Bangalore and beyond!

Photos: 3 temples and 477 km's in one day

oonagh — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 03:02:00 GMT

beautiful detailed friezes in all 3 temples

government v's private schools

oonagh — Wed, 5 Dec 2012 22:32:00 GMT

Context - India is worried that it's economic growth rate fell this quarter from 5.9% to 5.3% ( UK is about 0.02%). It is a so called powerhouse of industry. It might have something to do with low wages. A female garment worker gets paid on average 4,100 Rupees. ( £50) a month. Unskilled workers get paid much less and on a daily or hourly basis usually. Thiss explains to me why there are so so many very small shops ( about the size of a car garage that can just take the car). The better off folk who are the shop owners can only afford to have very small shops with a small amount of stock and the much less well off can only afford to buy very small amounts of rice or other staples on a daily basis. All the shops have have racks of indvidual sachets of shampoo or cereal or porridge or whatever. They also carry much larger amounts in the back of the shops but that's what on show at the front

The Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act came into force in India in only 2009. It should provide a guarantee for children between 6 to 14 to a free education in a Government school.My 'India' culture guide book says that 95% of rural Indian children have access to primary education at least 50% of those drop out by the time they are 12 ( to go to work). The south of India where Bangalore is has a much higher literacy and education rate. It is a so called richer part of India. Literacy here is about 95% ( if people were brought up here but so many have come from the countryside to work). In rural areas the rate is perhaps 50%. Of course I am still shamed every day when most people in Bangalore can speak at least 2 languages a little bit if not 3.

Anyway I am working in a so called private school which is in fact a charity where children with learning disabilities are able to get some education for a few hundred rupees a month ( or free if they cannot afford that). The Government pays nothing towards their education nor offers grants. The Education Act does not include the right of people with learning disabilities ( called Mental retardation here- they call dyslexia and dyspraxia learning disabilities) or autism to have a right to an education.

In free Government schools the children get 2 free uniforms a year ( which explains the absolute pristine but unbelievably 1950's school uniforms that kids wear ). the girls get a bike in year 9, free books and breakfast and lunch. They offer food because only the poorest families send their kids to these schools and it is a way of getting them in the door.My local friends say that the kids will stay until lunch is fnished then go home. If you have any money at all you go to a school with a name ( Government schools have no names).

The comparison with Private schools is bizarre though. In a Govt school the teachers will be qualified . They will earn far more than in private schools ( about £300/month). They will teach classes of perhaps 30 to 40 children but they might just not turn up ( common I have been told) or if they do they might not do much other than a bit of rote learning.

In private schools they will be called Special Educators with diplomas in something ( in my school they have diplomas in autism). The pupil teacher ratio might be 1:4 and they will be paid about £200 a month. The level of education is much better. But no Government money is transferred to these schools.

So Shristi and all the other charity schools teaching children with disabilities have to rely on constant fundraising to have enought money to pay staff. They also provide 2 meals and the books. They have to provide transport as they will not be within walking distance like Government schools. All the furniture or rooms have got names on them 'kindly donated by Motorola' or 'Bank of Canara' or 'Bangalore Overseas Womens Club' ( nearly joined it until I realised that it was ladies who lunch, albeit generous ladies who lunch! I initially laughed in a patronising way at that. Not any more. You got to do what it takes if you run a charity anywhere. What a bloody waste of time.

One of the reasons I cannot dislike my charity too much for abandoning me and never being willing to meet with me or offer me supervision is because they spend a lot of time trying to get enough money to pay the bills every month.

Photos: riotous wedding

oonagh — Sat, 24 Nov 2012 16:38:00 GMT

Nice short post!

oonagh — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 03:19:00 GMT

Just read in the paper that car manufactureers have to make special car horns for India. Audi boss said " take a European horn and it will be gone in a week or 2. In India we do on a daily basis what a German does in a year". I rest my case!!!!

