Curriculum Bella Vita

Another February Video

2012-02-27T10:29:00.004-08:00

why i don't walk much in the HYD

2012-02-19T06:11:00.001-08:00

my own favorite houseguest

2012-02-05T05:27:00.000-08:00

when kiekhaefer meets kerala

2012-01-29T05:26:00.000-08:00

the great family visit

2012-01-22T05:26:00.000-08:00

haulin' to hampi

2012-01-16T05:25:00.000-08:00

the romance of rajasthan

2012-01-10T05:24:00.003-08:00

Jaipur's a great city to visit, i can see why it's one of the recommended stops on short stays in India.

The city center is a quick 330 rupee taxi ride from airport. The Umaid Mahal palace proved a pleasant place to stay, but a bit of a hike from the interesting places. Saturday, we headed early to the Amber Fort and Palace, a cool a place as India has to offer. An imposing massif straddling a strategic hillside, it's the india you see in books. Super cool history and amazing places to wander, even without a guide. By afternoon, our trusty tuktuk driver had us at the Dera Amer elephant safari, half-an-hour outside of the city limits. The ladies picked it as their giant splurge item in India, a $100 luxury that proved well worth it. From our sweet lime juice welcome at the gate to the final all-you-can-eat bonfire dinner, we savored live as prince and princesses. We bathed and scrubbed our new elephant BFF, the friendly Rangmala. Afterwards, we painted her snout before hoping aboard for an hour-long canter through the desert brush. Drinks and appetizers around a fire, even no-haggling shopping. It was a pretty awesome way to spend a day before crashing back at the hotel.

Sunday, we strolled through the old city, where the aging building facades are a pleasant sanstone with a tink of pink, giving the city its nickname. The city palace is uninspiring, but the Jantar Mantar astrological park is cool, but it doesn't make much sense without a guide. Hawa Mahal, though, is the perfect architectural gem to wander through and snap pictures from each and every angle. Dinner at Mediterrano, a rooftop Italian rooftop, offers great views and even, should you push, special tea.

But pound for pound, Udaipur might just be the most darn pleasant place i've been in India.

We took a night sleeper bus from Jaipur, just finding the right spot was a nerve-wracking exercise in clueless wandering that isn't recommended for the new-to-India. The ride, though, proved relatively cheap and relatively comfortable once we were shepherded into our compartments. By morning we were sipping drinks overlooking the beautiful Lake Palace and mountains beyond. The City of Lakes definitely has a unique feel to it amongst indian cities, and the streets are surprisingly walkable. Hotel Mandiram Palace was a great choice, but the best surprise was a tasty burrito dinner with a great view at 1556. The City Palace museum had me at wits end, but the boat ride out to Jagamandir is a perfectly relaxing way to go. The Udaipur airport's a bit of a drive from the city center, but it's quite nice and modern. A great landing point if you can catch one of the rare direct flights to/from Hyderabad.

i get a good feeling

2012-01-03T05:17:00.000-08:00

Rachel knows me better than any person on this planet. We share Camp Nan A Bo Sho and ALPs. Her friends are my friends and my friends are her friends. She followed me out to DC once, and even as far as Hungary. It’s a bit of an odd role for one of my best friend from college’s little sisters to fill, but we’re long past that.

And Sara’s an all-time fav. A facilitator of fun and merriment. I met her when Rachel was off studying in Spain. A com-dis replacement of sorts, but I swore they’d become fast friends when Rachel returned. Sure enough, the ladies both live in Milwaukee these days, the closest of friends.

And daring enough to make the journey to India.

Quite a few friends proposed at some point or another a New Years visit but only Rachel and Sara emailed proud pictures of their new visas in November. For two months we excitedly planned out a two-week super adventure.

I’m pretty good at the hosting schtick by this point. And in truth, it’s not that hard when you’ve got a four-bedroom apartment and a staff of two.

Hugs at the airport are always the best, followed by a question-and-answer-packed car ride. Usually the same questions, mostly the same answers. Does anyone own those cows? Who is watching those goats? Why are there four languages on each sign? Does someone really live there? What is that smell?

Early morning arrivals are the best. The ladies landed from Abu Dhabi at 3:05 am, the first of the Middle East flights to arrive, which allows you to slip through the crowds and make a relatively peaceful return to my place. And when you time it right you can get a quick nap in before waking for the day relatively refreshed.

By Friday afternoon, they were ready to peek into the consulate to watch the start of the annual consulate cricket match before lunch at Chiran Fort. After checking out Hussain Sagar and Lumbini Tower for the umpeenth time, I pulled out all the stops in honor of the girls’ arrival: the grand opening of Chef Inam’s new steakhouse on Road 2! Our favorite restaurant by far, Chef Inam’s graduated from a dingy concrete box at Masab Tank to a cute and clean restaurant behind Melting Moments across from KBR park, just up from Coco’s. If you like mean, you’ve gotta put it on your Hyderabad short-list.

Saturday, New Years’ Eve day, we trapse through the history of Golkonda Fort and the Qutb Shahi tombs. After a pizza dinner, we napped and pregamed before a pricey New Years’ Eve at Rain. Sadly I was removed from the dance floor for dancing “stag” at one point, but after we met some new Satyam friends, the evening turned around quickly. Until the party ran out at 1am, of course.

After a rest, recovered and planning day on Sunday, we hit the Old City on Monday. I hit two Hyderabadi highlights for the first time, the Birla Planetarium & Science Center and the Salar Jung museum. The planetarium was fun, a nice little time-pass in a nice little area of the city. The science museum’d be a great place to take a 10 year old. And the Salary Jung museum was a pretty good collection, even if a bit random and labeled only rather spartanly. The ladies liked the Charminar a bit more than trapsing aimlessly through the streets of Lal Bazaar, but I did see an antique wall clock unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I decided immediately that I wouldn’t leave Hyderabad until its mine.

And as die-hard Badgers, we awoke at 3 am this morning to watch the mighty boys from Wisconsin battle in their second consecutive Rose Bowl. Rachel and I toasted Miller Genuine Drafts while Sara broke out the cheese. Friends back home dug our late night/early morning photos, at least until the 4th quarter, when Big Red ran out of steam versus a pretty darn good Oregon team.

The ladies are off to Goa for a few days now before we headed to Rajasthan, my first adventure outside of Andhra Pradesh in far too long. Cameras will be put to good use!

A Very Bekes Christmas

2011-12-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

Avid readers of Hungarian Goulash might remember that “bekes” is Hugarian for “peaceful.” And thanks to friend-of-a-friend Laura, my first Indian Christmas was extra “bekes” this year.

Laura and I had only met once, years ago at Cooper Amy’s wedding. Sadly, she claims no Hungarian heritage. She quit an NGO consulting job not too long ago and decided some time in Asia is what she needed next. When I heard she planned to spend a few months traveling India, I was quick to put out the invite. India and this apartment, simply, are more fun when you’ve got someone to share it with.

For two months she hiked Nepal, circling Annapurna and climbing to Everest Base Camp. By the middle of December, though, she was getting cold in the mountains, so I recommended she arrive in time for a Zakir Hussain concert at the Chowmahallah Palce. A glorious evening of tabla in the nicest nighttime setting Hyderabad has to offer. And the drive back offered the mood-lit Charminar at night, a first for me.

Another first? The Andhra Pradesh State Health Museum. Tucked into a small building in the Public Gardens just up from the Andhra Pradesh State Museum, between L.B. Stadium and the Assembly. The three-chambered exhibit is an honest-to-goodness time capsule, transporting you straight to 1991. Nothing’s changed. The dust, the exhibits, the population figure: 790,000,000. The information is an amazing glance at health propoganda from a rural country emerging into modernity. Free and worth the visit, although they don’t allow anything other than sly pictures.

After a quick trip to Goa, Laura was back in time for Christmas. Complete with a quaint little tree in the living room, we opened packages and wined and dined with consulate friends.

And Boxing Day brought my first visit to Snow World, one of Hyderabad’s other best kitsch hotspots. For 300 rupees, you get to suit up and set into a giant freezer, a paradise at -5 degrees Celsius. The best part, of course, is the people-watching that comes with seeing local folks feel winter for the first time. Ever. And below Snow World? Some surprisingly good go-karts. With a track built into a cave, as that makes the most sense.

Controlling Off

2011-12-14T08:38:00.000-08:00

Sometime in the grind of a visa mill, it's pretty easy to imagine myself as just a bureaucrat and forget that i've got a pretty sweet job. Not so wednesday, my first chance to be a control officer, coordinating a big-shot's visit.

I have a small note card, written many years ago during a bout of career planning angst in either Green Bay or Madison, that says: "DREAM JOB: right-hand man to the ambassador to India." it's debatable whether that imagine best matches with a staff assistant role or the far more important Deputy Chief of Mission, but what's not up for debate is that India's current Deputy Chief of Mission -- the number two guy at one of the most important embassies in the world -- is an outstanding diplomat and a fantastic leader. And a wonderfully easy-going guy to work with.

Duties du jour? Coordinating the schedule on short notice, wearing a suit, looking good in a suit, expediting airport arrival, balancing conversation and blackberry time during drive-time, explaining fish-shaped buildings next to the airport flyover, facilitating meetings, touring manufacturing plants...and answering visa questions.

The coolest part? First time i've ever seen everything go according to plan for an entire day in India. And it was my plan.

The More Fortunate Enclave

2011-12-11T08:37:00.000-08:00

Fun consulate-sponsored AIDS awareness concert at the Public Gardens friday night. wish more people could have enjoyed it, but the set-up was great. cool stuff to listen to.

Double fun birthday party saturday. A pushing-the-boundaries-at-11:30-pm dance party, a reminder that we have such a great consulate crew. really really lucky.

and a big dose of dog-sitting, laugh-sharing, driving-teaching, turkey-eating, movie-watching and other verbs a plenty with new friends. really really nice.

Nagarjunakonda Roadtrip

2011-12-03T08:33:00.001-08:00

The list of things I miss about America is long. It's topped by Chipotle, of course, but somewhere not to far down the list you'll find "good ole-fashioned roadtrips."

Not too many "tourist destinations" within driving distance in this chunk of India. Guidebooks usually call Andhra Pradesh, in a variety of diplomatic phrases, something along the lines of a "subtle charmer." I've broken out on wheels just once, a bus trip to Laknavaramu with the Adventure Club. (Treks out to Bhongir only count as a mini-excursion, i've decided.) Atop my to-do list of regional destinations, higher than even noted Wall Drugs of the Deccan like Medak, Nizamabad, and Bidar, was Nagarjunakonda.

I got antsy sitting in Hyderabad since coming back from Nepal, so I convinced coworker Sarah* and new friends Aliza* and Mandy* to load up with Raghu and I and two burned CDs. We set out on the three-hour (150km) drive to Nagarjunakonda, a relatively pleasant drive down a relatively decent road.

The earthen dam itself is pretty impressive, and the reservoir'll the best looking body of water i've seen in months. I was allllllmost tempted to jump in. The valley was an international hub of buddhism back in the 200-300 AD range. The site was excavated in the 1930s, but was threatened when construction began on the dam in the 1960s. the ingenious solution? dig up the ruins and plop them on a hilltop, set to become an island in the new reservoir. The result is a pleasant island park, gardens and paths linking museums and reconstructed ancient buddhist structures. The one-hour ferry and entrance fee combine to about $5 a head, not an unreasonable price for a pretty pleasant out of doors experience. Worth the three-hour trip, if you've got time to kill in the Hyderabad metropolitan region. Two-and-a-half stars out of five.

* Denotes an awesome individual.

It's Business (Executive) Time

2011-11-30T07:32:00.000-08:00

Most of the time i forget about New India. The India that everyone's writing books about. Masters theses. Newspaper articles. Business case studies. Magazine pieces. College essays. But then every once in a while i go out to Hi Tech City/Gachibowli/Cyberabad/Madhapur, and i'm like "Wow." It's amazing. A whole new world out here.

And thanks to JDB for bringing business time into my world with a mixed cd.

Thankful in India

2011-11-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

For all my travels, i've only been out of Wisconsin twice for Thanksgiving. Last year, a Lexington thanksgiving with the rymers was hardly an unpleasant alternative to home. But my first Thanksgiving away from home, many years ago in far off Hungary, was tough. Three months into the academic year, Thanksgiving comes at a hard time. The adventure is no longer new, you're no longer enjoying the honeymoon of excitement. But you still haven't necessarily learned how to make the best of the chaos, the confusion, the contradictions of the adventure abroad. Even surrounded by fantastic friends in Nyiregyhaza six years ago, the best i could muster, when prodded to share a thankfullness at that Hungarian feast in 2005, was "I am thankful this not my permanent reality."

This year in Hyderabad, i hosted an epic Thanksgiving: 35 young Americans, along with a few token Indians and a Brit. they're all attached to an affordable private school for the year, not necessarily as teachers but as "educational business consultants," hoping to create programs and strategies to empower the entreprenuerial side of the family-owned-and-operated schools. (we threw in two Clinton Fellows and an air force attache for good measure.)

It has made an incredible difference in my happiness in India to have met and befriended the IDEX fellows the past three months. Starting with Frisbee Jess and her roommates to people i met for the first time Thursday. They're fun people who are here in India with an inspiring attitude. But it must be said that living in India is hard. It feels funny to say that in a marble-floored, four bedroom, eight sink home, but it's true. Ten percent of the fellows have already packed up and left, for whatever reasons, and others are debating the same.

I have a home and oven, the two biggest pre-requisites for merriment this time of year, so i invited the IDEXers to take over my kitchen for two whole days. (I am nothing, after all, if not willing to be used for my oven for the purposes of baked goods.) Nikki and her google-doc-assigned crew slaved over the stove. She had orchestrated a two-day schedule, down to the minute, to get everything finished and hot at the right time. The schedule, of course, had to take the daily power cuts into consideration. In beween preparations, we watched My Name is Khan, Old School, Last of the Mohicans, Love Actually, recorded football and Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving.

Right before kickoff of the feast, they asked me -- the graying elder statesman -- to say a little something something. i was flattered, as i usually am. In a grace of sorts, I shared my thoughts from many years ago in Hungary. The befuddled, bemused pessimism of my thankfulness in Hungary elicited as many nods as chuckles. But that's half the point of thankfulness. The Pilgrims were in a tough spot. A foreign land, a hard spot to eek out plentifulness and happiness, surrounded by Indians. But they asked for help, they tried different things until they found the strategies that worked for survival and understanding, they carved out a comfortable life for themselves. And that's exactly what we've all got to do, in a foreign land, whether we're 31 year old diplomats or 23 year old volunteers. It can be a hard process, but it makes you twice as thankful for the support you have on this continents and others and the extraordinary privilege you have to be able to travel the world as incredibly lucky individuals.

And - of course - doubly thankful that this isn't our permanent reality, either, just one part of the adventure of our choosing. Egeszsegedre to that.

Skill Level C+

2011-11-19T07:42:00.000-08:00

The basketball squad's performance in the AmCham basketball tournament? Quite respectable:

3-1 in pool play!

Only two season-ending injuries!

And a tough semifinals loss to a team that could both dribble and shoot... Oops.

How to Teahouse Trek in Langtang, Nepal

2011-10-31T16:59:00.000-07:00

Imagine backpacking without having to carry the weight of a tent or food, along with the simple pleasures of a mattress every night and the possibility of a hot shower every day. Add in a heaping dose of the greatest mountains on this planet and now you see why teahouse trekking in Nepal is such a hit.

“Teahouse trekking” could be called guesthouse trekking, you hike your way through an established network of cheap and easy hiker-friendly accommodations. You can count on ample teahouse facilities (guest houses, homestays and food options) in three distinct areas of Nepal: Annapurna, Everest Base Camp, Langtang. Some other areas, like Mustang, are close to having the complete package, but the risk of bad timing or a full-house means that almost all groups pack back-up tents/food just in case.

We picked Langtang for a few reasons. It’s the closest to Kathmandu, and we didn’t want to waste too much of our ten days on transportation. It’s also relatively untrampled. While the other areas see 50,000-60,000 hikers per year, Langtang sees only a tenth that many. Plus, Ann had just finished the full Annapurna circuit, she wanted to see a new part of the Himalayan range. The end of October was the perfect time of year to go. Excellent weather, afternoon clouds but no real rain. My yearly dose of fall wrapped into one week, pretty nice respite from Hyderabad. Many hikers, but not too many, most nights we were the only people in our guest house.

From Kathmandu, it’s an 8-hour bone-jarring bus ride to Syabrubesi. You catch the relatively unorganized bus at Machha Pokhari, just off the “ring road,” and within four minutes you’re climbing up the forested mountainside. The trip is uncomfortable, but dirt-cheap, less than $5 for a ticket. After lunch, and a few harrowing mountain passes, get out at Dunche to buy your $20 hiking permit if you haven’t done that in Kathmandu. (Lesson Learning: Failure to do so, will result in a lost day of disheartening backtracking.) Some trails depart from Dunche, or stay on the extra hour until Syabrubesi, a peaceful little one-road town. Soon, the new Chinese-funded road will make the voyage quite a bit less adventurous. Settled into any one of the many guest houses before beginning the hiking push in the morning. We liked the friendly Potala Guest House.

