Heath Ledger Dies at 28
Friday, 25. January 2008, 04:38:16
Even though I'm not a celebrity follower, it really struck home, because
Posts tagged with "culture shock"
A Few Notes, Mainly for Family :)
Saturday, 9. June 2007, 00:57:55
We were supposed to go to Bangalore yesterday, but S got sick. I was so disappointed that I locked myself in the TV room for a while and just bawled. Culture shock is hitting me hard, and I really need a break from the constant household (and school) problems. Ah well. It will pass.
Bits-N-Peices
Saturday, 2. June 2007, 15:33:13
I chose "chocolate" as the color for my text because that's what I feel like eating. 
Some quick updates:
The turkeys are doing good. They enjoy eating tomatos, pineapple, bananas, and cooked rice, but won't touch stale bread. True Indian turkeys.
J has been home from school all week with a head cold/cough/eye infection. Her teacher gives me he** every time I see her (which is unfortunately twice a day) about her attendance. She claims that they do not have J's attendance record from 1st grade, and basically is only concerned about herself. I've gotten pretty fed up with her. I wish I had gone with my gut instinct and withdrawn J from school 5 weeks ago, when the problems with this teacher began. All we've done is created an anxiety trigger about going to school.
On the positive side, J has lost a front tooth and is very proud of herself. She has about 3 more teeth that are loose, so soon she will look like a Jack-O-Lantern.
L has been doing pretty good, even with S gone for a week. I think that having so many males around really helps him. (OK in the long run it doesn't, as he is probably still confused about who his father is, but it helps me because he is not so wild.) Today, unfortunately, he awoke with the fever/head cold/eye virus that J has had. Yuck. L being L, though, he had pretty much shaken it off by 4 p.m. That kid's immune system is Olympic caliber.
S is in the U.S., doing his thing. Whatever that is. He comes back in about 24 hours, exhausted and incoherent. We wish he was home more, but them's the breaks.
He did sell our house while he was in IL. The closing was yesterday. So we are no longer homeowners. It made me homesick to hear him describe how the peonies were looking good, and the clematis blooming. I am still feeling that the vegetation here is so different.....pretty, but not familiar.
Hopefully, when the weather cools down below 100 F, I can get out and do some gardening. I may have to fight a few guards off but I intend to get my hands dirty. We have already picked the vegetable garden area out and have forced the gardener to put the grass clippings on it, when he bothers to cut the grass.
Meanwhile, since it's too hot to do anything outside, I have been slaving away at the unpacking. I keep opening boxes and finding pleasant surprises, like the bicycle tire pump (which the kids had been asking about for days, as their tires were of course, flat.) Since we had so much stuff in the garage, the labels on the boxes are somewhat misleading - they say "garage" but they actually contain articles for the house. Hence the surprises.
The painters have finished the upstairs den/office area and it looks nice. The master bedroom looks a lot better too. Monday they will do Levi's room (I'm creating an ocean-themed toy room out of his dressing room, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars - can't wait! Then I'm thinking about taking a break as I am getting tired of monitoring an extra 4 people who don't speak English. They have done a decent job for a pittance of a wage (in US dollars; it's quite generous for India); but you always have to worry about theft, etc. Besides, the only area left to paint is the main living areas, which are interconnected with two three-story cathedral ceilings and a staircase. I have the idea solidified in my mind about what to do with all of that wall space, but it's going to take some time in the tremendously hot paint store to get the colors correct. 
I wish that I could get my furniture (shoe cabinets - our front entrance looks like a demented cobbler's shop) and my drapes up, but we're on IST here.....I'm getting pretty impatient though. I went around this week and paid my deposits, hoping that would speed things up. Next week I'm going to start calling them weekly for progress reports. I can't tell if I'm low on the totem pole, too far out, or this is just normal. Both of these shops came highly recommended by other expatriates, but they have both stood me up more than once, and been extremely poky in all of their dealings. So we'll see.
I need to take a day off just for myself, but somehow I just feel so much pressure to get things sorted out that I can't make myself do it. Not a day goes by that someone doesn't ask me for something important and I have no idea where it is......I'm feeling a lot of pressure about this upcoming trip to the US too....I don't want to be reminded that I am a cancer survivor, and the whole thing sounds very tiring. S says that everything is so clean and green and easy in the US that I won't want to come back.
(These comments were meant to be helpful but I didn't find them so at the time, sadly.)
Some quick updates:
The turkeys are doing good. They enjoy eating tomatos, pineapple, bananas, and cooked rice, but won't touch stale bread. True Indian turkeys.
J has been home from school all week with a head cold/cough/eye infection. Her teacher gives me he** every time I see her (which is unfortunately twice a day) about her attendance. She claims that they do not have J's attendance record from 1st grade, and basically is only concerned about herself. I've gotten pretty fed up with her. I wish I had gone with my gut instinct and withdrawn J from school 5 weeks ago, when the problems with this teacher began. All we've done is created an anxiety trigger about going to school.
On the positive side, J has lost a front tooth and is very proud of herself. She has about 3 more teeth that are loose, so soon she will look like a Jack-O-Lantern.
L has been doing pretty good, even with S gone for a week. I think that having so many males around really helps him. (OK in the long run it doesn't, as he is probably still confused about who his father is, but it helps me because he is not so wild.) Today, unfortunately, he awoke with the fever/head cold/eye virus that J has had. Yuck. L being L, though, he had pretty much shaken it off by 4 p.m. That kid's immune system is Olympic caliber.
S is in the U.S., doing his thing. Whatever that is. He comes back in about 24 hours, exhausted and incoherent. We wish he was home more, but them's the breaks.
He did sell our house while he was in IL. The closing was yesterday. So we are no longer homeowners. It made me homesick to hear him describe how the peonies were looking good, and the clematis blooming. I am still feeling that the vegetation here is so different.....pretty, but not familiar.
Hopefully, when the weather cools down below 100 F, I can get out and do some gardening. I may have to fight a few guards off but I intend to get my hands dirty. We have already picked the vegetable garden area out and have forced the gardener to put the grass clippings on it, when he bothers to cut the grass.
Meanwhile, since it's too hot to do anything outside, I have been slaving away at the unpacking. I keep opening boxes and finding pleasant surprises, like the bicycle tire pump (which the kids had been asking about for days, as their tires were of course, flat.) Since we had so much stuff in the garage, the labels on the boxes are somewhat misleading - they say "garage" but they actually contain articles for the house. Hence the surprises.
The painters have finished the upstairs den/office area and it looks nice. The master bedroom looks a lot better too. Monday they will do Levi's room (I'm creating an ocean-themed toy room out of his dressing room, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars - can't wait!