Photos: Tipu Sultan's Palace Bangalore

oonagh — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 03:10:00 GMT

words for the wise

oonagh — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 02:21:00 GMT

If you should ever have reason to walk in any street in Bangalore, 'quiet' suburb or busy city centre, I suggest you listen to your Ipod/Iphone/ other brands are available music. Yes you may die a little sooner ( but not necessarily because horns don't actually relate to any imminent danger just " oh look how butch and important ( not!) I am" ) but at least your last thoughts will be "La, La,La" instead of "If one more b....rd peeps their f...ing horn I am going to rip their f...ing head off and stuff it where the sun don't shine"

Just a thought!

Diwali

oonagh — Wed, 14 Nov 2012 23:42:00 GMT

I have never been in a war zone and am probably insulting anyone who has but these last 4 days I have experienced the rapid gun fire sound from 6.30 in the morning untill 11pm ( promptly, everything stops at 11 here). They must be relatively cheap to buy because every househod must be letting off an hours worth at least. There are some actual colourful fireworks that go into the sky as in UK but most make up for in sound what they don't achieve in height or colour. Very unsettling for me. I got lost on my way home on the first night and kids were just throwing them everywhere. they leave masses of scraps of paper behind as well after they have exploded.

School had a Diwali holiday ( saturday until Thursday). They had a celebration on the Friday afternoon where the teachers lit some devotional lamps in a flower pattern and then lit catherine wheels on the ground and the kids just had to jump away from them. Either these kids are not very autistic or they are just well trained because most of them bar 4 older boys ( would love to do some work with teachers on helping them be better understood rather than obliged/forced to conform) just watched quietly or ignored whilst the teachers got excited.

I asked staff about the religious significance of Diwali and they said that depending on the region of India you come from the story or myth is completley different but overall people will make a Puja to the godess Lakshmi for health, happiness and prosperity ( same as the Ganesh festival really). The children are bought presents by their parents and in laws and grand parents. The women should be bought a new sari and/or jewellery by their husbands and brothers buy their sisters presents. They are trying to ntroduce a day for girls to reciprocate and buy their brothers something but that hasn't been met with enthusiasm!

The night before the main day of celebration the woman will have a long soak in a bath full of oils and prepare their hair with oils too. I hinted about being asked to a family celebration but I think the staff didn't want the responsibility of me. Eventually another local volunteer asked me to hers for lunch but there were no actual celebrations. In fact she had invited me to her mothers house. her Mum was fasting and her dad said that he wasn't hungry ( don't know if me being there ruined some family dynamic) I had lunch, brought some sweets and ate then was told that the volunteer and her hubby needed to get off home! Everyone this evening has little lamps lit up around their front yards and the painted flower pattern just outside the front gate as a good luck sign.

I want to know what Indian folk in the UK do.

As an aside it was quite unsettling as the maid was cleaning the floors around our feet as we were eating our meal. I will ask my lovely friend Krupa ( who would have invited me to hers I think but was in Goa for the week with her family) what she would have done. What i didn't get were any bloody sweeties. possibly just as well though as I came home and that evening had D and V all night so am confined to my rooms today feeling sorry for myself!

Pourakarmikas

oonagh — Wed, 14 Nov 2012 23:25:00 GMT

Garbage collector- not a clue how to pronounce it. Too many consonants but a good score for scrabble surely !

Anyway if you are not into recycling log off and get back to work (or re read the one about flip flops. I want one of my entries to get 100 hits and we're on 74 for that one so far!)

So I know I have briefly talked about this before but I am trying to figure out why no one is taking up a huge money making opportunity. So- people (women) appear very house proud. Most houses have this is a sort of lower middle class to middle class area). The house/flats take up most of the space in the yard and are often 2 or 3 separate floors with external stairs (extended family living on separate floors) with enough space for a car and a few mopeds ( no one parks their car on the road) and one or 2 banana trees or papaya plants at best. There is usually an open terrace on the top for drying washing and grains or leaves or onions or anything else that needs drying out ( and in my case for me to sunbathe and read my book when everyone else is inside trying to keep their skin as fair as possible- no women ever, ever sits in the sun if she has a choice).

