Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!!!

You surely know the scene: "Its Christmas time. The living room has clearly not been made up for a while and is full with glasses, magazines, half empty plates in the floor, candles half way burnt... Bridget Jones lays pitifully in the sofa, drinking and smoking while watching TV." Most of you know exactly what I'm talking about, you have probably watched the movie: Bridget Jones Diary (2001), and a few unfortunate ones might have even lived some similar moment.

Yes, this is exactly how I thought Christmas this year will be for me, particularly during the days coming to the main festivities. Luckily, Christmas day was a much more beautiful and warm time, full of laugher and sweet people around me. Unfortunately, the rest of the "Christmas time" has not been much better.

First Christmas on a foreign land, seems to be, it's always a bit similar to that Bridget Jones scene. Unless you come from an utterly dysfunctional (maybe even physically and/or emotionally violent) family, you are bound to miss to have them all around during Christmas time. Yes, believe me, you will. Yes, even when they make your life impossible the rest of the year because they are scared that you have gone completely bananas and don't know anymore what you are doing with your live. You will.

On 26th of December, I woke up to an empty home. No noise, no plans, no people to visit me or to go visit. Worst of all, nobody out there seemed to have noticed that Christmas had just passed, once more. I felt lonely.

I smile now to the thought, while remembering another first Christmas time: the one I had during my first year in Ireland. It was another tough one. I had had Christmas eve dinner at a work colleague home with another 4 boys, of which I only knew 2. We had a nice meal, even though we were all pretty different and had little in common or little else to share other than our work place. The high moment of the night was the lovely face of surprise and delightment that I had managed to summon out of them all when, coming midnight, I offered each one of them a book. And the great part is that I had only had the idea the same morning. After a few boring hours at work before being let go cause it was finally quiet, I had gone to my favourite book store during the rush of the last minute shopping craze and I had managed to find something I liked to offer for each one of the boys. Including those I didn't even know, indeed.

But... what was I trying to say? Oh yeah, first Christmas in Ireland. So... after that beautiful night, I soon found myself alone at home again, on Christmas day, watching the snow fall for a few hours (It was actually a bit of a magic feeling cause it normally doesn't snow in Ireland, really!) Then, I realised night time will come soon, I was bored of being alone, I had forgotten to buy a new book to myself and so... I decided to go out for a coffee. I guess I needed a bit of a sense of belonging to come back to me, as this is one of the first things one looses when moving abroad, and wanted to see myself immerse in a little bit of a Christmas with people cheer once again.

If you have never been out in town on Christmas day, well, you know... probably nobody on a Christian earth has ever been either and that's why you don't know what it is like, cause nobody with a family around them does that! That was exactly what I realised as soon as I stepped out. Streets that on a weekend were hard to move through and on a weekday were really not much better were now absolutely deserted. Other than the Christmas decorations, nothing, nothing at all, was there to make me company. No cars passing. No music from the shops. No people crossing. Not even noises from the homes around (They were probably at the country side with their extended families) NOTHING I roamed around town for a good 20min, me and my thoughts. I regretted to not have taken my photo camera (Yes people, yes! These were the times when mobiles didn't yet have a camera. That's how old I feel I am :-p jajajaja) At least, I could have passed the time trying to capture something nice. It's not all days that one has the chance to take pictures of centric empty streets in broad daylight. And with snow!!! I went home and watched a movie.

Since then, it has kinda become a "tradition" for me to watch movies to kill out the feeling of loneliness. Particularly during Christmas. Some classics I watch almost every year, like Bridget. Others... it comes with the news of the season.

Luckily for me, the following Christmas in Ireland I was always invited here or there, I will stay at a friends home for the whole Christmas period (24th to 26th or 27th) or I will have some good friend over eating roast chicken and sprouts for 3 days in a row. And that was great. I never had to roam empty streets on Christmas day again.

Being without my family or my closest friends this year was hard. But it was definitively not the hardest Christmas time I've had. Plus everything was open. I actually was invited to join the family of a friend to a restaurant in Christmas day and most of them arrived late due to the hectic traffic. How ironic, don't you think? But, for some reason, I kept a bit of that search for belonging and loneliness within me these days. It's still a bit around me today. It might be the season, it might be the distance. or the fact that, being new in town, my list of "close" friend is reduce to 2 and I only know one of them for the past 4 months.

I miss my family and all my closest friends. I wonder when I will ever see them all again in one place. Though, to be honest, I have never seen them all in one place ever, mainly because I have met them on the course of many years and many travels and may countries I've lived in. But these are the kind of thoughts I've had.

As a "revenge" for the homesickness imposed on me these days, I did book tickets back to Europe on the day right after Christmas. I will be there again in a few months and I am already dreaming about the beautiful places I will visit, the amazing food I will be eating and all the great friends and loved ones I will be hugging once more soon. That, a few croissants I managed to find in a good cafe in town and a generous glass of wine, have made me come out of the blues and come back to the roll and rocking of my exciting days in this godforsaken and wonderfully diverse land of India.

To close this chapter, allow me to move to a more global view of the festivities now. Because when I speak about Christmas, well, it is not only Christmas, you know? See, after asking me about Christmas and hearing my evasive answer, I heard a muslim colleague tell me about his first Ramadan in Bangalore, far from his hometown and describing similar feelings of detachment and solitude as I had experience on the coming days to Christmas. One doesn't even need to be Christian to understand what I am saying, which is that when being far from home, the main festivities are the moments in which we feel the weaker about our decisions and the more disconnected from our previous selves into this world of the unknown.

So I will ask something from you all out there, thinking about what it would be to make one of your main festivities far from family, friends and a place to be called home: Next time a main festivity is around the corner, whether it is Ramadan, Thanksgiving, Diwali, Christmas, Hanukah or whatever else that makes it for somebody out there, if that somebody is far from home, make sure to invite them for dinner. Yes, you heard me. It's not about YOUR festivities, it's about THEIRS. They will surely be the most grateful that you will not want them alone in their special time. And, who knows, one day it might be you who gets invited by sweet warm people like you. The lonely ones will surely appreciate it too if you invite them in your festivities, but I can assure you that it would not be as much of an issue for them. I certainly did have no issues roaming around silent streets when Diwali came here. It was just curious to me. Though I must admit that I was planning to eat in a beautiful restaurant and I wasn't impress when my only choice was a sandwich parlour.

With this... Sweet dreams and MERRY CHRISTMAS TIME AND HAPPY NEW 2015 to you all!!!

My Grandpa still doesn't know I eat meat

Each time you enter a new country, even a new region, you discover so many things: from some new language expressions, to new landscapes and beauty you had never experienced before.

Of course, I am learning so much here!!! I often feel amazed at something new or something curious. That's why, today, I want to share with you some of the conversations I've participated on, I've heard or even overheard here. They are full of the same human worries, happiness, fears... common to all of us, only under a different cultural perspective, a different filter of past experiences and standards of life. 

Some are funny, some are touching, others are simply widely unavailable - but not impossible - on a western culture. At least these are things I didn't use to hear when I lived in Europe. All of the same, I will try to make it hard for anyone to be identifiable or identified, as gender neutral as possible - because I have certainly heard them from both genders - and taking as few "literal-liberties" as possible.

Here it goes!!!

   "I come from a family of pure vegetarians. Here that is very important for some people, the food you eat even defines the community you belong to. Some don't even eat anything that grows under the earth -no potatoes, no onions, no carrots... - My family is not one of those, but I was still worried to tell them that I had started eating meat. See? What happened was that I was on a trip and I didn't like the veggie food there, so I tried meat. Anyhow. My father is cool, he told me he was glad somebody had finally started in the family. But my grandpa... he will never understand. I don't dare. I haven't yet told him that I eat meat."