Then I'm thinking about taking a break as I am getting tired of monitoring an extra 4 people who don't speak English. They have done a decent job for a pittance of a wage (in US dollars; it's quite generous for India); but you always have to worry about theft, etc. Besides, the only area left to paint is the main living areas, which are interconnected with two three-story cathedral ceilings and a staircase. I have the idea solidified in my mind about what to do with all of that wall space, but it's going to take some time in the tremendously hot paint store to get the colors correct. I wish that I could get my furniture (shoe cabinets - our front entrance looks like a demented cobbler's shop) and my drapes up, but we're on IST here.....I'm getting pretty impatient though. I went around this week and paid my deposits, hoping that would speed things up. Next week I'm going to start calling them weekly for progress reports. I can't tell if I'm low on the totem pole, too far out, or this is just normal. Both of these shops came highly recommended by other expatriates, but they have both stood me up more than once, and been extremely poky in all of their dealings. So we'll see.
I need to take a day off just for myself, but somehow I just feel so much pressure to get things sorted out that I can't make myself do it. Not a day goes by that someone doesn't ask me for something important and I have no idea where it is......I'm feeling a lot of pressure about this upcoming trip to the US too....I don't want to be reminded that I am a cancer survivor, and the whole thing sounds very tiring. S says that everything is so clean and green and easy in the US that I won't want to come back.
(These comments were meant to be helpful but I didn't find them so at the time, sadly.)Warning: Long Whine Ahead
Saturday, 26. May 2007, 11:30:16
So sit back and grab a cuppa, or skip the post, if you're not in the mood for negativity.
Today was one of those days when the questions rattling around in my brain were: "Why did I have kids?"; "What was I thinking when I agreed to move?"; and most of all, "What did I do to deserve this?"
It's not actually India that is getting to me. It's the kids reaction to India.
Last week I unpacked their toys for them. Today, they said "thank you" by taking every SINGLE toy our of the closet and throwing them all over their room, including their dress-up clothes.
Guess who lost their toy privileges for 2 weeks. (OK, maybe just for one week while daddy is gone - they don't tell time too well yet.) Those locks on all the doors do come in handy.
So I spent the first half of the day putting away all of their toys - again.
(yes, S made them help too, but truthfully, they're not that much help.)
The second half of the day, I was diligently plowing my way through my craft area - next on my list to unpack - when suddenly I heard all of this screaming. Not just one person screaming; several people screaming - my name. I went rushing downstairs to find that L had accomplished the inevitable: he had finally injured himself with his wild antics. Yep, a nice egg on his head, complete with plenty of bleeding. Naturally, he had bled all over several peices of clothing, a couple of towels, and even managed to put a bloody handprint on the wall before I arrived. No, it's not serious. It's merely a bump on the head accompanied by a scrape - not even a true cut - which bled copiously.
So we got him washed up, settled in front of the TV (which I made S hook up on an emergency basis, so the kids would stay inside and be clean and quiet for a while), and then about an hour later I realized that the wound had started bleeding again. No doubt he had been picking at it. Another shirt ruined, and now more drastic action had to be taken - a hair trim by mom around the wound (which made me feel faint), and a head compression bandage by dad. (If the internet cooperates and I can find the right cords, I'll post pictures. He looks like a black plague victim.)
So I'm really truly sick of blood. I've forbidden the kids to go outside again, because I can't stand anymore dirt, and S is off to his church calling, teaching institute. He's been out of action most of the day since he has to leave early tomorrow morning for the US. Business trips, I've found, require at least one day of packing (complete with aggravating questions like "Where is my passport?" and "Why are none of my shirts clean?" - well they weren't in the laundry, DUH!) and about a week to recover from the jet lag. Really, I wish that they would figure this in when they schedule them.
The sideshow to this circus was the gardener. While cleaning out the kid's bathroom - removing the stuffed animals which they had decided needed a bath
- I glanced out the window and realized that he was STILL DIGGING the pit which I had ordered him to STOP digging earlier that day (after he had run into some sort of large cable). I had even gotten our driver out of his house to translate this order, so there could be no mistake.
But no, Muttu (the gardener) was still excavating. The pit was now about 3 feet deep. (NOW I knew where the kids got so dirty!) What on earth????!! I sent sir out to deal with it, afraid I might resort to physical violence to get my point made. The new story is, Muttu thought that I wanted him to bury the garbage there, so he was making the pit extra deep. Why he thought that is anyone's guess. I have been explicitly telling him to burn the garbage in the lane every day (another thing he's not doing), and I told him precisely how deep I wanted the garden trench to be for the lawn clippings. (The trench that he turned into a pit for garbage.) I think the man is on drugs, or maybe he's just mad at me. At any rate, I'd fire him except I didn't hire him (the landlord pays him).
Maybe I should tell him he's digging his own grave.
So, I am completely fed up with people who don't do what I say, when I say it, and children who make large messes, and most of all, boxes. Boxes half opened everywhere. Eeerrrrgh.
And underneath that, I hate it when S travels. It freaks L out and I have to deal with the RAD all over again. I don't feel scared to be here alone - yet - I just feel tired of dealing with everything alone, and I know that the RAD therapy will take it out of me even more. But, at least he is bringing a hefty lot of stuff that I've ordered back with him, thanks to a kind friend in Decatur who is housing it for me. So I can look forward to the fabric for my curtains, marble cleaner, and most happily of all, a pair of inside shoes so my feet don't continuously ache from the hard floors.
So. 'Nuff said. Kids get to go to bed early and I may go to a fancy furniture store after S returns for some retail therapy. Either that, or I'm going on a chocolate run, because I NEED CHOCOLATE and we are out.
Today was one of those days when the questions rattling around in my brain were: "Why did I have kids?"; "What was I thinking when I agreed to move?"; and most of all, "What did I do to deserve this?"
It's not actually India that is getting to me. It's the kids reaction to India.
Last week I unpacked their toys for them. Today, they said "thank you" by taking every SINGLE toy our of the closet and throwing them all over their room, including their dress-up clothes.
Guess who lost their toy privileges for 2 weeks. (OK, maybe just for one week while daddy is gone - they don't tell time too well yet.) Those locks on all the doors do come in handy.
So I spent the first half of the day putting away all of their toys - again.
