Bangalore is a city that arrests the senses…all of them.

 

It’s a city of smells. The traffic creates a rich custard of exhaust as the motorized rickshaws and motorcycles vastly outnumber the cars. But the traffic just lays down a base of smell. You don’t have to walk far to whiff incense, outdoor cooking, sewage, trash and livestock within feet of each other.

 

It’s a city of noise. The traffic is thick and constant, but the driving style in Bangalore requires the liberal application of the horn. Even in the middle of the night the drivers use the pre-emptive strike technique. This is a city of tinny little horns announcing their presence with a mechanical “make way.”

 

It’s a city of touch. Sidewalks are rough and bumpy. Pavement gives way to dirt and stone. While some beggars put out a simple palm, other chase the white man softly grabbing at the arm.

 

It’s a city of sites. Against a backdrop of filth, dirt and crumbling buildings are some stunningly bright and colorfully dressed people. The poor are shoeless but no less bright or colorful. It’s common to see cattle and other livestock tied up in residential neighborhoods.  I saw a donkey casually walking with the other pedestrians down the sidewalk of one of the main thoroughfares. The donkey reached the corner, waited patiently before deciding to cross the street. That was amazing enough, but crossing the street in Bangalore is neither easy nor safe and I was stunned that the donkey did a better job than I did.

 

It’s a city of taste. Wanting the full Bangalore experience I’ve eaten everything adventurous I could find. Everything is spicy. I ordered a chicken something or other from a street vendor…he asked if I wanted it spicy. I said no.  So he dipped his spoon in the spice tin and only put a little bit of spice on.  God forbid you should eat it with no spice at all.

 

There is nothing I enjoy more than an adventure and Bangalore delivers in that department.

 

• I’ve seen more men holding hands as they walk down the street in Bangalore than I ever have in San Francisco.

• The rickshaw drivers see me coming and all try to go off meter. I’ve been trained by my colleagues and I demand the meter because god forbid I should get ripped off!  I got into one cab and when he wouldn’t set the meter (asking for a flat fee), I jumped out of the cab and promptly found another cab. My 3 kilometer ride cost me 67¢ instead of the rip off price of $1.10.

• A café late and a hot chicken sandwich (my now traditional breakfast) costs $2.40. A chocolate ice cream cone costs 25¢.

• A guy that works for me has a housekeeper and a cook who come to his house every day. The housekeeper cleans for about 3 hours and the cook comes early to cook breakfast and then makes two other meals for later in the day. The cost of both combined is $75 a month.

• I’ve seen multiple construction sites where beautifully clothed women fill buckets of dirt and carry them on their heads to other locations on the construction site while the men stand around watching. I saw a hard hatted construction worker arrive to build a 20 plus story building. He looked like any American construction worker except he was barefoot.

• There are two kinds of restaurants or two sections to a menu.  There’s “Veg” and “Non-Veg.”  Wouldn’t it be easier to say Veg and Meat?

• This is certainly a land of dirty feet. This is also a land of great Elvis Presley thick hair.

• Most of the nicer buildings have cow grates in their driveway to keep the wandering beasts off their grounds.

• I’m told that the beggars drug their children so that they’ll look more pitiful.

• Reading the daily newspaper reads much different than American newspapers. Here’s a sampling.

  • India’s Supreme Court ruled that private sporting events that are  deemed of “national importance” must be broadcast for free and the sports club is not allowed to negotiate a fee.

  • No need for traffic reports…it’s all bad…instead there is seemingly a daily report on where the contaminated water is.

  • One day I found only three mentions of US news in the local paper. There was a storm that killed in Florida, a new technology product and a report that a man in Chicago had gone to 20 day spas and failed to pay.  The latter got the most prominent positioning.

  • There is a great debate about whether to spay and neuter the stray dogs in the city.  Apparently the city is sharply divided on this topic. Given the number of stray dogs throughout the city I have to wonder why there are two sides to this argument.

  • 217 farmers committed suicide in 2006 and the families get government compensation of one lakh ($2,300—the annual salary of a knowledge worker). Given how poor the vendors in the farmer’s market looked, I have to wonder if the compensation offers some motivation.

• The power goes out momentarily at least 10 times every day.

My weekend in Bangalore was fascinating. There was stark contrast from the open air farmer’s market to the royal palaces of Mysore.