   "You girls - referring to European women - all look so young!!" 

  "I only want to marry arranged. Actually, my parents are already looking for a match for me" - But... Are you ok with that? - "Oh, yes. I am already 26, so I am getting old. And, anyhow, it's not like I will not be able to choose. I have it very clear. My partner will have to agree to live in Bangalore and.. (a few other things were said). Once these requirements are met, then I will marry the person my parents will introduce me to. They know me well, anyway."

   "I love you but I know my family will never agree to the match. I know it might sound egoistic but I don't want them to think bad of me, so I think we better leave it here. There is no point asking their permission to marry you. They will never agree."

   "I have a friend from high school whose husband died a couple of years ago. She was 25. But up north... things are different. She got married at 17 and never finished her studies. She had 3 kids: 2 girls and one boy, when her husband died. Her in-laws told her that they will only agree to take care of the boy. Her parents didn't help her, either. So she had to declare herself and her 2 little girls as widows, and retreat to a life of begging." If any of you cannot conceive what this person was talking about, I will suggest you to watch a painfully beautiful and wonderfully sad movie called Water (2005). Personally, I had seen the movie but I was sure this custom had been eradicated, simply by the mere arrogance of believing that women cannot be still treated this way nowadays. But it turns out that I was wrong, and it saddens me so much.

   "Your girls are so lucky that your hursbands allow you to work!"

   "You won't eat beef here. Even if it says it is beef, it is not. It is forbidden to sell beef. Generally, when it's called beef, in reality it's buffalo."

   "Are you driving a car to come to work?" - Are you serious? I hardly dare crossing the road by foot! - "Ah, it's not as hard, plus it always goes slow enough. You just have to keep an eye on the sides and the back and, about all, don't worry for rules. Rules don't work in this traffic."

   "They are all upset for what she said, they think its so wrong she didn't know him, they think... 'who doesn't know Sachin Tendulkar?'" - Who? - "Don't say that out loud here, seriously!" On the controversy of a famous tennis player who didn't know one of the most famous cricket stars of the country. As you've heard, I didn't know him either. Actually, I still don't.

   "India is a very conservative place. Here, it is certainly ok to show violence. However, it is totally immoral to kiss or hug in public. They are even trying to put a law to make sex education or even talking about sex in schools illegal. So... obviously, sex toys are illegal. There are no sex-shops anywhere. So, when I got all these 'freebies'... well, I was worried that there will be issues in the airport coming back, for me to bring these in. I had a plan to tell the custom officers that they could keep them, if there was any issues. Anyway, is not like I want to keep them myself. I'm giving them away. Do you know any expat that would like to have things like edible vanilla sauce?"

    "We have had experience with both female and male gynaecologists and, despite our initial concern"  - at a gynaecologist being male - "both pregnancies were very well taken care of and equally professionally. We were very happy in both cases." And the only reason I add this comment is the face of surprise that some in the room had when hearing this and the fact that it had to be noted that men can be as good at gynaecology as women can.

   "I'd love to join for a trip but I need to ask my parents and they will never allow" This came from a person over 25 year, with a job and a salary of "it's" own.

   "I have made these choices to make my parents happy, even if that's not what I initially wanted. They sacrificed so much for me when I was a kid. Now it was my turn for sacrifices, to make them happy."

   "The good people here are the best in the world. They are the kindest. The most generous. The best friends. When you find good people here, you really find the best there is" From an expat that has been living here for a very long time :) I do absolutely agree on this one.

   "For anything, the best remedy is always tender coconut water. It cools down your body and it's very hydrating. In summer, you should drink one coconut a day, and you will be good." I can confirm that it works also for silly nostalgy and other dumb states of the mind, not only of the body. Basically, it seems it is a natural revitaliser and energiser and it truly works!

   "Don't be nice to rickshaw drivers. Many people here don't always understand that a women can be nice to a man just out of kindness or friendship. Let me explain. When I just arrived here, I used to be very nice and chatty to all rickshaw drivers, ask about their families and their origins and talk about me to them. I did that until, one day, one of them turned around and touched my tit. He was very surprised that I reacted so negatively. I don't know what he thought I was trying, other than being nice. But he got confused and touch my breast and since them I have never again being chatty to a rickshaw driver. You better just tell them where to go and let them drive. Keep an eye that they don't cheat you as well, they always try!!!" Coming from another expat that had been in town longer than me, in one of my first few days. That might explain my rude manners with the men in this profession. 

...... 

In the press, I have read jewels like:

"Kiss of Love postponed as court orders police to act.

The Kissof Love protest against moral policing scheduled to be held on Bengaluru on Sunday has been put off following an order from a magistrate (...) The petitioner's advocate, NP Amrutesh, argued that the event would contravene Section 294(a) (obscenity) and Indecent Representation of Women (Prohibition) Act, 1986.

The petition resulted in the court ordering the station house officer of the SJ Park Police to take suitable action against the organiser of the event (...)" Basically, a court has asked police to stop demonstrators that wanted to kiss in public as a protest. The protest initiated due to events in the past where a couple was severely bitten for kissing in a public coffee place. The protest aim to argue that an act of love cannot justify an act of violence.

"Bicycle pump used in Odisha sterilisation ops.

A cycle pump was used to dilate the cervix of women during sterilisation surgeries at a camp in Angul district (...)

The district medical authorities and the surgeon on duty at the government run Banarpal community health centre, however, defended the procedure as 'routine' in such operations in most government health facilities in the state. This comes close on the heels of 13 women dying after botched sterilisation surgeries at a government camp in Chhattisgarh.

Dr Mahesh Chandra Rout, who operated on the women, said 'Cycle pumps are routinely used in many other parts of the state in the absence of costy medical equipment. There is no reason to make a big fuss about it as it has been proven fairly safe and an affordable alternative' " After reading this, I started voicing out loud my opinion of where in his body this gentleman could start introducing and using his cycle pumps, ideally, until he exploded. Unfortunately, as I was sitting in a public coffee place of a busy mall, I don't think I caused a good impression on the people around, particularly since they didn't know what I was reading :)

"MLA proposes special 'bikini beach' in Goa. 

Barely one an a half months after a senior minister (...) called for a ban on wearing bikinis on the state's beaches, Punda MLA (...) has suggested setting up for a special 'bikini beach' in Goa.

(...) He suggested that a fee of Rs. 1000 - about 12.5 Euro - or Rs 2000 per person be charged for entering the special beach." Wondering if they will charge the women for wearing the bikini, the men for coming looking at the spectacle, or both.

...... 

There are so many more things that I find curious or just different in a daily basis. 

But... I guess I, as an unmarried independent professional woman moving alone to live in India, I might also be some kind of a shock of standards, a shaking of conventions, a disruption of norms and an attempt to morals for many in here. 

Luckily for me, the majority of the people I've met personally here are simply amazed and curious, kind and healthily surprised and... so so so sweet. 

Simona, my angel

Like the best adventures in my live, Simona was not something I was searching for, but someone who found me before I even new I needed her.

Hahahaha, I know what you are thinking but... nop, nothing romantic between us. Simply, I have truly learnt to love this girl as the great friend she has become (even when her over hyperactive character drives me mental at times).

For those of you who don't yet know, Simona is my beautiful and sweet italian roommate in India.