(yes, S made them help too, but truthfully, they're not that much help.)The second half of the day, I was diligently plowing my way through my craft area - next on my list to unpack - when suddenly I heard all of this screaming. Not just one person screaming; several people screaming - my name. I went rushing downstairs to find that L had accomplished the inevitable: he had finally injured himself with his wild antics. Yep, a nice egg on his head, complete with plenty of bleeding. Naturally, he had bled all over several peices of clothing, a couple of towels, and even managed to put a bloody handprint on the wall before I arrived. No, it's not serious. It's merely a bump on the head accompanied by a scrape - not even a true cut - which bled copiously.
So we got him washed up, settled in front of the TV (which I made S hook up on an emergency basis, so the kids would stay inside and be clean and quiet for a while), and then about an hour later I realized that the wound had started bleeding again. No doubt he had been picking at it. Another shirt ruined, and now more drastic action had to be taken - a hair trim by mom around the wound (which made me feel faint), and a head compression bandage by dad. (If the internet cooperates and I can find the right cords, I'll post pictures. He looks like a black plague victim.)
So I'm really truly sick of blood. I've forbidden the kids to go outside again, because I can't stand anymore dirt, and S is off to his church calling, teaching institute. He's been out of action most of the day since he has to leave early tomorrow morning for the US. Business trips, I've found, require at least one day of packing (complete with aggravating questions like "Where is my passport?" and "Why are none of my shirts clean?" - well they weren't in the laundry, DUH!) and about a week to recover from the jet lag. Really, I wish that they would figure this in when they schedule them.
The sideshow to this circus was the gardener. While cleaning out the kid's bathroom - removing the stuffed animals which they had decided needed a bath
- I glanced out the window and realized that he was STILL DIGGING the pit which I had ordered him to STOP digging earlier that day (after he had run into some sort of large cable). I had even gotten our driver out of his house to translate this order, so there could be no mistake. But no, Muttu (the gardener) was still excavating. The pit was now about 3 feet deep. (NOW I knew where the kids got so dirty!) What on earth????!! I sent sir out to deal with it, afraid I might resort to physical violence to get my point made. The new story is, Muttu thought that I wanted him to bury the garbage there, so he was making the pit extra deep. Why he thought that is anyone's guess. I have been explicitly telling him to burn the garbage in the lane every day (another thing he's not doing), and I told him precisely how deep I wanted the garden trench to be for the lawn clippings. (The trench that he turned into a pit for garbage.) I think the man is on drugs, or maybe he's just mad at me. At any rate, I'd fire him except I didn't hire him (the landlord pays him).
Maybe I should tell him he's digging his own grave.
So, I am completely fed up with people who don't do what I say, when I say it, and children who make large messes, and most of all, boxes. Boxes half opened everywhere. Eeerrrrgh.
And underneath that, I hate it when S travels. It freaks L out and I have to deal with the RAD all over again. I don't feel scared to be here alone - yet - I just feel tired of dealing with everything alone, and I know that the RAD therapy will take it out of me even more. But, at least he is bringing a hefty lot of stuff that I've ordered back with him, thanks to a kind friend in Decatur who is housing it for me. So I can look forward to the fabric for my curtains, marble cleaner, and most happily of all, a pair of inside shoes so my feet don't continuously ache from the hard floors.
So. 'Nuff said. Kids get to go to bed early and I may go to a fancy furniture store after S returns for some retail therapy. Either that, or I'm going on a chocolate run, because I NEED CHOCOLATE and we are out.
99 Boxes of stuff in the hall, 99 boxes of stuff.....
Tuesday, 22. May 2007, 17:02:15
OK, not 99. 390 to be exact. I know this because I got to sit in the front hall and mark them off on the "Bingo" sheet as they came in the door. I felt like a queen bee, with worker bees (the movers) buzzing all around me. It went fairly smoothly and so far the only damage is to Shawn's plasma TV, which is ruined, thanks to a zealous customs officer with a box cutter. Needless to say, he's pretty steamed.
Now all I have to do is unpack them.
As S said, it's like Christmas on crack.
Frankly, it's embarrassing to have so much stuff in a country where everyone else is so poor. I feel materialistic and greedy owning so much; yet I also am very relieved to have our own beds, pillows, mattresses, sheets, etc. My feelings on this issue are extremely conflicted.
At any rate, the unpacking is going well. We have accomplished the kitchen, Jessa's room, and the master bedroom, and tonight I started on L's room. There is still much to be done, but it's getting better.
It does help that any time I need some help - as in moving a box, or putting something away that requires a ladder - I can call on a guard or my driver. In fact, some of us expatriate wives have taken to calling our drivers "MacGuyver", since they are so versatile. Yesterday mine fixed the shower head that wouldn't work correctly (it would only spray the ceiling, definitely a disadvantage unless you were a gecko), and he hadn't even ever seen a shower before. So there you are. These guys certainly have a genetic connection with MacGuvyer somewhere.
Lest you think having servants is all peaches and cream and me sitting around popping bonbons while they slave away, though, let me just tell you that their work ethics are shaky at best. My maid didn't come for three days in a row, and then was an hour late, all of which adds up to a lot of lies from her and a lot of stress for me (because I hate conflict and so am not a good manager). Oh well. At least she, and the other maid that I hired in her absence, got most of the dirt off of the floors today.
And hilariously, my driver has canoodled his own room out of the other driver's family. I didn't realize that until Sudhakar, the driver who lives with us, slipped up and called it "Arul's room". Hmmmm. Methinks Arul is up to something. Sleeping, most likely. That man is either on the phone or sleeping all day, unless he is actually doing something for me.
But who can blame them in this heat? It is still well over 100 F and I sleep a lot too. I came down with a nasty sinus infection Sunday. Thankfully, I had the correct medications to take care of it, or I would have spent the day sitting at the hospital. But I still feel run down. The heat just really takes it out of you.
As for the kids, they are doing well. J still hates school, but we had a conference with the school counselor and her teacher, and she is slowly adjusting. Unfortunately, her teacher did not follow through with what she promised to do for J, which further destroyed our confidence in her. But, school is almost over, and next year we will have a choice of three teachers, so we are hoping for a better experience.
Her teacher actually wanted her to be held back, but we refused, since she was basing her recommendation on an entire 6 days of observation, and J was petrified the entire time. She can and does do the work easily when I sit down with her. Not only that, but J is one of the oldest in her class, since her birthday is in the fall. So she goes on to 2nd grade next year.
L's teacher continues to be excellent. She really is a gem. We are holding him back, as he needs more time with her. He also is further behind academically than J, and of course, he's a boy. Holding him back won't affect his future education much, since he will only be slightly older than the other children.
So that's about all I do these days: school, unpacking, and servants. It's very, very busy.
