Maintenance

Everything needs maintenance.   Cars, appliances, skin, hair, friendships, marriages etc...require fine tuning occasionally to keep them running smoothly or to repair a minor ding, zit or misunderstanding.    Women generally have a long list of maintenance activities, normally referred to as grooming.   Somehow no matter how busy I seem to be, I manage to have manicured nails and toes, a good mix of highlights and plenty of mascara on.    I have started to think about the other parts of me that need maintenance - some more than others.   Keeping up on my relationships while I am 8,000 miles away from home proves to be challenging as I am normally ready to collapse from my day when it's time for a phone call home.   Blogging helps, posting pictures on facebook is another easy way to be connected.    All these items become "to dos" for me necessary for keeping myself presentable and on acceptable terms to those around me.   I have realized lately that I have neglected the upkeep of myself in a few ways:  exercise and hobbies.   As Doug says, I need to give myself time to re-create with some recreation (what a wise guy).    I am making some goals for year 2 in India and one of them will be at least 15 min a day of something non-work related (which includes home and kids).   A walk with the dog, reading a new book, jumping on the treadmill, sun salutations or meditation seem like manageable ways to re-create.   I will keep you posted and am hoping this puts more time and energy in my day.

Sybil

Many people have a work side and a personal side to them.   Behaviors displayed by their friends and family may not bother them as much as a colleague who does something strange in the office or vice versa.   I have developed an Indian side.   I am pretty such the same at work and at home, and thank you to my family for allowing me to program manage our life, ask for collaboration during long plane flights and keep things BAU (business as usual) when I leave them home alone.    For my colleagues, please find some solace in the fact that my husband gets just as many emails and SMSs as I send to you and he also is required to produce status on any number of open items.  It sounds crazy but it works for us. 

A couple of things have happened over the last 4 months that are proof of my transformation since coming to India.    When shopping at Hyper City (our local version of Super Target or Wal-Mart) on a weekday, we approached the seemingly endless row of checkout stations.  Out of the thirty possible lanes, only one was working and the queue was 10 deep.  To the left of the only working register several employees were chatting avoiding eye contact with any customers.    Doug and Javeed were pushing the cart along the bank of registers aimlessly hoping someone would come to their rescue.   Not me.    I approached the gaggle of employees and in my loudest voice without yelling asked "Why am I waiting, are you on a break? I am a customer, get a register open for me."    All this while typing away on my iPhone.    A minute later, the manager looking person called "Madam Madam" and I was in a checkout line.   Doug and Javeed admitted after the checkout, they both looked at each other wondering who the crazy lady was yelling in the store; they were shocked to see it was me.

Schmitts in Rome at the Pantheon

Fast forward to Rome. I am frequently approached by street vendors in India either while walking or sitting in my car at a traffic stop.    I  have developed a smooth hand flick that let's them know I am not interested.    In Rome we were bombarded with street vendors offering glow in the dark toys, replicas of the Colosseum and fake Gucci bags.   One evening near the Spanish Steps, a persistent vendor kept offering me roses.   I directly told him to go away and gave him the hand flick.    Our friends from Michigan, the Zaks, were traveling with us and they were mortified that I would treat someone that way.    They felt so bad for the vendor they almost bought the rose.    Doug explained that this India Becky.    The rest of the trip I was reminded to be nice as this is Italy and people are not begging but actually working selling things.    It took me about a week to revert back to my regular nice Mid-western self but only about 30 minutes of being back in Bangalore to bring back the attitude.

I think I can give Sybil a run for her money.  Here is the link if the reference is obscure http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sybil_(1976_film)

Snake in a box!

Karnataka's state snake
is a cobra!

My blogging has been slacking as I have been traveling but I am back with some juicy things.    My one year in India is nearly up and we had the task of filing for a employment visa extension this week.    For those of you that have traveled to India or have experienced the Foreign Registration Regional Office (FRRO) first hand- you know the pain.    India loves paper copies of everything and not just one copy but duplicate, triplicate, reminders, passport sized photos in duplicate neatly stacked and stapled - one pack per applicant.   So the two day story begins...

Here is the list of what you need to get the visa extended:

1. Police Verification - make sure we are good standing foreign nationals and that we really do have an accommodation of our own and are not squatters etc...

