First few days
02 September 2008 | India, New Delhi
Sunday morning, 11:20 am local time. I’m sitting in the, let’s call it living room for convenience’s sake, of my house at Kalaji 14/9 in New Delhi. The fan right above me does not generate cold air like the AC in the other room, but any circulation of the hot air inside the house is welcome and therefore I am more than happy for it’s presence, and, more importantly, for the fact that it actually works, which doesn’t hold for the majority of the utilities in this house (among others the washing machine). But, compared to the other trainee houses and the recent experiences of their respective inhabitants, I think first and foremost we should be happy with the presence of running water. The kitchen is too gross to set foot in and is not the only place in the house inhabited by termites and other interesting insects that ought to be found in a tropical rainforest rather than the place I’d like to call home ;). Internet connection is not present but since this is the first moment I am actually able to write something I figured that as soon as I’m in reach of a router again I have actually something to put on my blog. But let’s start from the beginning.
I arrived in Delhi Thursday morning, 10 am local time, a few minutes ahead of schedule after a great flight with the Indian flight operator Jet Airways. I must say I did not expect the luxury offered to me in the airplane; the chairs were soft and allowed me to have sufficient room for my legs, pillows and blankets were available to make yourself comfortable during the journey, and, best of all, a nice little screen right in front of me of which I have taken full advantage by watching, among others, an Indian movie about the educational system in the elementary schools, an episode of friends, and the hundred best goals selection from the Premier League 2007/2008. The plane was less than half full so there was nobody sitting next to me. The guy in the seat next to that however had a striking resemblance to the imagine I recall from childhood cartoons, with a long split white beard and a turban on his head. This way I could comfortably get used to way Indian people seemed to look like whilst watching my favorite episode on television and sipping from my dry white whine from time to time. Standing in queue several hours later, still positively surprised by the fact that we had arrived in time, the first touch of Indian culture came by text message, which was from my TN manager saying that she was really sorry but that there was no-one to pick me up. ‘Take a taxi to this and this place and ask for that and that person..’ Although I had taken into account that something like that could happen it was not the thing I was most eager to hear I must say. Much more welcome was the text message two minutes later from the very same person to inform me that there was somebody to pick me up, some guy from aiesec who turned out to be a really cool bloke. He took me to the university where we chilled out for several hours with other students at some outdoor place where drinks and food were served for reasonable prices and where everyone went whilst ‘bunking school’. For some reason I couldn’t move in my accommodation yet, so I had to spend the night at the house of this other aiesec guy called rahul. Why this was the case I still don’t understand cause the bed I have slept in the previous three nights was unoccupied that very day and at a closer proximity than rahul’s place. Anyway, I was told to go there by cab, and this was the moment I got a taste of what people call ‘culture shock’. I must say the word ‘shock’, and therefore the whole definition, is still not really applicable, but I am sure this is as close as I will ever get to this phenomenon. The ‘taxi driver’ drove a car that wouldn’t make it through the inspection in the Netherlands in 1923 and I estimated the net worth of the vehicle somewhere below zero. It looked decent though in comparison with the other objects that moved through the streets so I happily sat down next to the driver, with my bags and suitcase on the backseat. I must say, half on hour later, I didn’t look so cheerful anymore. The streets in Delhi are overcrowded, full of people and vehicles; bicycle rishkjas, engine-driven rishkjas, cars, busses that carry twice the amount of people possible, more cars, trucks, tractors, bikes, people walking, cows and dogs. The surface of the road varies from concrete to plain dirt to small rocks and even in a car one is shaken thoroughly during the ride. If there are any rules nobody cares about them, drivers use their claxon as frequently as they blink their eyes, and the chaos this results in is intriguing and petrifying at the same time. The guys who was driving the car apparently didn’t know where to go, since he had to ask for directions every other five minutes to the local plebs bordering the streets. People on the side of the road can be found in a wide variety, having in common their total lack of body hygiene and the fact that they all consider it completely normal to have cows trying to expand their family right in front of them on the street. Their number is infinite and one can find bicycle rishkja drivers waiting to be addressed by someone for a ride, street vendors who try to sell mostly food, and the impressive number of beggars and homeless people. Anyway, the first time the guy got out of the car to ask for directions he shut of his engine by taking his keys with him, something he desperately regretted three minutes later when the thing didn’t respond to his frantic efforts anymore and I thought to be stuck there forever. But apparently this was nothing new, he got out of the car again, convinced one of the guys on the street to help him out, and a few seconds later we were moving forward without any engine to propel us and a sweating, smear faced guy doing his very best to bring the car into motion visible through the utterly gross window in the back. Whilst gaining speed the engine seemed to be OK with obeying the order of the driver, and there we went, as if nothing had happed. I guess it was common practice. The rest of the day I spent at rahul’s, who had a cozy house that he shared with his mother and sister. The things I liked less though were the vicious dog that had striking resemblances to a wolf and who would happily have injected with the virus rabies by biting me if it had had the chance, and the big fat rat that occasionally showed its face behind the television