Baghdad Landing

As part of our India adventure we are trying to cover as much of this diverse country as possible.   Growing up in the Midwest I am used to a pretty flat topography which makes Bangalore feel like normal.   All our friends from California or Europe complain about the lack of mountains.   India, Nepal, Tibet and China have some of the tallest peaks around.  We figured it was time to go check them out.    Unfortunately the season for visiting the northern borders of India is relatively short - April through October as the snow and ice gets to heavy... Again, I am a midwest girl, we think nothing of 18 inches of snow overnight, shoveling and then off to work.   We opted for early April, packing the necessary winter accessories to escape the Bangalore heat.

The five of us boarded our plane in Delhi at 5:55 am to head north to Leh-Ladakh in Jammu & Kashmir India.   No breakfast, bleary eyed and cramped on our flight - the kids managed to hold it together until the descent.  Gliding above the infinite plane of snow caps sprawling as far as the eye could see, our descent was slow and steady.   Soon enough the snowcaps were  disappearing and our flight was along the brown mountain sides.   It was spectacular.   I could see the valley ahead but we were still too high to land.  The the excitement started.  The plane started to rumble, bank to the left closely rounding the some lone mountains in the center of the valley...I could see the narrow streets and small air traffic control tower as we passed by...Again medium vibrations and we bank to the right getting lower into the valley.   I could see Nolan's eyes glaze over and the green tint spread across his face.    Stuck in a window seat, bag in the overhead i quickly dug into my pockets looking for tissues, wrappers or anything to manage the pending eruption.   Again we bank to the left, the landing gear drops and the rumblings become progressively more violent.

Nolan loses it.  I will spare you the details but this is when you earn your strips as a Mom.   My other two kids start to heave at the mere sight of their little brother and my husband looked away.  I was ready to throw out his shoes but knowing there would be no options in town - i opted for water and baby wipes hoping he would not inspect my handiwork.   I learned after deplaning this is what you call a Baghdad or spiral landing.  That should have been enough warning for what followed!

having coffee at the Grand Dragon hotel-check out that backdrop!

Off to the hotel which was at 10,000 ft elevation.   A day of rest was planned so we could acclimate to the thinner air.   I climbed in bed with a hat on my head and book in hand to hydrate and rest however a nagging headache got progressively worse.  I checked in with Doug - same headache.  Kids were fine watching the every present Cartoon Network.   It dawned on us around 5pm that we were just suffering from caffeine withdrawal.  Nothing a little Starbucks Via to Go couldn't solve.   New reminder - have 1 cup of coffee no matter the schedule to avoid delusion and hypochondriac notions!   I would like to say that the those were the biggest challenges of the journey but the toilets proved to be the next life lesson for the kids.

As an adult - you have more experience making do with what is present (outhouse, road side, holes in the ground and the like....) as a kid you are still operating under the parental orders of don't touch dirty stuff, wash your hands all the time and don't go down dark or unlit pathways...Well those were exactly the conditions of rural mountain bathrooms.   I tried to be a sport and use what was available so the kids would follow suit but there were just times Emma and Nolan could deal.   I don't have a picture or even have found something as interesting as what we saw in the mountains...picture the scene from Trainspotting - that was our Tibetan kitchen facilities... think back to Slumdog Millionaire and the style where the drop is 30 feet below and finally our favorite, a ceramic basin put in the ground with a rock on top sheltered by burlap wrapped around a stick!

I would say we are all experts at identifying good facilities after enough bad ones found - but in addition to carrying water, tissue and purell make the whole experience tolerable...

Focus on the Journey, Not the Destination

I spent the last few weeks back in my hometown of Detroit, Michigan for Christmas. It was really nice to put up traditional decorations, bake dozens of cupcakes and reconnect with friends and family. Many people will complain that the holidays are taxing and the true meaning is lost in the commercialism. Perhaps that is true and I sometimes find myself a little disappointed after cooking for hours to see my guests eat in 10 minutes and then move on. There is one person who always grounds me, reminding me it’s the journey not the destination. That is my husband Doug. When I get in a funk and feel that I am putting in effort that is unappreciated, he reminds me of the fun we had cooking including the mishaps along the way and the satisfaction we found in the process. The end result can be interpreted many different ways and that’s just life. Either my guests liked my cooking or not, maybe it was too salty or too bland…but a dinner was provided and that was the basic expectation.


Professionally, there are similar frustrations. I may have spent weeks on a particular project, fine tuning the presentation, reviewing it with the stakeholders only to find the discussion never gets past the first slide in the final sign-off. I may have felt like I had so much to say, or why didn’t the leadership want to look through the research? When the discussion resulted in the decision I was hoping for I am able to move on quicker however when it’s back to the drawing board, especially for a miss on my part, I end up in that same funk I had after cooking for the holidays. Lots of work and I didn’t get it right? Or maybe I sort of did, but still more to do. Just like my home life, there is someone to ground me. I turn to colleagues at work to bring me back into focus. Sometimes it’s just a few supportive statements over coffee, maybe they offer to help me review the next version or remind me that I learned along the way which will help me in the future. I find myself reflecting that the process is just as important as the output whether you are in the kitchen or in the office!