She found me on a group of Facebook, while I was searching for houses. She suggested we meet for coffee to discuss if we could move in together, even before she had flew here. How crazy is that? And I thought I had prepared well my trip... Anyhow, she was very nice. Plus, after several weeks of searching for a place to live alone, and miserably fail in countless attempts to find a place I could call decent, I was more than happy to share the pain with somebody else.

When we finally moved together, she was excellent at organising our cleaning activities, that went on for a week, until we were happy that the place was apt for human life. She also insisted that we buy plants, to make it more homy, and found the place where to find the pots and plants (seriously, nothing is easy to find here, so it has a great merit that she found it so quick) And I love that she puts so much energy on everything we do together, even when she keeps overwatering the plants we bought and I'm not sure any will survive our first year lease.

Once the home was done and dusted (never an expression fitted best), she started looking for trips and things to do in town. She found a nice place for us to stay in our visit to Pondichery and has already invited me to a trip to Goa. I'm so much looking forward to that.

I am confident that I might have found a great travel partner on her. Though we should not go everywhere together, until she learns how to marvel at the beauty of the simple things. Like when we wanted to visit a temple with a big bull statue and she could not allow herself (and me!!) to stop for a second and rejoice at the beautiful ceremony that was going on in the temple right beside it (with monks playing instruments, fire being burn, flowers being offered and good few people with beautiful and colourful dresses standing) She absolutely wanted to go quickly see the statue, because that was what we had come to do on our Bank holiday. I really had to explain to her that rocks don't move but ceremonies tend not to last forever. And... what the heck, lets just breathe twice if we might and do something of such beauty, even if it was not part of our initial plan. I almost even asked her to "relax", but I didn't, because I have been there in the past and it used to drive me mental when people will tell me to "just relax!".

As you can see, we complement each other very well. Because she is so active and energetic that she is always having great plans for us on things to do; combating my easy passivity on just staying home to read a book or watch a movie. Come on, did I come all the way to India to keep doing the boring stuff I used to do in Ireland? Nothing bad with catching some resting time, here and there, but I should not do that all of the time, if nothing more, at least for the sake of using wisely my time here. In return, I have a little hope that I might teach her to appreciate the moment we are in, rather than looking at what's next in the plan like a frenetic headless chicken. And I am already working on introducing her to some of the best series ever. Can anyone believe she never watched "Friends" ever before in her live? How can anybody not have seen at least one chapter? So here I am, rewatching 90's series with her and having so much fun.

And all this makes for a great and sweet roommate. However, there is a good reason why I called her my angel here. Let me explain:

   It was actually the day after that bull temple visit. She had to work but I woke up very soon with a terrible belly pain. I had had something similar in the past and it had knocked me down for 2 weeks, until I had a surgery, so I was really not looking forward seeing the same diagnosis or going on for a visit to a hospital in India all alone. I was in so much pain, I couldn't even stand straight. But I had nothing to worry about, she took care of everything.

   She looked immediately in google and found a clinic few meters from our house. Took me there patiently walking as slow as I needed to, only worrying that I was crossing the road safely and if I was ok at every step of the small way. 

   Once there, she talked to the nurses, got me to the doctor and called to her work to say her roommate was sick so she needed the day off sick ("my boss also calls on sick when his kids are sick, so why not me?" she explained, later on) She was sitting there in the waiting room till all the checks were done, as it took only a couple of hours to do several scans, injections, fluid tests, etc. (Let's put it this way, I had never in Ireland be treated so efficiently, with such good standards and almost at no cost) 

   Back home, she put me to bed, took the medicines we had purchased and water to my room, she cooked me lunch, watched a movie with me and, while I was having a nap, managed to go out shopping and came back with flowers for me. She bought me flowers!!! Seriously, some of my longest relationships with men had never managed to do half as much or half as sweet for me, when being sick.

And this is why, Simona, this excellent sweet italian girl, is my angel in town.

There are other sweethearts and angels that are helping: great friends on the distance that keep posting the sweetest things I might be missing (through company visitors), local colleagues always ready to give a hand with work or personal problems, people that I am just learning to know a bit better now and keep sending me the most encouraging and warming words, and even two kids that don't yet know me and safe me from so much pain (their happiness makes me happy). But these all... I'll keep to myself ;)

Simona at the Bull Temple and with the flowers she bought me to cheer up my sickness day.

PS. Best part, she not only takes care of me when I'm sick, Simona also protects me from all the bad things happening around. Two weeks ago, the neighbour next door had the music so loud that he woke us both up at 6am and then wouldn't let us sleep the next night. She didn't doubt it much and went to the streets to shout really nasty things to him, to make him stop. Not only it worked with him, now all of our street knows that this is no joke house and the sign of "Beware of the Italian" should be put up in our door. Hahahahahahahahaha. Don't you love her already too?

Life is a funny place to be in

Life is a funny place to be in.

This is how I was feeling this Sunday, when I was in a rickshaw on my way to meet a good friend. It's a feeling that I've had before. A very funny one on its own: a feeling of total fullness and peacefulness, of being on the right place, at the right time, with the right people. Another funny aspect of it, it tends to come to me when I'm alone and either thinking or on the direction of meeting a good friend.

In order to explain myself, I will talk to you today about my childhood. It's something that I had thought for a while to write about. I hope it might come into place today.

I guess you have all marvelled at how sometimes we can remember some mundane,  unspecial moments of our lives from the past, with such clarity; while, some other more critical moments might have felt into a dark space we can hardly remember. I can think, as an example, how I can remember being a child on the mountain village where my father was born, "stealing" biscuits from my father's aunt, to bring it to my friends and play camping. However, I cannot remember the holidays we took with my grandmother, where she felt sick, so sick that doctors thought she didn't have more than few moths left. Luckily, that tough woman survived another good beautiful 9 years.

So... here it is, that clear simple moment of my childhood I still can remember; and the fact that I do, has make all the difference for me, so many times:

"I am 10 years old and it is the month of May. In order to go to school, I go with my cousin (we went to the same school and the same class until we turned 14) through the same route our parents have taught us. We are now "old" enough to be trusted to go on our own. The walk is only 20 minutes, after all.

As it is May, a month I specially love cause my birthday falls on it, I'm all distracted by the blooming spring and I am stoping every few meters to collect a flower. 

My favourite part, it's when we approach the small spring and the edges are full with poppy flowers: these red, soft flowers that only come for a few weeks in spring, only grow on the wild and are so beautiful, but will almost die instantly if you pick them. I obviously collect a few, till my cousin breaks with my dreamer state by asking a question... What is the second longest river in Europe?

That's when I remember that the same afternoon we are having a Geography exam and I had been studying after lunch all these rivers and mountains and all of this data, so I could pass my exam. Because... who will ever need to know where these long rivers are? or how many countries they pass through their course? I have never come outside my neighbourhood alone and I have never gone farther than my grandma's home (300km south from where we lived, in Spain) So.... "

The point of this story comes a good 13 years later, when I was on my Erasmus year (a EU grant program to go study in other EU countries) It was late February and it was very cold. I was pretty new in town yet, so I was following other Erasmus students through town, without taking much notice of everything we passed by. I was too busy keeping my hands warm.

We were crossing the river to reach a mall, where we were planing to have coffee. That's when it hit me. I turned around, looked at the water and remembered that 10 years old. I laughed and cried all in one go. I experienced that feeling of "life is a funny place to be in". I was looking at the Danube, the second longest river in Europe, and it was no longer in an unreachable sphere of impossible dreams and distances, but just under my feet.

