Entry 80: More From India

With all our family and friends from the States arriving safely, so began the next major transportation problem -- getting people around within Bangalore. As I mentioned in the last post, Bangalore is a madhouse of a city, and getting from point A to point B is not a trivial task. Just booking a vehicle is a challenge if you don't speak the state language Kannada (or Hindi, which is prevalent everywhere in India), as almost no cab or rickshaw drivers speak English, and most of them can't read a map, and even if they could it would still be difficult because the street grid isn't exactly delineated nicely.

[Another cause of traffic problems in Bangalore.]

Also, you have to worry about the drivers ripping you off. By which I mean they'll try to charge you 150 rupees ($3.33) instead of 90 rupees ($2). I imagine the inclination for most visitors (like me) is to see the poverty around them, and say, "Screw it, I'll just pay, what's $1.33 to me?", but S's mom told her that this mindset just screws the local riders who can't afford to pay extra. The rickshaw drivers start targeting people who look like affluent foreigners leading to long waits and inflated prices for the locals who rely on this type of transportation regularly and need it the most.

Once you do get a vehicle, traffic generally is super thick. At one point my dad and I were stuck in a traffic jam about 500 yards from our apartment, so we just got out in the middle of the street and walked. Although, walking is an adventure in its own right. There is rarely a sidewalk (you get kinda used to having cars buzz by you at 40 mph) and when there is, it's all torn up and full of giant holes. It's more random slabs of concrete than sidewalk. Sw called walking in Bangalore "going through an obstacle course" which is spot on.

Once you do get places, however, they are usually very cool. We did a lot of shopping while we were there as everybody had/wanted to get traditional India attire for the various wedding events. All the dudes got kurtha's and all the ladies got saris and/or salwars. Like with the rickshaw drivers, you have to be wary of the shopkeepers trying to overcharge you. It's all about the haggle. That was a general theme throughout my visit to India, actually -- everybody's a hustler. For things like clothing and rickshaw rides, it's not a huge deal, but we also experienced this with the restaurant at which we held a cocktail party, and at the hotel of our wedding reception. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say I was pissed off about a few things with our service at both places, and S was really pissed off about them.

[A kurtha.]

[A salwar.]

[My favorite bit of Indian attire, a ghagra. It's my favorite because I came up with the idea of an Indian singer who covers Lady Gaga songs. She would be named, of course, Lady Ghagra. C'mon, that's brilliant!]

Anyway, all the wedding related events were spectacular. The ceremony was long and strange, but in a good way. Neither S nor I had any idea what was going on, we just went along with whatever the Hindu priest told us. I tied a few strings, dabbed some kumkum, stood in a wicker basket, dumped beads on S's head, poured oil on a fire, and held S's hands while she held a coconut and her family dumped milk on it, you know, typical stuff.

[S's mehndi.]

The reception was very fun, although S got kinda stressed out, because there was way too much going on for her, and then she got mad at me because she was stressed out and I wasn't. Not to sound sexist, but this is definitely a chick thing. (By the way, whenever somebody prefaces something by saying, "Not to sound x...", expect a very x comment.) I don't know many dudes, who pull the I'm-in-a-bad-mood-so-you-too-should-be-in-a-bad-mood-or-else stunt, but every girl I know does this. OK, not every girl, just between 95 and 98% of them. Later, when I was explaining why S was mad to my male friends, they were like, "Wait. Are you talking about S or my wife?"

But, in the end everything turned out fine. We got the dance floor going and everybody including S had a blast. Afterward, S and I went to our hotel room and crashed out almost immediately while Rob Schneider's "comedy" The Hot Chick played in the background. It was the wedding night of every schoolgirl's fantasy.

[The topper to our wedding cake. It's supposed to be me and S, but I think the male figure looks like Steve from "Beverly Hills: 90210" -- a redheaded Ian Ziering.]

The day after the wedding we flew to a resort on the Arabian Sea in Kerala where we relaxed for a few days with some family and friends. It was awesome. I lazed by the pool, ate too much, drank too much, had the most intimate massage I've ever had (first time I've ever been "credit carded" by a man), and oddly watched a fair amount of vintage wrestling (they were showing it on the TV in the bar, for some reason).

[If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.]

After the trip to Kerala, S and I came back to Bangalore for a few days, and then headed back to the US. And I'll get to that in my next entry.

[The Infinity Pool at the resort . From a certain angle the pool is supposed to blend in with the sea giving the illusion of an endless swimming pool.]