and curtains in the bedroom. When I asked rahul whether he didn’t mind to have a rat in his bedroom he took about three seconds to consider his answer, which turned out to be a plain ‘no’. The evening we spent out whilst having dinner at some local barbeque stand, and the next day I went, again by cab, to the office of Kalakhar trust, from where I would be taken to the school where I’m gonna work at. Yet again the journey didn’t prove to be easy, and I was still with my full load of belongings, but eventually we reached the destination. The school turned out to be really cool, though a lot bigger than I had expected. Tomorrow morning I will go there for my first official day of work, and the only things that truly sucks is the insurmountable distance I will have to cover to get there. The first time when I was taken from the school to my present house it took us one hour and a half by car. This distance I will have to cover my auto- rishkja, back and forth. It’s rather expensive and I really need to look into other means of transportation. Tomorrow I plan as well to propose double shifts a day instead of single ones and thus fewer days to work. Anyway, after I had seen the school and had been introduced to at least thirty people I ought the time right to finally get to my new house. It’s located in a nice district, full of shops, stores, bars and the like, though the distances in Delhi are so extremely large that it’s not really close to anything central. As for that, my knowledge about geography and locations in Delhi is still comparable to the level of English of the local street vendor, which indicates that I can show the address I want to go to and that’s it. I hope that will improve over the days. My housemates are two girls, one from Finland and one from Bangladesh, and a guy from Poland. They’re all really nice people with whom I get along great, but the two girls are leaving India within a week and the house itself sucks big time. Pleasantly surprised however I was with the other accommodation, a trainee house as well, at five minutes walking distance. The inhabitants had had to go through a whole lot of trouble to finally get to the state of housing they’re in now, but the recently renovated place with huge balcony, big living room and wireless internet connection was like the presence of a bottle of Tyskie in an Indian Bazaar. Since you really have to take care of yourself in these matters I started to ask around if people were moving out anytime soon. Apparently one guy was moving out next weekend, and after I had a friendly chat with some people from the local aiesec board I had arranged that I could take his place. In India this is no guarantee however, it may very well be that they place somebody else there as soon as he or she arrives, but I’ll be completely happy if I really get to live in this place. Wojtek, my Polish housemate, is supposed to be next to move in when the subsequent person leaves. The first party I attended at that house, on my second night, was an eye-opener and gave me a whole different view on my life in Delhi. Seemingly there are about fifty interns active nowadays in Delhi, all of whom have joined a google group page through which they communicate and set up parties during the week and journeys during the weekend. I’ve already met some really cool people from all over the world and I begin to view my stay here very differently. I’ve come to realise that a stay solely focused on doing development work with no further luxuries, journeys or international contacts is something that doesn’t cheer one up for nine months in India. However, living with a bunch of international people who all do internships in Delhi, who work during the day, jointly chill out during the night, and get to travel a bit during the weekend, would make my stay here a much more-sided experience where I get to get the best of both.
I see I’ve already written more than what’s in the average newspaper here, so I’d like to conclude with some general remarks about some general things. The food is OK here, though almost everyone here is a vegetarian and eating meat is looked down upon. Beef is of course not for sale, cause cows are regarded as sacred here, but chicken is available. I must say that the spicy combination of rice, vegetables and chicken is not too bad but I reckon eating that for nine months will not improve my appetite over time. The phlegm that’s supposed to be cornflakes with milk I’m eating at this very moment requires all my self control to be nourished, so I reckon my search for decent breakfast hasn’t ended yet. Up till now I haven’t felt the slightest unease in my stomach, it proves once again to be made from concrete and steel by fearlessly digesting all that I shovel inside. I haven’t felt the impact of a jetlag as well, and sleeping in the hot humid rooms at night goes well too. The fan nigh directly above my bed certainly contributes to that success. As for money, that flows out of my wallet with an unstoppable strength and I’ve already spent more than half of my monthly salary during these first days. Things here are cheap but everything costs money and since I haven’t really gotten used to this new currency I’m only slightly aware of what I’m spending. One has to bargain for everything as well, something I’m not good at yet at all, though for the sake of merely surviving I ought to get the hang of it rather soon. What’s more, the streets are overcrowded by dogs who, especially at night, do not appear to be very friendly and the very last thing I want right now is a fresh rabies injection from the local street dog. It may be obvious that I will try to avoid scenes like that with all my might. For sure there’s numerous stuff I’ve forgotten to write down but I think the length of this piece of work has already scared off several potential readers so I’d better quit now. The next story and regular internet contact comes as soon as I (hopefully) have moved to the other place, then I’ll be able to manage this better. ;)
A warm hug from Delhi!
p.s. my Dutch phone got, by coincidence, disconnected the day of my departure and I have therefore not received any messages or phone calls since last Wednesday. So for those people who have taken the effort of actually writing me a text message, do not take the lack of a decent reply as a personal offence but rather blame the morons at Vodafone for this communicative problem. The good news however is that I have acquired an Indian phone number, which is 00919871273866.