Happy Homemaker's Tip of the Day:
Polished tile or marble floors look worse after you mop them than before, if you are using hard water. If that is the case, then the key to a shiny floor is drying them with a towel - or using a sponge mop and not the weird styrofoam-type Indian mops. Bring your own mops, ladies!
Now all I have to do is unpack them.
As S said, it's like Christmas on crack.Frankly, it's embarrassing to have so much stuff in a country where everyone else is so poor. I feel materialistic and greedy owning so much; yet I also am very relieved to have our own beds, pillows, mattresses, sheets, etc. My feelings on this issue are extremely conflicted.
At any rate, the unpacking is going well. We have accomplished the kitchen, Jessa's room, and the master bedroom, and tonight I started on L's room. There is still much to be done, but it's getting better.
It does help that any time I need some help - as in moving a box, or putting something away that requires a ladder - I can call on a guard or my driver. In fact, some of us expatriate wives have taken to calling our drivers "MacGuyver", since they are so versatile. Yesterday mine fixed the shower head that wouldn't work correctly (it would only spray the ceiling, definitely a disadvantage unless you were a gecko), and he hadn't even ever seen a shower before. So there you are. These guys certainly have a genetic connection with MacGuvyer somewhere.
Lest you think having servants is all peaches and cream and me sitting around popping bonbons while they slave away, though, let me just tell you that their work ethics are shaky at best. My maid didn't come for three days in a row, and then was an hour late, all of which adds up to a lot of lies from her and a lot of stress for me (because I hate conflict and so am not a good manager). Oh well. At least she, and the other maid that I hired in her absence, got most of the dirt off of the floors today.
And hilariously, my driver has canoodled his own room out of the other driver's family. I didn't realize that until Sudhakar, the driver who lives with us, slipped up and called it "Arul's room". Hmmmm. Methinks Arul is up to something. Sleeping, most likely. That man is either on the phone or sleeping all day, unless he is actually doing something for me.
But who can blame them in this heat? It is still well over 100 F and I sleep a lot too. I came down with a nasty sinus infection Sunday. Thankfully, I had the correct medications to take care of it, or I would have spent the day sitting at the hospital. But I still feel run down. The heat just really takes it out of you.
As for the kids, they are doing well. J still hates school, but we had a conference with the school counselor and her teacher, and she is slowly adjusting. Unfortunately, her teacher did not follow through with what she promised to do for J, which further destroyed our confidence in her. But, school is almost over, and next year we will have a choice of three teachers, so we are hoping for a better experience.
Her teacher actually wanted her to be held back, but we refused, since she was basing her recommendation on an entire 6 days of observation, and J was petrified the entire time. She can and does do the work easily when I sit down with her. Not only that, but J is one of the oldest in her class, since her birthday is in the fall. So she goes on to 2nd grade next year.
L's teacher continues to be excellent. She really is a gem. We are holding him back, as he needs more time with her. He also is further behind academically than J, and of course, he's a boy. Holding him back won't affect his future education much, since he will only be slightly older than the other children.
So that's about all I do these days: school, unpacking, and servants. It's very, very busy.
Happy Homemaker's Tip of the Day:
Polished tile or marble floors look worse after you mop them than before, if you are using hard water. If that is the case, then the key to a shiny floor is drying them with a towel - or using a sponge mop and not the weird styrofoam-type Indian mops. Bring your own mops, ladies!
At Your Service, Madame
Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 17:45:04
Someone once defined culture shock as feeling like you suddenly don't understand the rules.
Today, I had more than my share of hilarious examples of that feeling.
It seems that what is important to me is not important to my help. For instance, getting the maid to wash (and not just rinse) the dishes, or to mop the floor REALLY CLEAN - not just kind of clean. This is not in her mindset.
Or, convincing my driver that the oven did not heat from the burners, and that the broiler did not need to be lit for the oven to heat, just the bottom gas unit. And that I want the shower fixed NOW, and I do NOT want him throwing the trash from the car on the ground right in front of our front door. This is all new to him, and not terribly important, to his mind.
However, if there's a dead coconut tree to be removed, they are all over it. I mentioned casually one day that we should have it removed. Before I knew it, I had people coming to give estimates; drivers calling the landlord trying to convince him to remove it; etc. etc. Really, guys, I kept saying, it issn't that important. But they kept bringing it up.
Tonight as I was doing the dishes I heard an odd thwacking sound. Looking out the window, I at first thought that the driver that lives with us was killing a snake, as he was vigorously hitting something with a machete. Then I realized that he was cutting down the tree. In the dark. After hours.
After some thought I went out to tell him that it wasn't that urgent, he could at least wait until we got our axe in our sea crate. No dice. In his mind, that tree had been there long enough. In a few moments he had all three guards helping him and there were ropes involved. They were all hacking away at the thing. In about 15 minutes they had it out - narrowly missing the head guard, who lept out of the way just in time.
Truly amazing.
Earlier in the day, I walked out to look for L and instead found myself staring up at my driver on the peaked roof of our three-story house. Incredulous, I yelled up at him to get down. "No Madame!", he exclaimed. "I fix telephone!". The landline had been out all day - not an uncommon occurence, and not important to me as I use my cell phone exclusively - but apparently he wasn't going to wait for the telephone company to come out and take a look. Nope. Instead, he followed the phone line up to the roof to check that it was connected properly.
I thought about reminding him that if he fell, there would be no driver to take him to the hospital, but gave up. He's a grown man, after all, if he wants to walk around on roofs, oh well.
Personally, I think that the only thing to do when you feel culture shock is to laugh. You might as well. So that's why we went outside with some fresh papaya and celebrated the removal of the our first dead coconut tree with the staff; and tomorrow, I will tell my driver that he now has to play Santa Claus at the expatriate Christmas party, since he's so good at crawling around roofs.
Today, I had more than my share of hilarious examples of that feeling.
It seems that what is important to me is not important to my help. For instance, getting the maid to wash (and not just rinse) the dishes, or to mop the floor REALLY CLEAN - not just kind of clean. This is not in her mindset.
Or, convincing my driver that the oven did not heat from the burners, and that the broiler did not need to be lit for the oven to heat, just the bottom gas unit. And that I want the shower fixed NOW, and I do NOT want him throwing the trash from the car on the ground right in front of our front door. This is all new to him, and not terribly important, to his mind.
However, if there's a dead coconut tree to be removed, they are all over it. I mentioned casually one day that we should have it removed. Before I knew it, I had people coming to give estimates; drivers calling the landlord trying to convince him to remove it; etc. etc. Really, guys, I kept saying, it issn't that important. But they kept bringing it up.