The women (might be a maid, all but the poorest have one maid at least) will sweep their yard every morning and the little bit of road in front of the gate. They will not necessarily pick the rubbish up just push it to the neighbour’s boundary. If they do pick it up they might put it in their own bin or just throw it into the nearest bit of land that hasn't yet been built on. If they put it in their bin then any day (including Sundays) they can put their bins out at their front gate and the pourakarmikas will pick it up.

As of 1/10/12 home recycling came in for the first time ( we should have 3 bins- 1 for compost, 1 for plastic and 1 for non recycling). Blimey it is so not popular. People of all classes saying that dirty stuff is government’s responsibility – so most people ( other than the equivalent of the Guardian reading , green leaning folk who were doing it already ) don’t and the fanfare that launched it ( on 30 ft billboards with TOO realistic pictures of nappies and sanitary towels; rotary club marches about civic responsibility ( yep!) and daily newspaper articles ( Bangalore papers report Government corruption, death on the roads and rubbish collection and very little else )) has long been forgotten. It doesn’t matter anyway because the pourakarmikas( Oh I can hear you trying to read that out loud- keep trying) don’t have separate compartments in their wee hand carts to divide rubbish so it would all get mixed up again anyway. The carts are small and they get overloaded quickly so the pourakarmikas dump the rubbish on waste ground too( hello!!). There are a few western looking dustbin lorries that I think are then supposed to pick these piles up but the landfill sites are all full so there is nowhere to take the rubbish. They used to dump it in a nearby village but last month the village revolted and was probably pretty revolting by then) and said no to the dumping. When no one paid attention they then set a few bin lorries on fire.

So probably every 2nd corner has a huge mound of garbage. Lots of this rubbish will be in plastic bags that are then ripped open by the omnipresent cattle strolling and feasting on the all-day buffet that is household rubbish.

Alongside the household rubbish will be loads of coconut shells, bashed motor cycle helmets, discarded flower garlands from yet another festival or puja, plastic packaging and huge lumps of granite (that you could sell if in the UK) from various road and drain projects. Granite is the paving stone of choice in Bangalore as well as the fence post and actual fence ( 8 x 3 ft panels moved into place by people in flip flops of course! ) ).

So finally getting to my money making point - RECYCLING IS BIG BUSINESS IN BANGALORE . Every second street has a place where you can take cardboard, cloth, plastic (all types) , paper etc and be paid by the weight. Certain people scavenge in the rubbish and sift out the stuff to take for weighing. Farmers have offered to BUY the compost and come into the city to pick it up as the ground is so dry due to lack of rain that they need replacement fertiliser. So how come someone isn’t starting a business to do just that? I suggested that setting up a wee social enterprise and getting a ‘contract’ for the rubbish recycling around the school sifting plastic and sorting cardboard etc might be the perfect move on occupation ( and paid job) for the young people with learning disabilities that the charity I work at supports who are now too old for the school. They could encourage people to sort their recycling bins( give them the bins to do it). It would be practical work ( only for those who wanted to do it of course) and get away from the sometimes sympathy sales items of soap, candles and jute bags that most charities in India seemingly make. It would really enable them to contribute in a way that the community would notice and appreciate.

Nope. I think that there is a certain class or caste thing at play here. I think that it is considered too dirty to delve into rubbish and that possibly the untouchables used to(still do??) this sort of work. I tell you if I was sticking here I would be bloody tempted ( if I could have patience with the beauracracy – ok so that would never happen) . Where there’s muck there’s brass. I remember being really impressed that one of my Dad’s pals in the 70’s had his own helicopter. His job – Hanneys waste paper recycling – way ahead of its time!!