Before we hit the trail, a word on guides. I’d recommend hiring a guide and porter, either in Kathmandu or in Syabrubesi. We didn’t, as Ann felt like a pro after finishing a three-week trek and I figured a guidebook and a bit of Hindi were good enough to get the job done. A guide would have saved us a few hassles along the way and a porter would have made the hike a little more fun on the body. Plus, it’s a great way to better see and support the human side of these amazing mountains. As for a book, we hiked with Lonely Planet’s Trekking in the Nepal Himalaya. Great maps and insight. I bought a 1:120,000 Langtang National Park hiking map published by NepaMaps in Syabrubesi for under $10.

Day One: Syabrubesi (1500m) to Lama Hotel (2480m)

Due to a permit snafu, we had to take a triangular two-day detour through Thulo Barkhu, Dhunce, Brabel and Thulo Syaphru, but there’s no reason not to take the straightest route from Syabrubesi to Lama Hotel. The trail follows the main river up the valley, and you’ll start getting great alpine views in no-time-flat. Hot Springs and Bamboo are both great lunch spots. Lama Hotel itself isn’t anything to write home about, but you’ll be tired after a long day of fantastic hiking, especially the final push, the long climb up to the highest point of the day, Upper Rimche.

Day Two: Lama Hotel (2480m) to Langtang (3430m)

Half-way through the second full day of hiking, the valley opens up from the forested V-shape of a river valley to the awesome alpine tundra of a class U-shaped glacial valley. By the time you reach the small village of Langtang, it’s the Nepal you were expecting: yaks nibbling grasses and grains under the shadows of the world’s greatest peaks. Their milk makes for the world’s cutest little cheese factory just a short walk from any of the dozen or so guesthouses. The Pilgrime Guesthouse was the newest, nicest facility we stayed in all week.

Day Three: Langtang (3430m) to Kyanjin Gompa (3860m)

Altitude starts to play a factor at and above Langtang. Even with a reasonable acclimation schedule, it seemed that 10-20% of trekkers struggled above Langtang, even if the porters were still cruising past in jeans and flip-flops. We met quite a few parties of 4-5 people where one of the hikers decided to stay back at Langtang while everyone else pushed on to Kyanjiin Gompa. The third day’s hike itself isn’t as tough as the previous two days, and the glaciers and boulderfields make for great distraction. The cheese factory in Kyanhin Gompa isn’t quite as flavorful, but the cluster of guesthouses has a chipper feel of international celebration to it. The Mountain View guesthouse was more than adequate.

Day Four: Day Hike to Kyanjin Re (4600m)

Get an early start on the crawl up to one of the most spectacular places I’ve stood on this planet. We huffed and puffed up the “gully path to the right,” and returned via the more direct route. After a two hour climb, amazing 360 degree views, high above the little village far below. An epic capstone to an incredible hike into the heart of the Himalaya. Do consider spending a second or third night in Kyanjin Gompa and making an even braver day trip to the top of Tsergo Ri (4984m) or up the valley to Langshisha Kharka (4100m).

Days Five and Six: Descent to Syabrubesi

Two days is a reasonable time to schedule for your descent, although some folks tried to do it in one fell swoop. We were pretty beat on our longest downhill day, Langtang to Bamboo, or about two-thirds of the total descent. Whichever way you do it, the final beer in Syabrubesi tastes perfect! On your return, inquire about booking a ticket on one of the buses waiting on the main road for an early morning departure, although expect the locals to try and bamboozle you into paying more for a seat in a private jeep (about $60 for two people). After the hike, though, you’re likely to think the upgrade is worthwhile.

A Nepali Case Study: The Differences Between India and China

2011-10-28T09:17:00.000-07:00

China and India are big. That’s their similarity. The two hugest (by far) populations in the world, racing toward development at hyperspeed not seen anywhere else on the planet. (In large part, though, that’s just because they both have a lot of catching up to do.) And it just so happens that these two goliaths share a jagged, contested border.

But in so many ways – their priorities, how the organize their people, how they strategize for the future – they’re pretty darn distinctly different countries, cultures and societies.

Just one example: the differences in the way India and China are providing development aid to the little kingdom sandwiched between the two giants, Nepal.

After our eight-hour, 120-kilometer journey winding north from Kathmandu, we arrived at Syapru Besi, as far as the road reaches towards the Nepali-Chinese border. You can see the mountains of Tibet, though, not far in the distance, marking the start of China.

The last three hours of the drive had been excrutiatingly slow, as every year the monsoon rains wash out giant cuts in the road, forcing a slow rebuild from boulders down the gravel, a rather bone-rattling work-in-progress. But as we rounded the last corner, a high arching bridge, still under construction but already a work of art, spanned the glacial melt river before leading the road into Syapru Besi. Why make the investment of a fancy new bridge at the end of a road that gets washed out every year, I wondered.

It wasn’t until I saw the sign in front of one of the small storefronts in the village that I figured it out. And the language on the trucks hauling rock. And the work crew in the truck. China. China was paying for the bridge. And the goal was more than just development aid in a less-developed neighbor. China was working on extending the road all the way into Tibet, a new, expensive, sturdier, higher capacity road closer to the river in the very near future. The bridge is just the first step of the Chinese investment, a rather practical, strategic, tangible investment at that.

While in Syapru Besi, we saw evidence of India’s investments in its northern neighbor, too, but they looked much differently. We met two 30-something gentlemen in our guesthouse dining room one evening. Both had said they had studied in India. One was the lucky recipient of one of the many scholarships that the Indian embassy hands out to Nepali students every year. A commitment to the human contact and partnership between the two countries. (Even the new Nepali prime minister, a Maoist cum parliamentarian, earned his PhD in India. To much fanfare in the Nepali and Indian press, he made his inaugural trip to Delhi as prime minister during our time in the country.) And on the road, another sign of India’s development aid. An ambulance, hard to tell if it was a hand-me-down or not, emblazed with the label of Indo-Nepali friendship.

It will be interesting to see which wins hearts and minds better, infrastructure or people power. Nepal will be one of laboratories. The other will be the trajectories of the countries themselves.

Teaching Eighth Grade

2011-10-18T01:31:00.000-07:00

So what is it that a bunch of 8th graders, sitting in Wisconsin, wonder about India when they read a chapter in their world geography textbook? Thanks to my friend and former roommate Jerome, now i know:

1) We read that animals like monkeys and cows are seen as holy in India and can pretty much roam the streets as they please; is this true and have you seen this happen? (Hannah, Sam)

2) How is it possible that India has a booming economy yet many many poor people? (Isaac, Preston)

3) Are arranged marriages still a big thing in India? Why does this happen?

4) How is the food in India? What is your favorite food to eat? (Michaela, Brady, Justice, Madyson, Isaac, Jake, Connor, Ryan, Morgan, Brittney)

5) Is India really that different from the USA (MacKenzie)

6) What is the most beautiful landscape in India (Nicole)

7) What was the biggest thing you had to get used to in India? (Abby, Amber)

8) What is education like in India? Year round school? Do they take SAT/ACT tests like we do? How long is a school day for kids? (Alex, Harley, Sara)

9) What is your living space like? (Jordan)

10) Why are certain animals so important to Hinduism? (Aaron)

11) Would you rather stay living in India or move back to Wisconsin?

12) Are you able to watch Packer games in India? (Alex)

13) Do people hunt for animals in India (Austin)

14) What are the dots on people's heads all about?

15) Does India have any major traditional dances?

16) Why is the country called India?

17) Are you having a good time in India? (Jordan)

18) What is the traffic like in India? (Jordan, Natey)

19) Are people nice to you in India? (Valerie)

20) Do Indians have a weird accent? (Laura)

21) What is the weather like in India? (Tara, Robert, Hannah)

22) Can you watch American TV shows there?

23) Does India have American stores? ie McDonalds, etc (Zach, Drake)

24) Is there a Bollywood sign like the Hollywood sign in the USA? (Hannah)

25) What is the most popular TV show in India? (Taylor)

26) Are you treated differently because you are American?

27) If cows are holy in India, does that mean people don't eat burgers there? (Kirsten)

28) Tell us about your job in India (Skylar, Cameryn)

29) Will the shantytowns and slum areas in India get better? (Abby)

30) Have you been to the Taj Mahal? (Lily, Kristin, Taylor, Christian)

31) What can you do for fun in India? (Casie)

32) Can you tell us about some interesting Indian traditions? (Taylor)

33) Who are some current famous Indians? (Emily)

34) What are the clothing styles like in India? (Bella, Carson, Sam)

35) Have you seen a cricket game in person in India? Do a lot of people play cricket there?(Landon, Elizabeth)

36) How does a major city in the USA compare to a major city in India? (Derek)

37) What sports do people like in India? (Kaylee, Michael)

38) Do you follow Hindu traditions while you are staying there? (Justice)

39) Have you visited Bollywood? (Parker)

40) What have you learned about in India? (Andrew)

So some consulate friends and I took the time to offer our opinions in video form, brining the sights and sounds (if not smells) of modern india to a little classroom in Green Bay.

Pinged and Ponged

2011-10-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

Who would have thought Indians take ping pong seriously? So seriously that they must stomp their foot when they serve. (And that's pretty serious.)

AmCham Sports Tournament 2011. All the big companies with offices in town: Microsoft, Deloitte, Wells Fargo, Bank of America, Accenture, Qualcomm, Earnst and Young, shattabi shattabi shattabi. Unfortunately, the consulate entrants were 0h-fer-8 on the days and I was not able to replicate strong 8th grade Sabish J.H. ping pong championship. Lost in straight sets. Decisively. Whoops.

Coal and Cameras

2011-10-08T09:55:00.000-07:00

As the strike hits the month-mark, the difficulties are trickling down. The coal miners and transporters aren't working, so the state doesn't have enough coal for energy generation. The 6-8 am blackout has been tripled. 9-11 am and 12-2 pm are out, too. The consulate has full generator back-up, of course, but my apartment doesn't. One lightbulb per room. The on/off process is the most shockingly punctual thing i've ever seen in India, you could set your watch by it. Alcohol excise taxmen are thinking of joining the strike, too, which would be doubly frustrating...

Thursday and Monday off, clearly should have left the half-alive city. But stuck around to get ready for Nepal trip in two weeks. Hurrah! Inspired by sister, bought a schnazzy camera. You should be well-equipped when you live in the most gosh darn photogenic country in the world, no? Leaning photography will be a work in progress, but should be fun.

Wisconsin Abroad

2011-10-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

I've got a little case of Wisconsin fever. Fairly enough, as this weekend might just count as the greatest sports weekend in the history of wisconsin sports.

What's it like to be a die-hard Wisconsin sports fan stranded 10.5 hours around the world? Woke up from a nap at 12:30 am to watch the Brewers stomp the Diamondbacks 4-1 in the first game of the Divisional Series. Started a second nap at 3:30 am so i could wake up at 5:30 for the start of Wisconsin's destruction of Nebraska, 48-17. Would have been so good to be in either Madison or Milwaukee...or both! Relied on ustvnow.com on both fronts, it streamed pretty darn well. Didn't get to watch the Packers game or the second brewers win, but it felt good to go 4-0!! It's hard to be humble when you're from wisconsin!

Bandh-oberfest

2011-09-30T09:27:00.000-07:00

For months, i had no opinion on Telangana. Sure i scoffed at random acts of violence on innocent statutes, but as long as the separatist strike didn't affect me, i didn't have much of an opinion.

But then came this weekend. Oktoberbest. The very best of the beer-based culture that I miss. Two days of Kingfisher-fueled revelry, even if that leaves a little to be desired. But then Telangana cancelled Oktoberfest. That's when i developed an opinion...

Carnival, Hyderabad Style

2011-09-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

They needed kids to have fun, so they put me in charge. You can take the boy out of the summer camp, but you can't take the summer camp out of the boy.

Borrowing from successes in CO, NC and WASH, i concocted a carnival for little American citizens, while their parents were enjoying the more business-time half of the American Citizen Services townhall.

Five of my new best friends, the group of 35 recent grads in town for 9 months as educational consultants attached to local affordable public schools, volunteered to help the consulate staff: And one of the local clerk's daughters painted up a darn good wet sponge toss board.

The plan flawlessly executed: two hours of fun with kids. And no deaths. Although the kis did steal an awful lot of my money from the blackjack table...

Likeable Laura

2011-09-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

Returned from Delhi to a great surprise...Laura sleeping on the couch!

Bright and early Saturday, we set out for Bhongir Fort, my second day-trip to the monolith and fort an hour east of HYD. It was great to hike, walking doesn’t happen much here and I miss it. The ladies loved the drive, the history and the views!

Some local boys at the top recommended a Narasimha temple a few miles east of the fort. Raghu agreed it was worth the drive. Temples and pilgrimages are the biggest form of local tourism in India, but the Wisconsin Dells-like tourist trap of Hindu gods and goddesses was a bit surprising. Inside the temple, though, we were given the VIP treatment...they don’t see many firengis that far out. Laura tried to take the darshan with her left hand. The highlight for Ann, though, was certainly the troop of roadside monkeys.

Sunday I helped the ladies plan the next legs of their trip: HYD to Kerala. Then to Delhi and the Golden Triangle (Delhi/Agra/Jaipur) before setting off for Kathmandu the last day of September. Ann and Laura will hike – likely a circumnavigation of the Annapurna Circuit. As laura leaves, I’ll head to Kathandu to join Annie for ten days of trekking at the end of October. Hurrah!

And afterwards, a trip to Lumbini Park. A quick summer monsoon always drown our plans to get to the Buddha, but we made it at dusk. And then a first: the laser show!! I spent the first 15 minutes quite skeptical...THEN THEY TURNED ON THE LASERS!! It was so good!! I was amazed!! This has become a must-do on my visitor to-do list!! It’s so surprisingly good for one dollar!!

Entry Level

2011-09-16T09:36:00.000-07:00

A fun two days in Delhi, meeting entry level folks from around South and Central Asia. a lot of "war stories," or at least people trying to claim their city is the hardest of them all. our argument was NOT helped when people learned that we have a Hard Rock Cafe in town. the real award, though, goes to our colleagues who made it in from Kabul, less than three days after they had been attacked at the embassy. their presentation really hit home. fun to talk to both A-100 classmates and wisconsin colleagues, and great to see that whole other side of diplomacy we don't see in HYD: parties with elephants, befriending int'l diplomats at sufi-sung receptions, listening to successful SCA specialists.

Every Apartment is better with A.C.

2011-09-11T08:58:00.000-07:00

A day late, but with smiles galore, Annie made it safe and sound to Hyderabad. My friends continue to impress -- i've had as many visitors so far as the rest of the consulate combined, i feel like. She's here for two months of wandering, once Laura gets here, from south all the way north to Nepal. The plan is to join her for a week of trekking come the end of October.

This trip marks the 6th continent Ann's been to, so she hardly needed any advice on India. Still, i think the roads, especially, caught her off-guard at first. Luckily we've packed her first weekend full of fun:

Watching the NFL Season Opener, a day later, courtesy of Elvin's Slingbox set-up. Sure, we missed the decisive final five minutes of the game, but we had already assumed a packer victory, so no harm!

An evening a Liquids. Which is always "special." Too many people, too many of them men, and too terrible of music.

Environmental Rally at new friend Jess's school in Secunderabad. The cutest little parade ever, complete with signs and chants in English, Hindi and Telugu.

Ganesha street dancing in Aditya's neighborhood. Four endless hours of constant drumming, monosexual dancing, and the slowest elephant progression ever.

Enjoying a little bit of Bollywood, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

It's great to have her here. In short, she's me except in girl form. Everything I've done, she's done. Coopers. NABS. Madison. ALPs. Apostle Islands. Fort Collins. Now India!! (Only Rachel has more friends in common on Facebook, which is fitting as she's the gal that taught it to me.) Between the two of them, i told them a fall or two ago, they know me better than anyone else on this planet. it's gonna be great to share India with her for two weeks, then Nepal, too.

The Math

2011-09-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

Doing the math, as prep work for Annie's visit.

1. Rachel. 162.
2. Ann. 148.
3. Chuck. 135.
4. Andrew. 130.
5. Molly. 121.
6. Gloria. 118.
7. Greg. 108.

PS. Not bowling.

Rethinking China

2011-09-05T10:20:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong to Guangzhou is a comfortable 2-hour train ride. But it’s not a normal train ride. It’s a bit like a train ride I took six years ago to Ukraine:

1. The heave-ho tension of feeling under-prepared to enter a foreign country. Stepping out of your comfort zone.

2. The flash of excitement – like crossing over into the former Soviet Union – of being some place where you’ve never thought you’d be...and for a long time felt like you couldn’t be and shouldn’t be.