Tonight as I was doing the dishes I heard an odd thwacking sound. Looking out the window, I at first thought that the driver that lives with us was killing a snake, as he was vigorously hitting something with a machete. Then I realized that he was cutting down the tree. In the dark. After hours.
After some thought I went out to tell him that it wasn't that urgent, he could at least wait until we got our axe in our sea crate. No dice. In his mind, that tree had been there long enough. In a few moments he had all three guards helping him and there were ropes involved. They were all hacking away at the thing. In about 15 minutes they had it out - narrowly missing the head guard, who lept out of the way just in time.
Truly amazing.
Earlier in the day, I walked out to look for L and instead found myself staring up at my driver on the peaked roof of our three-story house. Incredulous, I yelled up at him to get down. "No Madame!", he exclaimed. "I fix telephone!". The landline had been out all day - not an uncommon occurence, and not important to me as I use my cell phone exclusively - but apparently he wasn't going to wait for the telephone company to come out and take a look. Nope. Instead, he followed the phone line up to the roof to check that it was connected properly.
I thought about reminding him that if he fell, there would be no driver to take him to the hospital, but gave up. He's a grown man, after all, if he wants to walk around on roofs, oh well.
Personally, I think that the only thing to do when you feel culture shock is to laugh. You might as well. So that's why we went outside with some fresh papaya and celebrated the removal of the our first dead coconut tree with the staff; and tomorrow, I will tell my driver that he now has to play Santa Claus at the expatriate Christmas party, since he's so good at crawling around roofs.
A Day in the Life of Me
Tuesday, 15. May 2007, 16:29:11
Morning:
5 a.m. - hear alarm going off in kid's room. This is my alarm, but kids have absconded with it and apparently set it for early a.m.
6 a.m. - L asks, "Can I go outside to play?" He is fully dressed and rarin' to go. I say "NO", since yesterday when I said yes, he went and took a motorcycle ride down the lane with one of the guards. (After telling the guard that he had permission to do so - a half-truth if I ever heard one.)
6:30 a.m. - Give up and get out of bed. Hubby says "Gotta run! I'm late!" and is out the door. Day looks hot (no kidding!
) and condensation has already formed on the windows because of the AC.
7 a.m. - Getting kids ready for school. Breakfast, dressed, brush teeth, etc. Normal except that we now brush out teeth in the kitchen, and I have each child get a glass of water from the drinking water cooler to rinse their toothbrushes with. This is because J can't seem to remember to not use the tap water to rinse her toothbrush.
7:30 a.m. - Maid shows up early to go to doctor after we drop kids off at school. Tries to help get kids ready for school, but they don't like having their cheeks pinched and won't sit on her lap to have their shoes put on, so no go.
Driver shows up.
8:00 a.m. - Out the door with water bottles, snacks for school, maid, and oh yeah, kids. Greet guards. Learn new guard's name: an easy one - Kuppasamy. Whew. Thank goodness it's reasonably short.
8:30 a.m. - Drop L off at school. J refuses to go (again).
9:00 a.m. - At the clinic. Despite my calling yesterday and confirming that we could change the appointment to the next morning, there is confusion as to why we are there. Finally get it through that we are to see a different doctor. The receptionists at this clinic have done this to me twice now - they seem not to understand enough English to do more than say "yes" over the phone. Mental note: do not try and call again. Better to go in person.
Wait. J is bored, which is good, maybe she will decide to go to school!
Read "The Hindu", which our landlord owns, and discover that the monsoon is expected early this year.
Text a friend, who is waiting fruitlessly for her washer to show up. Call the carpenter, who gives many reasons why he did not bring the estimate and drawings for our new bookshelves out last week. These include death of an employee, heat, and forgetfulness. He promises that someone will come out today.
Crowded but not hot, thank goodness. This is a really nice clinic, very new, with very good doctors, all western trained.
10:00 a.m. - See doctor. Find out that maid did not provide all the samples needed to check for parasites. Find out that Hep and HIV tests were not included in the screening package (this one is my fault, should have read the fine print). Find out that maid gets headaches and has a kidney stone and is anemic. Hmmm. Not sure where to go with those. Kind of like opening Pandora's Box. Find out that she already saw a dr. during the first appointment, which I thought was just for lab work.
At least the dr. speaks Tamil and so can explain everything to maid.
Maid says she has been tested 3X for HIV and is negative, but cannot provide proof.
Decide that I can't afford to be a softie on this one and ask dr. to write order for HIV & Hep test, and tell maid that she must bring in samples for parasite tests.
This is all to ensure that she can cook for us. I am getting desperate for a cook, but not desperate enough to want to go through any illnesses over it. My maid lives in a grass shack - literally - so pretty sure that she has been exposed to plenty of things.
10:40 a.m. Done for today at the clinic. Consternation on my driver's part because I told the security guards that they could not let the painters into the house while everyone was gone, and did not tell him. Security guards, or painters, not sure whom, have been calling him about this. The painters are employed by his brother-in-law, which makes it sticky. Tell driver that "sir" has decreed that there shall be no strangers in the house while maid and/or I am gone. (Which is true.)
Pass several buses and men gesticulating on the side of the main road, near our house. Driver says "shooting". Moment of panic as I wonder, can they possibly be having some sort of bird hunt??? No, it is a MOVIE shooting - they are filming a dance scene. Tell driver never to say "shooting" to an American unless he means guns.
11:15 a.m. Home. Make J go to room to spend the rest of the school day. Talk to painters (well, gesture at painters is more accurate). Driver has not had time to take his breakfast (he gets up at 5 a.m. to get to our house on time), so he has chocolate cake out of the fridge. (Cake was for the painters but not sure it made it to them.)
11:45 a.m. Leave to pick L up at school.
12:15 p.m. L has stapled his finger, right through the nail, either on purpose or accidentally, who knows. Nurse took care of it. Thank goodness. L spends entire time driving home telling me how the stapler bit him and left it's teeth in his finger. Ugh.
Talk to driver about the snake that he found in his bathroom (outdoor toilet) yesterday. Driver and maid agree that snake is very poisonous but don't know the name in English, only Tamil. Snake is gone - taken to the herpetology park.
L climbs on roof of van while I am fixing lunch with maid. Get L down.
Driver and maid both ask me if the homemade bread that I left on the counter is "waste". Try not to be offended, which would be easier if they hadn't already asked me - Sunday - what was rising in the bread pan. Tell them no, it's lunch. ha ha.
Tell driver he can go to lunch; he says he will go after 2 p.m. Tell him that we need to move the landlord's furniture before the sea container comes, and we will try to do it today.