2. Marriage License

3. Birth certificates for all

4. Bonafide certificates for the kids enrollment - again making sure they are going to school and not causing problems

5. Letter of employment

6. Guarantee if my employment ends, my employer would take care of my exit

7. Tax Return for India

8. Housing Lease and a copy of the ID card of the landlord

9.And the list goes on

Fortunately we have an excellent vendor that helps assemble papers, stand in line and direct you at the various stages.    However we have no control on when the police are available or in the station.   So our day begins, arriving early (10:30 am) hoping the inspector will be able accompany us home and sign our papers.   Our bad luck, after about 30 minutes of waiting in the lobby which consists of one bench barely wide enough for my back end...the "receptionist" tells us the inspectors are all at court.   The kids are happy to leave but Doug and I know that this is just the beginning of a VERY long day.   Our visa processing "handler" translates for us in Kannada (local language) that the inspectors should return by 6pm.   McDonald's fills our disappointment, value meals and soft serve ice creams for all.    

Several hours later our handler calls and says, "can you come now?"   We leave the kids at home, load in the car and set off to the Whitefield police station.   Doug and I are somehow expecting the inspector is waiting for us but our handler waves us off and we wait in the car...it's dusk and warm, windows down mosquitoes in.   Our driver, Javeed, starts to walk around the parking lot which is filling with those coming off their day shift, those coming on, people on smoke breaks and the normal chaos of chai-wallahs (tea sellers) and others with police issues.   Doug was buried in his book, but I could barely sit still.   Each person that pulled up, i would motion to Javeed "is that the inspector?"  No...then the excitement began.  Two cars of agitated Indians pulled up.   Lots of arms waving, each person holding a conversation on their mobile and with the inspector simultaneously.    Javeed was right in the mix, looking like a member of the plaintiffs or crowd control.   Immediately, they all pile back in their cars and the inspector on the back of a 2 wheeler.   Quick translation, property dispute and the inspectors are going to check it out.    Little known to us, Javeed was reminding the inspector that we are foreigners and it's rude to keep us waiting in our car for hours.   Also, we are the same foreigners who were here in November filing a police complaint against our maid for the loss of my jewelry.   Finally 1 hour and 50 minutes later, our handler calls us in the office.  Back on the skinny bench, I have learned to make eye contact if you want service - then you cannot be ignored.    The lead inspector has our file, signing away he eyeballs us over and continues his property dispute dealings.    Like most things, one verification is not enough, we are handed our papers and pushed to the next desk.    I am still waiting for the time we need to go back to our house, but the second inspector says "I know you.  I went to your house."  We nod in agreement.   Two quick signatures and we are on our way home.   I think that is the first time I can say I was happy to have been to the police station once before ...

Day 2 - arriving at 8:30 am at the FRRO.   No queue, our handler has strategically placed himself in front of the crack in the gate to hold our spot.   About 30 other foreigners blob together waiting for the crack in the gate to expand and hoping to position themselves a shoulder ahead to get inside.   Scanning the crowd, I see another American (sneakers, dockers and some sort of REI sports shirt) he has the same sense of bewilderment Doug and I are feeling.    A few Europeans, many students from Africa and several Korean businessmen and their families.   Kids are tired, cranky standing in the muddy street with the street dogs circling with one parent nearby and the other in the blob protecting their spot in whatever line will form inside.   As the gate opens I hold onto the telephone book of papers needed for the visa and assert my best India Becky attitude.   I make it 8th in line.  Practically jumping in the lamp of a plus sized Kenyan woman - Doug is in shock.   I give him the be quiet and hang back look while holding my spot.   And this is just to get a number to be processed.  The real fun starts once you get out of the parking lot come waiting room and into the offices.

After about five verifications that our data was in order and signatures, stamps, we are told one hour.   Do we give up the seats we have managed to secure in the overcrowded processing area for a potty break and get some coffee?  Will it really be an hour?  Will the kids kill each other? Or have we annoyed the rest of the foreigners?  We opt for coffee and a trip to the bank to get the demand draft to pay for the visas.   Back promptly one hour later, paying at one counter, rendering our visas at another we wait.   I have decided to stand behind the only chair at counter 3 eyeing the clerk.   Each time he lifts his head he cannot avoid my glaze and nod of my head as if to say, "anything yet?"   He is a nice guy, repeatedly saying "few minutes madam."   Eventually, it's noon - we have been approved another year.   Now we can get lunch.  Back out the street, our handler checks our papers and we wait by the car for him to get a copy.  

Now just to share, our vehicle has clear windows and as a family of blonds most passersby peer inside.  Additionally we are magnet for street vendors, women with babies and many others attempting to earn a few rupees.   That day a lady and her baby approached the car.   As she motioned to her mouth asking for food, she pushed a basked toward us.  Doug gave her the normal go away had movement, the lid came off the basket and I recognized the word "snake."   Not even 30 seconds later a cobra uncoiled, fanned it's head and flicked it's forked tongue at us.   I freaked, Doug tried to roll up the windows of the parked car and Javeed quickly jumped out to save the day.  I wasn't sure if the snake was to scare us or entertain us, but either way she left without any tip.