But with a clickity-clack no different than all the other clickity-clacks on the two hour ride, we crossed over from the special autonomous zone of Hong Kong into communist China, whatever that tired label actually means these days. I’m a bit outdated on the political science behind Chinese communism, and I’m not quite sure what it will become or how it will affect the United States, but only two things really stood out during three days in China:

In China, Communism means a planned economy. It’s clear – I’d argue joyously – that there’s a little bit more thought going into China’s rapid modernization than India’s. The roads are wide and clear. Traffic is crowded but reasonable. The public transportation is well-linked. Right-angles exist. Parks, too. China is clearly a generation ahead of India in terms of infrastructure. (Even as India is an equal generation ahead of China in globalism and English language. I’d completely taken for granted that 75% of Indian visa applications apply in English while 95% of Guangzhou’s pool, it is said, apply in Chinese.) The economy is visibly booming. Young people in clubs radiate cash and excitement both. I walked away with a distinct feeling that it’s an exciting time to be Chinese.

And in China, Communism means control of information. Observation’s common, among Americans and locals alike. I didn’t notice anything abnormal during my visit, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t an eye. The more everyday implication, though, is an absurd control of the internet. I tried to log onto Facebook? Nope. Blogspot? Nada. Twitter? No, thanks. Yahoo? No dice. Youtube? Wampwampwamp.

In short, I enjoyed China, the culture and the food far more than I ever imagined I would. For a dozen years, I’d held an unchallenged and fairly simpleton belief that I like India and don’t like China. Perhaps I was too moralistic in appreciating certain values over others. I might have been convinced during a second late-night snack, welcomed to sit at a table of ten young Chinese and share some sort of gobbley-gook local porridge, that China too is a land I could enjoy. Well, either that, or I was smitten by the sight of tank tops and skirts for the first time in nine months...

Hong Kong: Yes Please.

2011-09-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong! Hong Kong! Hong Kong!

What a glorious, world-class city!! I’d never given it any thought before, but the city is spectacular!! The sea and the mountains side-by-side, one of my favorites. A glitzy but cultured downtown tucked right up against impressive peaks and lush jungle. A densely packed populance, but 70% of the small territory is wild and rugged. You can even backpack and camp in Hong Kong proper!!

Great to wander and chat with Barrett for a few days, and fantastic to stay with Stephanie, a world-class hostess. So fun to see the adventures and lives of A-100 classmates around the world in a 100 different jobs and places.

Culinary highlights: build-your-own-burger and Blue Smoke barbeque.

Nightlife highlights: requesting Rasputin at Big Al’s (and getting it!) and a coverband on Lan Kwai Fong Street.

Adventure highlight: hiking from Central to the Peak, a two-hour summit. It’s a thousand-foot elevation gain on beautiful, mostly-deserted trails.

Sporting highlight: enjoying Stephanie’s Armed Forces Network cable access to watch the Badgers pound UNLV in the season opener! Looks like Bucky and Big Red newcomer Russell Wilson are in for a great season!

Cultural Analysis highlight: tallying the amount of men, both local and foreign, walking along the Avenue of the Stars boardwalk with and without satchels. The final tally after a sample size of eighty? Fifty with, only thirty without.

Socio-Economic Analysis highlight: probing friendly Filipinas – with questions, mind you – and missing the train to China due to an early-morning breakfast and subsequent monsoon. Oops...

Long Gone Hong Kong

2011-08-31T03:46:00.001-07:00

Today's Ganesha day! Tomorrow's Eid! Monday's Labor Day!

So J. Jewett's off to China!

The Two Percent Club

2011-08-25T04:58:00.000-07:00

I don't write a lot about my job here, as this is a personal blog. And the job du jour is just one of many pretty fantastic adventures that 1. I enjoy rereading 2. feel obligated to share with my parents in lieu of consistent emailing 3. hope others can find the stories fun, funny, useful, meaningful or some combination of any adjectives pleasant. So i'd rather share stories than mindless babble about being a bureaucrat.

And there's another reason: A personal blog doesn't mesh well with a very public job. In much of what i do and say abroad, i'm representing the United States of America. These words, this forum certainly isn't that, though. This is my space to share with friends and family. And It's fine if others stumble onto it, that's half the fun, of course. But this living journal is for me, the curly-haired kid from Wisconsin, not the guy who got the Telugu-version of his business card scanned into the second-largest Telugu-language newspaper this week.

And sometimes when i'm sitting at the visa window, often rushed and cranky, plowing through a hundred interviews a day, i forgot that i am in an important, noteworthy position. It's easy to forget, counting to one hundred, how important each number is. Especially to the human on the other side of the number. But the business card itself is kind of a big deal.

Any misstep can put you in The Two Percent Club...

I started training in February 2010 with a hundred amazing classmates. After 5 weeks, we spread out across the world, complete with some darn good-lookin' belt buckles. Since then, we've got on to hundreds of thousands of visa adjudications in dozens of languages, success in the drug war in Columbia and Tajikistan and even a 151st marriage somewhere in steamy South America.

Of the one hundred of us, though, two of us have already been jettisoned from post, send packing to a new exotic adventure a few years ahead of originally schedule. In little over a year, two percent made a minor misstep -- an unapproved travel or an offhand comment -- that became an international incident of enough note for prudence to dictate that a fresh start was in the best interest of diplomatic decorum and American interests.

Luckily I am the most sensitive and discreet individual that many of my friends know...

The Messenger, Not the Message

2011-08-23T03:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes being a ghora in India is such a damn novelty that they have a hard time continuing about their business without stopping to take a picture or listening to what you're saying...

Case in point?

A day-long media blitz promoting advanced studies in the US and giving Indian students good information about the process. The public affairs people paired me with the US-India Education Foundation country coordinator, a Syracuse grad who sent her son to study in the US, too. We spoke with four newspapers, two english, two telugu. She did most of the speaking, as she's the professional advisor. I chimed in on the visa perspective: do your own personal research, don't rely on agents to do everything for you, prove that you're a credible student, separate yourself from the students who are more interested in working than getting a good education, don't rely on fake documents, etc. We ended the day with a televised session with a (small but cute) live audience.

The first article to come out?

"American Official...A Speaker of Pure Telugu"

The article starts off by bemoaning how Telugu-vallu go off to America and forget all their Telugu or come back with a poor accent, but here's an American who learned Telugu for 6 months by reading our newspaper (they were a bit boastful) and he speaks perfect Telugu.

This article may or may not win a Pulitzer Prize for truthfulness...

And how much of the article is dedicated to the student issues we were trying to present? Uh, none. But we're hopefully it might be included in a special section at a later date. Whoops.

Oh, and yeah. That IS my business card scanned into the newspaper of the second-most-widely-read telugu newspaper...

Monsoony Weekend

2011-08-21T03:35:00.000-07:00

Afternoon monsoon rainshower, hardest I’ve seen yet. Power just went out. Laptop battery still going. But in desperate need of a continuous-power supply source for the wireless router.

Roads are a mess driving (read: riding) into work for a Saturday shift of webchatting and revocation memos. Debris everywhere, including a lot of frighteningly large stones in the middle of the road. Giant back-ups as traffic is condensed because of huge puddles. Not a lot of well-thought out draining solutions here.

Good weather to catch up on blog posts.

Itfarring (or "The New Face of the Consulate")

2011-08-17T05:00:00.000-07:00

Joined the public affairs folks on a beautiful iftar (a fast-breaking dinner during the holy month of Ramadan) in a Muslim school near the Old CIty. The school welcomed us with open arms, and we put on some fun programs/games in English and Urdu. Muj talked in Urdu about being a Muslim in America while a few other of us talked with the kids in English about America. It's amazing to talk with a group for whom the idea of America is such a blank slate. The only state they could name? New York. The only American actors they could name? James Bond and Jackie Chan. Close...

After a sunset prayer, we broke (their) fast. First dates, then fruit, then haleem, then biryani. Over dinner, i had a great time mixing English and Hindi with a table of 10th standard girls and learning about their lives. I talked to four girls about their fathers, 2 had passed away, 2 were autorickshaw drivers. None of their mothers worked. The monthly tuition is $5. For many of these families, that's a huge investment, it made me happy to see them making that commitment to young girls who were dreaming of being computer engineers, teachers and doctors. Heartwarming.

Funniest bit? Afterwards, the staff posted pictures of the goodwill outreach on the facebook page. The consulate doesn't label officers in action, partly for our benefit. five minutes after the picture went up, though, a certain Mr. Abdul was quick to identify me...as "fast becoming the face of the consulate!"

The Diagnosis

2011-08-14T04:55:00.000-07:00

After two weeks of hosting a dermatologist, here's where we stand: She gave a fancy word to my exceptionally large wenis and suggested i take a picture of the moles on my back. She did not volunteer for the task.

More importantly, she asked, "So what are the steps you're going to take to make your job/stay more pleasant?" My answer wasn't very insightful. "Shoot, that's the kind of question i usually ask rather than answer."

And if the roads didn't drive her buggy with motion-sickness the first half of her stay here, I'm sure the epic traffic jams of late make even Cleveland look real good. Getting in and out of Chowmahallah Palace, my first day time visit, was an epic, unworldly, frustrating three-hour adventure of near-death proportions.

Counted amidst the jam? Cars. Trucks. Buses. Motorcycles. Autorickshaws. Push cars. Cycle rickshaws. Bicycles. Pedestrians. Horses. Buffalo carts. And a Camel.

One Photo?

2011-08-13T05:15:00.000-07:00

What its like going out in public when you're a ghora in India:

The Cities of Joys

2011-08-10T06:45:00.000-07:00

The coolest thing about Jen? She took my recommendation "read City of Joy" and make it even better. she bought an old copy of the Dominique La Pierre classic and turned it into not only her Indian novel of choice, but also her journal of the Indian experience. every day she alternates between reading and writing. hot damn.

How to Houseboat the Backwaters of Kerala

2011-08-06T04:53:00.000-07:00

You could argue all day long about how there's nothing "authentic" about houseboats and "God's Own Country," Kerala, but that hardly matters. It's a great way to savor an amazing piece of the Indian experience. Imagine floating carefreely through a system of backwater canals mapping out an infinite number of paths through beautiful rice paddy countryside. Yup, that's exactly how JDB and I spent our friendship honeymoon.

As beautiful as the scenery is, though, the chance to peek into village life along the canals is even more fascinating. 75% of the passage is lined with houses, you're free to observe traditional living with a smile and a wave. Every house has a small boat and a small ghat of steps down to water level, it's the center of life of the community. People bath in the river. People brush their teeth in the river. People wash their pots in the river. People herd their ducks in the river. People ride the watertaxis and water-school buses. It's beautiful to watch. (Although in truth you do need to bring a book if you go for more than one night.)

Getting There:

Rent a car from the Kochi airport or Kochi city center. Expect to pay about 1200-1500 rupees for the 1.5 hour ride.

Getting a Houseboat:

One possibility is booking a houseboat online, there are a variety of websites offering a wide range of boats/trips. Another option is to arrange a houseboat through your Kochi hotel. We turned down 5500 boat offered by hotel because we wanted to see the options and we thought it would be easy to do in the low season.

We hired a car to take us to Alleppey, and the driver offered a connection on the ride. We ended up on his friend's boat, 6500 rupees for a well-equipped one-bedroom AC houseboat. Tougher than expected to bargain at the site, because the boats were not at a centralized location due to upcoming snake boat races. Price includes staff of three, all meals, bottled water, etc. Expect to pay 100 rupees per bottle of piss beer unless you plan ahead and bring your own.

Bring bug spray and suntan lotion. Paths along the river are muddy, bring sturdy sandals that can get dirty. Bring books, paper and pen. In fact, bring extra pens, as kids like them.

Highlights:

Delicious Keralan food, prepared fresh three times a day, plus snacks. Jen enjoyed the veg entrees, I liked the fish.

Hiking along the riverbank after docking for the evening, a 30 minute stroll north of St. Thomas church. Making friends with precocious children, who were in the market for one pen.

Stopping for a lunch break in provincial Champakulam, giving ourselves a VIP tour of the local hospital, St. Josephs Mission Hospital.

Postcards from picturesque post offices.

Finishing a book about Custer.

Derma Camp 2011

2011-08-04T04:32:00.000-07:00

JDB and I don’t actually know each other all that well. In fact, we’ve only met twice.

But we’re pretty intertwined. We both worked at Camp Chief Ouray. Unfortunately our stays didn’t overlap, but I did work with her cousin and her brother. We both studied in Madison, albeit for only a brief period at the same time. She lived with one of my old ALPs coworkers and a law school classmate. And we’ve both hiked with the same friends, just never at the same time.

Thanks to the prodding of a meddling cousin and an overactive imagination, I was kinda hoping she was coming to India for a CCO fairytale, but alas a boyfriend back home nipped that plan in the bud pretty early on. (Darn O.P.G.F.s...) Instead, she had honest-to-goodness decided to come to India for the skin diseases. Enjoying her two-weeks of annual leave from dermatology residency to visit HIV clinics, leprosy colonies and health camps in slums.

Her early morning arrival was delayed an entire day due to problems in DC, but Raghu and I were able to whisk her through the deserted nighttime streets under the cover of darkness, so her first experiences in India were the far more gentle apartment surroundings. But from the first day, she dove into India, crossing streets like a champion and lining up a variety of observations. The stories she’d tell every night over dinner were pretty amazing.

Having a two-week houseguest was great. She jumped into high culture (diplomatic dinner parties full of bureaucrats) and low culture (Planet of the Apes) alike. She was the perfect excuse to discover new favorites around town: 1857 and Waterfront. We walked through the Bollywood Ohri’s, but didn’t stay for the buffet.

After all, we were off to Kerala!

Planning for China

2011-08-01T03:36:00.000-07:00

It’s nerve-wracking being a visa applicant!! Where are the clear directions?! Why do different websites say different things?! What documents do I need to submit?! What documents do I REALLY need to submit?! Who can I turn to for advice?!

Akh, I see now why people complain so much about visas.

Ouch

2011-07-30T04:29:00.000-07:00

All-Tme-Ever Cultural Low-Light Day

Spending an afternoon bumming around an Indian mall.

Then spending the evening bumming around a different Indian mall because the first showing of Cowboys and Aliens was sold out.

Then actually spending two hours sitting through Cowboys and Aliens.

Ouch.

Visas Adjudicated

2011-07-29T04:21:00.000-07:00

Limited Time Offer*

2011-07-24T00:52:00.000-07:00

For a limited time only, come visit me in Hyderabad, and you'll get to use this brand new jeremy-has-a-guest-in-India phone, absolutely free of charge!!! I know, it's really a deal that's too damn good to pass up.

* Offer extends through January 2013...

An Elder Statesman

2011-07-23T00:56:00.000-07:00

One person i've always wanted to become is Joe Elder, my favorite professor from the University of Wisconsin. A wise old sage, versed in all the stories of ancient India, with plenty of his own to tell too. Even before I transferred to Madison to study India, his reputation preceded him. I had semester long classes with him on Civilizations of India and Thought of Gandhi. I interviewed him as part of my final journalism project and stood in rapt attention when he gave the memorial address at the university's September 11th memorial, the friday after the 2001 attacks.

While trying to pas a job lead off to the Center for South Asia, I stumbled on the announcement of his 50th anniversary of teaching at UW. Wow! A pretty solid career, safe to say. He was one person i felt compelled to typewriter a letter last fall, letting him know a former student was off to staff the consulate in Hyderabad. I haven't gotten a response, but i assume it let to a smile.

ill

2011-07-22T00:07:00.000-07:00

Sick. Flu-like symptoms. I'm blaming the monsoon...

Old Structures on Top of Hills

2011-07-18T03:26:00.000-07:00

Janani's four days in Hyderabad were the perfect chance to hit two of the city's best tourist attractions, which I had yet to prioritize in 6 months of Hyderabading: Golkona Fort and the Qutb Shahi Tombs.

The fort is the reason there's the city of Hyderabad today, even though it's many miles from the city center. For years, the three-walled bastion on a rocky outcropping was one of the wealthiest strongholds in all of India. From the 13th century Hindu Kakatiya emporers through 16th century Muslim Qutb Shahi dynasty. All the great diamonds of the world passed through the walls. Gold. Pearls. Spices. Some of the richest men in the world sat on thrones here. My first impression was how similar it felt compared to contemporary castles in Europe like Hungary's Eger Castle.

By the 1600s, though, the water situation was getting dreary, so after a big famine the kind moved a few miles to the east, on the banks of the River Musi and built from scratch the Hyderabad we know and love.

The remains, though, are a jumbled blend of fortifications, temples, mosques, markets and lawns.

India: a whole lotta new and old, side by side. The newest residential developments from the top of the fort:

Raghu's favorite top-secret destination within in the largest fort wall? The biggest tree i've ever seen...and climbed into.

