Opera India

It is always fun to go to a different country and learn how things work there. As one is not familiar with the routines there is always an initial struggle followed by bewilderment and often amusement. Waiting hours in line just to find out that it was the wrong line can be very frustrating, but the experience is part of getting to know a culture. Let me offer a few personal examples:

Getting a broadband connection

No power: When electricity is off between 1 and 2:30, USB powered fans do the trick.

When ordering broadband we were promised we would get it installed "tomorrow". The following day someone came along with the papers to be signed. The next day someone came along and installed a phone line. The day after, someone came along and gave us a "free" phone. The day after that someone came along to verify the identity of the signer. The day after that again, someone came along to verify the verification. Yet another day passed by, and by now we were cleared in the system for getting broadband, and theoretically we could have got a connection "tomorrow". It took an additional 5 days for a technician to drop by with the modem and password. The various people who arrived at our door would arrive during daytime, without making an appointment first (this is part of the verification process), so for a week and a half I did nothing but sit in the apartment waiting for a technician to drop by.

Acquiring a driver's licence

I am not going into details about all the hoops I had to jump through to get it, it would be too long. I had to navigate a myriad of forms, people, offices and abbreviations I had never seen before. I was amused to see that notars would certify copies without seeing the original, and that I could get a health certificate from a doctor without ever leaving the waiting room. One of the days I was at the STA (State Traffic Authority) I was told by information to go to counter 10, which told me to go to room 2, which told me to go to counter 10 (again), which told me to go to room 2 (again!), which told me to go to counter 10 (again!?!), which told me to go to booth 8 in the basement. By this time I had already spent so much time in lines that booth 8 was closed for the day. My final day at STA looked like this: Booth 1 -> Booth 2 -> Booth 1 -> District Court -> Booth 1 -> Booth 2 -> Booth 1 -> Counter 8 -> Counter 10 -> Counter 8 -> Room 5 -> Counter 15, where I finally got my temporary learner's licence.

I can hardly wait to do it all again to get my permanent one

Receiving a letter

Some letters are dropped in the mailbox, and some are delivered on the door. Some require the recipient to sign for them. Some even don't allow other members of the same household to sign on the recipient's behalf. Good security I think, but alas: A letter to Sagar, after the carrier had been at the door 3 times (during daytime the same day), and refused me to receive it on Sagar's behalf, he finally decided to drop it off in the mailbox instead.

So we are starting to settle in now. Our job ads have been running for a few weeks, and we have received resumes from a number of interesting candidates. We are just starting interviews, and really looking forward to getting to know these people. Of course, we'd still like more resumes

I am getting to know India in other ways than through resumes and interviews too. A week ago was a wet and stormy morning. The house was shaking in the thunder claps, and the air was raw even inside. So I was just sitting inside, trying to solve the mysteries of the random crashers that some people are experiencing.

Eventually it cleared up, and the street was filled with sounds from laughing children and honking cars, more than normal, even considering the weather in the morning. I didn't think much of it, but as it didn't settle down, I eventually went outside to investigate. Pools of water was lying everywhere, in different colors; yellow, purple, green, red, blue. People seemed like they had been swimming the pools, as they too were full of colors.

The honking was due to groups of youth riding around on their scooters and honking. Some would just smile at me, others would shout happy Holi, yet other groups would smilingly and laughingly attack me with coloured powder. As some people had run out of colouring agents, they would improvise with mud instead. As more people were running out of powder, I found it best to retreat back home.

Great fun, but I hope it won't be like this every day when I go to the office.