Photos: Being stared at, rubbish and Diwali

oonagh — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 00:30:00 GMT

Being stared at- grrrh

oonagh — Sun, 4 Nov 2012 23:48:00 GMT

Not since I was in primary school and adults used to stare at me then say things to me about my blue eyes ( too self conscious to see it as a compliment, just squirmed with embarassment) have I been so stared at. Admittedly I am the only white person for miles in the bit of Bangalore that I live and work in but I am not running round in shorts and t shirts. I wear long trousers and longish tops to work. yes I have short hair and have had people direct me away from the woman's toliets and changing rooms in shops ( always a useful reminder for me to pull my shoulders back and stick me chest out!) but I don't look like I come from planet Zorg. In Mysore where there are loads of white tourists guys kept trying to take my photo. I am beginning to get paranoid. Groups of men or young women will walk past , stare then start giggling or laughing. The laughter probably has nothing to do with me at all but it can really knock my confidence especially if it's one of those days where I'm feeling a wee bit lonely.

The wee cute children stare and giggle all the time but that is nearly always followed up with a "Hi" or I will say "Hi" and they will break into big smiles and say Hi back but when they become over 4 foot it suddenly isn't cute anymore, just bloody disconcerting.

In shops or restaurants groups will turn around and just stare blatently. Most of the time I try to ignore it but over the last couple of weeks I have become Mrs intolerent. I now just stare back and ask them what their problem is ( in my best curt English as compared to Kannadar but they always appear to know what I mean)! It doesn't make any difference. if they are going to stare they invariably find it even funnier to be spoken back to by me. Grrrhhh

If I have ever stared at anyone too long in my life I would just like to say "sorry". It won't happen again.

Photos: chats and other foods

oonagh — Sun, 4 Nov 2012 22:31:00 GMT

Oota, Idlis, Masala Dosa and the rest

oonagh — Sun, 4 Nov 2012 02:35:00 GMT

Food , spongy fermented rice cake, lentil flour pancake filled with potato masala( gorgeous). There are so many adverts on tv and billboards talking about diabetes, heart attacks and obesity. I had previously thought that Indian food was healthy and Indians on the whole slim. Not any more I don't. Not if they eat any of the food on offer outside their front doors!

On the end of my wee suburban street are 2 bakeries. They sell nothing but bad, bad calories and the smell is gorgeous. You can buy cakes of all colours that would make a French patisserie green with envy or traditional indian sweets like gulab jamuns ( deep fried balls of milk based dough, steeped in rose- flavoured syrup or those deep fried orange coloured squiggles with syrup inside (jalebis). There are cookies made with oil rather than butter. The ones I have eaten are glace fruit and fresh coconut pastries, lentil and paneer pastries and the scotch egg pastries ( hard work but I am a slave to authentic research). In a 5 minute walk to my regular restaurant there must be 20 more stalls selling hot chips ( fat in various spicy guises), cakes and more jalebis. They are all stacked in huge glass jars and bottles on display at the front of the stall. They all have lots of people buying them all the time. In between these food stalls are guys ( and it is usually always men doing the cooking on these) making fresh pakora, bhajis and alloo tikkis and again tons of guys standing around eating them fresh out of the sizzling fat. They don't come fresher than this.

However the point is people buying these are eating fat and sugar and plenty of it. Everyone eats these as snacks before an evening meal and as a lunch time meal. Go into a supermarket and there are more choices of fatty savoury snacks than types of rice. And that's another thing- in shops and restaurants you can only get white rice and white bread. I have not seen wholemeal, never mind rye bread since the day I arrived.

I couldn't work out why so many men were hanging around and eating from these food stalls but the penny has dropped. There are hundreds of thousands of people in Bangalore living away from their families who live in rooms ( often shared) in hostels or lodging houses. Like me they perhaps don't have kitchens (watching indian cookery programmes is the closest I am going to get to cooking anything never mind authentic Indian fare for my whole stay in Bangalore). So they will both get a meal and meet friends by hanging round a stall.

When I go to someones house for breakfast I will be offered rice based food or idlis or a dosa and coconut chutney. For lunch at school we have mostly rice with a veg side dish and a sambar ( diced vegetables in a thin dhal based sauce). The portions of rice that people eat are pretty huge. At school they also have a very dark brown millet based ball which has a consistency of slightly uncooked dough. I have a little of it bit it is pretty tasteless. At night people will eat about 8 or 9 and have lots more rice and a few vey or meat dishes. I have a good appetitie but I can only eat half the rice that most people eat.