And the tombs of the Qutb rulers? Amazing monuments to a different day and age, even as they slowly crumble.

Quotes of a Mid-July Week

2011-07-17T00:04:00.000-07:00

“I don’t mean to be rude, but couldn’t they find someone more qualified than you who wasn’t retired?”

An “ahem” anonymous vice consul, introducing himself to the new ambassador to India at a reception at the Consul General's house, who has come out of retirement now for the second time to take over the reigns of Mission India while a permanent ambassador is selected/nominated/approved. Ambassador Burleigh sports a bow-tie well. Nearly a septegenarian, he’s still quick with stories and smiles of his career as a diplomat, much of it in South Asia. I would have a pretty good time sitting down for dinner with the ambassador and Professor Joe Elder.

“...he says, with an earnestness that would be laughable in a person who wasn’t from Wisconsin.”

Janani, quoting “A Visit from the Goon Squad.”

“You are not a commoner, sir.”

Raghu, madder than I was, when he wasn’t allowed to drive into the V.I.P. parking area at the airport Sunday morning when we dropped Janani off, catching the next leg of her trip to Bangalore.

Turning 31

2011-07-14T00:20:00.000-07:00

Turning 31 is less exciting than turning 30, but more exciting that turning 32, I would imagine.

A delicious dinner at N, complete with gentle seasonal breeze and chocolate cake, even if my likely-to-be-stunning rendition of the French National Anthem was hushed just a few stanzas into the song. And check out this guest list of VVVIPs:

Matt and Kim
Benny and Amy
Liz and Steve (and Julia)
Andrew
Testafe
Guest of Honor: Janani Ramachandran
Chief Guest: Jeremy Jewett

Sadly, the “You and I” paparazzi must have missed the invitation...

You and I

2011-07-11T00:46:00.000-07:00

celebrating american independence: jeremy "with a friend." no big deal.

oh, and the cover title of this week's edition of "You and I?"

TIMELESS BEAUTIES

Monsoon 2011 – The Great Internet Blackout Edition

2011-07-10T05:16:00.001-07:00

Weeks and weeks with a blog update, but with good reason. Many a good reasons:

Spent a week in Chennai in mid-June adjudicating visas on a week-long TDY assignment. The exchange was concocted as a way to improve cross-polination, of sorts, across the five posts in India. Things go more smoothly for everyone if we all understand the intricacies of visa law in a similar manner; it’s still a bit of a work in progress.

The weekend before, came early to enjoy a great day at the beach with 151st classmate Maureen, her husband and cute son Noah. Almost ran into student-exchange-sister-by-extension Julia the Lufthansa flight stewardess in Chennai, too. Close but no cigar. She flies into India once a month, though, so we’ll plan something someday.

Monday through Friday were interesting, a good chance of pace. It’s fun to see another consulate’s procedure in motion. They’ve been at things in Chennai since 1867, after all, so they’re a bit more polished than our operation in HYD. And it was refreshing to be in a building with twice as many Americans to meet and befriend and such modern conveniences as: a cafeteria, a canteen shop, a public-access library, a meeting hall, conference rooms and interview booths that actually work. The city itself is a bit more drab than Hyderabad, and our weather’s certainly better, but life in Chennai has some perks: better flights, a more international population, better driving destinations, and a slightly more “civilized” city.

And the weekend after, roadtripped to peacefully Pondicherry. I’ve long romanticized the former French colony, now administered by the central government, and it’s definitely worth a visit if you’re in the neighborhood, even if it wasn’t as cool as Goa.

From Chennai, bus is the best option to Pondi. If you select a private air-conditioned bus, it’ll take about 4 hours and $30. The “station” is a bit of a shock. A jumble of modern buses, jammed into a crumbling stockade of little private stalls, each selling tickets for only one of the buses. Tourists, locals, animals, shipping freight all milling around at various speeds, buses coming and going without timetable but with plenty of honking. Once you manage to find the right number stall, and get pointed onto the right bus, though, you’re pleasantly sound-proofed from the bustle. The seats recline, Bollywood is played, and the chaos of India flashes past the window as you cruise along as the king of the road.

Make sure someone lets you know when the bus gets to Pondicherry: there’s no bus station, of course, and none of the shop signs along the road they drop you off on are in the French you’re hoping for. I was a bit skeptical as I held a map out to a late-night autorickshaw driver, but he nodded and five minutes later the streets started to broaden and I saw the first signs of beautiful French.

Most of Pondicherry is a beautiful-to-behold grid of streets, a most excellent change of pace of the usual Indian “urban planning.” The three or four blocks closest to shore are lined with well-cared-for colonial buildings. Ancient trees, sidewalks, French-quarter-esque balconies, street signs in French, the whole shebang. For centuries, Pondi was the headquarters of French interests in India, to this day France still has a consulate in town. These days, the old colonial buildings house the Pondicherry government, which oversees four or five enclave cities up and down the coasts of India, all returned to Indian possession by the French in 1964. There isn’t a lot to see and do, but that’s half the charm. You can STROLL in Pondicherry, an exceptional rarity in India. So everyone – locals, Indian tourists, and a smattering of westerners – strolls with a smile on their face.

The Promenade comes with recommendations. Modern, trendy feel at a great location, right across the main promenade from the shore. The hotel has a good brunch, a hidden pool that makes a great oasis, and an under-utilized rooftop bar with a great view. You can get a room in Pondi for less than $100, but why would you want to? Website

And it was in Pondicherry, naturally, that I picked up three French wives.

Andrew and I elbowed our way into their conversation at the restaurant late on a Saturday night. They had been looking at us, we took that as permission. In delightful French accents, they explained how they had come to India to volunteer in an orphanage and practice their English. They lasted one day in the village before they left, unhappy to find out that the program was actually a school, the children were older than expected, and didn’t speak English. They retreated to Pondicherry to concoct a plan, and were willing to consider an invitation to Hyderabad.

I flew back to Hyderabad, while they mosied their way northwestward on the train. The next day, I finished packing six months of affects – as the last holdout in Alcatraz – and moved a curvy mile away to my brand new apartment! Expect a fuller tour soon, but know that it’s spectacular. Four bedrooms, four balconies, five baths. A great kitchen, huge living areas, and a sitar-emblazed puja room! The colony is peaceful and green and quiet and lovely and calm and fantastic. It’s so much easier to be happy in India when you have a place to call your own and finally make your own.

But settling in is hard work. And frankly I knew I’d need a woman’s eye and touch to make the new place a home. So why not three? And what society is more cultured in such arts than France? Within a day, the ladies were helping me furnish and adorn the apartment with the right touches of color. They helped me find everything in need for a more-than-modest kitchen, and were pretty good chefs in their own right. With their help, hosted a perfect little dinner party with a blend of friends, hopefully the first of many. Plus, added bonus, the ladies were traveling with a video projector, so in the absence of a television, we watched movies on the wall.

One day while I was sitting at my desk, they sent an SMS. “We have a surprise for you Jeremy!” I smiled the whole afternoon. When I got home, a fish bowl and four gold fish on my ten-seater dining table! “One is Delphi, one is Sophie, one is Marie,” they said proudly. “And this one is Raghu!” Delightful sentiment. Alas, the next morning, we awoke to find Delphi floating. And during breakfast, Raghu went belly-up, too. (He laughed a lot when he learned this in the car an hour later.) Marie made it two days longer. Twelve later now, only Sophie swims on.

Sadly, after two weeks or so, they’re gone now, all back to France. Delphi to keep delivering other people’s babies and Sophie and Marie to continue their studies. Bon voyage!

The only downside to the new palatial set-up is...the Internets. I miss it. A lot. I like the 21st century. I like my friends. I like the Daily Show. I like the Interweb. I want it back.

But getting anything done in India is, well, a battle. My home is pre-wired for the internet, which is cutting-edge in India. It blew the BeamTelcom guys away when they came to hook up the cables. After an hour, they decided it was installed improperly because they couldn’t figure it out. The building electricians spent an hour twisting wires before determining the same. It took a week for the landlord’s electrician to come and pronounce that he’d prewired everything for a different internet provider, not BeamTelecom. The consulate electrician decide a week later he could probably get it to work with BeamTelecom, but those efforts have yet to come to fruition.

Even posting this update was a 4-hour struggle. I flipflopped over the hill and down the road to the first mall. Not only did the bookstore coffee house not have wifi, but it took 46 minutes to receive a strawberry swirl, or something along those lines. The second mall didn't have wifi either. Marching off to a "net center" down the road, i ran into a long-lost friend. back in hyderabad despite her best instincts, who graciously offered a ride to the ONE PLACE IN HYDERABAD with wifi! This is ridiculous. The 21st century in one of India's most cyber-saavy cities...and there's only one damn place to get on the internet. CyberCafe's don't exist. i speculate it's a two-prong issue: 1. if you're a member of Indian society who is "on the web," you're wealthy enough to have a computer and internet at home. and if you can't afford those luxuries, you don't have any interest in the same. 2. india jumped from chiseling fancy things in stone straight to super high-tech cell phones, skipping over laptops and the need for public WIFI, i guess.

(Opp, just interrupted mid-keystroke by a request from a "Beyond Coffe" customer to explain why i had refused his L1 application last week...)

So instead of the internet, I read. I clean. And I feed my one remaining fish.

Also in the review mirror, the Fourth of July, my first as a diplomat abroad. Andrew and others put a lot of planning into the consulate party at a local hotel, but I was pretty detached, I didn’t have any time to volunteer over the past few months. Heavy rains couldn’t dampen the spirit, even if it did reduce the turnout. Pleasantly so. And the skies did clear for a nice firework grand finale.

And the twin excitements this week? Turning 31 will likely prove anticlimactic, as who would want to be any older than 30? But as long as I continue to act closer to 25 than 35, I figure I’ll be just fine. The better birthday present will be a visit from D.C. friend Janani*, swinging through Hyderabad on a month-long pre-graduate school heritage journey of sorts.

(* Not pronounced as it looks.)

radio city

2011-06-11T02:36:00.000-07:00

On-air with Hemant's morning radio show. A bit of Telugu, a bunch of English, wisdom of all sorts!

off to chennai for a week of interviews in the bigger, more well-established consulate.

by any other name

2011-06-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

a far-off friend charmed me by e-mail a few or two back, wondering aloud what name she could call me. i thought about it, smiled, and offered a rough draft of the etymology of my name over place and time, which has changed as much as I have.

Jeremy Ryan Jewett – So I was named on July 14th, 1980. But it's more than that, I’ve got a complex relationship with my name...

Jeremy – My most common answer to the question "What's your name?" I’ve never really been able to decide, though, whether I prefer the three-syllable or the two-syllable pronunciation and I’m not sure it matters. Je-re-me? Jer-me? It depends on context, as any good answer should.

Zermi – a good family friend, born just a few months after me, couldn’t master the intricacies of Jeremy at an early age. Every since, and to this day, I remain “zermi” to Amy and her family.

Germy - my sister's babytalk version. Usually paired with "Germy did it." Still in occasional use.

J.J. – A dream of days gone by. In second grade, I wanted nothing more than to be called J.J. I wanted this desperately, mostly related to how much B.J. Surhoff was my favorite Brewer. But on the first day of class, when the teacher went around and asked everyone what they wanted to be called, I chickened out. I couldn’t do it, I wimped out. A dream died a slow death. To this day, the only people that call me J.J. are my godmother and godfather.

j – The longest story: I learned a lot, my freshman year of college, at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. And in truth, I had a lot to learn. The first lesson I learned? It’s fun to be friends with girls. (this was a sort of newsflash to me.) The first of the bunch – and best (until my crush on her roommate flopped) – Meredith. A month into our friendship, I asked if I could call her Merd. She agreed, but only if I let her call me “j.” The single letter j. It stuck, as I suppose it should have.

That summer, I marched off to YMCA Camp Nan A Bo Sho, a time and place that molded me as much as my freshman year of college. They asked, on a small sheet of paper tucked inside an application packet, what I wanted my nickname to be. I gave it no more than a little thought before writing down “j.” Fate was cemented.

I wore the nickname through four years of YMCA Camp Nan A Bo Sho, rising from lowly new-comer to program director, the name evolving alongside me to “Jay,” “J-Rod,” and “Rodman” over the years. To a thousand kids, though, I was “j,” just a single letter. (Clearly the best letter, I would add.) My friend brian tells a great story of his first impression upon meeting me at Trueman’s camp in North Carolina. “Hi! I’m j! Like the letter, except lower case!”

And at the same time, the name followed me to Madison, although not immediately. The first to pick it up were Adventure Learning Programs. It was my camp-like outlet in Madison, so it’s fitting that as I was more j-like, the ALPs staffers grew to know me as much as j as Jeremy. The trend doubled as I started to bring NABS friends into ALPs. By the end of my stay in Madison, you could tell how I knew someone, just by the name they used for me. If they knew me from camp or ALPs, j. If they knew me from class, jobs or some other chunk of the real world, Jeremy.

J-Ryan – There’s one girl in the world, a second Megan Leigh, who calls me J-Ryan. And it’s a fair trade. I refused to call her Megan, only Megan Leigh, as she shared the first and middle name of my sister, and that tickled me pink.

J. Jewett – But when I went off to Colorado after graduating, I ran into a problem: a camp that wasn’t comfortable with nicknames. Nope, CCO is on a first-name basis. It didn’t feel right being a Jeremy at camp, so I held fast until Marty agreed I could be J. Jewett. To this day, I’m J. Jewett to the CCO folks, even if that’s never made much sense to me, squeezing my naming-scheme into a hole it doesn’t necessarily fit into. best used in an e-mail in the wondrous phrase "...your laughter and your general JJewettness make me smile..."

J-Squared – Preferred by assorted schmucks.

Herr Jewett, Herr, Jewett – When I took to teaching in Fond du Lac, right after coming home from North Carolina, I had to become a bit more professional, lest I be confused for a pupil in the hallway. Herr Jewett I became, the German for Mr. Jewett. (A name already taken, of course, by my dad who taught just down the hall.) The kids would often shorten that to Herr, which was fine, or Jewett, which I didn’t mind as much as perhaps I should have.

Jah-rah-mee – But in Hungary, the more formal cultural was surprisingly less formal with my name. Teachers and students alike called me Jeremy – even if they couldn’t pronounce it. And never even Mister Jeremy, just always Jeremy. It’s almost like they know that I had a last name. And even in the end of the year program, all the teachers are listed in all their full-name glory, and I was listed only as “Jeremy.” As if I was a one-name celebrity. The best part? There’s a Hungarian song by the title of “Jeremy.”

Jer – Two fellow American teachers in hungary, though, decided that they like “Jer” best of all. Kat and Liz, in a way we were three amigos in a three-letter-name club.

J.R. Jewett – And then in law school, I picked up the legally J.R. Jewett as a preferred moniker of sorts in written form. In addition to the handy e-mail handles, the name captured the happier memories of my pre-law past, while blending it with a slightly stoic signature that carries an air of importance and apathy, all rolled into one.

jrj – A current favorite. A great way to sign an email. A great way to sign an acknowledgement. Curt, crisp, unique. And best of all? Symmetric. I’m a big fan. Never cursived. Always either all lowercase or all uppercase.

Jem – Only one person goes with Jem, an old law classmate Charlie. A tribute to To Kill A Mockingbird

she'll change your tune

2011-06-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

June's here. that means two things: monsoon and mangoes!!

BANG Galore

2011-05-30T11:08:00.000-07:00

You've heard of Bangalore; it's hip.

Thomas Friedman's got a man-crush on Bangalore. And who doesn't respect whatever Thomas Friedman thinks?

But it's not so happening. Bangalore might well be an important "concept" and a quite livable city, i'm here to tell you that Hyderabad is the much better place for a visit. Bangalore, simply put, must be the most boring city in India.

The great course of history that has speckled Indian cities and countryside with the most amazing palaces, forts and temples in the world somehow skipped over Bangalore. Zilch. Nothing to see. Nada. The historical capital of Mysore has the palaces. Srirangapatnam has the fort. And Bangalore's temples are nothing of note compared to the rest of the Karnataka cities.

For two days, Elvin and I wandered the city, expecting untold glories, but finding -- in short -- "pleasant but less than satisfying." a leafy city with broad lanes and wonderfully temperate daytime highs. a green but less than great rose garden. a disappointingly short main commercial street. a few welcoming pubs. a relaxed ex-pat community of software/business professionals, very much more european than american. a pleasant 13th-story restaurant with good views of...a vaguely suburban city with not much of note. sure, you could see the height of the Electronic City off in the distance, but little else of note.

Through Sunday evening, we were a little low on the city. That all changed when we navigated our way to the closer of the city's two Taco Bells. The only two Taco Bells in India, new in 2010. Now, I've only been to Taco Bell twice in my entire life, but when the nearest Chipotle is in London, England, you take what you can get.

