I’ve been in India for two full weeks and it amazes me how all the little things that seemed to accentuate a feeling of foreignness have now blended into the backdrop of what is a beautiful, 
bustling, and comfortable country. The crazy traffic, the strange foods, the culture, the mannerisms of the people, the temples and shrines dotting the roadside, the poverty, the wealth; none of it strikes me as strange anymore and I feel oddly at home.
I feel like that’s great progress and I’m actually rather pleased that it happened so quickly. The downside, however, is that at the end of a long day at work, when I’m tired and cranky, I’m feeling comfortable enough to show my frustration and get annoyed by the little things – just like I do when I’m home. I suppose that means the honeymoon is over, but it doesn’t mean I love India any less. It just means I got crabby at the housekeeping guy for making me fill out three forms because he couldn’t take my laundry without having all the right paperwork that goes along with it. (In India, even laundry has a paper trail.)
Despite my comfort, some things don’t appear to be changing. For example, my success rate of ordering room service is steady at about 67%. I will place my order and the guy on the other end accepts it; only to have someone else call me a few minutes later to clarify the order.
I am routinely called a “Wine Weennie”. I prefer Old World wines; reds from the Rhone Valley in France, or a nice oaky Rioja. Anything with a Grenache grape is aces in my book. Indian wines don’t appear to fall into that narrow zone, so I don’t like to order wine at the hotel. For beer, the Kingfisher lager has a nice, fresh taste, but lagers aren’t my thing (I’ll have a nice hoppy IPA, thankyouverymuch.) With no other options (that I’m willing to try), I order gin and tonics with my dinners.
Room Service and I follow a rigorous process which is not deviated from:
Frank: “…and I would like a gin and tonic please.”
Room Service: “Okay, okay. I’ll bring it.”
(Frank hangs up.)
(Phone rings.)
Frank: “Yes?”
Room Service (different person): “Yes, sir. You ordered a gin and tonic?”
Frank: “Yes.”
Room Service: “Local or imported gin?”
Frank: “Local is fine, thank you.”
Room Service: “Okay, okay. I’ll bring it.”
(Frank hangs up.)
(Phone rings.)
Frank: “Yes?”
Room Service (different person): “You ordered a gin and tonic, sir?”
Frank: “Yes.”
Room Service: “Large or small?”
Frank: “Large is fine, thank you.”
Room Service: “Okay, okay. I’ll bring it.”
(Frank hangs up.)
(Phone rings.)
Frank: “Yes?”
Room Service (different person): “Good evening, sir. You ordered a gin and tonic?”
Frank: “Yes.”
Room Service: “One or two large?”
Frank: “One is fine, thank you.”
Room Service: “Okay, okay. I’ll bring it.”
(Frank hangs up.)
(Room service delivers two large gin and tonics. Every time.)
I spent the weekend in Chennai with Michelle, kicking around her ‘hood. Michelle has spent 3 of the last 6 months in Chennai, so she almost feels as though it is her second home. She knows all her favorite restaurants and shops, the best markets, where to get the best poori and dosa, places to avoid, and places to go. I have heard so much about Chennai from Michelle while she’s been here; it was utterly amazing to have the opportunity to spend time with her there and see it all first-hand.
We checked into the RainTree – one of the nicer hotels in Chennai - for the weekend. We enjoyed dinner and drinks on the rooftop bar, passed the midday heat on Saturday lounging by the pool and swimming, and spent the less hot hours shopping and going to markets. We did the same things on Sunday, except that we also visited a beautiful temple in Chennai, located at one of the original city centers (Chennai grew from two villages which became the two city centers.)
Chennai is a beautiful city with a completely different character from Bangalore; while it’s grittier, it’s also more real and has an intangible sense of life which, in an odd manner, reminds me of Toulouse.
The bottom line is: I love Chennai, miss it already, and can’t wait to go back.