I have found some wholemeal crisp things and really like them.If you read the advert and not the ingredients you would think you were eating diet food.

"NutriChoice the snack that loves you back.... zero cholestoral, low fat..low calorie" But on the ingredients it says they are 20% fat and 500 calories per 100grams! In teency writing it says " when compared to other fried snacks"!!!! not exactly diet food eh! Though again for research purposes I am eating as many of them as I can find to see if I can eat myself slim!

I suppose India is suffering the same epidemic as all developing/developed nations. We are sitting down more and doing less manual labour. I really hope that the men and women on the building sites are getting triple portions though. They are always really, really thin to the point of emaciated!

When I order food at a cafe no matter how good or bad a waiter's English is they always comment unbidden on whether something is spicy or not. They really have this idea that white ( or western folk) don't like spicy food. I am not a huge fan of very hot food but am trying to disabuse people of their views and will order fairly hot food. I usually regret it a teency bit next day but am willing to sacrafice my colon to break a few stereotypes!

Also when you go to peoples houses there is no strong smell of food as there can be when you make spicy food in the UK. Peoples kitchens here are much more open with many more windows and open doors so you just get a mix of lovely smells out on the street. The dish washing area will often be outside or in a very open area too. It makes me realise that when people come over to live in UK style houses which are so enclosed they must hate the smell staying around the house too. And people here wash their dishes in running water. No plugs for the sink or washing up bowls. Much more hygenic I assume.

Cultural nuances - jumbled thoughts that need revising

oonagh — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 00:39:00 GMT

Ok so I have been here for 6 weeks and have spent more of that time critically evaluating Indian cultural norms than I have ever spent examining Scottish or British cultural norms. So this entry is probably prejudiced or just rubbish. And the ones based on the NGO I work at are just that, about one organisation , not the whole of India.

meetings- They seem to finish without me knowing it. I will have asked for the meeting to discuss my project proposal. so I give them a day or 2 to read the proposal and then when we meet I ask them what their thoughts are on the proposal and they don't have any. They want to know what I want to do. There is no discussion, no reflection and no sense of critical evaluation. When i have stopped saying my bit the meeting is over. I might possibly be asked " have you anything else that you want to tell us". if I say well what do you think they just say "it's fine". No one then says "thanks oonagh we will discuss this and get back to you" or anything they just look at me and then start talking amonst themselves about something different as if I have just dematerialised. So i just stand up and leave and still they say nothing to me. You get used to it!

Education and schooling - Everyone here seems to really focus on what their education achievements are and so, so many people talk about having a Masters degree. lots of those people are really young and their are hundreds of colleges in Bangalore. Ex pats from lots of countries who are the bosses of or are recruiting Indian nationals talk about Indian school systems ( and to a lesser extent some of the independent Colleges) as being set up to teach rote learning but not the understanding that goes on behind the facts. School children are not taught to reflect, feel or think so much as to learn facts and figures so critical evaluation in the work place is not natural. There is an assumption that you do what you are told without question and that you don't think for yourself until you reach a level where you have to start managing other people. Respect for your manager is an absolute given. I am guilty of making sweeping statments here and this cannot be universal. At the NGO after a sports day a member of staff was nominated to do a speech. She , in very formal ( and old fashioned English) thanked their managers for being Managers.

Use of English. My spelling is poor and my grammar is only fractionally better. It is really interesting to both hear people talk in English and for me to read the newspapers. Spoken English can be very formal, poetic and/or from a different era ( thrice instead of 3 times, specatacles instead of glasses, a health warning that said" smoking is injurous to health") . Lots of people choose to speak English over Hindi or Kannadar. I haven't a clue why that surprises me but is does all the time. I was waiting in line for a ticket for a classical concert and lots of people were talking in English. I think it is because they speak with an accent ( obviously) that I think the language is foreign to them rather than it being their language . I think I am actually being racist about English!!! So much to get my head round. I think it's because I know that the English language was imposed on India that I think they should have rejected it in 1947 not kept it as the language of education and business.