And the getting, in all honesty, was phenomenal. A delicious burrito meal. One of the best $3 purchases I've ever made. We grinned in delight, savoring each bite, certainly a site to see. The Indians were suspicious. We asked the manager when they'd open a restaurant in Hyderabad. First, he said, Mumbai. Then Delhi. Then Calcutta. Finally Hyderabad, only before Chennai. We weren't satisfied with the answer, and while eating our second burrito, we filed out comment cards demanding immediate franchising to HYD.

And later that same evening, Bangalore's second redeeming quality: Opus. We got a recommendation from a party planner, and debated not trekking half way across the city after she called to say she wasn't planning on going any more. More than glad we did, though, as the Sunday night sing-along kareoke dance party was the happiest thing i've seen on this subcontinent.

An industrial cum retro venue, ala any of Budapests fun new bars, tucked in a random pocket of the city. a great line-up of well-selected and familiar kareoke songs, sung by a variety of ages -- from 7 to 70! and a better gender ratio than any place i've seen in india. and cheaper-than-average beer! and more ghoras than they'd see anywhere outside of a consulate staff meeting! The only downside at all? Karnataka's state-wide 11:30pm shut-down time. Sucks.

Elvin and I had no choice but to continue the kareokeing the next morning in the hotel lobby.

Night Training

2011-05-28T06:10:00.000-07:00

(For your listening enjoyment while reading this post.)

Rickshaws carry a certain catchet in these parts, but no mode of transportation has moved as many people for so long a time on the subcontinent as trains. India and overloaded trains, the images are almost cliché, people half-falling out of every door, brimming over the traintop, even.

It’s something but you’ve to do while you’re here...riding an Indian train.

But it’s harder than it seems. Trains are often sold out a month or more ahead of time. There are literally a billion people that you’re competing with for train seats. And this time of year – april and may – is the busiest, as students and families are traveling. I’m used to Hungary, where you could hop on to almost any train at the last minute. Just show up at little Heves station and buy your cardboard ticket. you could even buy the ticket once onboard.

After a month of search, finally a lead: some trains have a “foreign tourist” reservation. 2-6 seats reserved for foreigners only, even if it comes at a slightly higher price. Elvin and I wisely brought Raghu with us to pre-purchase two tickets from Hyderabad to Bangalore. Even with a local pointing us in the right direction, the process still took 30 minutes. The highlight?

Jeremy: Hi, we would like two “foreign tourist” tickets to Bangalore.

Clerk: I’m sorry. Students can’t get the foreign tourist reservation.

Jeremy: Aaaaaaaaactually, I’m a diplomat.

Friday after work, Raghu dropped us off at the Secunderabad station with a “good luck.” The station, as to expected, was packed with thousands of travelers. Entire family groups, huddled around mounds of luggage. Entire villages, it seemed, en route from somewhere to somewhere else. We were a bit conspicuous, dragging our rolling suitcases. There were no other ghoras involved in this activity.

We found our names on the reservation list, along with our berth numbers. The first time I’ve ever seen my named written by someone else in either Hindi or telugu. The pronunciation they chose? Jah-reh-me. My name worked better in Hindi script than Elvin’s though, strangely enough.

After we crossed over all 10 tracks, we sat down in the long-distance train terminal, a much more comfortable sitting place than the other half of the train station. Ten minutes later, including of course a stray dog pooping in the middle of the terminal, our train – the Bangalore Rajdhani Express – pulled into the station. Every day, a train starts the two-night journey from Delhi to Bangalore, and vice versa, carrying a thousand passengers all or part of the way between the middle of North India and the middle of South India.

After figuring out the right door, we hopped aboard our car. This was not the train I’d remembered from Hungary. A whole nother narrow row of bunks cramped the skinny walkway. Brown faces of all ages peeked out from behind thin curtains with curiosity, I smiled back.

We shimmied our way to our seat. Or what I thought was our seat. But here I was confused. Why were there already four people sitting in our berth? I rechecked the number, confirmed it, through my suitcase on the top and walked away, assuming that the problem would resolve itself – as they so often do if you just give it time.

A minute later, I came back. Elvin was sitting between two burly men. “They said they’ll move,” he said with a shrug. I sat on the hard bench, pulling my knees into my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I wasn’t so sure anymore about the whole night train thing.

Five minute later, as the engine horned an about-to-leave warning, the men stood up. One reached next to him, one reached under the bench. Nonchalantly, they pulled machine guns out of dark corners and walked out without a sound. I gawked in shock. They turned the corner, I looked at elvin, that’s just happened?

(You probably need a new song for the soundtrack by this point, don’t you?)

We settled in as the train jerked out of the station. One berthmate, headed back to his aeronautic engineer job in Bangalore read on the top bunk. The other, on his way back to school, shared episode after episode of How I Met Your Mother with us on his laptop. Both had boarded the train, a full day earlier in Delhi and were set for night two aboard the same train without debarking.

Highlight: free on-board meal was quite palatable...with no adverse consequences!

Lowlight: it was almost dark by the time we pulled out of the station, no countryside sightseeing.

Highlight: “Western” and “Indian” bathroom facilities!!

Lowlight: No foreigner reservations in First Class.

Highlight: Air-condition was almost too cold!

two-hundred-and-nine years later

2011-05-25T05:03:00.000-07:00

But it's not like i'm the first to struggle to find myself adjusting to Hyderabad. Borrowing from William Dalrymple's "White Mughals," the best book about Hyderabad's princely mughal history:

"Since I came to this country, I cannot begin to recount all that has happened to me by way of suffering, deception and diseases, with no one intelligent to talk to...Alas, how could I know that matters would come to this present sorry state - broken and stuck in the hellish climate of Hyderabad!"

-- Abdul Lateef (1802)

And it will certainly improve over due course, as my mom has confessed that she is praying to St. Anthony, the patron saint of matchmaking, on my behalf. He's also, of course, the patron saint of lost things. Hopefully not lost causes.

...And The Other.

2011-05-22T07:54:00.000-07:00

So those ups and those downs, those extremes? Tough. (even though our hardship differential just went down from 25% to 20%.) And apparently, I'm not doing a very good job of masking the difficulties and celebrating the successes, based on recent unsolicated feedback from a variety of friends watching from afar:

"I feel an agitation and restlessness in your words, but at the same time maybe a subtle frustration and confusion? Like you were so sure of everything and you are for the most part happy, so you don't know why you are feeling a little down? that could be way off - I just feel like the enthusiasm for things isn't here today - and it's a much more apathetic tone."

"I have to admit, i'm a little worried about you over there in india....I wonder why you keep jumping around from country to country if doing so is leaving you unfulfilled. You always seemed content with it before, but now it seems as if all these people that you meet and all the amazing places you see aren't filling your deepest need...What is it you hope to discover?"

"I think I liked it better when you were in the US and not in India. I say this not for selfish reasons but because I felt that were happier, more your totally fabulous self stateside."

"You sound different....less upbeat than the usual."

"I have a question: are you enjoying India?"

oops. i'm probably happier than I let on, even if i am starting to wonder if i'm some sort of perma-malcontent, which would be odd to anyone who has known me at my happiest. maybe it's just that it's easy to complain in india: it's loud, it's hot, it's crowded, it's noisy, it's chaotic, it's slow, it's smelly, it's hectic. it's dirty. in short, it's incredible... there are less than diplomatic admissions, but sometimes it feels like one of the more difficult place on the planet to live. maybe that's what makes it so interesting? fascinating? amazing? i'm looking forward to travelling more, exploring more, even if travelling here is fairly difficult.

as for the job? grinding, but occasionally good. i'm less content in total than imagined i would be...after all it's my dream job in a long-held dream location. part of that's the institution. part of that's the circumstances. part of that might just be me? only time will tell.

One Extreme

2011-05-15T07:26:00.000-07:00

the amazing thing about india is extremity. it's a land of extremes. not even close to any so-called extremes you've ever seen, unless you've actually been here. the lows are so low, the highs are so high. and they're right damn next to each other, temporally and spatially. the oscillation, honestly, is quite hard on the nerves.

tonight, a definite high: dinner at the Chowmahalla Palace. Dining where the Nizam used to dine, in the long shadows of Hyderabad's long princely persian history. a local shipping/customs company, celebrating its silver jubilee with a wedding-like dinner, concert and fireworks show. tied to the consulate through business contracts...and one of the local staff members happens to be the daughter of the owner.

a delicious catered dinner, serenaded by the vaguely enchanting wails of a sufi singer. palace wall aglow in a sea of colors and the flash of fireworks. folks of all sorts parading fancy wear. even a long string of flowergirls, somehow prettier than the average andhra girl. even a bar stocked with "foreigner beverages," although it was the locals who were falling over themselves to make the classy set-up look more like a frat party.

a perfect evening temperature, a breeze. a world away from the hustle bustle chaos outside the palace walls, just as its been for four hundred years. princely palatial living, right next door to harrowing slums, minutes removed from crumbling roads and collapsing buildings.

incredible india...

Mother's Day Special

2011-05-07T23:43:00.001-07:00

I've been a largely uninspired blogger. Of late and in general. I'll take this Sunday morning to make amends, which will be appreciated the most by my most avid reader/reminder-that-i-don't-update-enough: my Mom! Happy Mother's Day!

Sometimes it's not easy to feel like a diplomat when you're sitting in Hyderabad working the visa line. We're a visa mill. A factory. A manufacturing plant. A conveyor belt. It seems like our only real goal is to get through as many visa interviews as possible. When you a slog through 100 a day, coupled with the ensuing paperwork, that gets tough. The hardest part every day is simply the disconnect between how much each interview means to the applicant...and how little it means to the interviewer personally. It's grueling to take that on our shoulder, if you're the type of person who cares about people. And it doesn't make help to have a growing stack of paperwork as the number of applicants continues to grow, even as we're not ready for it. The result is i come home tired, swim, play on the internet and go to bed.

Sometimes as I'm stirring a six-foot metal pole in a red-hot burn barrel, watching sensitive-but-unclassified information melt into toxic white smoke (HYD is, after all, too new/small/insignificant a post to warrant a heavy-duty paper shredder), i bemoan the here and now and wonder why exactly the United States has sent me on diplomatic assignment...to man a burning barrel...

But the past two weeks have felt far more interesting. Almost, gasp, like I've found myself in an exciting, dangerous, fanciful profession:

- planning and strategizing with the regional educational advising coordinator over dinner. battling through eggplant to get to the much tastier dal.

- giving a long-planned tourist visa presentation for 80 travel agents and travel industry professionals at one of the nicest hotels in town. battling through 2 hours of questions with helpful but calculated answers that come pretty easily after four months here. seeing self in newspaper.

- invitation to join in drinks and dinner and conversation at the Secunderabad Club, a ritzy country club i'd have no business visiting in the United States, but it feels right here.

- helping two first-time public speakers get prepared for -- and nail! -- a presentation in Medak, a town a few hours west of Hyderabad. Mission accomplished, except i learned that my training plan needs to expand a bit in at least one area. the local staffers fielded the ole "does the united states discriminate against muslims?" question and could only muster a "no comment." Of course we can comment, because there's an important (especially in these parts) answer to the question: No.

- the braised lamb at Ruchi and Idoni.

- an assassination attempt on a local politician in the Old City. possibility of violence, tempered many think because it was Mulsim on Muslim violence, not sectarian. he's transported to a hospital 150m down the road, which has been periodically blocked the past week now by marching mourners.

- a close 7-6 loss in tennis doubles.

- after ten years, the USG finds and eliminates the world's most dangerous terrorist. he'd been hiding in pakistan all along, closer to India than the Afghanistan. americans feel good about america and our president. indians feel justified in hating pakistan, discuss starting their own raids into pakistan territory to hunt terrorists. consulate security seriously strengthened.

- checking out a potential permanent apartment...and turning down the chance to request it because it doesn't meet the same standards as the rest of the housing pool. not feeling too bad about being picky.

- playing tourguide and friend to visiting DC-wallahs. patio dinner at Our Place, a nice new restaurant.

- meeting the foreign commercial service. flowcharts, but no chipotle. yet.

- tailgating with Miller Genuine Drafts in the middle of the dusty Deccan Plateau. first live cricket match, even if the Deccan Chargers went down in a blaze of glory.

- dinner with the Indian Foreign Service classes of 1983, 1984, 1985 at the Indian School of Business. hobnobbing amongst mid and senior-level diplomats at Hyderabad's ten-year-old business school, which already ranks #13 among all business schools in the world, partnering with peers like Wharton and Kellogg.

still

2011-05-06T00:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when I twist the q-tip just right, still pink.

Make Mumbai Happen

2011-04-25T23:27:00.000-07:00

Mumbai sprawls. The airport, in the middle of a huge swath of residential buildings, is an hour drive north of the South Mumbai city center. The drive’s amazing, the whole gamut of sights: the newest hotels and businesses, quiet residential enclaves, and circling them both, massive slums. Everything you’ve ever heard or thought of Mumbai, Bombay, is true. It is a city of world-class extremities, for better and worse.

THE WAY

1 hour flight from Hyderabad, about a $100. A 15-hour night train is an option, but you’ve gotta book trains way in advance in these parts. I wouldn’t recommend the March-August season, as it’s steamier than steamy. Temperatures are about the same as Hyderabad, but the humidity makes it seem much sweatier and way more uncomfortable.

STAY

Cheap guesthouses are plenty and not uncomfortable in COLABA, close to the highest concentration of sights and sounds. Travelling with budget-backpackers, we stayed in a tiny A/C room for 1600R a night ($40) along the Colaba Causeway. You’d also be comfortable along MARINE DRIVE, overlooking the Arabian Sea.

PLAY

The heart of the city is a fantastic blend of domineering colonialism and a fancy but fading sort of art deco. Tree-lined sidwalks like much of the touristy areas, a wonderfully welcome taste of visiting a European. It's so reassuring, in fact, that i walked away with the impression that this was a city that you could actually settled down in as a westerner and feel...comfortable. Some of the highlights?

Gateway of India and Taj Hotel – hustling, bustling city center. As lovely as it is crowded. And a living testament to India’s resilience after the 11/26 terrorist attack at the spot two and a half years ago.

Prince of Wales Museum – neat displays in an even more spectacular building

Victoria Terminus – One of the most photogenic, busiest train stations in the world. Another victim of ueber-nationalistm, now Chattrapati Shivaji Station.

Café Leopold – earns its reputation for being a fun, flirty place for tourists and NRIs to eat and drink and be merry. Stayed open until 2, which is waaay late for these parts.

The Oval –see cricket in action, hundreds of games overlapping in the same grassy patch surrounded by cathedrals and towers.

Bakeries - What a novelty!!! And donut shops, too!!!

Floating Mosque – Mumbai in a nutshell: scenic and shocking at the same time, an oasis of serenity, but only after you make it through a gauntlet of hawkers and beggars.

Dhobighat (Mahalaxmi Station) – see the innerworkings of the world’s largest washing machine: an entire neighborhood of dhobivallahs washing a city’s worth of laundry the old fashioned way.

Taxis – black and yellow little Ambassadors are the best way to see the city

Gandhi Bhavan – Mumbai’s quiet, leafy residential neighborhoods around Malabar Hills are worth a peek, and the Gandhi Musuem’s a great way to see that area and check out the room where Gandhi spent many of his pre-Independence nights.

And, of course, a more recently famous “bhavan,” the world’s first billion dollar home, Ambani’s 27-story tower.

One Part of Mumbai

2011-04-23T06:41:00.000-07:00

Scene One, while walking down the Marine Drive promenade about 9:00 pm

Can I shine your shoes?
No, thanks.
Only five rupees.
No, thanks.
Please?
No, thanks.
Please, sir, I can shine your shoes? I’m hungry.
Okay.

Scene Two, sitting on the abankment fronting the Arabian Sea, about 9:01 pm

Yes, my shoes do need a little shining.
Okay, sir.
The last man who wanted to shine my shoes said I would look like Al Pacino if only I would let him shine my shoes.
(No response.)
Do you know who Al Pacino is?
No.
He’s a movie star. I don’t look like Al Pacino. Do you live in Mumbai?
No. I am from Jaipur.
Oh, I hear its very nice there. I live in Hyderabad. Mai universityme hindi partta ta, aap hindi bol sakta hai?
Ha.
When did you come to Mumbai?
One week past.
Where is your family?
They stay in Jaipur only.
You came to Mumbai alone?
Yes. By the train. I need to earn money.
And you’re 12?
13.
Why did you come?
I need money for school. I just passed out 8th class. Now I have to pay $800 to go to school.
Wow.
Please help me, sir. Please help me go to school.
(No response.)
The shoe is good?
Yes, looks very good. Now, the other, please.
Okay.
Tell me about your family.
I have two little sisters. My mom cooks and cleans. But the people give her food, not money. My father is expired.
I’m sorry to hear that. Do your sisters go to school?
No.
Please pay for my school. Then I go back to Jaipur. You can come to the train station and watch. I will go back.
Entrepreuenership is a good skill. You are earning a good work ethic.
I thought you could help.
I will help. Here is 10 rupees for the shoeshine. And here is 100 rupees for school.
Okay.
Your English is very good, I think you will be a good student.
Okay.
Goodbye, young man, best of luck to you!
Okay.