I wished I could have gone back on time and told that little girl how much proud I was of her. I had been felling scared and lonely, in that new place, before we approached the river and it all had passed away in an instant, the moment I realised I had the Danube under my feet, and what a big difference it actually made to me.

So... yes, you all know I haven't had the best of times here when I started (if you didn't know yet, just look at any of my previous posts, you'll see) And I had grown tired of my own constant complains, so you might all have been wondering what was the reason it took me so long to write again. Partially, procrastination and partially getting used to the place still takes most of my energy and time.

India is not an easy place to live in and it can get a bit scary at times, particularly as a single women. However, truth is, I have passed through that and I am loving it here. I know that, because this Sunday I was able to remember my 10 years old me and I was proud of her again. That little girl who thought that the Danube was soooooooo far away, unreachable, impossible, so difficult to get as to catch the moon and who has made it all the way through Europe and into the "Asian sub-continent". And not only that! I am travelling around, I am learning a new culture, I am making new friends and I am having fun!!!!

While getting there has been a tough experience, and I have talked a lot about the frustrations of my early days, there have been a good list of fun things I have been doing. Unfortunately, I was having so much fun doing them, that I didn't get the time to write and come here to tell you all about it. So, here it goes:
  1- I participated in a charity food festival. I cooked "Torrijas" (the spanish version of French Toast). We collected about USD 10k for a charity that helps kids with disabilities (http://www.globalgiving.org/projects/education-for-underprivileged-children-bangalore/) :D It felt wonderful.
  2- I went to visit Pondichery, for a full weekend and ate yummy croissants.
  3- I met friends in a Hotel brunch, where we could swim in the pool and eat great local and international food.
  4- I had my roommate cooking the most tasty italian pizza in all of India for me.
  5- I had many friends for lunch at home, many weekends, specially since we bought the oven.
  6- I participated in some great company events to get to know my colleagues: Family day, Sports day and, soon to come, Dance Competition day.
  7- I bursted crackers for Diwali festival and loved the fireworks we created.

And with that, I will leave you all for today with the beginning of this blog entry: Life, is such a funny place to be in. But I am loving every bit of it (even the dark and frustrating times). I wouldn't change it for anything!

One day, like any other, of my life in Bangalore

A normal day in Bangalore... Hmmmmm. I wanted to describe today what a normal day in Bangalore feels like, things that happen to me regularly and how I experience normalizing life. But... I really don't think I have had very many of those yet to describe!

So, instead, lets try a mental exercise at mix-matching different things that have happened to me during the days here and create an imaginary day. A day that compiles the curiosities of my life here, so I can give you a taste of the beauty and fun of my days.

7:00 am - For all my working days, this is wake up time.

The curtains in my bedroom are fully down, but still a lot of light will penetrate the room to welcome me to the day. Light is very bright already at this time of the morning here. Nothing in front to stop it coming.
Let me explain: I live in front of a Police ground, which means I have an ugly grey wall in front of my house. However, (and luckily) the exploding greenery behind the wall covers most of the outside of the wall and the grey is hardly visible at parts. Also, my room is on a 1st floor and therefore I cannot see the wall. Instead I see the palm trees, the cocos growing out of them, the long length of grass of the grounds (one could confuse it with a golf course at times) and the tree climbing green leaves. Honestly, nothing to envy the greenery seen in Ireland, just a more tropical variety of it.

Also, invariably, when I wake up I can hear several birds. I am so lucky to leave in a very calm road where almost no cars pass by! I can actually hear the crickets and the birds during the nights and days. Or, the rain falling in the leaves. Nonetheless, one other less natural and calming music to my ears in the mornings is the trumpets that signal the beginning of the day for the Police apprentices in the grounds in front of my house. These poor souls, together with all neighbors in my street, are invariably called to form in line every morning at 7am.
On the bright side, I don't think I'll ever be able to be late for work, Police takes care of that for me. Now, when in the weekends they include tambourines to the trumpets.... even if they nicely wait till 9am.... Seriously!

But the days go on. And some of them bring also the "breakfast man". A skinny man, with a chariot full of veggies and a heating/pan system, that will provide you with a Dosa (rice thin pancake) and some fillings for a modest price. He simply pushes the chariot around the street, while shouting his morning menu and hoping that someone will demand his services.

I eat cereals in the mornings.

8:30 am - This is time to be collected by my shuttle to work on weekdays.

Busy streets besides my home so, if I hadn't wake up yet after the shower, the figuring what to wear, the running all around the place to find that piece of clothing that I want to wear but I didn't iron yet, and the make up art... well, surely the instinct for survival while crossing one of these roads will wake me up.
I keep having this silly principle (one day it might get me in serious trouble) that cars are supposed to stop in lights, street crosses and whenever a person is in the middle of the road, in front of them, without a possibility to move back or forth, and might get crashed if they don't hit the breaks. I have the impression I read about that somewhere. A Code of the Road or something similar, right? Well, don't count on that here. Whenever you are in the middle, cars will incessantly klaxon and accelerate to scare you off and out of their rightful way.
As I said, who needs coffee!? I personally should need a camomile before work, instead I tend to go for cereals or warm milk and toasts.

9:00 am - I am sitting in front of a computer sending emails or going to meetings from 9am till 6pm all weekdays (well, not only, but mostly. Office work, like! You get me). Nothing at all different from the usual live that I had back in Europe. Really nothing to tell about it other than a sheer pleasure of feeling like normal life is going on, with all the normal stress of work and the normal conversations with colleagues and the normal breaks to have a tea or lunch. Nothing to add.

So lets talk about a non-normal working day. Like the last week when I went again to FRRO to confirm my new address. Having slept little the previous night (as I know this is going to be an experience to dread) and wait for few hours now my tour on the counter for address change registry, I finally get to talk to the officer in the counter. I handle all papers required (I insist, ALL of the papers that they require in their official website, where all documents need to be scanned and uploaded previous asking for an appointment) I handle (withholding the urge to become verbally violent) the below conversations:

Officer 1: Yes, Madam?
Me: Good morning! I have come to register my change of address as required. - I say, as I handle all the required documentation.
Officer 1: Madam, you are missing one document. Where is the proof of landlord signature? /This must be presented with all documents.
Me: What!!??? Which document?
Officer 1: Madam, I cannot accept your submission. One document is missing. Please come back another day.
Me: What!!!!!!???? (while thinking, no way on earth should I pass through this hell again till I need to renew my visa next year) Sir, please review again. You asked for 3 documents in your website (I'm becoming a veteran so I had the print out of the website requirements and specific list of mandatory documents printed with me)
Officer 1: Yes madam, website doesn't say. You miss still one document that doesn't say in the website. You must bring it. I cannot process this today.
Me: No, Sir. (Now I have become categorical with my "No", which I know is terribly impolite here and, for a woman to a man, totally unusual and scary) I brought all you asked in your website, I want my permit today.
Officer 1: Madam, please talk to that man - Says Mr. Officer 1 while pointing to a more senior (in age) official behind a desk called "Help Desk" and that is sitting like if he was having a pint in a pub with friends -.

Without too much understanding why and after complaining several times that "what can another person tell me that he cannot tell?" I am returned my documents and sent to talk to Mr. Officer 2.