Repeating - When someone tells me something they tend to repeat what they say at least 3 times. I thought that I was not giving the right non verbal or verbal response because even though I think that an arrangement had been made ( meet you here, at what time and we will go off and do this) I would turn to go away and the whole arrangment would be repeated again. I would get a little short and try and rush them through the repitition but that just makes the person stop and start from the beginning again. However more discussionn with other expats and socially or through work it's the same thing and also an observation that 2 folk from Bangalore ( or India in general) will do the same to each other.

Photos: Mysore Desara

oonagh — Tue, 30 Oct 2012 04:04:00 GMT

Mysore Dasara here I come

oonagh — Sun, 21 Oct 2012 23:04:00 GMT

To my shame I have been told what the Dasara festival is at least 4 times and have forgotten. It is one of the many Hindu festivals and you can all google it ( as I will again later!)

So, another chapter of my wee adventure began this morning at a local bus station. Krupa (the only person at the charity to befriend me or invite me home but there's another story and It is not about Indian culture I think it is just a Shristi thing) 's husband had booked a hotel for me and took me to the bus station at 7am for one of the many hundred of non stop buses to Mysore specifically for the Dasara. Non stop AC bus with totally reclining seatsfor 3 hours for £3 and a free bottle of mineral water!

Obligatory 10 min orchestral movement of high pitched bus horns. There are guys in brown uniforms with big sticks allegedly guiding traffic but no matter how officious they try to look everyone just ignores them. Past the live ( not for long) chicken market , the omnipresent temples with early morning devotees on their way to work. Shops are still closed so their brightly painted metal roller blinds advertise their as yet unavailiable produce( or cement- so, so many cement adverts).

The bus may have AC but the suspension doesn't give immunity from the effects of pot holes ( actually if 'pot' is supposed to signify the size of the hole then lets call them bath holes and that's luxury, tap at both ends, bath holes) or the the sleeping policemen road humps that as everywhere else induce motion sickness in me. Where are my accupuncture travel bands? Oh yes, safe and sound in a drawer back at my rooms!

The height of the but is perfect for looking at the scenery. it is 145 Km to Mysore and with every one of those Km's the roads get less cluttered and the greenery increases. This is lovely. Loads of rice fields, palm trees, houses in sort of plantation style, various trees with fruit I can't recognise, cars and taxis stuffed full of people on their way to Mysore.

On arrival at Mysore bus station you have to go to a kiosk and tell them where you are going and they will tell the auto rickshaw guy what he is allowed to charge you. Nice one! 40pence for a 5km ride. When I get to the hotel and check in I ask for a map of Mysore and they look genuinely shocked that i would want to walk places. 3 hours later and after a fantastic wander ( and a few wee purchases ) in the most brightly coloured and varied market stalls I have ever seen in my life ( pictures to follow) I get a map that has about 10 street names on it but the times for every bus from here to anywhere on it.

For about only the 3rd time since arriving in India I see white people wandering around. I have been told that there will be tons 'of you people' as Mysore is part of the do India in a month trail ( if Bangalore is on that itinery I advise you score it off and add a couple of days anywhere else- oops is the novelty of bumping along in an auto for at least an hour no matter where you want to go to wearing off Oonagh???). The highlight of the Dasara is a procession of elephants all dressed up with a solid gold throne on top of the lead one being lead by troops of musicians. They line the streets with raised platforms and it is ticketed affair. White folk have to go to a certain place and get tickets and we pay much more than locals. Quite right I am sure but I haven't bought my ticket yet so am going to try and find out what the price difference is. My tan hasn't quite developed ( nor have I the clothes, the mannerisms, the language skills or even the balls) to try and get a reduced price ticket!

There are mini parades every night but I am making the most of the hotel and watching big screen telly , having my first hot water since arriving in India ( so, so good. I have asked for it before and been told , politley, no and brought a really sweet milky coffee!!) and will dine in the hotel restuarant ( still only £3 to £4 for a meal)

When I came back from Goa after only a week last year I had to go through a swift reajustment to real prices ( offered to buy and then did buy about 8 people a beer in the local indian restaurant - nearly died) . So in a few months when I offer to take you and 10 of your close friends out for a meal politley refuse PLEASE!