Scene Three, the next night, between our guesthouse and Leopold's.

Look, Jeremy, it’s your friend again!
Hello, my friend, would you like to buy a map?
Hello, young man. You are selling maps today?
Yes, please buy it. Only 500 rupees.
I’m sorry, I don’t need a map today. I’m leaving in the morning.
Please, no one buys maps today.
I’m sorry. What is your name?
My name is Sanjay.
Sanjay, aap se milkar bari khushi hui. My name is Jeremy.
Okay.
Sell your map to someone else, but I am happy to see you again. Here is 100 rupees. Good luck, young man.
Thank you.

The Open Market

2011-04-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

They organized a continent's worth of digital pictures on my computer, freeing space for the sights (if not sounds) of nothern India. The only strangler left in iPhoto? One picture that captures a bit about what this corner of the world is like in 3.5 MBs.

Vanessa Jane (and The Weary Travellers)

2011-04-21T04:41:00.000-07:00

Friends!!!!

Hosting visitors might just be one of the best parts of living abroad. Showing someone from back home your new world, peeling back the shellshocked and proving to someone that your little foreign story is real. Livable. Sharing Heves with mom and dad after their Olympic trip; show-and-telling Rachel and Margaret as spring came to Heves.

First Indian visitors? Camper-turned-coworker-turned-dear-friend Vanessa and her boyfriend Nick, a stellar lad in his own right. They both spent the past two years teaching English in Korea -- a great gig -- and celebrating the end of their stay with two months in Southeast Asia and two months in South Asia, four months of Asian galavanting.

I know first hand how tiring travelling can be, so i'd been pushing HYD on them as a mid-way resting point since they started planning their trip months ago. Air-conditioning, washing machine, car and driver, all the modern conveniences. Plus Miller Genuine Draft.

Three weeks ago, after a marvelous stay in Sri Lanka, they touched down in Thiruvananthapuram, the southernmost point in India, and have slowly been inching their way northward. The loved the flavor of Kerala. Savored the calm of Ooty. Dug the beaches of Goa. Wandered the wonder of the ruins at Hampi. All by bus and train and foot.

Saturday morning, they pulled into HYD via overnight coach from Hampi. Mixed reviews on comfort, as you might guess. But immediately i threw them into the fray in a weekend action-packed with Hyderabadi fun:

playing cricket (and MGDs) at the consulate
pool party with the foreign exchange students
afternoon nap
McDonalds on a tray
sunday morning brunch
trying to figure out what happened at the pool party
Old City and Charminar
Watching Lagaan (first half only)

Monday, they took off on their own while I was at work and gave the Nizam's Chowmahalla Palace rave reviews. That evening, Raghu and his wife Uma, brought over mutton biryani in honor of their 17th wedding anniversary. (we presented them with a nice basket of goodies in return.) It was nice to meet Uma, I hadn't before. We had a lot of fun mixing English and Telugu (for her benefit) after we insisted long enough and Raghu and Uma finally agreed to join us at the dinner table. (He ate, she didn't.)

Tuesday, they went to Golkonda Fort with Britta, which I haven't even been to yet. They had a good time trapsing up and down the 17th century fort. Wednesday was a full day of relaxation, followed by a delicious lasanga dinner in gloria's new kitchen. In all, it's been great hosting them, as it's great motivation to be more social then I usual am after work. And social, of course, is fun, even if it's tiring.

Today's a packing day, as tomorrow we're off to Mumbai! Beautiful Bombay... We wanted to take an overnight train, but you have to book 2 months in advance, yikes. So we're off by plane. Should be grand!

I hope this is the first in a long string of visitors. Janani's planning a Bastille Day swing through HYD. Jenn Bahmer'll be dermatologying here for two weeks in August. Anders and Simo are debating September. October suits Annie's fancy more. Madison/Colorado friends tease me with the possibility of a December visit. And Cousin Kristine will be going ma and pa in January. And I continue, of course, to lobby others. Including YOU. :-)

getting hotter

2011-04-15T04:36:00.000-07:00

woah, things are a changing in the alcatraz apartments. glor's movin' on, andrew's gonna move into his permanent place next week, too. and at the same time, three new friends will be moving in to keep me company as i wait for my own permanent home...as i hit my fourth month in. the good news? new neighbors are fantastic: a former JAG officer and his law-trained German wife, as well as their new baby-to-be. manchmal sprechen wir ein bischen deutsch, which is pretty fun with telugu sprinkled in.

Past Glories

2011-04-09T04:42:00.000-07:00

This perhaps shouldn’t be all that surprising seeing as I’m surrounded by ancient temples and thousand-year old forts...but apparently India is a country that revolves around celebrating its past glories. Local tv and bar/restaurants are STILL showing the cricket tournament games. (In their eight-hour entirety, of course.)

Oh, and my toenails are STILL pink...

Try this on for size.

2011-04-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes online shopping makes me happy. Pouch arrival day's always one of the highlights of my week. And trying on glasses online and then ordering them from the US?

Wow.

Play Ball: Cricket Style

2011-04-02T04:35:00.000-07:00

Heading into the heart of the Commonwealth, it’s a given that you’ll have to learn to like cricket, or else spend two long years explaining why you don’t. It’s easier to give in...

But for the first few months, I couldn’t get into watching the seemingly silly sport. Even as India kicked off the 2011 Cricket World Cup in mid-February – a quadrennial tournament between a dozen or so mostly Commonwealth countries held this go-round in India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka – I had only tepid interest as the world around me shifted into cricket overdrive.

It would take a long paragraph to explain how one-day international cricket is similar to baseball, except that every major facet of the game is pretty different. And in truth, I wouldn’t have been able to write that paragraph until Wednesday, when I turned on the tv to watch the India-Pakistan semi-final and BAM! All of a sudden, cricket made sense. All the back-and-forth rules, all the crazy numbers at the bottom of the screen. It was kind of a great moment in time.

After a month of round-robin play, 8 teams made it into the elimination round. After first-round wins, India and Pakistan won the right to face each other in the semi-finals. There was a wee bit of build-up for the game, as this match would be akin to your choice of:

Ali v. Frazier in boxing
Packers v. Bears in football
Yankees v. Red Sox in baseball
Federer v. Nadal in tennis
(except, I suppose, more like Serena v. Venus...)
Hungarian v. Soviets in water polo
Forrest Gump v. the entire Chinese Ping Pong Team

Oh, and just for fun, the countries have fought four wars since 1947.

Oh, and let’s double down, they share a contested and militarized border.

Oh, and no big deal, but they have a bevy nuclear weapons pointed at each other.

The match was so big they threw a screen up in the cafeteria and the local staff, with a smattering of interested Americans, caught bits of the game during the afternoon. It’s a slow paced game, like baseball, you can come and go without missing too much.

Cricket happens in halves. First, one team bats. They bat until 10 batters get out, or until 50 “overs” is complete, whichever comes first. (Each over is 6 bowls, so that’d be 300 pitches.)

India won the toss and batted first. Most teams subscribe to that theory, unlike deferring in football, thinking that it’s better to go first than the pressure of needing to chase a set number. They started at 2:30, but I didn’t pay attention. When I walked out of work at 5:30, half the staff was still watching the game. India was still batting. Faces were long, thought, India weren’t (yes, this is correct, per South Asian English!) racking up big runs like usual.

When I got home at 6:00, Pakistan was just starting to bat. I was amazed to understand the game when I turned on the tv, so I had no choice but to order a pizza to make the evening complete. (It arrived 2.5 hours and two phone calls later...)

With each swing, the Pakistan batsmen fell further and further behind. With each over, hoots, hollers and firecrackers would burst on the street as India inch closer and closer to victory over their fierce (and real-life) rival. When India finally sealed the game, young cricket fans poured into the streets with song, dance and flags. I watched the spectacle, under a firework-lit sky, from my window high above the street.

On to the finals, today, Saturday. Excitement in the streets, although in comparison I would say it was less than a Wisconsin city when, say, the Packers are in the Super Bowl.

Sri Lanka batted first, but it wasn’t until the switch that I joined Yogi and friends at a nearby house, converted into viewing parlor with a projection screen. Again, things weren’t looking good. Indians were pessimistic, and swearing off the importance of the final. “It’s far more important that we beat Pakistan in the semi-finals,” more than one said. I had already started to prepare a thesis, relating India’s foreign policy to the attitude of its sports fans. Namely that Pakistan mattered than everything else combined...

The mood bottomed out when national hero Sachin Tendulkar struck out after tallying only 18 runs. For many overs, India just barely held on. But captain M.S. Dhoni slowly started swinging for the fences. A long series of 4s (a ball that bounces out of the playing area) and 6s (a ball that clears the playing area on the fly) later, he sealed the already-decided game with a massive six. Boom, turns out the Indians actually did care about the final, they poured into the streets again for fireworks, jumping on trucks and other assorted tri-color merriment. Tendulkar carried off the field. Dhoni given a new place in subcontinent lore.

The Indians liked it. And so did I, just not quite as much. So it goes with a sport where you can wear ridiculous hats during gameplay...

And two weeks later...

2011-03-29T05:25:00.000-07:00

Hair? Still pink.
Nails? Still pink.

Hikes Around Hyderabad: Bhongir Fort

2011-03-28T05:24:00.000-07:00

"Trek" three with the Great Hyderabad Adventure Club: An evening hike to the top of Bhongir Fort. And the first where two colleagues tagged along, Matt and Gloria were eager to both get out for a hike and meet some BEP-friends.

Fifty kilometers east of Hyderabad, one of many giant monoliths on this part of the Deccan Plateau. A giant rock, more than 500 feet tall, jutting abruptly out of dusty plains. Perched high atop the rock, a 14th century fort/palace and the long staircase snaking its way to the top. (We only half-used the convenience.)

Admission: 60 rupees. Bring your own water. Begin descent not long after sunset. Beware of troops of monkeys.

When to Plan YOUR India Trip

2011-03-27T01:17:00.001-07:00

Now, I haven't lived in India for a full calendar year yet, but borrowing from a variety of sources, the best time to plan a visit to Hyderabad -- and most other parts of India -- is October through February, although you can usually get away with March and September, too. Weather should be a factor in your travel plans. April and May, go the rumors, are too hot to be pleasant. June, July and August are that unpleasant combination of hot and wet. Steamy. Blame the monsoons.

But depending on what you'd like to see/do, there might be more specific suggestions:

Sightseeing in Northern India's "GOLDEN TRIANGLE" (Delhi, Agra and Jaipur)

If you want to hit the Taj Mahal, the ancient and modern palaces of India's capital and Rajistan's beautiful desert capital, plan to avoid the hottest months of the year, unless 50 degrees celsius is your thing. The "winter" months of November through February are most pleasant.

Hiking in the HIMALAYAS

From west to east: Jammu and Kashmir* (Srinigar), Ladakh (Leh), Himachal Pradesh (Dharamsala, Simla), Nepal (Katmandu), Sikkim* (Darjeeling), Bhutan*, Arunachal Pradesh*

* Some restrictions apply.

In Ladakh, weather is extreme. Think Colorado, except next to Kashmir. Most passes don't open in late June. Summer season for hiking is July and August. Autum trekking extends from September to the first half of October before it gets too cold again.

If you're hiking out of Darjeeling or into Sikkim, plan around the monsoon. Spring hiking is possible between March and May. Fall hiking is possible in October through December.

Relaxing along the coast and backwaters of GOA & KERALA

The beaches of Goa are best savored between October and March. April through September just aren't as pleasant.

Keralan houseboats are good any time of year except the June and July monsoons. The peak season is the December through February winter.

How to Get a Visa to India

2011-03-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

It should come as little surprise that the Indian embassy as outsourced much of its visa processing. Luckily, Travisa makes the entire process pretty easy at their website.

Americans can get a visa to India in 6-month, 5-year or 10-year increments. The later two, of course, cost a bit more: $73 versus $163. A visa gives you permission to enter a country – so don’t get a six month visit more than six months before you intend to travel or you’re out of luck! Once you’re at the border, they’ll give you up to six months (180 days) to enjoy the country. If you leave and want to come back, you have to wait two months, unless you get a permit* or carry a careful itinerary**.

* Sounds like it’s asking for a bribe...

** Sounds like it invites trouble. I’ll relay information if I hear of anyone making a successful excursion, for example, to Katmandu during their visit to India.

In short, you complete an online application and mail four documents to Travisa, which relays the package to the Indian consulate in Chicago (assuming you live in Wisconsin): a valid passport with at least 6 months remaining, two pictures, a photocopy of your birth certificate and a photocopy of a document that serves as proof of address. Two weeks or so later, you get your passport back with a nice shiny Indian visa in it.

You can also apply in person and get a visa later that day, if your trip to Hyderabad is THAT pressing...

A week later...

2011-03-25T05:21:00.000-07:00

Still pink.

Holi Goodness

2011-03-21T02:45:00.000-07:00

Holi's one of those things you hear about India. Taj Mahal and temples. Cows and elephants. Divali and holi.

It even took a starring role in Outsourced. So much build up that I prepared to be a bit underwhelmed.

The holiday, in short, is a celebration of color to mark the arrival of spring. Of course the high temperature hasn't dipped below 70 since i got here, so spring takes on a new meaning. No spring showers -- it's rained only twice since i arrived in January. And the temperature this week -- 95 -- hardly feels like "spring."

And as a HIndu holiday, the day marks the celebration of a god who -- after praying to VIshnu -- didn't get burned alive when he sat on a fire. His demon sister, on the other hand, didn't pray to Vishnu and died on the same pyre. So it goes, when you sit on a fire.

Our drivers invited Andrew, Gloria, new friend Jordan and I to their homes on Saturday. We were welcomed, warmly, as guest of honor into a foreign world. First, Narasaiya's home. Not palatial india, real india. A small three room hovel, warmed by life. Stacks of bags of rice. Puja nooks instead of puja rooms. A pinching reminder that the $200 we pay our drivers every month really does support a family. All their needs, all their rice for what some people back home pay for cell phone and cable bills each month.

So much, in short, that I take for granted. You can't fill water balloons with running water at everyone's home...

After a simple, delicious meal, we joined the warfare in the streets. Polite face painting evolved into color schmearing. Colored water splashing tipped towards full face plants. Minutes later, we found ourselves trading water ballons filled with colored water. Barrage after barrage, until we admitted defeat and i strolled through the enemy forces offering handshakes and "meeru gelicheru"s to buy the others enough time to get in the car to make our get-away. Amazing. Awesome.

Afterwards, Krishna's house, not far from the consulate. An older, more experienced driver. A slightly bigger, more comfortable home. One more plate of delicious food by Telugu-only wives shyly hiding in kitchens while husbands and children laughed with us in the main room. We returned to the dusty streets for round #2.

Teenagers smashed eggs into our hair, adding a whole new level of schop and stickiness. I felt like I was cultivating salmonella over half my body, but I couldn't tell if it was the green, the yellow, the blue or the red speckling my body. Wild. Wonderful.

We retreated to Alcazar and took turns in the shower by the rooftop pool. A rinse round, a scrub round, a lather round, a shampoo round and a rinse round before being clean enough -- although still stained pink -- to jump into the pool. wo much color. It's be easy to argue too much color. I collapsed onto my white sheets and woke up in sea of pink streaks

On Sunday, the color war continued at a coworker's family's house. I only went because i thought it was going to be more tame. A gather of adults. Professionals pleasantly at play. How I underestimated.

Again, the interlocutors started with measured color sprinkling. But ten minutes later, folks were plunked into 55-gallon barrels of red sludge. Glitter paint slobbed over any exposed skin. Little sprinkles of color floating atop glasses of beer and other drinks*. Hours of tomfoolery in all colors.

After a third delicious meal and a dripping retreat, another multi-round of showers, minutes more soaking in the pool. But still pink. Even a sunflower oil shower and a coconut oil bath. Still pink. Hair? Pink. Bedsheets? Pink. Pillows, pink. Camera and car? Pink. Swimsuit, goggles, sandals? Pink. Contact lenses, pink.

And a monday morning at work? Pink, but thankful for invitations. And tarps conveniently stored in the dickie**.

* Would have later consequences.

** Indian for "trunk."

A Sporting Chance

2011-03-20T08:35:00.000-07:00

I hate to go on and on about how important I am...but it’s kinda true.

Case in point, the 2010-11 sports season in Wisconsin.

Here’s my theory: the farther I get away from the great state of Wisconsin, the better its sports teams do. This is a theory that started taking shape many years ago, when my arrival at Madison was matched by a sudden downturn in Bucky’s fortunes. The years right before I transferred, two consecutive Rose Bowls and a Final Four berth. The next three years, not quite the same grandeur. Let’s examine the recent evidence behind the theory:

I move to Washington DC, pretty far from Wisconsin.