I arrived in Delhi Thursday morning, 10 am local time, a few minutes ahead of schedule after a great flight with the Indian flight operator Jet Airways. I must say I did not expect the luxury offered to me in the airplane; the chairs were soft and allowed me to have sufficient room for my legs, pillows and blankets were available to make yourself comfortable during the journey, and, best of all, a nice little screen right in front of me of which I have taken full advantage by watching, among others, an Indian movie about the educational system in the elementary schools, an episode of friends, and the hundred best goals selection from the Premier League 2007/2008. The plane was less than half full so there was nobody sitting next to me. The guy in the seat next to that however had a striking resemblance to the imagine I recall from childhood cartoons, with a long split white beard and a turban on his head. This way I could comfortably get used to way Indian people seemed to look like whilst watching my favorite episode on television and sipping from my dry white whine from time to time. Standing in queue several hours later, still positively surprised by the fact that we had arrived in time, the first touch of Indian culture came by text message, which was from my TN manager saying that she was really sorry but that there was no-one to pick me up. ‘Take a taxi to this and this place and ask for that and that person..’ Although I had taken into account that something like that could happen it was not the thing I was most eager to hear I must say. Much more welcome was the text message two minutes later from the very same person to inform me that there was somebody to pick me up, some guy from aiesec who turned out to be a really cool bloke. He took me to the university where we chilled out for several hours with other students at some outdoor place where drinks and food were served for reasonable prices and where everyone went whilst ‘bunking school’. For some reason I couldn’t move in my accommodation yet, so I had to spend the night at the house of this other aiesec guy called rahul. Why this was the case I still don’t understand cause the bed I have slept in the previous three nights was unoccupied that very day and at a closer proximity than rahul’s place. Anyway, I was told to go there by cab, and this was the moment I got a taste of what people call ‘culture shock’. I must say the word ‘shock’, and therefore the whole definition, is still not really applicable, but I am sure this is as close as I will ever get to this phenomenon. The ‘taxi driver’ drove a car that wouldn’t make it through the inspection in the Netherlands in 1923 and I estimated the net worth of the vehicle somewhere below zero. It looked decent though in comparison with the other objects that moved through the streets so I happily sat down next to the driver, with my bags and suitcase on the backseat. I must say, half on hour later, I didn’t look so cheerful anymore. The streets in Delhi are overcrowded, full of people and vehicles; bicycle rishkjas, engine-driven rishkjas, cars, busses that carry twice the amount of people possible, more cars, trucks, tractors, bikes, people walking, cows and dogs. The surface of the road varies from concrete to plain dirt to small rocks and even in a car one is shaken thoroughly during the ride. If there are any rules nobody cares about them, drivers use their claxon as frequently as they blink their eyes, and the chaos this results in is intriguing and petrifying at the same time. The guys who was driving the car apparently didn’t know where to go, since he had to ask for directions every other five minutes to the local plebs bordering the streets. People on the side of the road can be found in a wide variety, having in common their total lack of body hygiene and the fact that they all consider it completely normal to have cows trying to expand their family right in front of them on the street. Their number is infinite and one can find bicycle rishkja drivers waiting to be addressed by someone for a ride, street vendors who try to sell mostly food, and the impressive number of beggars and homeless people. Anyway, the first time the guy got out of the car to ask for directions he shut of his engine by taking his keys with him, something he desperately regretted three minutes later when the thing didn’t respond to his frantic efforts anymore and I thought to be stuck there forever. But apparently this was nothing new, he got out of the car again, convinced one of the guys on the street to help him out, and a few seconds later we were moving forward without any engine to propel us and a sweating, smear faced guy doing his very best to bring the car into motion visible through the utterly gross window in the back. Whilst gaining speed the engine seemed to be OK with obeying the order of the driver, and there we went, as if nothing had happed. I guess it was common practice. The rest of the day I spent at rahul’s, who had a cozy house that he shared with his mother and sister. The things I liked less though were the vicious dog that had striking resemblances to a wolf and who would happily have injected with the virus rabies by biting me if it had had the chance, and the big fat rat that occasionally showed its face behind the television and curtains in the bedroom. When I asked rahul whether he didn’t mind to have a rat in his bedroom he took about three seconds to consider his answer, which turned out to be a plain ‘no’. The evening we spent out whilst having dinner at some local barbeque stand, and the next day I went, again by cab, to the office of Kalakhar trust, from where I would be taken to the school where I’m gonna work at. Yet again the journey didn’t prove to be easy, and I was still with my full load of belongings, but eventually we reached the destination. The school turned out to be really cool, though a lot bigger than I had expected. Tomorrow morning I will go there for my first official day of work, and