Afternoon:
110 F again.
1 p.m. Feed kids lunch. Teach maid to make PB&J. Check on painters, who have gotten little done. They claim they will be finished "tomorrow". Uh huh. That's what they said the last three days in a row.
Catch maid rinsing, not washing, dishes and tell her that is unacceptable. She must use dish detergent, clean wash rage, and then let them dry before she puts them away.
Secretary calls and asks if I will meet with another expatriate couple who might move here. Too funny. I have no idea what I'm doing, feel close to tears regularly, not sure I really can cope at all, have only been here 6 weeks, and they want my "input". This may be a mistake, but I say yes.
Lay down with L for much-needed nap.
4 p.m. Wow, long nap. Gotta have it in this heat.
Check e-mail. Nice to see e-mail from family and friends; really perks me up.
4:30 p.m. Give kids permission to play outside, or in the pool, with the driver's kids.
5 p.m. Maid goes home, after presenting me with some of sir's shirts, ironed. Going to need to re-train her in ironing. Again.
S texts me to say he has a dinner meeting which he forgot about, but will come home early and then go back to the city. OK.
6 p.m. Decorator/curtain rod lady shows up. whew. We need curtains so bad! She was supposed to come a few days ago but didn't. Thankfully, she and I seem to be on the same page as to what kinds of curtains the house needs. She measures and goes off; supposed to get me an estimate.
Check on painters again. The master bedroom's closets are almost done. Maybee.....we can move into that room someday.
S is swimming with kids. They are having a blast.
Evening:
6:30 p.m. Quick download about the day with hubby. He is concerned about my driver's honesty. I don't want to fire the driver until we have proof that he is being dishonest, but neither do I want a driver who is not trustworthy. So hard to tell. We don't speak the language and nothing is priced, you have to haggle. Being white there is no chance of getting anything at the normal rate; you always pay the "white tax". So how are we supposed to check and see if he is bringing the correct change home?
No word about sea crate either; it was supposed to come tomorrow.
Decide to wait and see how the driver takes his brother-in-law being fired as our painter.
Go out to tell drive that he can go home. He is washing the car. He washes the car every day; it's very nice. Reminds me, though, that the car is currently much cleaner than the house.
No carpenters. Didn't get the furniture moved either.
7 p.m. Hubby leaves for meeting. Feed kids, feeling like I'm in a fishbowl as I prepare dinner in front of the guards. (Dinner being spaghetti for the 3rd day in a row. It's all the kids want and it's easy to fix.) Wish, again, that the painting was done and the kitchen curtains up.
J runs outside with pictures of Indian snakes and asks driver what kind of snake he found in his bathroom. It was a common krait, one of the deadliest of all Indian snakes, and one of the most common in Tamil Nadu.
8 p.m. Kids bathed; I lay down with them to put them to sleep. (They are sharing a large bed until our beds come.)
8:30 p.m. Hubby calls and says that shipment is arriving "late" tomorrow night; do we want it unloaded immediately or not? I don't think they can even manoever a truck down the narrow lane we live on, which is currently partially blocked by large piles of sand and other construction material, in the dark. There are no street lights. We decide that shipment should be unloaded Thurs or Fri, even Saturday, but not in the middle of the night.
E-mail the expatriate support service our company provides about J's refusal to go to school. Can they provide counseling? We shall see.
10 p.m. Hubby calls and is on his way home. It is a long drive so it will be awhile. Decide to try conference call to the counseling service, since it is daytime in the U.S. They have some good suggestions, and offer face-to-face counseling, if needed.
11 p.m. Bed. Finally.
5 a.m. - hear alarm going off in kid's room. This is my alarm, but kids have absconded with it and apparently set it for early a.m.
6 a.m. - L asks, "Can I go outside to play?" He is fully dressed and rarin' to go. I say "NO", since yesterday when I said yes, he went and took a motorcycle ride down the lane with one of the guards. (After telling the guard that he had permission to do so - a half-truth if I ever heard one.)
6:30 a.m. - Give up and get out of bed. Hubby says "Gotta run! I'm late!" and is out the door. Day looks hot (no kidding!
) and condensation has already formed on the windows because of the AC. 7 a.m. - Getting kids ready for school. Breakfast, dressed, brush teeth, etc. Normal except that we now brush out teeth in the kitchen, and I have each child get a glass of water from the drinking water cooler to rinse their toothbrushes with. This is because J can't seem to remember to not use the tap water to rinse her toothbrush.
7:30 a.m. - Maid shows up early to go to doctor after we drop kids off at school. Tries to help get kids ready for school, but they don't like having their cheeks pinched and won't sit on her lap to have their shoes put on, so no go.
Driver shows up.
8:00 a.m. - Out the door with water bottles, snacks for school, maid, and oh yeah, kids. Greet guards. Learn new guard's name: an easy one - Kuppasamy. Whew. Thank goodness it's reasonably short.
8:30 a.m. - Drop L off at school. J refuses to go (again).
9:00 a.m. - At the clinic. Despite my calling yesterday and confirming that we could change the appointment to the next morning, there is confusion as to why we are there. Finally get it through that we are to see a different doctor. The receptionists at this clinic have done this to me twice now - they seem not to understand enough English to do more than say "yes" over the phone. Mental note: do not try and call again. Better to go in person.
Wait. J is bored, which is good, maybe she will decide to go to school!
Read "The Hindu", which our landlord owns, and discover that the monsoon is expected early this year.
Text a friend, who is waiting fruitlessly for her washer to show up. Call the carpenter, who gives many reasons why he did not bring the estimate and drawings for our new bookshelves out last week. These include death of an employee, heat, and forgetfulness. He promises that someone will come out today.Crowded but not hot, thank goodness. This is a really nice clinic, very new, with very good doctors, all western trained.
10:00 a.m. - See doctor. Find out that maid did not provide all the samples needed to check for parasites. Find out that Hep and HIV tests were not included in the screening package (this one is my fault, should have read the fine print). Find out that maid gets headaches and has a kidney stone and is anemic. Hmmm. Not sure where to go with those. Kind of like opening Pandora's Box. Find out that she already saw a dr. during the first appointment, which I thought was just for lab work.
At least the dr. speaks Tamil and so can explain everything to maid.
Maid says she has been tested 3X for HIV and is negative, but cannot provide proof.
Decide that I can't afford to be a softie on this one and ask dr. to write order for HIV & Hep test, and tell maid that she must bring in samples for parasite tests.