Brewers come to town. I go to a game with Josh and Amy. Brewers lose. 8-0. Next day, of course, they win a barnburner 11-7.

Packers come to town. I go to a game with Gloria, Ken, Bargey and Beth. Packers lose. In overtime. To the lowly Redskins. Packers go on to have a good season.

Badgers march all the way to the Rose Bowl. I go to the Rose Bowl in January? Yup, Badgers lose.

So I move to Hyderabad, India, about as far as you can get from Wisconsin without being in the middle of an ocean.

Sure enough, Packers win three straight playoff games on the road, then go on to win the Super Bowl.

And soon enough, March rolls around. The Badgers march on to the Sweet Sixteen behind stellar play from Taylor, Leuer and the role players. Marquette has already won their first round games in the NCAA tournament. As I’m on the far side of the planet, its not too much to expect a UW-MU championship game.

It’s getting so absurd that at least one wise diplomat has started taking the trend into consideration:

TIME on their hands

2011-03-13T09:05:00.000-07:00

In the bookstore earlier today, i started flipping through the magazines. they'll sell you a variety of american and british magazines for a dollar or two, amongst the many Indian options, too.

i picked up time, even if i usually get the Newsweek because it's a bit cheaper, because the cover was so provocative.

i flipped through, debating the purchase, when i was drawn to a nice little map in the middle. all the world, in a variety of color categories, relaying socio-economic prosperity levels. North America, Northern Europe and Down Under all proud in red. Japan and Europe next in orange. The southern and eastern parts of europe yellow, inviting Uruguay, Korea and Taiwan into the ranks. Further east, further south --and Chile -- green. My current India is deep purple...

I first noticed an ink splotch on the opposite page, wondered about the purple ink for a moment before i looked at the map. sure enough, a big purple stamp, right over the top of the map. "The External Boundaries Of India As Depicted in The Maps are Neither correct nor Authentic." Awesome...

Great Moments in Time...

2011-03-09T08:01:00.000-08:00

...500 pounds of crapola -- and a couple ounces of the best damn beef jerky ever -- arriving via slow boat.

Lovely Laknavaram

2011-03-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

I joined an adventure club, as I’m want to do.

One of my first memories of Madison, a pair of Hoofers outing. In Heves, in the absence of an adventure club, I formed my own. (Sadly, the Green Club never adventured, as the kids didn’t have sleeping bags.) And here on the Deccan Plateau? The Great Hyderabad Adventure Club.

I felt out the club in January with a trip to the deer park with the smiling orphans. A little heavy on the software engineers – as any group of more than a handful of people in this city must necessarily be – but full of friendly, interesting young professionals.

Until I get some experience under my belt, the idea of adventuring off the beaten path (at least with the ability to return to work on time come Monday morning) is a bit daunting. The train system a bit intimidating, buses even more so. So I figured the club’s a great way to hit the ground running.

First trip? Laknavaram.

On a map it’s not the far, maybe 200 km, just a little bit past Warangal, the nearest “big city” outside of Hyderabad, the epicenter of the Telangana agitations. The road between here and there is “under construction.” Sometimes a two-lane divided highway for a kilometer or two, then a one-lane dirt detour around an irrigation pipe or whatnot.

It’s slow going. But the most noticeable thing about Indian roads is the stunning variety of speeds on each an every road. Fastest: huge trucks barreling over/around/through any obstacles. 2nd place: huge buses, much the same, except they occasional slow – not stop – to let passengers hop on or off. 3rd. Personal cars. 4th. Motorcycles. 5th. Mopeds. 6th. Autorickshaws. 7th. Bicycles. 8th. Stray dogs. 9th. Pedestrians. Last place? Cows. The totality means lots of passing, lots of swerving, lots of jerky braking and accelerating.

The moment we left Hyderabad, the countryside was pure ride paddy and cotton fields, speckled with huge monoliths every once in a while on the horizon. Beautiful, amazing countryside, dotted with villages and locals hard at work in the fields. Five hours later, our private mini bus reached our destination and the 15 of us hopped out. A 12th-century reservoir that’s on the cusp of being a “tourist attraction.” That means the government has built a suspension bridge to an island and locals come picnic here.

It should come as no surprise when I interrupt the story here for a slight jeremiad: India is dirty. It’s a combination of things, of course, but here’s a beautiful spot that’s been blatantly trashed. A whole island covered in shit. Not just a little. A lot. Litter everywhere. Disgusting. Broken glass shards everywhere. Dangerous. Of course there’s no government or private entity that can maintain trash facilities way out in the boonies, an I’m not suggesting it would be the right investment in a rural area where there are massive public health, safety and education needs. More disappointing, I suppose, is the attitude of each and every visitor who comes to a nice little spot in the woods...and feels little to no remorse about adding a popsicle wrapper, a paper plate, a water bottle and a right shoe to the mess. (my new friends, thankfully, were largely exceptions to the rule.)

But once you gloss over the details, the spot was a nice reprieve from the hustle and bustle of Hyderabad. I wouldn’t go so far as to call the water inviting, but we dove in regardless. Most of us, strangely enough, in life jackets. It’s a bit strange coming from Wisconsin, but the majority of the software engineers couldn’t swim. So in the shallows I taught rhythmic breathing. And floating... Also taught on the trip? How to drive an automatic car. How to hold a paddle. How to steer a boat. Things I learned on the other hand? How to cook darn good curry over a fire. How to amuse a troop of monkeys with leftover rice.

We didn’t have the spot to ourselves, though, a slew of locals on picnics came and went both Saturday and Sunday. They don’t see many farengi – foreigners – out in these parts; I created a bit of a stir. Of course I bring most of it upon myself, charming school children on weekend picnics with a few sentences in Telugu, then having to pry myself out of 20 handshakes five minutes later. I tried teaching one school’s worth of kids the merits of picking glass shards out of the rocks, but the lesson may or may not have taken root.

This is the end of the story. It was a nice two-day trip into authentic Andhra Pradesh. It’s just not a good tale, sorry. Hope the pictures suffice.

Century

2011-02-28T23:59:00.000-08:00

this was only a matter of time, of course, but i logged my first "century" today:

127.

I interviewed 127 people this morning -- if we extend "morning" to 1:30 pm --out of the total 500-odd applicants here in HYD. yikes. the post record is well over 200, of course, but it's still a pretty ridiculous concept, shuffling that many folks through an adequate screening.

just call me sachin tendulkar.

Ultimate

2011-02-27T08:11:00.000-08:00

Apparently I've been getting frisky lately without even knowing it...

Striked Out

2011-02-23T23:50:00.000-08:00

Hmpfh. Local separatist strikes have quashed the Consular Leadership Day plans that i worked hard to coordinate. Six teams headed to six local underprivileged schools in the morning and an afternoon of picnicking and teambuilding.

But we made the best of the changed gameplan with a picnic on the porch and games in the palace driveway. Earthquake? A hit, if not fierce. Traffic Jam? A better challenge than i'd imagined! And Water Balloon Blind Dodgeball? Ding ding ding.

Guest Blogging: They Got Game

2011-02-23T06:12:00.000-08:00

First published, earlier this afternoon, on the Consul General's personal blog, A Diplomat in the Deccan.

If the National Basketball Association really is scouting India for the first player with the potential to make it big-time, ala China’s Yao Ming, they’d better book a ticket to Hyderabad. Fast.

That’s what I didn’t know before agreeing to match up against local kids in a friendly basketball game Friday afternoon.

I jumped onboard as soon as I heard the Public Affairs Section was recruiting American officers for a game at the Sports Coaching Foundation. After all, I’ve got a pretty solid background in basketball. Okay, I haven’t played on a school team since 5th grade and my intramural team recorded only one win in two seasons, but still, my hometown back in Wisconsin is a basketball hotbed. The Fond du Lac Cardinals regularly win state championships and my sister’s classmate made it all the way to the Final Four and a starting spot on an NBA roster. And it’s safe to call my college a powerhouse. The University of Wisconsin Badgers just beat the #1 team in the country! That pedigree has to count for something.

I knew we were in trouble, though, the moment we stepped out of the car. Tucked next to Chacha Nehru Park in a modest corner of the city, the non-profit organization’s dusty sports field is brought to life with that magical sound of children at play, universal in any land. Huddled up on one side of the sports field, a team of girls, all sporting matching blue jerseys. On another side, a team of boys, even taller and older, in matching yellow. They looked like they knew what they were doing.

But still, I was optimistic. These were only schoolchildren, after all.

As we warmed up, the crowd grew little by little. The other sportsters -- the cricket boys, the gymnastics girls and the tennis-wallah -- took a break to ring the court. And plenty of parents joined them. After calling everyone’s attention, Mr. Saibaba, the founder of Sports Coaching Foundation, was kind enough to announce our all-star line-up and asked us each to introduce ourselves. And in truth, I earned more applause with the microphone than with the gameplay that was to come.

“Namaskaramu, na peru Jeremy,” I started, to cheers from the half of the crowd that prefers Telugu. The other half clapped when I parroted “Namaste, mera naam Jeremy hai,” in Hyderabad’s other major language, Hindi/Urdu.

“Mai university me hindi urdu parta ta…kani ee rojlu na telugu na hindi urdu kante chala bagundi,” I said, blending the two very different languages together, as so often happens here on such a diverse subcontinent.

But it was the kids’ chance to show off their skills just as soon as the ball was tipped. The blue-clad girls won the tip and raced down the court. A few well-executed passes, a dribble or two, a swish. Girls 2, Consulate 0. I glanced at one of my coworkers and all he could offer was a shake of the head.

We had walked into a trap. These kids were ringers!

For 15 minutes, the girls found hole after hole in our defense, even if our height and superior bulk kept us in the game. After a short time-out, it was the boys’ turn to embarrass us. They chose to do their damage with the fast break. Lay-up after lay-up. Even the third game, a mixed group of younger kids, was more than we could handle.

But even if the scoreboard wasn’t in our favor Friday, we walked away with our heads held high and a smile on our faces. It was great to see kids of all creeds having fun on the Sports Coaching Foundation, learning real life lessons from both the coaches and the value of gameplay.

Plus, I’m hoping these Hyderabadi kids will keep me in mind for a pair of front row tickets just as soon as they make it onto an NBA roster...

Jeremy Jewett is a first-tour Vice Consul from Wisconsin. On a good day, he stands 5’10”. His line on the day? 6 points, 5 assists, 4 rebounds, 3 turnovers, 2 fouls and 1 great experience.

Go to Goa

2011-02-21T08:28:00.000-08:00

Go to Goa. It’s like the Caribbean, except with all the flavour that makes India so much fun.

Goa is a 2-hour flight from Hyderabad, roundtrip prices run between $100 and $150. Unfortunately, the schedule is rather lame. Two flights usually leave HYD to start the trip to Goa and back each day: one at 2:30 pm and one at 2:45 pm. They both land back in Hyderabad on the return trip a little before 7 pm. Train is not an effective alternative.

Once you land at the bus-station-like airport in central Goa, you’ve got your choice of heading to the beaches in the North or the beaches in the South, a delightful dilemma. The north is regarded as a little quieter, south a little more touristy. In the middle, a few cities much quieter than most of India, as well as the ruins of Old Goa, which once rivals Lisbon as the greatest city of the Portuguese empire at its peak.

We had a reservation at a beach in the south, just one beach north of the very last Goan beach. An air-conditioned cab for the hour-long ride cost about $30 for all four of us.

We arrived at Agonda Beach to find our reservation cancelled, but the staff helped us find a new pair of huts along the beach that worked just fine. Cuba was even a bit cheaper than the original H20 Agonda. For $50 worth of rupees, you get an air-conditioned hut with mosquito-netted queen-sized bed and attached bathroom. Showering next to the toilet only increases the charm.

Agonda Beach is typical of the smaller beaches. During the day, tourists – mostly European – enjoy the sun, sand and surf. Indian visitors are the exception. Quaint beach huts, separated by Goan restaurants, line the beach. Across the one street in town, villagers run little shops out of their homes.

We rented mopeds - $5 apiece for 24 hours – to explore the area on our second day. Palolem Beach, 10 km south, is the last of the Goan beaches. It had a distinctly more crowded feel, and we left not long after we arrived. It’s worth a visit, but it’d be a less relaxing stay than Agonda Beach. 12 km north of our beach, we also explore the ruins of Cabo de Rama, a once-proud Portuguese fort high atop bluffs overlooking picture-perfect bays. The views are stunning, even if the history isn’t well documented at the site.

But the flavor of Goa makes it stand out in India. Portuguese colonialism took a much different shape than British colonialism. The Portuguese were far more interested in converting their domain, the result is a high Catholic population. Old catholic churches are the center of life in each town. Saturday weddings look pretty much like those back home. Kids play soccer in the street, not cricket. There’s no curly-wirly local language on signs. There’s no excise tax on liquor. And evening church recitals include the Ode to Joy polka. This is one fantastic land of goodness. Looking forward to exploring more.

The (Second) Best Days of My Life

2011-02-16T18:04:00.000-08:00

I still remember my first time.

I remember being surprised at how good it felt. How right it felt.

That’s why it was such a joy to share Andrew, Gloria and Microsoft Steve’s first time with them. Bryans Adams, live in concert.

I’ve been an advocate, of course, ever since a summer evening in Budapest – some of the best days of my life – long ago. You wouldn’t necessarily expect it, but frankly, Bryan Adams rocks.

For weeks, black, white and orange billboards shouted about the Canadian rocker’s 5-city tour of India, the fourth of his career. We were quick to sign on for 1500 rupee tickets, $30, pretty pricey by local standards. Joined by two local staffers, pretty ardent fans, we trekked out to the high tech side of town and trickled in front of a large outdoor stage. A song-and-dance number from an upcoming movie was a pretty poor opener, and it took BA about an hour to show up.

He started, just like in Budapest, with a slew of songs I’d never heard of. But that the rest of the crowd – Hungarian and Indian alike – seemed to know those songs just fine. Gloria skeptically turned to me with a “he better play something I know soon” look. Andrew got antsy when the unknown man next to him innocently draped his arm around his shoulders, as Indian men often do. But by the time he got to the middle of his set, though, Gloria was rocking and Andrew let out a little “Bryan Adams sings this song!?”

Two-and-a-half hours later, validated. All three agreed the concert was fantastic. Just like a Budapest evening, long ago, Bryan Adams rocked a new legion of fans into his corner. Man-crush, vindicated.

Valentines in Perspective

2011-02-14T08:24:00.000-08:00

Today is valentine’s day.

A year ago was a valetine’s day, too, my first night in D.C. Walking a foreign city buried in more than two feet of suffocating snow. On a desperate prowl, if only for a place -- any place -- to eat in a big corner of the city that shuts down after business hours. It wasn’t hard to feel lonely, the day before I was schedule to meet a hundred new best friends. A finally found a bottom-floor gyro shop. I sat by the window, but almost couldn’t see over the snowbanks. Even after I made a slew of good friends in the months that followed, I never went back to that restaurant.

But if the holiday can be a bit touchy in the American heart, it can be downright charged here in India.

Ten or twelve years ago, it was valetine’s day, too. Hindu nationalist agitators used the holiday as a symbol of the worst of Globalization. Westernization. Commercialization. Consumerization. Romanticization. Not-our-way-of-live-ization, they argued, except not with words, but with stones through storefronts. Reading about the valentine’s day turmoil in India in the 1990s is one of my first memories of studying India.

But today in India, a different valentine’s day.

In me, not the restlessness of a year before. Contentment wouldn’t be quite the right word, but a form of calm acceptance. Situational asceticism, I suppose. Not a single card exchanged (lest we consider the banter of a few e-cards). Not ideal, if you would ever be silly enough to ask me my opinion on the matter, but just another part of a longer journey.

And in India, a fully modern valentine’s day. Lovers planning their Bryan Adams concert. Chocolates in a land that doesn’t have much need for chocolate. And in the mall across the street, discovered on the hunt for another valentine’s day supper, a crowd. This valentine’s day mob, though, happy not angry. Youngsters dancing atop a heart-shaped platform, striving for the title of Mr. and Mrs. Valentine.

Still plenty of valentine’s day angst here in India, ten years later. Teenage angst.

Strengths Found

2011-02-10T08:25:00.000-08:00

My new doorknob hanger...

Super Bowl Fever > Dengue Fever

2011-02-06T06:22:00.000-08:00

I swear, the farther I get from Wisconsin, the better off Wisconsin sports teams are... If this is actually the case, expect a good two-year run for the Badgers, Brewers and Packers.

But the hometeam in the Superbowl presents its own challenges when you're in India Standard Time, 11:30 hours ahead of that great swath of the Central Standard Time Zone than I call home. So a 6 pm Sunday superbowl in the US translates into a 5:30 am Monday morning Superbowl in India. Plus it isn't a big enough ratings hit to warrant even on an early-morning slot on any of the 50-odd cable channels I get.