Officer 2: Yes, Madam?
Me: Sir, I need your help. Your colleague on Miscellaneous Counter (now that I look into it, this is how it was called) tells me to talk to you.
Officer 2: Yes, Madam? (OMG, does he really not know how to say anything else?)
Me: I have brought up all the documents required in the list of Mandatory requirements for a change of address and I want to process my residency permit today. I cannot comeback another day, Sir, I cannot miss that much work (I start talking a bit like "locals", hopefully that helps them understand me). As I have provided all required documentation, I am asking to get this processed today.
Officer 2: (He initially looks at my papers and then handles me a brochure where the correct information I am missing is point out) Please Madam, read! (He is not kind on this statement, neither rude, just a bit arrogant to my taste)
Me: Sir, but look at the print out I brought. Your website doesn't mention that proof documentation at all so... how am I supposed to know that my Document 1 is not considered complete if it doesn't come with this (newly invented to piss off foreigners - of course, I don't mention this part-) additional proof?
Officer 2: Madam, please read! (Ha, he can change the words of place and maintain the same meaning!! He has a good level of English, at least. But what the heck!!!)
Me: Sir, I can read English. But I cannot know on my own (I feel like "invent" or "read minds" is more appropriate for the situation, but I don't want to be sent back by a security guard directly to the airport, so I bite my tonge)  that you require additional proof in order to validate one of your required Mandatory documents, if that requirement is not written anywhere in your website.
Officer 2: Madam, please talk to that man - Says Mr. Officer 2 while pointing to a more senior (in age) official behind a much larger desk, with a more private separation from the rest.

I look to the floor, I look to the window, I look to the papers scatered in the "Help Desk" table and I breath twice. ("Do not shout, DO NOT cry, and get what you need to get!!!" I tell myself) I stand up, I murmur a "Thank you, Sir" (no sarcasm, just being practical, in case I need to come back and talk to him again. After all, I'll need to renew my Visa in 10 months)

Officer 3: Yes, Madam? (Oh no! Another automatic call-center-like response!! I'm surely with another one that will not help me and will read me the process once more. "Anybody in?" I feel like addressing directly his brains in case I might master the technique of wake at least one officer's one today)
Me: Sir, I need your help. Your colleague on Help Desk tells me that I need this additional proof to get my permit today. But, this new requirement was not part of your website requirements and I could not have known, Sir. (Change of technique, I try to look as I feel for once: almost defeated, in case his "paternal" instincts might help me more than my righteous statement of the inaccuracy on their website)
Officer 3: Ok, Madam. The document is indeed required (please, not again, nooooo) But we can do something (oh, my! there might be light in this bureaucratic tunnel) I will request the Miscellaneous Desk (Officer 1, for anybody that might be lost) to produce your permit. (Yes!!! eoeoeoeoe) But, as it takes one hour (Oh, Jezz! no I remember) you will need to contact your landlord, or your HR department, to provide us the missing document (I will need to piss off either one of them again... Great!) and if you can give it to us printed or fax it in 1 hour, then we will be able to give you your permit today.

To not extend the story any longer. After what looked like an "Indiana Jone's of the bureaucracy" adventure to call my landlord, call all HR partners I know, give the fax number, get an email sent to my phone, find an internet place in the nearby bus station, get the man in the internet place (a character deserving a full page description on any good travel novel), print out the pages, getting to pay double than the previous lady because... "internet charges" (I had to sent my email to his email) and running back to impressively be in front of Officer 1 exactly 1 hour after my last conversation with Officer 3.... Well, yes, I got it!!!! Eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo.

To celebrate my success, I felt like going to the bank to deposit a check and withdraw some cash. But, I really don't have the strength of mind to describe that experience as well. Let's leave it for today at: it only took 2 hours to do 2 simple transactions because the arch over my name in my signature is not always the same. Security reasons demand an exact match of my signature in their records. I did shout to the lady in the counter here and I also talked to 3 different people to get what I needed. Maybe I tell you more next time. This post is becoming too long now.

2:00pm - Time to get back home for lunch. Let's call an auto rickshaw and get there soon.

I have been told that auto rickshaws are safe to be taken during the day, and cheap (though, not as much as they used to be) They all have meters, so you just need to make sure that, before entering the auto, you have agreed with them to use them and the destination point. Some autos will not want to bring you to a certain place if they don't estimate they will do enough money with the ride. Others, they will not accept the metro as you are a foreigner and they feel obliged to ask for more money, or bring you for a tour in town that will (no surprises) end up in some shop of a kind.

I want to get home, so I go telling every driver I cross "Koramangala? Meter only!" and I enter the first rickshaw that agrees to the deal.

As I get in, the driver starts the auto almost before I have the time to sit in. I notice that he is driving bare feet (I have seen many doing so), I see the decoration of the interior, always different and so personal, and I look for my phone. As a security measure, I have also been instructed to always make a picture of the drivers registration number that is exhibited in the back of the drivers sit, right in front of the passengers. I will send always the picture to a friend and tell them where I am going and how long it should take. Even to friends back in Europe, it doesn't really matter, for as long as somebody you trust knows where you are and expect your "I arrived safely" message. Plus they don't really know where are you sending it but they will see you doing it and will know you have their picture and name sent across.

Once the security formalities are done, I relax and enjoy the ride. The air coming to your face, the colorful traffic and its rally-like movements all around. For some reason, I am today reading the picture I took from the auto driver and I realize that the blood type is one of the fields included. The man in front of me has my same blood type. This Indian man, who can hardly speak English, and me, the white foreigner who can't speak the local language, have something in common: we have the same blood group. And I start thinking that, if an accident were to happen (I think I already mentioned that I keep feeling surprised to not have seen one yet), this man could safe my life; or, I could safe his. Funnily enough, this realization gives me a higher sense of respect for this man, whom I don't know at all and which name I haven't even looked at yet.

4:30 pm - Time to relax at my home terrace. (In working days, I might not be able as I reach home at 7 and it's already night time, plus it is mosquito going-out time. Ignoring that part, as this is an invented day, let's imagine I get to revive this heavenly experience every day)

After a long day (bureaucracy or work, doesn't matter) I finally get to enjoy the terrace besides my room. I make one of the aromatic teas that I brought from Ireland, I settle in the nice Ikea balancing chair my friend offered to me and I enjoy a good book, while watching the green grounds in front of me as the sunset settles.

8:00 pm - It's dinner time.

Again, nothing unusual to the normal daily dinners I could have had back in Europe: I cook with my roommate, we discuss our days, we make fun of our frustrations and adjustment issues, we give tips to each other, we recommend each other books or movies, we eat together and we get ready for bed.

Also, I try to keep my ears open to "paper man". With the moving, we still had a lot of boxes and papers to throw away. But I didn't want to just "trow it" to the normal rubbish. After all, I was the one that introduced the concept of recycling in my home when I was 12 so... I just couldn't bear the thought. The local solution to this problem is another thin man. This time, the man has a bicycle and goes around town shouting only one word: Paper! If I hear him and I have my "recycling" to handle, I will go outside of the house and shout "Paper!" back to him. He will come to my door and I will handle all the paper and plastic I have. He will "happily" collect.
One thing I noticed and that saddens me... It's never the same man. So, I am brought to assume, many live daily out of their paper collections. I get to wonder if this man has a family, if his kids are small and in which conditions he might live. I don't get very beautiful pictures on anything I imagine, I can see that on his very tired face.

11:00 pm - Time to fall sleep.

I (or my roommate, actually, most often its her who does it) get the rubbish out. As we have agreed that we don't want to participate to the collective mess in the corner end of our street, where all neighbors throw their rubbish to the floor to be collected by the government cars in the morning, we leave our rubbish on top of the fence that serves as an entrance to our home. Most days it is collected from there, but unfortunately not all.

