say something about them?

So, I submit that most people in Delhi are shameless crooks. There I said it. In almost two months we have been cheated, scammed and screwed on a daily basis; we have to be constantly on the look-out for potential scams. We are ALWAYS given inflated prices unless it's bloody printed on the thig we want to buy.

I am doing my best to live among people. As I said before, we did not want to live like expats. Now I am beginning to see the expats' choice as a necessary one. One must live separated from the shameless populace. One cannot afford to be democratic, open, or nice towards people.

The ugly truth is that a large part of Indians are only in it for the money. Fast cash earned by doing as little as possible, as badly as possible. The entire system is based on a continuum of cheating; short-sighted cheating, to be precise, for they cannot see the monetary advantage of doing something properly.
I'll explain: if you as a miserable, despicable taxi driver give me a good service for a fair price, I am likely to call you again = you will earn more money. I might even give you good tips = you will earn even more money. This is something even a two-months old child can understand, right?

No.

In the mind of the Despicable Indian*, there lies a problem in the idea of 'will earn'. Why should he want to earn 80 rupees today and 10000 rupees tomorrow, if he can make 100 today?

I do know better. Things like this have deep structural causes that sociologists all over the globe are trying to uncover.

Still, think of a country where almost a billion people behave like the Despicable Indian, and tell me, show me SCIENTIFICALLY how that country is set to be a 'global superpower'.

C'mon, tell me.

*The Despicable Indian is an analytical category, not a term of substance.

Why the hell I moved here

Question asked by Herr Heidi von der Mauer.

I moved here because my boss told me to. My other boss, the better one, figured out that I could obtain a scholarship for nine months paying a fairly good monthly stipend, and learning sociology at the same time.

In the meantime, a research project was in the making: but TRAGICALLY the person who was supposed to come here and do the fieldwork couldn't do it anymore. My better boss suggested me as a replacement, perhaps not realizing that I don't have a PhD and I had never done fieldwork (although I told her, I swear).

So the scholarship and the project were combined and I was sent off with a one-way ticket.

Why I accepted all this: because I get money in until next year and get to save part of it, which will hopefully pay me a trip to a really fun holiday destination. And also because in the European country where I have lived for the last year it's always cold, even when it's warm (roughly 7 days a year, non consecutive).

This is my 4th time in India, so I am almost used to the inverted logic and the impossible chaos. I think that, after 9 months on this roof, I will want to explore other places. But who knows.

How to make this blog the most successful blog in the world

I don't know.

There seem to be no readers yet.

I am not so fond of sharing my daily experiences on a blog, because they are petty and trivial (like: I have put chickpeas to soak and will cook them tonight. Sad.)

So I'd rather be more interactive, and answer questions. Whatever you'd like to know about India. Big things, small things. What consequences liberalization has had on the national economy, how much to pay for a pair of 'chappals' (=flip flops), why on earth did I decide to move here for almost a year. Things like that.

But I can already anticipate the subject of my first treatise:

"Vegetarian food makes you fat and hungry".

Coming soon!

The lives of others

I often read The Delhi Walla blog searching for cunning clues on how to use the city. Recently, there's been a debate around expats, their lifestyle and how they are viewed by Indians. Apparently some of the locals, those with enough education and means to have an opinion, have a scrornful attitude towards the expat community; they live in South Delhi (=posh area), their rent is paid by the company, they live in all-mod-cons mansions, have a driver, a cleaner, a cook and perhaps even a general servant, they go to malls and buy camembert. They are rarely seen on the streets, or indeed in any non air-conditioned environment. They earn way too much money and don't live in the real Indian world.

Stuff like that.

In the debate, I see a certain legitimate irritation on the part of 'modern' Indian citizens who may want to reclaim their city. After all, this country hosted a fairly large expat community of white men for two hundred years - and it wasn't all fun and frolics.

On the other hand, more and more Indians live exactly the same kind of life, even if their income is proportionately lower. I was almost tempted to leave a comment defending the right to be here even if you are not an Indian, live and let live, etcetera.

But then I remembered:

In the beginning I tried to connect with a few Westerners living here: you know, someone to talk to, someone to share a drink with. The men I met were all deep in business talk : be it Delhi or London, they always make you want to gulp down a bottle of tequila on the spot and burp in their face. The women were, well, bored shitless.

None of them ever visited anything beyond their neighbourhood-cum-mall. Some of them have been living here for five years and they've never taken the metro. Oh, ah, they have a driver, sure. Oh, ah, the metro is still under construction in certain stretches. But, I'll say it again, they've been here for five years and they've never taken the metro.

Isn't it unbelievable?

By the way, the metro works amazingly well. It's so clean, cool and fast you'd think they made it for expats.

Introduction

This is the view from the roof. People use the little park for their 'morning walk', which they do every day before stuffing their faces with fried breads and spicy, buttery sauces (i.e. breakfast).

Preface and Acknowledgements

I have been living in Delhi for more than a month and will be here for a while. My husband and I are not expats. In fact, we are the only white faces in the neighborhood. Life here is silly and new.

Many thanks to:

Airtel India for providing internet connection

Limca - enough said

Whatever shop sold us the fridge

The monkeys at Delhi University Campus who eat bananas and sliced bread (but not the rubbery crust) every morning.

Welcome.