Farmers make their long journey into the city and carve out a patch of dirt surrounding a large abandoned building. The farmers neatly pile their colorful crops as one might stack cannon balls next to the cannon.  Clearly the artistry of the presentation was important to stand out among their patchwork quilt of competitors.  While much of Bangalore is very poor (I don’t have to walk more than 20 yards out the front door of the office to see a makeshift leanto), somehow these merchants seemed even poorer. My camera never moved from my back pack because I felt that photos might embarrass…somehow it felt like staring and resisted the urge to capture the stunning images.

By contrast our trip to the city of Mysore (about 100 km) southwest of Bangalore showed the huge wealth that the royal family of the state of Karnataka had amassed. The King of Karnataka still exists and lives in the palace but rather than effecting great control over his southern Indian state, he manages the tourism to his grand home.

Our travels to the city of Mysore was down a small two lane highway with periodic unstriped speed bumps. A journey that would take less than an hour in the US took over twice as long.  Nothing can screw up traffic like two opposing ox carts down a two lane highway and this was much more than an occasional occurrence. I was amazed that as we passed village after village how many people were simply standing around. At one point we tried to see how long we could travel without seeing a human being along the side of the road. In a country of a billion, the answer is less than a kilometer.

Every time I got out of the car it felt like all eyes would lock on me in a questioning stare. That was typically followed by someone wanting to sell me something or asking for a handout. There was a shirtless boy who showed off his numerous scars in an effort to capture my sympathy. There was another who explained that he was hungry and a third who was worried about getting kicked out of school if he couldn’t make his payment. My host assured me that these beggars were craftsman who had finely tuned their image for maximum return. I guess we’ll never know.

I was more amused by those who wanted to earn a hand out. There was the girl who dislocated her shoulder repeatedly before doing cartwheels down the sidewalk. But the prize went to a young boy who assured me that he could name the capitol of every country.  I wasn’t that fascinated with his claim but tried him out on Canada. He quickly replied Ottawa and asked if that was where I was from.  When he heard I was from the US this young 12 year old said, “United States capital…Washington, DC…president name George Bush…very bad man.”

I’ve tried my best to eat everything.  There was a great sweat rice dish for breakfast, a machete wielding vendor who hacked open a coconut for my sipping pleasure, and a delicious glass of sugar can juice with just a hint of lemon. It would have been perfect if I hadn’t worried about the cleanliness of the glass!  There are vendors cooking warm peanuts and some selling a small grape sized green sour fruit that proved addicting. I’m told, however, that it would have been much better if I had allowed the lady to add some spices to the fruit.  My host encouraged me to try something called “paan.”  This is a betel nut tree leaf (I think) that wraps around betel nuts with a bunch of other mysterious ingredients that were applied by two thick dirty fingers. It took me over an hour to eat it, it both freshened my breath and changed taste a few times over the course of the hour.  A great experience but I didn’t rush back for seconds.

Here are a few additional notes from my traveler’s notebook.

• A government ruling about the distribution of water rights that took over 17 years to decide, went the wrong way for the State of Karnataka and produced concerns of violence which unexpectedly shut the company down and kept me locked away in my hotel room for 24 hours.
• I’ve found everything to be cheaper in India except for two things: gasoline and iPods.
• They have a dessert delicacy that is made with an edible tin foil.
• You are allowed to run a red light if you have an ambulance behind you.
• Color against a dirty and sometimes crumbling city backdrop is common.  Even churches are lit up at night with bright red neon crosses. I’m not sure why our churches don’t advertise as aggressively in the United States.
• An article about Bollywood, India’s famously successful movie industry, reports that there was a recent trend toward more “sexy” scenes in movies in this prudish country. Surprisingly, the news this week is that this trend was abruptly reversed as movie goers shunned overly racy movies.
• I stayed in a no smoking room, but the hall was a cloud of incense smoke every morning.
• I spent my first week thinking people were saying “no” when they were saying “yes.”  We have a straightforward up and down for “yes” and a side to side for “no.” Here there is a drunken bobble-head-type half breed nod that looks more “no” than “yes” but apparently means “yes.” I tried to imitate the nod and had my hosts in hysterics.
• We went to a restaurant with two sections (and two menus) there was the air conditioned menu and the non-air conditioned menu. I found the air conditioned menu to still be cheap.
• Murder defendants must remove their shoes before the sentence is read. Apparently someone threw a shoe at a judge once and now all defendants must be barefoot.

As I wrap up this long journey from a professional perspective the trip could not have gone any better. We’ve made great progress and I only wish that I had come sooner. From a cultural perspective I always enjoy experiencing new cultures and new places.  There is most certainly a tiny bit of adventurer within, but at the same time as I close in on two weeks, I’m very ready to return home to what I consider to be normal.