And after some typically women beauty care, we go off to bed.

I can hear again the crickets of this morning, already starting their long "night". However, birds, like us, seem to already have gone to sleep. Instead, we can hear the neighbor labrador putting up a fighting on longest-barking competition with the street dogs of the area. These street dogs are very scared of people (I think they get severely bitten, its mostly an assumption based on the way the tails go as they see a human being) so they are more active at night and mostly feed on rubbish, so I gather that my street corner must be one of their favorite restaurants. Hence, every night I can hear a great bunch of them, barking around the street. That might deter any human thief or human danger to come to my street and so, as a consequence, I actually like them being around and feel safer and more restful when I hear them.


Voila!!! One long, full of joys and adventures, day in Bangalore for you all to imagine my life here. Hope you liked it!

My beautiful terrace and its views, that still marvel and relax me when sitting with a tea and a book.

Few days at home and back to... Home! :)

Wow, I just noticed that is almost a month that I don't write here and I guess I owe you an explanation: I was on holidays back home! :)

Yes, yes. I know:"What the heck!" Right? I hadn't moved to my (finally found) new house here and I was already leaving back home. Was I thinking of leaving for good, before trying, to not come back? To be totally honest, it did crossed my mind a couple of times in the really bad days. But only as a flash symptom of my very Spanish tendency to exaggerating things at times (only a bit and only at times).

Truth is, I had a very dear wedding to attend and I had promised to go before this opportunity came along. Somehow I managed to convince work that this was a condition for me accepting the job I had actually asked for (me being cunning and, for once, it surprisingly working) That's how I ended up leaving a hotel to reach Spain and coming back to my new to be: "home sweet home".

Some people might think that coming to a new place, it is going to disrupt the adjusting process if you leave so soon and that it should not be recommended. I heard that remark a couple of times already before I left and I was "healthily" wondering whether they might be right; if I was going to just come back to a second flavor of this "OMG, what am I doing here and what was I thinking!!??" cultural shock. A cultural shock that, by the way, inevitably happens anytime you move to a new place, new country, new adventure. This is my 4th such process (1st outside Europe), so I know what I'm talking about. Luckily, I had nothing to worry about, this was not going to be the case for me this time.

Instead, I came back with a much more calm and detached approach to my life in India. Much less concerned about the unavoidable learning process of the new local bureaucracy, usages and norms... and a bit more focused on living the adventure and enjoying the experience. After all, this is truly why I wanted to come here in the first place: to enjoy the process (and not just lament it).

I had spent my time back home literally devouring the holidays. Yes, I am an intense devourer of my passions. I can devour a book, my best friends hugs, a yummy meal, a travel experience... I did all that during my holidays in Spain and much more. Many memories that I can now cherish, as it happens with most holidays (and if not, they don't count and I just need to go again)

Also, I absorbed old experiences with a greater intensity, as if newly found pleasures. Events that were always common and had just become a rarity in my recently adopted (still happily, don't worry) home. One such activity: walking on the streets. Indeed, walking straight on the pavement of a European street used to be something as natural and assumed as breathing oxygen for living. However, for the first time in the last few weeks I could finally walk for many meters in a row without having to leave the path due to a huge tree, cow or hole being on my way (or seeing a rat eating a puke - I know, its disgusting, certainly the most disgusting experience accumulated so far. I can assure you it has traumatized me for life-) Without being forced to walk on the road to reach my destiny. Without being puzzled at the need of crossing an street. Without having to wait to check my new Whatsapp message till I reach home or a place where I can stop (This is definitively the most horrible one of all. No Whatsapp. Totally unacceptable! I'm sure you agree with me. -Hahaha, the ones who know me well can surely understand the sarcasm on this one. I have a certain Italian in mind :-p -)

There were many other such experiences to add to the lot of rediscovered pleasures: going to a restaurant, without asking what food is not spicy and actually understanding the menu; shopping inside a mall and finding the most desired ingredients available; having the sun shining until very very late in the evening; wearing an skirt, without worrying if it would be appropriate; talking and laughing loudly, without feeling out of place; hugging my grandma, that has been old for a while but I am only starting to realize recently; talking about sex as one of life experiences and not as a tabu (this was actually even new for me in Spain, till very recently) ...

Unlike what it might seem, this was actually a very positive trip. Not only it taught me to appreciate what was always at hand, it also gave me the reassurance that I will be back to it whenever I choose (if indeed I choose) to do so and therefore the peace of mind and spirit to assimilate my new phase in India, this place that I am still loving-hating with as much intensity ("je t'aime, moi non-plus" as the French say, it's the best expression to describe my current love affair with this place), and actually enjoy the process.

All in all, I am happily back. Yes, that's it. I am back and I am happy. My new home is taking shape little by little and I will hopefully introduce it to you very soon. My energy levels are fully recharged. My positive thinking is back to automatic mode, no need to force-feed it. Plus it's so reassuring to have a home to come back to every evening after work; even one not yet fully cleaned, still half unpacked and not yet fully furnished. It is such a great pleasure to have! And it took two months to find it, so I am determined to make the best out of it and keep accumulating fun moments to share.

Now, its almost 2 am and time for me to say Good night. Namaste!

Diving the wave of India

"Initially you're overwhelmed. But gradually you realise it's like a wave. Resist, and you'll be knocked over. Dive into it, and you'll swim out the other side." The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel 

The character of Evelyin was describing India with this comment and it got me thinking that it feels very close to reality. So here I am. Trying to listen. Trying to dive in and not resist. Trying to adjust.

Though, as I read back the last few post, I realise I sound like somebody resisting, knocking and getting knocked all along the way. So today, I want you guys to dive in with me to the mesmerising sides of this town. I might have failed to tell you about the things that captivate me, but there are many. Here just a few that I can think about right now.

Extraordinary people. Definitively that's the first thing one ought to mention from this place. And the very main thing that drove me to come all the way here in the first place: its people. There is not one person since I arrived that has not offered their help, and so many have already managed to help in one way or another. Even some already living in faraway lands that have been contacted by common friends. Or others that I haven't yet met, but have already managed to indirectly help improve my experience here. Arriving as a family of 1 to a new place is a lonely experience, but these people have made me feel instantly a part of their family and have made me feel we share a common understanding of how important and valuable family is. I might even dare to say that spanish families and indian ones have loads in common. I'm sure there will be much more to follow on this subject in future.

Intoxicating explosion of colours. May I say more on the subject? Lets put it this way, I was living in a place that was mostly grey in the sky and green in the land. I was born in a landscape that is in its entirety ochre (brown yellowish kind of colour). I worked in offices where black and white are considered the most appropriate range of colours for a formal serious hard working attire. So coming to a place where orange mixed with blue and red mixed with green and magenta mixed with golden are within the most normal clothing office colours one can encounter, well... I just can't find words to explain how suggestive and impacting all of this is to my everyday life. It's kind of a constant discovery and amazement to the surroundings and a cheer up sensation of being part of something funny and bright. Honestly, how can one feel down in a place with so much light and colour? (jajaja, I know I might sound I am exaggerating a bit but if you have seen any of the movies, I'm sure you can understand that colours have a great impact here).