"To say no twice means yes!"

oonagh — Mon, 15 Oct 2012 02:19:00 GMT

Bear with me, this story does have a point even though I do ramble and go off the point lots!!!

I am lucky to be living in rooms above my landlady and her family. Lucky because I am getting an insight into the 'normal' family life and non touristy bits of Bangalore. She is interested in me and my life in the UK, what I know about Indian and Hindu culture and keen to share with me everyday life for her and her family. I am also being supported by a local volunteer at Shristi who just lives 2 mins away from me. Both of them invited me for food yesterday and I learnt an important lesson in politeness ( I think).

I came back from morning shopping to be called into my landlad's house. I wasn't actually that hungry but knew that no wasn't an option. She ushered me in and directed me to sit on her granite work surface so that i could watch her cook me something. She semi told me off for not having been in earlier as she had wanted me to eat with her family but anyway she got the dosa batter out and showed me how to pour the batter on and spread it. She got out a variety of chutneys ( including my favourite - garlic, corriander , peppermint and coconut), some dhal and some slightly spicy fried rice. She then put gee on the dosa (a great pancake which can have anything added to it as it cooks- yum, yum) . Anyway , after washing my hands( seperate sink for hands in corner of living area in most houses ) I ate the first one with my hands. I was asked if I wanted a second one and said" no, no thanks I'm full but that was lovely" so she proceeded to make another one which I politley ate. She then asked me if I wanted a sweet one she had made earlier and I said " oh no, definately no I am full, but they were lovely". So she immediatley put one on my plate. feeling a wee bit bloated I ate it out of politness ( at school where I get 2 hot meals a day at breakfast and lunch the staff always look to see if I have left anything on my plate- it just aint done!) .

After a lovely chat with her and then her and her daughter inviting themselves upstairs so that I could share with them my non beauty routine - rosewater and witchhazel should you be so desperate to know- because they said that my skin was so clear ( may they never have their eyes tested) I sort of asked them to leave and then lay on the bed for 10 mins digesting both the food and the way that I had been 'forced' to eat my body weight in dosa.

I knew that I was going to Krupa's house in 2 hours to be fed again as part of a lovely generous offer to be part of a Puja ( prayers) and food . This one was for deceased relatives and elders. So by 12 I am back in front of another feast of colours and smells and tastes. This time it is served on traditional bananna leaves ( the leaves are sold in markets in huge stacks and are great recycling ideas. Seemingly they used to be what street vendors sold food in but were a wee bit too bendy and some of the food fell of so now vendors use what look like tetra pack containers ( juice and milk) that have been flattened out ( or never formed into packs - they all have chinese writing on them).

So I eat some beautiful salads and rices and dhal again and aubergine curry and freshly made roti and puri and biscuits and loads more, share conversation about how religions have so much more in common than they have difference ( based on the fact that some Christian churches have all souls day and all saints day too) . When asked if I want more ( the dishes are all in front of me but I think it is not the thing to help yourself) I insist that I am really really full . At this point a friend's son comes in to be part of the Puja ( share the food after a short prayer in front of a small shrine to Ganesh and other gods). he eats loads and then starts to refuse food from Krupa-who by the way does not eat with us but hovers to serve- her friends will arrive later. he is a lovely polite guy and when he says no Krupa still puts stuff on his plate so after the first time he has to say "no" firmly and physically push the pot and her hand away. Krupa's very gentle , lovelyhusband has to be just as firm. The young guy at this point looks at me and says " to say no twice means yes"

The penny drops.

It has also made me reflect on working with first generation people of Indian and Pakistani origin in Derby and how confusing 2 cultures with so many similarities have some very fundamental differences in what is considered polite - especially if you combine this with a number of people using the phrase " no problem" when they mean really mean " no chance" but don't want to hurt my feelings. Now that does vex me!

