Routine

Well, I think we've hit that sweet spot where life is no longer frantic or shocking.  And it's a good place to be.  It's a feeling of being settled.  You know we were warned of the roller coaster of emotions you endure when you move to a foreign country.  First, you are excited that you are in some place new and everything seems interesting.  Then, you realize you are far away from home and not going back anytime soon.  You move in to your new place and it sucks because it is next to impossible to get anything hooked up (i.e. internet, mobile phone).  Nothing is on time and nothing is a fair price because you have white skin.  You begin to feel alone and disconnected.  And some days you may feel like you want to kill some one (when all your friends thought you were 'nice').  Then you finally get your house in order (a few months and one much-needed holiday later) and you are ready to charge out into the world again.  The things that used to bother you about your new place now start to feel common.  You learn to navigate your way around the city and even learn to negotiate fair prices.  You may even pick up a few new words in the native language.  You may even start to think that you might even miss a few oddities once you leave to go back home.  That's where I'm at now.  Take the cows for instance...roaming around the shopping area.  I haven't gotten used to seeing them roaming freely and so they are still a novelty to me.  I hope I never lose that kind of excitement about this place.  


Glen has settled into work.  I have found a new love in yoga.  I volunteer at an orphanage and an animal shelter.  On the weekends we have brunch with friends.  We've even been to an Indian wedding.  I think I'm actually starting to like it here.  

Jennifer ma'am & Glen sir

Glen and I are slowly making some ex-pat friends.  So far we've racked up an Australian bloke, a French mademoiselle, a beautiful-Lisa-Bonet-ish Nigerian/Canadian, and a tall fellow Dutch woman.  Will give names and faces to these people as we get to know them better.  Nothing worse than making a friend and shoving a camera in their face just so you can show your friends back home.  We've found that it is a bit more strange making friends in your 30's than when it was when you were 10.  You don't meet your best friend at the local swing set anymore.  Oh no, you have to put forth a much more concerted effort.  Networking and such.  I've learned that some people will intuitively click with your personality and some won't.  And I'm learning not to try to be friends with every single person I meet because inevitably I will be invited to a million different on-goings and find myself over committed.  I'm really happy with our little group.  They keep things interesting when we get bored of sitting at home doing the usual things.  It's funny though because there's this unspoken 'we're in this thing together'-ness that I like.  We all understand how difficult it is to live here and we're able to laugh about it together.  


We've also managed to find some stability in the people that help us.  We've had Vinay, our driver since September.  We were lucky to find such a trust-worthy guy that speaks decent English.  He takes Glen to and from work.  He also takes me all over the city....to my yoga classes, the orphanage, to volleyball.  He is also my personal directory.  If I need a vase...he knows where to get me one.  He is also my translator.  If I am at a shop trying to negotiate something, Vinay appears and starts rattling off in Hindi and somehow I always walk away with just what I needed.  He is also my bodyguard.  He puts himself in front of me if we're walking down a busy street.  He's very protective of us.  He is sensitive too, which sometimes drives Glen nuts.  But I think it's a sign that he really wants to make sure he is doing a good job.  

Vinay has a really cool moustache.

We just hired Shivani, who happens to be Vinay's wife, as our housekeeper.  She comes 3 days a week and does basically anything I ask her too.  It's strange having help around the house.  And I thought I would actually hate having someone invade my personal space.  But I must admit I've gotten quite used to it in just 2 weeks.  I come home from yoga class and boom, the house is clean when I had just left clothes piled on the floor and dishes in the sink.  There is a twinge of guilt for not picking up after myself a little bit more.  But I justify it by telling myself we're paying her good money.  She also cooks for us part time and does miscellaneous things like help me find and put together a saree I needed for a wedding.  She's a total sweetheart.  Oh and she's trying to teach me Hindi.  I suck at it, which is a good source of entertainment for her.

She makes the best chai

Then there's Suraj.  Our 18 year old security guard from a tiny village who knows where.  He quit his job at the company to come work personally for us.  He's a bit timid and doesn't speak much English.  Again Vinay, our driver does a lot of the translating.  I've told Suraj he needs to 'sack up' (so to speak) and get a little more assertive.  How does he expect to protect me if he can't even speak to me without getting nervous?  He is a nice kid though and very appreciative to have a job.  I've bought him sweets and he just thinks I'm a queen because of it.  He brings my mail and escorts any visitors up to the house.  I haven't carried groceries inside since we moved in because he's always grabbing it from my hands.  I feel safer knowing he's there when Glen is gone at work.  We have to get him a uniform so he looks more official.  Glen wants to get him a Storm Trooper outfit.  Maybe there are left over Halloween costumes at the thrift store?  Suraj is poor and doesn't have socks or a jacket.  It's starting to get cold here so my mission this weekend is to get him some warm clothes.

I had to yank him out of his guard stand to let me take his photo

  

We also have a kid that brings the newspaper every day.  But we never see him.  There's also a local garbageman that has been working this neighborhood for 30 years.  Wears the same yellow t-shirt every day.  He rides his bike with a wheel-barrow thingy behind it.  Comes up every day except Sundays to collect our trash.  I suspect he's a drunk because he smells like the patients I used to work with and some days he just doesn't show up.  He talks in Hindi and laughs.  I tell him I don't understand a thing he's saying but he repeats himself anyways.  So I start babbling in English...calling him names etc and he really has no idea I just called him a jackass.  No, I'm kidding.  But this banter back and forth happens at least once a week.  I really want to know what he's saying.  He's probably calling me a wasteful bitch for putting rotted produce in the bin.