A local hotel out in the hi-tech part of the city offered a solution for the ex-pats here in Hyderabad. But it'd be hard to get your money's worth out of a $40 "all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink" party when in starts at 4 am in a country where you can get a 45 cent lunch down the street from the consulate.

So instead, I set the alarm to wake up early and stream the game over the interview courtesy of ustvnow.com, so legitimate that the State Department had recommended that we sign up for it with our personal email. In truth, though, the alarm wasn't even necessary, i'd worked myself into a frenzy reading pre-game coverage that i could hardly sleep and woke up early.

But come the fourth quarter, 7:45 here, I had to head to work. And you couldn't imagine my desperation when the game hit the three minute mark, Steelers down by 6, Ben Roethlisberger with the ball and a chance to win the game...the most suspenseful moment of Americana of the year...and the clock struck 8:30 and with it the first visa applicant began his clamoring for his interview to get into the US. Sacrilegious, I dare say! Enough time in America, though, and he'll learn... :-)

Needless to say, i sported my homemade Packer badge with pride the rest of the day...and one returning H1B even offered a congratulations when he saw it. Way to go Pack!

Delightful Delhi

2011-01-30T06:09:00.000-08:00

Flight from Hyderabad to Delhi – 2 hours, costs ~$200 roundtrip

First impression: “Wow, this place is civilized.”

Purpose: Two days of training and consultations at the embassy, both made much more useful with a few weeks on the job under my belt. Pretty amazing to see the differences in lifestyle between a work-in-progress micro-consulate versus one of America’s largest embassies, home to a thousand American staffers and a sprawling compound complete with baseball diamond, well-stocked commissary, clinic and...yes...hamburgers.

Sightseeing:

Marvelous. Andrew and I stayed until Sunday to enjoy the capital. After our time in the diplomatic enclave, we stayed in Connaught Circus. It’s a nice centrally located commercial hub. A place, unlike Hyderabad, where it’s easy to enjoy Mexican food and share a dinner table with a gaggle of Germans working here in the publishing industry. Even the bars were better, thanks in part to Asian lady karaoke, even if Andrew was drinking illegally thanks to Delhi’s 25 year old drinking age!

We chose to travel mostly by Delhi’s moder metro, which borders pretty close to phenomenal! Most often it’s ridiculously crowded, but that’s half the fun. Trains come very often, fare is cheap. The first car of each train is reserved for women only. We were a bit jealous of the much more comfortable-looking “lady trains.”

India Gate
Rajpath
Rastrapati Bhavan
New Delhi train station *
Connaught Place
Chadni Chowk
Red Fort
Old City of Shahjahanabad
Jama Masjid
Qut’b Minar
Archeological Area

* Not actually a tourist destination. Avoid.

We didn’t get to see everything we wanted to see in one day, but two days would be plenty to add Humayan’s Tomb and a few other noteables to your list before moving on to the rest of the Golden Triangle.

DO NOT stay at Jukaso Hotel. Nice location, but a little pricey for what you get and they arrange sketchy taxi cabs.

DO NOT walk from the Qut’b Minar metro stop to the Qut’b Minar. It’s asking for confusion. Take an autorickshaw, it should be 40 rupees or less. But if you feel like stroll on the way back and have a map, take the time to walk through the Mehrauli Archeological Park. It’s not as compact as the Qut’b Minar Complex, but has just as many lesser-visited treasures.

Squiggles on Reverse

2011-01-28T06:58:00.000-08:00

it's like i have a normal career.

except the back of my business card is a bunch of squiggles.

Republic Day with the Kids

2011-01-26T04:41:00.000-08:00

I’m not beyond making friends on the internet. Usually, in fact, it’s worked out pretty well in the past, and no reason to think it’d be any different in a booming high-tech city with a huge population of young professionals working for all sorts of MNCs.

First step? Joining two local “meet-up” groups. One linking up folks interested in adventure, the other sports.

Last weekend, I autorickshawed to the lakeside Sanjeeviah Park for a pick-up ultimate frisbee game. Nine guys and a gal with a pretty wide range of ultimate experience – stretching from too worried about defensive strategic alignments versus never thrown a Frisbee before. In the combination of the two, a great morning of frisbee.

And today? Republic Day in India.

A holiday to celebrate the world’s largest democracy. And it’s longest constitution. At the moment, a whopping 395 articles and already 94 amendments only 61 years into the experimet.

The adventure group had a few activities lined up for the mid-week holiday, but only one really caught my eye. Hanging out with orphaned schoolchildren at a local deer park?

Yes, please.

The adult half of the meet-up gathered just outside the gate of a local women’s college. (My first monkey sighting in India was a cute little troop scampering atop the masonry wall guarding the college.) Most people didn’t know too many people there, small pockets introduced themselves. It was nice to see a familiar face from ultimate frisbee.

A Microsoft programmer here, an Infosys business analyst there. BEP folks, in our consular slang, as they come from the types of companies that have strong reputations and can get a spot in our Business Executive Program for easier visa processing.

English is the default link language for young professionals in a place like Hyderabad. Some people are from here, others from up north or different parts of the south. Most were educated in English-medium schools and it’s obviously the lingua franca in the international hi-tech offices.

We bussed to the orphanage, a modest house-sized concrete building in a residential neighborhood. (Aadarana.) A colorful awning covering the bare roof, offering the biggest open indoor space. With curious eyes, uniformed boys shyly offered their hands. Curiosity doubled to wonder as I offered a “Namaskaramu! Na peru Jeremy. Mee peru emi?”

One of the hardest parts about starting to understand a new culture, I’ve found, is learning about names. In Hungary, I can remember how baffled my ears were by the Zsofi’s and Gyongyi’s of the world, let alone adding surnames into the mix, too. Same now in India, I don’t know what names to expect, and can’t always here what they’re trying to say. The only solution? A spare pen in my pocket and the canvas of my palm. A growing list of names and initials.

Free of a set plan or agenda, a plopped down on the floor amid a sea of brown eyes and black hair. I spread out a state highway map, a favored hobby in Hungary, and a crowd of brown hands poked at the innards of Eau Claire and Ashwaubenon as I explained in a blend of three languages a little about my little corner of America. Five minutes later we switched, they told me more about themselves, in an easy blend of three languages. I had to work hard to keep the German and Hungarian out.

After an hour, the official program began. The partner girl’s orphanage arrived in a variety of colored uniforms, one per grade. Then the orphanage’s benefactor arrived. He raised the ceremonial tricolor, high aloft portraits of Gandhi, Nehru and Dr. Ambedkar, to a rowdy anthem. The next minute, he asked each of the children what they wanted to be when they grew up. First the boys. Software engineer, doctor and cricketeer were the leading responses. Then, my favorite part, the girls, too. Doctor and teacher were most common. All to applause from 50 young adult adventurers. I smiled a lot.

We loaded back onto the buses, this time with 50 extra little sets of smiles, headed outside the city limits to the deer park. The facility itself was a little anticlimactic, and hardly deserving of the national park label on the ticket window. A little safari bus rumbles down a dusty dirt path with occasional glimpses of deer and peacocks in a savannah-like natural environment. A five-minute loop dumps you back outside the animal fence.

Better, of course, was fun with kids. Small circles eventually evolved into a big game of duck-duck-goose, although they used none of those words. If caught, you had to do a dance or sing a song in the middle. I know this may be hard to believe, but I strongly believe I was racial profiled, which led directly to the center stage.

I only had to think for a moment. It was chicken dance time. “I will teach an American dance,” I proclaimed in Telugu to cheers. I might have described the specifics, though, in English. A minute later, a hundred first-timers were snapping their beaks, flapping their wings, wiggling their butts and clapping their hands. While getting faster each round, of course.

It proved so popular I had to break out the Hokey Pokey ten minutes later, so these kids are set for their first American wedding...

First Visitor Visa

2011-01-23T09:06:00.000-08:00

First visitor visa confirmed!! ETA, Aprilish!

Settling In

2011-01-22T01:38:00.000-08:00

The more I’m here, and the more I see, the more I’m convinced that I’ve found myself in a fabulous place. With each corner of the city that we see for the first time, my definition of Hyderabad expands from the busy, crowded, noisy pseudo-Westernized concrete commercial conglomerate – supposedly, of course, the best part of town – to a more holistic and far more interesting sum of so many parts. Egeszsegedre to that.

Big Box Day

2011-01-21T05:19:00.000-08:00

The day's arrived, a glorious day!

250 lbs of typewriters, toilet paper, ties, (now already-blown-out) computer speakers, tennis and camping gear, two yeas of contact solution have arrived.

And, of course, a winter coat.

And in side the pocket of that winter coat?

One cell phone. Slow-boated to India instead of connecting with friends on my last days in America. Awesome.

Mom Makes a Friend

2011-01-18T16:22:00.000-08:00

Eleven exclamation points at 6:06 am...that's a whole lotta excitement!

Volley for Serve

2011-01-17T11:29:00.000-08:00

One of the first ways I wanted to settle into living in Hyderabad was to find a tennis court to continue the heated Andrew-Jeremy tennis rivalry. It’s not as easy as walking three blocks toward Rock Creek park, though. You can’t take privileged public amenities like parks and tennis courts for granted in these parts, so we set out to find a suitable privately-owned place to play.

And here’s where I confess that I expected my diplomatic standing and, frankly, skin color, was going to open doors. “Of course, sir!” I expected to hear as gates were bring swung wide open for us. “Come play tennis on our court. We’d be honored to have a ghora come join us!”

I started the research on the phone. Cold called the most prestigious country club in town.

“Hello, my name is Jeremy. I’m an American diplomat and will live in Hyderabad for two years. Is it possible to arrange for a tour of your facilities?”

A grainy voice back. “No, sir. We are for members only.”

“Yes, of course. I understand. But I would like to see your facility to see if I would like to become a member.”

Adament. “No, sir. Members only.”

After getting the same answer at the second most prestigious club in the city, we decided to take our search to the streets. A scribbled pad of internet suggestions on places to play tennis in the city and a driver with a good sense of directions.

The first place, four courts scratched into clay/dirt, was closed. We learned from a local that it always is on Saturdays. Vaguely promising on another day.

Second, across the street, the Jubilee Hills International Club. We marched up to the reception desk, trying to look as international as possible. “Can we tour the facilities?” Same schpiel, members only. Membership costs? Ten-times what the website quoted. Ouch. Fine, we’ll just take our international selves elsewhere.

Stop three? The Tollywood Screen Actor’s Guild’s recreation center. Couldn’t talk our way into the membership rolls, actors and actresses by invitation only.

Fourth? I kid you not, a residential enclave called “Income Tax Colony.” The signs did not seem to welcome us.

Fifth, two courts scratched behind a local college’s recreation hall. Again, closed. Somewhat less than promising.

Sixth? Finally, our new tennis home. Six beautiful hard surface practice courts next to the 4,000 seat centre court at Lal Bahadur Stadium, formerly home to the Hyderabad Open.

Established by the Andhra Pradesh Sports Authority many years ago, formerly a hostel to train India’s promising young talent. A bit dilapidated in its stately ambition, not unlike much of the sporting infrastructure I remember from Hungary.

After a few minutes of wandering, we found someone. Not just anyone, but assistant coach “Johnny.” Friendly, even if he didn’t look the role of a tennis affectionado. We worked out the rental fee with him: 140 rupees an hour, three dollars. If we wanted to come back and play at night, though, he warned us, it’s an extra 17 rupees.

Per lightbulb...

(For the record, first match ended a tie. Andrew won the first set 6-0 as I warmed up – apparently -- to India and a borrowed racket. I got my act together to win the second set 7-5.)

What is hardship?

2011-01-14T03:33:00.000-08:00

Even once you settle into the odd rhythm of honks and horns, it takes more than a week to feel comfortable in India.

In short, it’s just that there are more hardships to life here – even when you’re living an incredibly privileged life. State’s will to put a percentage on that reality: Baghdad, for example, is 35% hardship, Hyderabad is a 25%.

We take a whole lot of comfort for granted in America. But here, you can’t rely on those amenities that we don’t even have to think about back home. The power goes out once, twice, thrice, sometimes more a day. Unlike many folks here, I’m lucky enough to have a backup generator that kicks in to power a light and a fan in each room.

When I come across a problem, one week in, it’s hard to know what’s in my control. What problems can I fix by myself? What problems can I get fixed? What are things I just have to shrug off as beyond control? An example, the other night I cursed a steady beeping as I was trying to fall asleep. I figured someone in a neighboring apartment had left an alarm on while they were away from home. I bemoaned the fact that there was nothing I could do about it as I woke up several times in the middle of the night. By the time I was ready to roll out of bed, the beeping was really bugging me. But as my feet hit the marble, I realized the noise was slightly louder. I looked at the landline phone next to my bed. Sure enough, the beeping was coming from inside the phone. Not quite an off-the-hook alarm, but something similar, solved by resetting the handset back on the phone. A good reminder many things are under my control. Hours of trying to figure out a router for wireless connection though? All for naught after a Monday morning “oh yeah, they were replacing a cable this weekend.”

Solving a problem, or even getting something routine done, always seems to take twice as many steps as you would imagine. But at least I haven’t had to pay any bribes yet...

In a similar sense, the soon-to-depart-ers have show us some fantastic restaurants, cafes, etc. Amazing little joints that would fit in anywhere in America or Europe. The problem is that from the outside, even the great places are less than impressive. Facades are invariably dilapidated. The same trash litters the fronts of fruit markets, paan shops and first-class spots alike. A bit like Hungary, inside the fence meticulous, with nary a concern for what’s just outside it. I figure we’ll get good at it, but at the moment, its often easy to forget that each ramshackle street has lots of hidden gems waiting to be discovered.

Luckily, discovering is half the fun.

When To Come

2011-01-13T03:28:00.000-08:00

The moral of the story is visit between january and march or between october and december. Thanks wikipedia.

Weather or Not

2011-01-12T03:16:00.000-08:00

Double ha!

I've landed in the midst of what must be the ideal month for weather in Hyderabad, a city that has a pretty favorable reputation as far as Indian cities go.

Every day, highs of 85 degrees and sunny skies. There's a bit of haze/smog that takes a while to burn off every day, even if the smell of smoke usually lingers all day, but it only makes for more aglow sunrises. The low temperature each night? Mid-50s. In short, it's glorious.

Alas, it's a bit chilly for my Indian friends. The Times of India went so far as to call it "bone chilling." So much so...I kid you not...that a good percentage of them wear earmuffs every morning and night. Camouflage, of course.

But to put it into perspective, if possible, keep in mind that Hyderabad as NEVER IN RECORDED HUMAN HISTORY seen freezing temperatures. Touche.

First Friend

2011-01-10T08:00:00.000-08:00

On the first pass, I offered a nod and a “Namaskaramu.” He volleyed back a soft hello.

A few minutes later, we passed each other again. It’s not all that surprising, seeing as we were walking in opposite directions on the .5 km path around the still – or stagnant, your choice – pond in the local park. Jalagam Vengala Rao Park, a monthly pass costs 45 rupees. $1. Wherever I wander, I find at least one park that makes me feel content, and I think two-days into Hyderabad, I’ve already found that spot, a few blocks north of my apartment...even though it requires two death-defying road crossings.

That second time we walked past one another, he said “You are walking very slowly.” In English. I knew I’d found a friend.

Five years ago, it was Zsofi. She has a special place in my heart. And she always will, even though I’ve only every met her three times. She was my first friend in Heves. The first of many, it would turn out, but for a moment she was the first and only.

I couldn’t understand her name when I met Zsofi at the pencil store, I wasn’t accustomed yet to Hungary or to Hungarians and their names. And it’s to same right now in India, that same exciting sense of wonderous knownothingness. I don’t know my new friend’s name – I took to calling him Shri Rao – because my ears are still new to India.

I changed my direction and we walked for half an hour before sitting on a bench for half an hour. Then he invited me to his home, close by, for coffee. I thought about declining, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep talking Telugu/English to my first Andhra friend. So I joined him.

I kicked my shoes off at the door, just past the rangoli his wife or daughter-in-law had etched on concrete with lines of flour. I smiled. It took me seven months to be invited into a Hungarian’s home in little Heves. Here I was, my second morning in bit ole Hyderabad, invited into an Indian’s home.

It was just the second time in my life – both pleasantries with foreigners – that I’ve choked down a cup of coffee. It was far tastier to savor an indigenous friend. We talked about his family. We flipped through Telugu political cartoons from a week’s worth of newspapers. He demanded I eat breakfast with him, upma. So I did, even though I had brunch planned with G&A.

After another hour, I was finally able to extract myself from his friendliness. I promised repeatedly that I would see him again in the park someday soon, then skipped away with a smile.

The 19th of 41 Places to Go in 2011

2011-01-09T16:11:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the shout-out, NYTimes! Fusion9's half a block to the south...and you don't even need to frogger a street to get there!