Photos: Bannerghatta National Park

oonagh — Mon, 15 Oct 2012 02:11:00 GMT

Things that can be carried on a moped ( part 1)

oonagh — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 13:13:00 GMT

Again no need to use my skills of embellishment. No need. My only dissapointment is that they zoom past so quickly I can't get photos of them.

- driver and 5ft square mirror

-driver and passenger holding aloft a 6ft wide arched fence panel

- driver and full bicycle ( held at his side)

- driver, 3 squashed kids and another adult at the back ( very common)

- driver and passenger both texting on mobiles whilst driving along

- driver with central heating water tank on lap

- driver holding umbrella in one hand whilst zooming along ( so wish I had got that picture)

- driver with 2 goats at his feet

- male driver with crash helmet female passenger hatless ( the norm)

-driver with cooker hob on lap

-driver with 5 or 6 sacks of tomatoes balanced on lap, on handle bars, on back seat

Yes? No? Maybe??

oonagh — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 13:41:00 GMT

Something that is hard to get my head round ( but am working on it) is when people ( not everyone and it might only be until someone gets to know you) nod to say "yes" in response to some questions or requests from me. There is a politnensss of not wanting to offend and a smile and a "Yes, Yes" but in fact the thing doesn't happen. I am fairly certain that it is not my non existant language skills but just that it is considered impolite to say no to me ( foreigners/ volunteers/someone older than you/????) even if you have no intention of doing the thing. So yes can mean" no" or "maybe" or " you will just have to wait to find out". I have to guess and the more you ask the question " areyou sure this is ok?" the more they will insist it is ok but in fact time will show you that it was going to be "No" all along.

Sunday strolling

oonagh — Tue, 9 Oct 2012 12:38:00 GMT

Word to the wise- don't go for a stroll in the parks of Bangalore on a sunday when you are feeling a wee bit homesick!

On one level it was lovely to see so many families playing "shuttlecock" and setting down huge picnics ( forget about a few wee sandwiches, we are talking taking the full meal to the park including the big pot of rice, the dhal, 4 or 5 other pots and tiffin containers and the freshly made breads). It is the only place I have seen families together . Often you see the men on their own at the tea stalls or on the steps of buildings/ around mopeds talking and watching. It is also the only public place I have seen young couples sitting closely together showing affection -no kissing (no I am not stalking, what happens in the bushes stays in the bushes!) and men of all ages being very affectionate ( I know it is what male friends do here but I am intrigued. We are not just talking losely holding hands but linked, bonded fingers , stroking arms and arms around each others shoulders. It is lovely to see and refreshing. Is it a natural result of the fact that in certain classes or castes men and women are not suppossed to meet on their own or show affection? Not a clue and haven't found anyone yet that I feel comfortable to ask. You see a few young woemn holding hands but that is far, far less.

Ok, so wee bit of sadness apart I had a great wander round. The weather was coolish ( perhaps about 27 degrees) and I started at the Bull Temple. This is a 16th Century temple perched on top of a hill in one of the oldest parts of Bangalore.Below is another temple to Ganesh with an 18ft high and 16 ft wide idol. I missed seeing the idol because there was a constant stream of the faithful going in and I felt too much of an outsider to interupt them but I did see the similarly sized black Bull (see photos). I didn't know whether it was appropriate to take photos as again there were faithful blessing themselves and 2 priests(?) taking offerings of money for a blessing. So I salved my cnscious, put money in the collection box and sneaked a few photos.

I felt a little smug because I had gone to the temple on my own in a rickshaw yet there were lots of white men being taken round the temples by guides in taxis. Admittedly they were getting a running commentary but this means having to go at someone elses pace and I just enjoyed people watching for a while. I need to be less cynical too as I was approached by 2 men who asked who I was and where I came from. I thought that he was trying to sell me something but he then introduced me to his wife and children and welcomed me to Bangalore. Lesson learnt Mckay!!

Then next to the temples was another lovely park where one section had a sign saying that it was a meeting place for the Bangalore laughter club.