A key ingredient to success and having the stamina to sustain the pace in which we work is a support network. It’s easy to get lost in the details, feel buried in your inbox and think you will never get caught up. Most days I am reminded by someone in the office, where to focus and get grounded in my purpose as a boss, as an employee or a team mate. My support network is not just my supervisor, but a long list of folks from different offices and career levels. One of the best things about my company is the people we hire- for all positions. Sometimes it’s a simple smile from a colleague as we pass in the hall, the people in the mail room remembering who I am and what my weekly request is, or my EA knowing when I need a coffee to help me get through my afternoon. Other times it’s the leadership I find from my direct reports, the solutions they bring to the table or the wisdom they share from being in the company for a long time.

I appreciate these bits of help, and maybe they go temporarily unnoticed when I am having a crazy day. I forget to say thank you or really absorb the feedback that I received. However, when I stop to think about where I am, I am grateful for the people around me and I would struggle if not for their efforts and wisdom – whether that is my home family or my work family.

Somebody Pinch Me!

The blogs have slowed down after our first anniversary here in India.  I have to say my better half is much more witty and does such a good job capturing the moment, it gives me a reason to slack off.   If you have not read his blogs, please do check out http://whitemanforlease.blogspot.com/.  I just celebrated a birthday, moved house in India and received a promotion - lots of life events - in which I have had some time to reflect on what a journey coming to India has been.   Earlier I would have told you about the crazy traffic, animals on the streets, non-existant lines and a sense of logic to the chaos that we have learned to operate in.   Now I do not notice the traffic, readily plan to leave at least 1.5 hours in advance to travel a distance of 23km, push my way to the front of all lines, speak loudly at all times and complain to all waitstaff at restaurants.   Those are just the tactics applied for being a foreigner in India.   If I peel the onion back a little more, you would see that I can haggle with the best of them on Commercial Street, I do not pay listed price for anything; I have found my favorite places to get Mexican ingredients for dinner, hair cuts and last minute birthday gifts.   Go on more layer deeper and you would see we are quite at home here in India.   Even on a recent trip to the US (literally 48 hours in Detroit), my house seemed like the Schmitt Museum- full of expensive stuff nobody touches.  I know that is my home and there is comfort in every corner decorated by me.  However, on the flight back from Boston to Bangalore, I knew I was coming home.   My family was carrying on with daily life, my dogs were excited to see me, work was waiting and the social calendar was full for weekends on end .   While it was difficult to adjust to a place so foreign from middle America, I have found a happy spot tucked away in an old coconut grove in Bangalore.   I just have to pinch myself sometimes and ask, am I really in India?  

Who are you?

Another first for me while over in India.  Credit card theft.   I was sitting at home the other night, catching up on email when I received a mail from Debra at American Express "Please Call" was the subject line.  Slightly skeptical, I emailed back "I am out of the country, what is this in regards to?"    An immediate response:

From: Deborah L Del Rosario [mailto:deborah.l.delrosario@aexp.com]


Sent: Thursday, September 29, 2011 9:33 PM

To: Schmitt, Rebecca A.

Subject: Re: American Express Request

Hello and thank you. I see 5 charges in great Britain on September 28th on your Costco card ending in 1019 (Douglas Schmitt is the basic, you are the supplementary account holder) I suspect fraud at these merchants:

Radisson Mayfair

Zara UK

NCP

Burberry Knights

Burdett Road

(Approx. $2,400.00)

If these are not your charges please advise ASAP as I am working with law enforcement in GB. Also, please report that account STOLEN ASAP (even though you most likely possess the card...right?) Sorry to disturb you while away.

Sincerely,

Debbie

(On my blackberry as technologies installing updates)

PANIC set in.  I opened my wallet - my Costco Amex was still tucked safely in it's slot.    I logged on to the website, I could only see the first charge for over $1000 USD at Burberry.  Clearly not mine, although not unlikely I could have racked up that bill.    Doug and I both went through the transactions, nothing irregular for the last few months until September 28th.  When was the card compromised??   Fortunately the people at Amex are on the top of their game, my card was shut off, the charges were flagged as fraudulent and Debbie called back to say they are have the GB Police in pursuit of two individuals who are using my card.   Amex is so good that they have sent a new card to my parents (I'll pick it up in November) and they even called my employer when I did not respond to my first email.    I was pleased to see that my HR rep emailed me asking to call Amex given my overseas assignment they were not sure how to contact me.
 
We are now in Thailand on our holiday and I have seen first hand how my card could have been misused.   Doug and I stopped at the duty free upon landing in Bangkok to pick up requisite Bombay Sapphire Gin and some Kentucky Bourbon for our week.    The cashier rung up our purchases and had us sign the customs slip.   She was very confused as Doug's signature did not match the one of the back of his card.    The back of his credit card said "SEE ID" in printed letters.    At first we panicked that we would not be able to make our purchase, but then I realized - she can't tell the difference!   I guess it would be pretty easy to use a card when the only check is if the signature matches SEE ID.
 

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.