<<     February 2007     >>

Not a drop

As I predicted, the banging and yelling did not fix the water problem and as such, we did not have water yesterday - again. We used liters and liters of the packaged mineral water we order for drinking instead.
Finally, late last night they brought in a water truck (like the one somewhere on this page) and pumped a bunch of the wet stuff directly into our buidling. We were thrilled to look forward to a morning when we could take showers, brush our teeth, do laundry, flush the toilet - the basic everyday things we take for granted even here.

But turning on the tap today brings forth a murky brown ick that I do not want to wash my hair or clothes with or put in my mouth even for the sake of brushing my teeth.

So far, in the two-plus years we've lived in Bangalore we've experienced 57 random days without electricity, 25 without water, and 79 without an internet connection. Funny, but these things actually seemed somewhat charming and interesting when I was living on the beach and could plunge into the Bay of Bengal for a quick rinse or fancy myself something of a pioneer, forced to negotiate my daily tasks without electricity. Now, it's just annoying.

There is no real point to this post other than to admit I'm feeling quite sorry for us today.

Otherwise, everthing is fabulous...

I like Neil Diamond

My government rocks.
Let me clarify: I did not vote for Bush and I do not believe much of anyone else did either and I do not agree with anything he's done lately including necktie choices and hairstlye. The guy really can't do anything right as far as I'm concerned - but the government itself; the offices, the cogs and bolts that keep the whole system running from the inside is really quite spectacular.
We've had nothing but great experiences with the U.S. government offices here in India - from the Embassy in New Delhi to the Consulate in Chennai they've been more than accomodating and ultimately gave us the V.I.P. treatment from start to finish.
Our recent interaction with them was no exception and I'm finding it so ironic, this strange and unfamiliar heartlight I have for the American government...but there it is.

We're this close to getting Hamid's visa and coming to America - but were waiting for the consulate to invite us for a personal interview and receive my sponsorship paperwork. With Hamid's visa to India expiring at the end of May every week that went by made us just a little more nervous. We were told to expect to wait at least two more months before we could plan to be at the Consulate, but that we would learn the outcome of our application during that very visit. While this was all well and good it was cutting it a little too close for our comfort so I called up the Consulate and told them how I was feeling and they said "OK!" and immediately sent us an appointment for March 5th.

There are now just ten days (count 'em - TEN) between us and what is likely one of the single most important meetings of our life.

What else is new?

I was forced today to think a bit slower than usual, which may not be a bad thing in general but was exceptionally frustrating considering I have a project deadline in less than five days and had slated this particular Saturday to really attack a large portion of it. Instead, I was reduced to sketching lame illustrations and finally, penning my growing aggravation on real paper.
We didn't have internet, again, and for no good reason as usual. Though the office we pay to keep us connected lists a myriad of them, each contradicting the other. They tell us they don't have electricity, then they tell us we don't have electricity which I can see quite clearly that we do. They tell us there is contsruction on the road outside our house which I can see quite clearly there is not. They tell us they will call their 'tech people' (a cramped office right in the back of their own dirty little shop strung with wires galore and housing nothing making any sense in terms of what would constitute a server).
Three hours later we still don't have internet and I'm practically jumping I'm so stressed about the lost time. Another call to explain for the umpteenth time that it is the crappy little hub they've installed on our roof that keeps dying every now and then that is the problem and I get lots of 'No madam...you should upgrade your service' and just when I'm about to be really, really mean they tell us they will come to our house to check it out.
Thirty minutes later and they have left the office and are not answering their cel phones. They are not on the way to our house.
We will not have internet today. I will get nothing done. And they don't care.
We've been through this before, and every time it happens which is at least once a month I threaten them with a non payment on our next bill but we know they are our only option and they know it is an empty promise.