This is all to ensure that she can cook for us. I am getting desperate for a cook, but not desperate enough to want to go through any illnesses over it. My maid lives in a grass shack - literally - so pretty sure that she has been exposed to plenty of things.
10:40 a.m. Done for today at the clinic. Consternation on my driver's part because I told the security guards that they could not let the painters into the house while everyone was gone, and did not tell him. Security guards, or painters, not sure whom, have been calling him about this. The painters are employed by his brother-in-law, which makes it sticky. Tell driver that "sir" has decreed that there shall be no strangers in the house while maid and/or I am gone. (Which is true.)
Pass several buses and men gesticulating on the side of the main road, near our house. Driver says "shooting". Moment of panic as I wonder, can they possibly be having some sort of bird hunt??? No, it is a MOVIE shooting - they are filming a dance scene. Tell driver never to say "shooting" to an American unless he means guns.
11:15 a.m. Home. Make J go to room to spend the rest of the school day. Talk to painters (well, gesture at painters is more accurate). Driver has not had time to take his breakfast (he gets up at 5 a.m. to get to our house on time), so he has chocolate cake out of the fridge. (Cake was for the painters but not sure it made it to them.)
11:45 a.m. Leave to pick L up at school.
12:15 p.m. L has stapled his finger, right through the nail, either on purpose or accidentally, who knows. Nurse took care of it. Thank goodness. L spends entire time driving home telling me how the stapler bit him and left it's teeth in his finger. Ugh.
Talk to driver about the snake that he found in his bathroom (outdoor toilet) yesterday. Driver and maid agree that snake is very poisonous but don't know the name in English, only Tamil. Snake is gone - taken to the herpetology park.
L climbs on roof of van while I am fixing lunch with maid. Get L down.
Driver and maid both ask me if the homemade bread that I left on the counter is "waste". Try not to be offended, which would be easier if they hadn't already asked me - Sunday - what was rising in the bread pan. Tell them no, it's lunch. ha ha.
Tell driver he can go to lunch; he says he will go after 2 p.m. Tell him that we need to move the landlord's furniture before the sea container comes, and we will try to do it today.
Afternoon:
110 F again.
1 p.m. Feed kids lunch. Teach maid to make PB&J. Check on painters, who have gotten little done. They claim they will be finished "tomorrow". Uh huh. That's what they said the last three days in a row.
Catch maid rinsing, not washing, dishes and tell her that is unacceptable. She must use dish detergent, clean wash rage, and then let them dry before she puts them away.
Secretary calls and asks if I will meet with another expatriate couple who might move here. Too funny.
I have no idea what I'm doing, feel close to tears regularly, not sure I really can cope at all, have only been here 6 weeks, and they want my "input". This may be a mistake, but I say yes.Lay down with L for much-needed nap.
4 p.m. Wow, long nap. Gotta have it in this heat.
Check e-mail. Nice to see e-mail from family and friends; really perks me up.
4:30 p.m. Give kids permission to play outside, or in the pool, with the driver's kids.
5 p.m. Maid goes home, after presenting me with some of sir's shirts, ironed. Going to need to re-train her in ironing. Again.
S texts me to say he has a dinner meeting which he forgot about, but will come home early and then go back to the city. OK.
6 p.m. Decorator/curtain rod lady shows up. whew. We need curtains so bad! She was supposed to come a few days ago but didn't. Thankfully, she and I seem to be on the same page as to what kinds of curtains the house needs. She measures and goes off; supposed to get me an estimate.
Check on painters again. The master bedroom's closets are almost done. Maybee.....we can move into that room someday.
S is swimming with kids. They are having a blast.
Evening:
6:30 p.m. Quick download about the day with hubby. He is concerned about my driver's honesty. I don't want to fire the driver until we have proof that he is being dishonest, but neither do I want a driver who is not trustworthy. So hard to tell. We don't speak the language and nothing is priced, you have to haggle. Being white there is no chance of getting anything at the normal rate; you always pay the "white tax". So how are we supposed to check and see if he is bringing the correct change home?
No word about sea crate either; it was supposed to come tomorrow.
Decide to wait and see how the driver takes his brother-in-law being fired as our painter.
Go out to tell drive that he can go home. He is washing the car. He washes the car every day; it's very nice. Reminds me, though, that the car is currently much cleaner than the house.
No carpenters. Didn't get the furniture moved either.
7 p.m. Hubby leaves for meeting. Feed kids, feeling like I'm in a fishbowl as I prepare dinner in front of the guards. (Dinner being spaghetti for the 3rd day in a row. It's all the kids want and it's easy to fix.) Wish, again, that the painting was done and the kitchen curtains up.
J runs outside with pictures of Indian snakes and asks driver what kind of snake he found in his bathroom. It was a common krait, one of the deadliest of all Indian snakes, and one of the most common in Tamil Nadu.
8 p.m. Kids bathed; I lay down with them to put them to sleep. (They are sharing a large bed until our beds come.)
8:30 p.m. Hubby calls and says that shipment is arriving "late" tomorrow night; do we want it unloaded immediately or not? I don't think they can even manoever a truck down the narrow lane we live on, which is currently partially blocked by large piles of sand and other construction material, in the dark. There are no street lights. We decide that shipment should be unloaded Thurs or Fri, even Saturday, but not in the middle of the night.
E-mail the expatriate support service our company provides about J's refusal to go to school. Can they provide counseling? We shall see.
10 p.m. Hubby calls and is on his way home. It is a long drive so it will be awhile. Decide to try conference call to the counseling service, since it is daytime in the U.S. They have some good suggestions, and offer face-to-face counseling, if needed.
11 p.m. Bed. Finally.
And Ended With a Whimper.
Sunday, 29. April 2007, 08:43:35
Actually, 36 hours from our move-in time, it's more like a flood. From me. Yep, can't stop crying today.
You see, after my two-hour effort to get a shower (never mind a hot shower - I never bothered to turn on the hot water heater - wasn't sure what calamity might occur if it didn't have water in it. Besides, if I wanted to get hot and wet, I could just go stand outside.), I went to bed.
Mistake.
At 1:40 a.m, to be precise, our doorbell rang.
My husband mumbled something unprintable, but I assured him that as incompetent as the guards might be at actually guarding anything, they were certainly not stupid enough to ring sir and madame's doorbell in the middle of the night if the matter weren't important.
It was. It was important. It was our screwy, crazy, poor RADish (Reactive Attachment Disorder) son, who had gone downstairs, opened a window, and climbed through the bars to be with his friends, the guards.
He's doing what is called "daddy shopping". In other words, he's afraid that S will abandon him, so he's searching for another father figure. The guards fit the bill since they all play with him and generally do whatever he wishes.