Never say never in India.

Choo or Not to Choo...

Completely necessary

for any trendy mom

By the name of my blog, one could assume I like shoes.   You may not know the extent of my addiction, topping over 200 pairs.   Unfortunately I could not bring all my shoes to India as a third of them are built for a much colder climate and the other third top 5" inch heels which would make me taller than 75% of the India population.  So I was conservative, only packing a mere 20 pairs focused on flat sandals, ballet flats, several pairs of reef flip flops. 



must have accessory for
Kim's Wedding!

I am heading west starting on Friday and in addition to seeing my family , friends, sleeping in my own bed and grabbing a chai tea latte at Starbucks; I CANNOT wait to go shopping.    The list is long and filled with mostly food items and things for the kids, but what trip would be complete without having a few unnecessary necessities for me.   You can guess, those would be something frivolous, slightly over the top and certainly designer for my feet!  I have been dream shopping online, as all the spring and early summer sales start.  From Saks, Nordstrom, Net-a-porter and Neimans, it's everything a diva could want.   However reality check for me, those diva days are packed away in my closet in Michigan along with my party dresses, fur coats and leather pants.    My day to day consists of flat sandals, leggings and long kurtas with one of my lovely silk stoles.   I can't say I miss the fancy stuff here in India but old habits die hard.     I have found two favorites, I would love to buy however balancing the rest of my life, I think the guilt would kill me.   So do i Choo or not Choo, that is the question.   In my heart, I know the answer but a girl can dream!  I'll save those pennies for my final return when I restore the shoe queen to her former glory.    Target and DSW Shoes are on the agenda for next week and hopefully will soothe the savage shopper in me.



Final Countdown!

Grosse Pointe, MI home

I have a pit in my stomach, my mind is racing, and I know I will forget to do something.    We are packing our bags today, making lists and checking them twice as we get ready for our first visit back to the US in 10 months.   

Time has flown by, I can hardly remember how I felt the last few days before we left Michigan.     I have a busy week as I try to wrap up loose ends and leave the team for the next three weeks.  Doug is attempting to get the house in India in order so our house sitters, Stephanie & Danielle, can manage the staff, pay some bills, watch our dog and still have fun (safely) while they are in India.  My parents are organizing our house back in Michigan; filling our cupboards, pulling out the patio furniture and collecting the packages I keep sending to them.    It's a strange feeling to live here in India and have a parallel life in Michigan.    Keeping up with friends and family on facebook, skype and over the magicjack.   In India, making new friends at the bus stop, Samrudhi's grocery store or by the pool.   

Each day has gotten easier in India as we get used to being away from home, find ourselves making the house here a home and creating regular moments.    As much as I would like to think of our visit home as a vacation it's as much of regular life as we had before we left.  Doctors appointments, William getting his braces off, running to targets or Costco and planting flowers in the yard.    However, these regular moments have a new meaning this time around as I now know how special each one is.   There is an old saying, you don't know what you have until you lose it...and that is certainly something I have come to appreciate ever day here in India.   Freedom to drive my own car when I want, ability to visit my parents with just a 30 min drive or know I can always get prego spaghetti sauce at the grocery store every time I go.    

And even as I am typing this, I know I will miss things about India.   Life is quieter here, more family time, simple things really do put a smile on your face and you can live with a lot less.    A trip to McDonald's, figuring out how to cook Mexican food, a game of hearts and a trip to the pool bring us all together in a good old fashioned kind of way.  We only have each other and it's made this all the hard stuff much more manageable.    Three weeks in the US will go by quickly and I am sure year 2 in India will as well.

My Eat, Love, Pray Moment....

Back in February Doug and I visited an Ashram for a 48 detox.   We actually had won a stay from a charity silent auction back in November.   Our Ashram was as commercial as an ashram can get because it's part of a chain - Ayuravedagram (http://www.ayurvedagram.com/).    Before I take you inside the visit, here are a couple of terms that might help you understand the experience:

Ayurveda - ancient practice of medicine that originated in Kerala, India (southwest coast, see my blog on All that with a broken foot)  The traditional Hindu system of medicine, which uses diet, herbal treatment, and yogic breathing.
Ashram - A hermitage, monastic community, or other place of religious retreat for Hindus or a place of religious retreat or community life modeled on the Indian ashram.