I have ranted and raved about India for the past year, at least - really struggling with what I read back to myself later as a very grouchy disposition about this supposedly wonderful culture I'm immersed in. I mean, here I am living abroad, I should be going on and on about what a transcendental experience it all is and how much closer to my inner yogi I have become thanks to the peaceful nature of the people who surround me. But, no. There will be none of that.
I'm certainly way beyond the point of even pretending to play travel guide.

Now, I realize these things happen from time to time even in the first world. No technology is infallible and I remember well the sometimes months-long verbal warfare with massive telcos like AT&T and Qwest for exhorbitant bills full of calls I never made and even a five-hundred dollar bill for a 'business line' the phone company insisted I was responsible for even though I had just moved into my apartment and hadn't even actually set up a land line at all.

To top it all off we have had running water for a total of two hours today. Yesterday we did not have water at all. There are people out in the yard next door slamming away on the pipes and yelling at eachother about how best to address what is obviously a bigger problem than a ratchet and hammer and some yelling can fix - but no, they'll do things their own way and we won't have water tomorrow either.

Rehab

Lately, my hair is my worst enemy. What was once one of my absolute favorite parts of me is now something I prefer to chunk back in a rubber band, combing the bangs down into my face - the only real part of my mop I enjoy anymore.
Coupled with my sometimes-intense boredom and a growing need to redefine myself I have often pondered shaving my head altogether and just being done with growing out the beach blonde and sea water damage, starting over entirely.
I once read in an old issue of Vogue that in order to carry off very very short hair a woman has to be either exceptionally beautiful or exceptionally ugly. I would imagine that a shaved head would ring an even more severe truth to that statement.
Anyway, recent celebrity cavalcades have issued me a warning that screams without hesitation 'No, don't do it!' and so I put the scissors and shaver down to let it grow out and figure someone more talented than myself should be allowed to hack away at it at a later date.
Thanks Britney!

Wish list

We're scanning the houses available in the PDX metro area, as well as on the wonderfully rainy Oregon coast (although I don't know if either of us is really prepared for the small-town life that would offer) and finding it a fascinating, as well as sobering, lesson.
I think I need a book, 'House Buying for Dummies' - if there is such a thing...there are so many aspects involved in buying a home, things I could never have conceived of. It's overwhelming, but still fun - and at this point is really just virtual window shopping more than anything else.
But instead of Jimmy Choo in the foreground and color/texture/heel size rotating in the back of my mind, I'm contemplating location, view, number of bedrooms...and for once, the price tag of the thing I want scares the heck out of me.
When I buy a pair of designer shoes or a new dress I'm looking at the next season or max, the year ahead; how does it suit what I've already got, and does it make me look/feel fabulous - a house is a whole 'nother ballgame.
When we buy this thing, whenever we find that perfect home, we're looking at paying for it for the next 20 to 30 years. Years. It's like a marriage - "Do you, the account of Tess Strand Alipour and Hamid Alipour take thee, the Bank of Holier Than Thou Mortgages, to be your lawfully wedded (and somewhat tortuous in concept) partner in moneyspending?"
I don't buy things on credit (anymore). The only bills we have to manage are somewhere around a couple hundred dollars a month: server, cel phone, advertising budget, etc. And now we're looking at anywhere from fifteen hundred on up, and that's if we get a decent rate. I haven't had credit cards for years, and I like it that way - a debit card does just fine for managing what needs - and now we're talking mortgage? It's something of a dirty word - extended credit in such large amounts.

My brother, bless his brilliantly Microsoft-nestled heart, purchased a million dollar home on Seattle's waterfront, and then another on the east coast where his gorgeous wife accepted a new job. It boggled my mind, the idea of payments, monthly payments, on a million dollar house...much less two of them. We're looking at tastefully located homes at about a third of that value and I'm still cringing at the prospect of actually paying for it.

Being self employed, in this case, has its drawbacks - as does having not respected the Church of Extended Credit that was a regular house of worship in my early twenties. Banks are unlikely to shower affections upon me, particularly at such an early stage of business growth (as fabulous as it is, does not vouch for me enough to cancel out the damage I did weilding my plastic purchasing weapons.)