So, after a firm lecture from daddy and mommy (the real ones), I spent the rest of the night lying next to him, to help reassure him. (Daddy was a bit too p.o.'d to do the job properly.) Poor L couldn't sleep at all. He stayed in bed - by force - but kept popping up to check the window to see what the guards were doing. Finally, I gave him some Benadryl to help him sleep.
So we got a few hours sleep before Rajamanakkam rang the doorbell again to inform us that the caretaker had left, for good (expected, but still, I really didn't want to know that early).
The last straw was when I couldn't find the right key to lock our valuables up before we left for church. (I am now up to over 64 keys, with the caretaker's and another ring that I found in a drawer added in). I tried to organize the keys last week but apparently, was suffering from the heat or something, because the one labelled "master bedroom closet" didn't work.
I had a breakdown. A good, old-fashioned crying jag. And Shawn kindly took the children to church. God bless him.
As has been my past experience, the tears stopped coming so fast if I kept busy. So I got three more of the most disgusting closets cleaned.
Meanwhile, our guards go over to the pump room and prop the switch open every few hours. I notice that they stand nervously outside the pumphouse watching the time as they do so. Smart men. We will call the landlord and get it fixed. I hope.
Let's hope for smoother sailing tomorrow.
You see, after my two-hour effort to get a shower (never mind a hot shower - I never bothered to turn on the hot water heater - wasn't sure what calamity might occur if it didn't have water in it. Besides, if I wanted to get hot and wet, I could just go stand outside.), I went to bed.
Mistake.
At 1:40 a.m, to be precise, our doorbell rang.
My husband mumbled something unprintable, but I assured him that as incompetent as the guards might be at actually guarding anything, they were certainly not stupid enough to ring sir and madame's doorbell in the middle of the night if the matter weren't important.
It was. It was important. It was our screwy, crazy, poor RADish (Reactive Attachment Disorder) son, who had gone downstairs, opened a window, and climbed through the bars to be with his friends, the guards.
He's doing what is called "daddy shopping". In other words, he's afraid that S will abandon him, so he's searching for another father figure. The guards fit the bill since they all play with him and generally do whatever he wishes.
So, after a firm lecture from daddy and mommy (the real ones), I spent the rest of the night lying next to him, to help reassure him. (Daddy was a bit too p.o.'d to do the job properly.) Poor L couldn't sleep at all. He stayed in bed - by force - but kept popping up to check the window to see what the guards were doing. Finally, I gave him some Benadryl to help him sleep.
So we got a few hours sleep before Rajamanakkam rang the doorbell again to inform us that the caretaker had left, for good (expected, but still, I really didn't want to know that early).
The last straw was when I couldn't find the right key to lock our valuables up before we left for church. (I am now up to over 64 keys, with the caretaker's and another ring that I found in a drawer added in). I tried to organize the keys last week but apparently, was suffering from the heat or something, because the one labelled "master bedroom closet" didn't work.
I had a breakdown. A good, old-fashioned crying jag. And Shawn kindly took the children to church. God bless him.
As has been my past experience, the tears stopped coming so fast if I kept busy. So I got three more of the most disgusting closets cleaned.
Meanwhile, our guards go over to the pump room and prop the switch open every few hours. I notice that they stand nervously outside the pumphouse watching the time as they do so. Smart men. We will call the landlord and get it fixed. I hope.
Let's hope for smoother sailing tomorrow.
Latest blog posts
Tags
Chennai blogs I read regularly:
-
India - Walking in the Sand
A couple running an orphanage in Tamil Nadu
-
Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Really enjoying the British flavor of this one!
-
DesiPundit
A really excellent compilation of various Indian blogs
-
India Aussie Style
The Aussies take on Chennai.
-
The Perlman Update
I love the intro! :)
-
Sher the Love
An expatriate couple here longer than many of us - AND they've independently adopted an Indian child - priceless!
-
Days of Our Lives in India
Some good friends of ours moved here recently - share their adventures too!
-
Journey to India
Blogging is very popular here.
-
Where in the World is the Armijo Family
The Armijos take some awesome trips!
Friend's blogs:
-
A Whole New World blog
A very, very insightful look into special needs parenting.
-
On Krista's Mind
A very special woman who has brain cancer takes the time to uplift us all.
-
Chinese Starfish
This outstanding woman gave up a good career to start her own orphanage in Xian, China, for special needs orphans. My heroine!!
-
Pam in Henan, China
You have to read the story of how she saved her Chinese daughter's life....and has spent 4 years living in China trying to adopt her.
-
Cherilyn's blog
Neat family who adopted from Kazakhstan, and unbelievably, lived around the corner from us in IL.
-
Barbara & Wayne's blog
Read all about their travels! Barbara is one of my oldest and dearest friends.
-
Danie's blog
Lots of moving around here!
-
Lynn and family
Moving back to the US - we will miss you!
-
Marsha
Sadly, tragedy struck and they too have moved back to the US.
-
Jennifer's blog
Yes, they too are moving back! So sad.
-
Donna's site
Moving, moving, everyone is moving....sniff.
Favorite Furniture Stores
- Collections Unique, 110 ECR (below "Mermaid Swimming Pools")
antique and repro furniture, pricey but nice
- The Treasure, #170/2 ALM Complex, opp. Prarthana Theatre, Injambakkam, ECR
same quality as Collections but better prices
- Timber, Old No. 6 Rutland Gate, 4th St, Nungambakkam; also a showroom in Kilpauk
beautiful imported teak furniture from Indonesia
- Centuar Furniture, 18, 3rd Cross Road, Raja Annamalai Puram
- Grand Teak, 19 (Old no. 10) II Main Rd, R.A. Puram
solid wood imports from Indonesia
- Tulsi Arterior, Nungambakkam
made-to-order furniture and lots of nice ready-made peices. Custom upholstering.
- Teak Heirlooms, New 19, 1st Cross St, Sterling Rd, Nungambakkam
outdoor teak furniture as well as coconut wood furniture
- Rani Arts and Teak, No. 8, Harrington Rd, Chetpet
widest variety of all-Indian furniture and artifacts - but very pricey!
- Mani's - New #31, Old #17 Royapettah High Road, 044 28133078
GREAT PRICES on used furniture. He will polish it up and it will look like new.
-
Aurorachana Export Antiques and Furniture, Hope, Auroville, Tamil Nadu 9443220174
I've saved the very best for last. This place is run by two Germans who've lived here 30 years. They do an outstanding job restoring and refinishing old furniture, as well as custom-make just about anything you'd want to buy.
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