  Doug and I arrived on a Friday evening just after work and in time for dinner.  We entered the reception area which was a magnificent Keralan house with amazing antiques and incense burning.    Our first plan of action was to set our appointment with a doctor for the next morning and our schedule would flow around that.    We made our way to our room even though it was dark and raining via unlit brick paths.   The room was basic, low beds, wool blankets however the bathroom had a very nice concrete modern shower.    A small flat screen was positioned about shoulder height in front of the bed.   I was 1) happy it was clean 2) glad there was a TV 3) liked that we had a nice porch to sit on.    Doug was not happy we had two twin beds that were as soft as crushed concrete....Thankfully he brought his own contraband with us - gin, tonic and glasses.   Yes the Ashram is alcohol and smoke free- but we are rule breakers.    

After we settled, we walked to the restaurant that served Vegetarian only meals buffet style.   After nearly 10 months in India, I am quite used to this and have figured out my favorites and what to avoid.  Our meal started with hot cumin water.  A little strange but oddly satisfying.   We munched on our meals and watched the other guests pour in.    Older couples, some singles from Germany, a few Indian women and several expat couples like ourselves.     This would be interesting.

Our next day began at 630 am with Coffee service to our room, I was thankful this vice was allowed.    We enjoyed our filtered coffee and then proceeded to the 730 am Yoga course which was in the hall adjacent to our room.    I have been an avid yogi for about 8 years but mostly practicing Bikram.    It's always different when you go to a new place- the teacher, the flow of the asanas and the general facilities greatly impact your ability to focus and enjoy.  This was Doug's first ever yoga course!  We purposely did not sit next to each other as to minimize my competitive spirit.  I think he liked it and he was definitely surprised how sweaty you can get.     We enjoyed a vegetarian breakfast and then headed over to doctors appointment.   After a quick questionnaire, he determined that my body type (Dosha) if Pitta-Vatta and Doug's is Pitta-Kapha.  Now you can go very deep into the science of this analysis, where you alter all the food you eat, the rhythms of your day and exercise to suit your body type.  The belief is that if you match your intake of food to your dosha you will achieve a healthy weight and minimize illnesses.     Our prescription was a hot oil massage and steam bath.  Sounded good.

We headed over to the treatment center only to be stripped down (separately of course!) and made to put on this paper undergarment that was reminiscent of a sumo wrestlers uniform.   Up on the massage table (face up) were one liter of hot oil was poured very slowly over our bodies.  Still not terrible, but then the double massage which was akin to to an aggressive beat down took place for the next 30 min.   Given the amount of oil I was sliding all over the table, praying this would be over soon.   As abruptly as the massage started, it ended and I was put into a steam box.   It reminded me of old cartoons where villains were put into a box in the town square with only their head exposed.  Yes that was me, however the temperature in the box was well over 100 degrees F.   After 10 min, I was ready to expire and was pushed into the shower.   Washing the oil off and getting dressed was the most enjoyable part of the experience.    Doug and I compared notes and found the "treatment" to be identical and unfortunately identically painful.    The rest of our day was followed by a Veg lunch, a long nap, yoga, veg dinner and then a repeat of the same the next day.    We could have stayed until 5pm on the second day but after a double yoga course, second torturous massage and steam bath; we busted out right after lunch.     Back home to Palm Meadows and we cracked open a beer and potato chips, feeling we needed a reward for being so good.

For all of you who feel inspired to go to an ashram and detox; I challenge you to take stock of what it means to render control of your schedule, food and daily routine....I am not sure i will ever do it again! 

Taj Magic

Visiting the Taj Mahal, Agra at Sunrise

Emma holding up the Taj

check out the reflection in his shades

Our room at the Oberoi Hotel
view of the Taj Mahal

The Oberoi, all rooms face the Taj

In March we journeyed to Agra, about 5 hour drive south of Delhi to see the Taj Mahal.   The Taj is a monument of love.   It was built for a wife who died in childbirth.    While the monument is widely recognized as a symbol of India for those of us outside of India, seeing it in person is an out of this world experience.    We sprung for the fancy smancy hotel, the Oberoi Agra.   I won't tell you the price for two rooms for one night but I think we have rented a beach house for a week in Florida for the same price!  However, you only go around once so we decided to do it up right.  We were there on March 20th which also happened to be Nolan's ninth birthday.   The hotel was very accommodating, bringing us a chocolate cake at dinner.   I am not sure he will remember this as his most fabulous birthday but I certainly will!     We arranged for a private guide via our hotel and decided to go at 730 am for a sunrise view of the Taj.   The marble has a translucent look that gives you a feeling that the Taj is breathing.     While Doug and I were visibly moved to be near such a remarkable man made monument, the kids were ready to go after about 10 minutes.  Fortunately our guide was very creative and had us pose for fun shots - holding up the dome, catching the reflection of the Taj in Doug's glasses.    It's a journey that I am glad we made even if it seems touristy.    Until you see the Taj in person, you cannot visualize it's grandeur and tribute to love.