the only things that truly sucks is the insurmountable distance I will have to cover to get there. The first time when I was taken from the school to my present house it took us one hour and a half by car. This distance I will have to cover my auto- rishkja, back and forth. It’s rather expensive and I really need to look into other means of transportation. Tomorrow I plan as well to propose double shifts a day instead of single ones and thus fewer days to work. Anyway, after I had seen the school and had been introduced to at least thirty people I ought the time right to finally get to my new house. It’s located in a nice district, full of shops, stores, bars and the like, though the distances in Delhi are so extremely large that it’s not really close to anything central. As for that, my knowledge about geography and locations in Delhi is still comparable to the level of English of the local street vendor, which indicates that I can show the address I want to go to and that’s it. I hope that will improve over the days. My housemates are two girls, one from Finland and one from Bangladesh, and a guy from Poland. They’re all really nice people with whom I get along great, but the two girls are leaving India within a week and the house itself sucks big time. Pleasantly surprised however I was with the other accommodation, a trainee house as well, at five minutes walking distance. The inhabitants had had to go through a whole lot of trouble to finally get to the state of housing they’re in now, but the recently renovated place with huge balcony, big living room and wireless internet connection was like the presence of a bottle of Tyskie in an Indian Bazaar. Since you really have to take care of yourself in these matters I started to ask around if people were moving out anytime soon. Apparently one guy was moving out next weekend, and after I had a friendly chat with some people from the local aiesec board I had arranged that I could take his place. In India this is no guarantee however, it may very well be that they place somebody else there as soon as he or she arrives, but I’ll be completely happy if I really get to live in this place. Wojtek, my Polish housemate, is supposed to be next to move in when the subsequent person leaves. The first party I attended at that house, on my second night, was an eye-opener and gave me a whole different view on my life in Delhi. Seemingly there are about fifty interns active nowadays in Delhi, all of whom have joined a google group page through which they communicate and set up parties during the week and journeys during the weekend. I’ve already met some really cool people from all over the world and I begin to view my stay here very differently. I’ve come to realise that a stay solely focused on doing development work with no further luxuries, journeys or international contacts is something that doesn’t cheer one up for nine months in India. However, living with a bunch of international people who all do internships in Delhi, who work during the day, jointly chill out during the night, and get to travel a bit during the weekend, would make my stay here a much more-sided experience where I get to get the best of both.
I see I’ve already written more than what’s in the average newspaper here, so I’d like to conclude with some general remarks about some general things. The food is OK here, though almost everyone here is a vegetarian and eating meat is looked down upon. Beef is of course not for sale, cause cows are regarded as sacred here, but chicken is available. I must say that the spicy combination of rice, vegetables and chicken is not too bad but I reckon eating that for nine months will not improve my appetite over time. The phlegm that’s supposed to be cornflakes with milk I’m eating at this very moment requires all my self control to be nourished, so I reckon my search for decent breakfast hasn’t ended yet. Up till now I haven’t felt the slightest unease in my stomach, it proves once again to be made from concrete and steel by fearlessly digesting all that I shovel inside. I haven’t felt the impact of a jetlag as well, and sleeping in the hot humid rooms at night goes well too. The fan nigh directly above my bed certainly contributes to that success. As for money, that flows out of my wallet with an unstoppable strength and I’ve already spent more than half of my monthly salary during these first days. Things here are cheap but everything costs money and since I haven’t really gotten used to this new currency I’m only slightly aware of what I’m spending. One has to bargain for everything as well, something I’m not good at yet at all, though for the sake of merely surviving I ought to get the hang of it rather soon. What’s more, the streets are overcrowded by dogs who, especially at night, do not appear to be very friendly and the very last thing I want right now is a fresh rabies injection from the local street dog. It may be obvious that I will try to avoid scenes like that with all my might. For sure there’s numerous stuff I’ve forgotten to write down but I think the length of this piece of work has already scared off several potential readers so I’d better quit now. The next story and regular internet contact comes as soon as I (hopefully) have moved to the other place, then I’ll be able to manage this better. ;)
A warm hug from Delhi!
p.s. my Dutch phone got, by coincidence, disconnected the day of my departure and I have therefore not received any messages or phone calls since last Wednesday. So for those people who have taken the effort of actually writing me a text message, do not take the lack of a decent reply as a personal offence but rather blame the morons at Vodafone for this communicative problem. The good news however is that I have acquired an Indian phone number, which is 00919871273866.
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Je kunt nu ook Smileys gebruiken. Via de toolbar, toetsenbord of door eerst : te typen en dan een woord bijvoorbeeld :smiley