Enveloping nature. Certainly, nature was easily accessible outside the door of my old house, back in Ireland. One does not need to go to a farm to see cows and there are horses calmly passing down the street together with the cars. Just as it happened in Ireland. The unique side of things here is that trees have the diameter of the old Ka car that I once drove (to my own personal shame) and not just one or two, but most of the trees around actually are older than the whole of US history. People's holiday trips are full of shots of wild elephants and tigers (unlike the donkeys back home) And anytime I look at the sky, like while having a lovely sweet chai tea in the terrace of my office during a break, I easily can spot big majestic eagles. Animals that I never placed in an urban area before and that invariably remind me of my father and the long summer afternoons watching documentaries of wildlife.

Exotic fruits and sweets. Ok, that one is totally bias as I am absolutely certain that locals don't find their fruits and sweets exotic. But I would imagine if I offered them eating a churro, they would surely find that exotic too. Jack fruit has been a wonderful discovery of sweet and soft. Not so easy to find, unfortunately. And in nature it comes in a huge cone shaped cover that its pretty difficult to peal in oder to get to the sweet fruit inside. So I am on the hunt for the freshest jack fruits in town, and I hope to find them around my new neighbourhood soon. Gulab Jamun is my pick for favourite local dessert: balls of dough bathing in sweet crystal syrup made, in between others, out of rose water and cardamon (hhmmmm!) And then the sweet nibbles made out of cashew nut paste, like marzipan really but I do actually like this ones. Plus they come in many varieties, mixed with other nuts and dried fruit pieces. Totally yummy, I swear.

Expats. Bangalore is one of the most attractive towns for expats in India (I read that somewhere) and therefore a town where I have already had the pleasure to meet interesting people from all around the world. People with a greater sense of adventure than mine and a deep understanding of the difficulties of being new in town and to this culture. Just perfect friend material for me. One of them, a sweet young italian girl has even asked me to share a house with her: Simona. Italians I can count them between some of my very best friends and bets and I get a sense that this one is going to be another sweet experience of roommate craze.

So... there it goes. And now is past midnight and its time for this Cinderella to go to sleep. Tomorrow is a Sunday that I hope to enjoy in the gardens of the old Royal Palace and I might discover some new wonderful things that will help me dive and swim India.

Missing you all!!

One of the biggest trees I've seen so far

200 years old only and part of a beautiful big park in town called Lalbagh

 View of morning traffic in one main artery of my new neighborhood (nature is all around :))

House Hunting Hell

Finding a new home is never easy. Coming into a new empty space trying to imagine how would your new Saturday breakfast look like or where the dinner parties will best be placed. I am certainly not too good at seeing the potential on the spaces to make the best out of them. Hence, visiting empty houses it is very hard for me to make out exactly how comfy or practical use I can make of an space. With that in mind, this was far from being the pick of my worries when searching for homes in my new hometown: Bangalore.

Once again, I was under no illusion that the task at hand was going to be a piece of cake (no task is such thing in here). However, I must admit that the tag of "Silicon Valley of India" this town proudly holds had given me the delusion that finding a "modern" home was going to be feasible in just a few weeks. After all, I was only asking for a small cosy place, with no luxury, maybe a balcony and just about a furnished kitchen and a shower plate. Something that back home is considered a common, modest, middle class apartment or studio for 1 or 2. I need no luxury, I thought.

Moreover, my very good friend and colleague: Rachel, was helping me determine the options I had on terms of security and safety. Being a foreigner, she made me feel, I could be a target for many in more disadvantageous positions and could be perceived as richer than I truly am. So there were areas and home types that she instantly asked me to discard. I was to look for an apartment preferably, certainly only in gated and guarded areas and ideally in neighborhoods within the richest parts of town. She was going to be there all along the way to help me understand the standards here (10 moths deposit was the hardest to believe, but indeed is the norm) and the steps in the process. How hard could it be?

First thing I discovered is that a modular kitchen meant that you have drawers and cupboards, even if they look like coming out of the kitchen my grandma had when I was 6. Ikea would be considered extreme luxe, if indeed the place existed here (still under construction and expected end of 2015). Fully furnished kitchen means there is only furniture, so the fridge, cooking plates, washing machine, oven or even a chimney, are not to be expected in a semi-furnished home (I visited a few furnished homes before deciding that I definitively will need to buy/rent my own furniture if i wanted to feel comfortable at home) 

Even if most apartments I have visited had as many bathrooms as bedrooms (seems to be considered a basic need here) very few think that it is important to separate the splash of water from the shower from everything else, hence the shower head is placed often between the WC and the sink, sometimes even in front of the door. 

The cherry on the cake is when looking at a place that I will normally describe as unsanitary, the landlord is actually preoccupied to have a single woman as a tenant (God knows what a strange creature like woman that is not married and still works after 30 will do with their precious house) or even better, wants to know what kind of food I eat in order to accept me (for many here vegetarians should never habit a place where meat has ever been cooked before, hence the trouble, as many don't want meat eaters living in their homes: It might discourage good Hindi families from moving in afterwards!)

Lets add to all this a little bit of history. As you might know, Bangalore has been "the fastest-growing Indian metropolis after New Delhi between 1991–2001" and its still growing at a vertiginous pace. Take also into account that the estimated population is now over the 10 million mark and entire areas that are now in the heart of the city were only 30-20 years ago a bunch of bungalows in the middle of the jungle. One of those such places, I have chosen as the area where my new home ought to be: the "in" and lively area of Koramangala. 

Was I going to make a big fuss just because the kitchen didn't have a chimney or the toilet didn't have a shower plate? No, I was not. Instead, however, the existence of a shower head and the emplacement of such a shower head within a bathroom became one of the main critical points for me to choose if indeed I liked a house or not. Generally, I reasoned, if they had bother to think that a shower in the middle was not too practical, the same thought would be applied to the building of the rest of the house. And viceversa. 

:) I must laugh now at my innocence of mind or my disconnect with the realities of the place I have moved in to live. After all, as I was reminded by a very good friend during the middle of my search, many places in India do not have home water yet, many have to go to ponds, lakes, rivers or fountains to get a shower or wash their hands and they make use of the local government reservoirs for their needs of water to drink and cook with. Even in many of the most "cosmopolitan" towns in India, families do not have access to a toilet and just about a bucket and a hole in the floor of a patio do for the needs of the full family. I was told, many apartment complex in the "middle" class metropolitan areas only have common toilets for all the neighbors of the x floor building to use. 

Luckily, after visiting places that made me shiver before coming in just at looking at the jail looking like installations in front of the door (protective measures that made me wonder how safe the place could be), or apartments located just besides a water flow that smelled like something was dead inside for the past decade, my expectations and basic demands have shifted to a more realistic approach. I am still looking for somewhere that will feel home. Nonetheless, suddenly I feel I can make a home of places that previously I would have disliked on superficial notes as the view from the windows, the state of the elevators or the cleanness of the common gym (if there is one at all).

I am still looking for a house. I was very discouraged and frustrated when after finding a place that exceeded my expectations and that I could afford, the landlord decided he didn't trust a foreigner to live in the place. However, I have been lucky to find a 26 year old, sweet, Italian girl that has asked to search for homes with me, so we can afford a better place and have someone to live with. We are now 2 on the search, and we hope we will find a beautiful home soon.

  

A classified for "Christians only" add found in the news papers and one of the best toilets visited during my search (with the wrong placement of the shower head, unfortunately)


PS: Not only I don't yet have a house, as part of the fun ride I'm getting, I have as of yet been unable too of getting either a bank account, a social security number or even a phone number. Long bureaucratic procedures, extreme security measures and other perks to be blamed

Form SLK666 (or how many goats one can fit in a rickshaw)

As a person that has traveled around quite a lot, that has lived in several countries and a person that has already packed all her meager possessions in few luggages and boxes to move to a new country few times before, I already knew I will have to pass some difficult weeks before the good days started. I knew it and I am not surprised of what's happening to me. But it does not make it in the least easier just because I knew.