It's a reality I've not yet stepped into completely, unlike the Kors that fit the foot like a glove and are relatively easy on the bank account even at the 'fetish' level of purchasing - a house and the massive shouldering of responsibility that accompany such a purchase is something to grow into.

Princess...with a palace to match

I'd forgotten, honestly, how gorgeous India is. I've been whining away these past few months about the dirt and the noise since our return from Iran, really getting bogged down in this bad attitude about the place I've chosen to live, specifically the last two years being in Bangalore. As it turns out I just had Bangalore-city-syndrome (yes, I made this up...).
India's expansive plains and farms, the big wide sky overhead capping the palm tree groves, massive green rice paddies dotted with the women who crouch over their work picking the tiny grains, the little villages along the road - it's amazing. My feelings about Bangalore are just a symptom of the Indian big city and I'd fallen into the trap of forgetting about all the other wonderful places this country has to offer.

As we drove out of Bangalore (it takes like an hour to actually get out of the city) I had the ridiculous and immediate realization that I was in India. I know it sounds strange, to realize you're in a place when you've been there anyway for ages - but that's just what happened for me. It's the places in between the cities that remind me of why I fell for this place to begin with and our recent road trip was truly eye-opening.
We've been traveling by plane so much lately, from city to city, I've missed out on the real nature of what India has to offer, which is an endless supply of adventure, natural beauty, and views you cannot conceive of even from the pictures below.

So, we ended up at literally the last minute deciding to go to Ooty (the real name 'Ootacamund' cut short by and for the benefit of the old British colonials who made their summer vacation homes in the best of India's hill stations).
Kodaikanal is a ten hour drive from Bangalore and I was loathe to sit in the car, as nice as our hired vehicle was, for such a long time. When our driver insisted that Ooty is a zillion times better than Kodai, that he'd been there every year for the past 14, and knew of any number of fabulous hotels he could put us and our darling little dog in we said 'What the heck!' and allowed him to drive off with us and our gear in the opposite direction.

The six hour drive to what is called the Queen of Hill Stations was great, we stopped for masala watermelon slices and coconut at the side of the road a few times, as well as to allow Mooshy to alleviate his sudden carsickness (poor thing!) and as we entered the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu found ourselves in the middle of a huge nature reserve. We drove slowly past elephant families, monkies galore, and deer amidst a dry Indian jungle...gorgeous.













We reached the foot of the mountains that enfold Ooty and it's neighboring towns and looked up to see that we would be travelling 3,000 meters further, nearly straight up through 36 back-and-forth hairpin turns, to leave behind the hot desert air for the cooler forest air of the mountains.
With each turn the air cooled by at least two degrees and I was noticeably and blissfully cold just halfway up the winding hill.
Set into the amazing view from this narrow road were little brightly painted houses sitting atop terraced farmland - picture postcard darling.

We continued on in this way, the houses becoming more and more common among the hills, until we were among the people and their animals. A beautiful way of life. As I do with any place I fall for I began mentally calculating the possibility of taking up residence among the trees and crystal clear waterfalls, and squat little homes with outdoor fires smoking away under breakfast or lunch for whomever. But the inability to conceive of internet or even electricity in some of these areas quickly cut the concept down to realism and I settled for enjoying it all just for the weekend.

We passed through many deep, green valleys - craning our necks out the window looking for the best place to choose a hotel, but our driver insisted on pressing further, into a little valley area called Lovedale (quaint, I know). He pulled up in front of a hotel (the Sagar Cottages) that sat into one side of the most expansive valley I've ever seen, populated far below by little villages, a small train track (which would later prove to be a great source of entertainment as it rolled through beneath us a few times a day), and mountains above on all sides. We were led down a very long row of terra cotta steps to our room - a marble tiled wonder with a massive bathroom and an even more massive balcony that provided a picturesque view of our surroundings - a space truly fit for royalty.







I ran around the room with an equally excited Mooshy muttering happily to myself that I am a spoiled, spoiled girl and feeling very much like a princess in a palace.
We flung the doors to the balcony open, and left them that way nearly throughout our stay - even into the bitingly cold nights. The air was crisp and pure and clean and the sunlight poured forth onto my skin and it actually felt good for the first time in as long as I can recall, tempered by the cool mountain air.

I rearrange the furniture in our room toward some semblance of Feng Shui - perplexing the staff who are already making deliveries of sustenance and drink to our room, and we settle down into the plush sofa which I've pulled nearly onto the balcony.
We decide we can stay here for four days, never leave the room, and be perfectly happy - the view is that spectacular.

We will go out a few times to explore the area, the touristy things people are meant to do, taking Mooshy along with us everywhere we go to the dismay of the locals. For four days we soak in the atmosphere and laugh and eat too much and hike around inside the hills and get chased by insane bovine (another story for another day) and watch Mooshy frolick around and try to eat everything that crosses his path. An excellent vacation, to say the least.







Our last day there a thick fog creeps in slowly, starting at around one in the afternoon. By three it has taken over most of the valley beneath us. By six we cannot see the mountains across the valley or behind us. The villages below exist now only for the sweet tinny sound of village music streaming up to us. By seven we cannot see beyond the balconies beneath our own. It descended with a snap of especially cold air, and we were ensconced within the blanket of clouds - so thick we could feel them in our lungs, pulling them in with each breath.

Where we stayed:
The Sagar Cottages
Off season prices - Rs 1500 plus 12.5% luxury tax (about $40 U.S. per night)
On season prices - Rs 2,000 plus tax.
Luxury hotel or no, it's still India and this means endless phone calls to management to rectify the parade of dinner orders carrying anything from cockroaches to tea water full of floating whatnots along with the paneer mushroom masalas and biriyanis. A 'luxury tax' does not ensure anything when it comes to cleanliness in the hotel kitchen, but the view from our room and a learned understanding that this is 'just the way things are here' tempers any frustration.

Dreaming of Tehran

Listening to Ahmadinejad from Tehran's Freedom Square (a beautiful structure we spent a few late evenings enjoying from the park below during our last trip to Iran) via CNN this afternoon, I cannot help but reiterate my previous opinion that Iran should be entitiled to develop nuclear power for it's nation without threats or interference from the first world, if for no other reason than to avoid the obviously hypocritical stance of the U.S. - a nation with the largest stockpile of nuclear weapons on the planet - and nuclear power and weapons are far flung, although the administration would have us believing otherwise; that they may as well be the same thing.
I've always enjoyed listening to Ahmadinejad speak - arriving at a more realistic understanding of his message when translated by my husband who has no reason to skew the President's words toward the maniacal verbal wanderings the Bush agenda would have the American public believe are being spoken. His philosophy, while consistently Islamic in foundation and tone, is very easily generalized to encompass all peoples and faiths (the country is populated by all manner of religions, including Christians, Jews, and the Mulsim interfaith). He has nothing to prove, and will not be cowed - good for him, I say.
In any case, nothing Ahmadinejad has said today sounds particularly hard-line or tyrannical...but it's up to the American media to translate and interpret the words of the Iranian President with honesty.
It will be interesting to see how the speech is handled and presented in the West via the various media outlets; one can only hope...
They are already speculating that his lack of message 'means something more.' As if anything and everything was fraught with hidden agenda. They are desperate to find something with which to pick him and his words apart.

At the same time, with this renewed focus on Iran at the anniversary of their revolution, the media reminds me through the lens how beautiful the country is and how warm the people are and I am so excited to be able to look forward just three and a half months to when we will once again wake up each morning in our spacious Tehran apartment, spending our days beneath Tochal - the snowy mountain that looms literally in our backyard, and enjoy our Persian family.

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