Jet-lag is a bitch! Anyone that has ever done a long distance trip knows that. So, I was coming with the intention to take it easy on myself the first few days. Maybe just get to know town (ha! didn't I know we are talking about an 10.3 million hab. Metropolis?), walk around (ha ha! again, what the h...l was I thinking?) and take a massage (that, I actually did) But I am a restless woman and I feel so impatient to get to know all I need to know... I could not just sit in the sofa and relax.

Arriving on a Sunday 5am local time, Monday 9am I was already participating to my first induction training at work (as I said, a restless woman) and figuring out how so not easy all things were going to be here for me.

My first readjustment consisted on an astonishing new system of record keeping and bureaucracy that I had never experienced before. Not even in my times as an Erasmus student, when I had to fill all these forms and papers for the University and the EU, did I have to deal with so much paperwork (L'auberge Espagnole from Cedric Klapisch comes to mind. For anyone that hasn't seen this movie, half of it describes my life right now, the other half is an absolute bliss of fun). The catch here is that every form must be filled by duplicate, signed, stamped and picture pasted and signed and stamped as well. Plus in order to get Residency Permit, I need Form C and HR confirmation Letter. PAN form was not mandatory but also requested. PAN form requires again Form C and a bank account details. For a Bank account I am asked for PAN ID (that comes after PAN form is accepted) and FRRO Residency Permit, which is also asked in order to get a local mobile number. But without a mobile or money I have not means to search a home so that HR can confirm my location to the FRRO office for Residency permit and.... Honestly, first few days it felt like I will never manage! (Residency Permit is now done by using temporary residency, which means I will have to go through it all over again once I change my address, and for all the rest everything is still an on going never-ending-story)

Unnecessary to say,  this town has many many more adjustments and surprises to offer. A big part of them are common and expected from such a big city, but with an added hint of india-only marvel. One clear example is the traffic and roads in here. Let me ask you... How many goats can one fit in a rickshaw? So far, I have seen 7. How many family members in a 125cc bike? So far, I've counted 5. How many times an ambulance almost runs you over while crossing the street during your first week? The very first and only time that I had to cross a road in search of very desired groceries (St Dafour apricot jam was totally worth the scare, by the way)

The toughest part so far: not being able to freely walk and dress whenever and wherever I might want to. Instead, I spend my evenings in my room, a bit scared that "the danger time" has already arrived and a bit in shock by the size and long distances of everything here. Second toughest, maintain a delusional hope that I might find non-spicy food in outings nearby. I have even shyly started cooking and I can only share one thought, how am I going to cook in a country where I cannot find just plain salt without it being mixed with chilli!!??? OMG, I'm on for a fun ride, I can see.

But do not worry too much for me, I am still very happy that I took the decision to come here, very enthusiastic and looking forward the weeks and months to come. Plus I am certain that as soon as I have settled in a nice apartment and learned a bit how to navigate this immense town, I will start having such a great fun!

Me (left) and a visiting work colleague in one of the famous rickshaws

that can indifferently fit 7 goats, 20 school children or just about 2 European girls.

PS. One more Quiz. How many people within an office can one "loud, rude, tall European foreigner" offend in the small lapse time of just two weeks? It looks like a few more that goats and a bit less than school children can be found on a rickshaw.

On bravery

"Wow,  you are so brave!" These are the worlds that I have most often heard the past weeks, as I announced to my family, friends and work colleagues that I was moving to live and work in India.

"You are so brave" obviously, its code for: "Are you crazy girl!!?? Haven't you read the news lately!!???" Or, at it's most polite, maybe just for: "I don't see why anyone on earth will ever want to do such a thing, I surely will never want to do that"

Only few people have surprised me with different comments. Some best friends seem to see in me the reincarnation of one of these pioneer pilot women that crossed the atlantic for the first time in those first fragile planes. Well... seriously?

The most beautiful and uncommon that I've heard, one colleague who particularly touched my heart with his: "Good deeds happen to good people. I'm glad to be able to see it happening to you. You deserve it"

For me, all this time, I was just thinking to pursue the dream of experiencing, once more: a new culture, a new town, new people (some to be friends) and, for the first time, the chance to hopefully discover more exotic places, too remote until now. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a human being following a dream. Many do that, don't they?

To be entirely frank with you, I don't feel I'm being brave. Indeed, I have read the awful news running around Europe, mostly regarding violent sexual attacks to women and I have very naturally freaked the hell out a good few times. I simply decided not to let the fear stop my dream.

I have left Ireland with a bright big smile on my face. No anguish or discomfort. To my surprise, not even tears. I know I'm doing what's right for me. However, that doesn't mean I had no doubts or feel no fear.

Me joking at the airport.

I was trying to look like one very famous painting. 

I wasn't  feeling scared :)

Even today, on my first day in town, I had a nice massage and small walk before. Now, however, I am sitting in my new temporary "home" and I'm feeling a bit scared to get out. It was soon night, already at 6 pm, I was a bit hungry and would have loved to explore the neighbourhood, while searching for new tastes and smells to be discovered. Instead, I'm sitting in front of my computer, conscious that it might not be too clever to get to the noisy streets at night, looking all lost and confused, obviously new in town.

I might be a brave girl, by everyone else's standards. To my eyes, I am just a hungry, bit scared, probably crazy girl.

First walk out in town. Trying to not look jet lagged.

From La Mancha to Karnataka

Have you ever dare asking for an impossible and received the unimaginable answer: "Yes, I don't see why not"?

I came to work to Ireland right after college, for 6 months and just to improve my english. Nonetheless, I have stayed here a record 10 years and in 2 I was already enjoying a fluent level of conversation. However, I've spent the last 7 years saying that I couldn't bear another winter in this place (they truly become too grey) and that it was time to move on before I forgot what a summer is.

For a while now, I have been wanting to move countries, as Travelling is one of the moments in my life where I feel the most happy and alive. I had even had an idea of where to go next (Ireland being the 4th country where I have lived), but I guess I was afraid of going alone.

Thats why in March, when the opportunity came, I decided to move back home to Madrid.

I was not really looking forward being back home. It felt like closing the adventure of being in a foreign land. Like ending the dream. But... well, I really needed to get back to a place with summers. And I am lucky to have been born in such a wonderful country as it is Spain. Plus, as dull as it might sound, I was getting excited with the idea of moving to a new place I could decorate.

So when my boss asked me what could she do to make me stay, I just told her that time had come for me to change the scenery and do something new. If any, I had always wanted to visit our office in India and, when I finally did, I would have loved to stay there a bit longer so... Maybe, I would be happier to continue at my job, if only I could do it from there.

Seriously, I thought it was just such an impossible thing to ask that I assumed she would answer something like: "Oh! I see. Well, I understand. However, I was talking about staying with us HERE and, well, in that case.. I hope it all goes well for you"

Instead, she said: "Yes, I don't see why not?"

And this is how I am currently living the dream of preparing my moving to Bangalore. I am so excited I still have to pinch myself at times, to believe this dream is about to come true. And I have decided to listen to my close friends and make the effort of maintaining a blog, to keep in touch.

Hence, this is for you. A window to my life. To my new adventures in a place where I will need to learn to eat spicy and deal with the double of the population of Ireland in just one town (OMG!! It still sounds scary). Let's see if I manage!

Me (left) and my best friend at my latest home in Ireland.