The Blue Sky of Chennai, and other Indian Adventures

28-31 July 2013

Chennai, India

Familiarity breeds contempt. Or in this case, it breeds complacency. This was my third trip to Chennai, and my second solo trip there.

As a result, I neglected to bring the face masks and the glasses and the sense of heightened alertness. I didn't check the hotel booking or transport arrangement, easily assuming that it would have been all sorted for me. Unfortunately, the hotel got the timing wrong and there wasn't a car to pick me up. Credit to me-- I didn't panic or get neurotic. Instead I got angry, shouted at some people and made my own arrangements. My only safety precaution was to turn on my Tracker app so that I could be tracked, big difference that would have made in a rapist situation.

On the plus side, being more  comfortable with the place also meant I relaxed a little and started to enjoy the city a little more, laugh a little more at its idiosyncrasies, even brush my teeth using tap-water (living dangerously, I know!).

Some things which cracked me up along the way (literally, as I explored Chennai via taxicab)

The Indian obsession with qualifications

Scores of old-fashioned taxi cabs reminded me of photos of 60s Singapore


Roads doubling up as public toilets. Men, back facing the main roads, taking a leek at polite intervals from each other.
Even saw a guy rolling up his dhoti ready to take a dump. I didn't linger to watch his progress.

Other discoveries:

1. Chindian food! Never thought to pair black pepper chicken with plain noodles but it goes together so well!

2. Beautiful beach setting 5 minutes from the city centre, and its not even tarted up for tourists. Where is the Sentosa development board when you need them?

Perceptions and Prejudice

19-20 June 2013

Chennai, India

I suppose I'm the sort of girl that tends to attracts strange and unwanted attention. Or is not able to fend for herself. So when it was known that I would be travelling to India on my own, my boss called the HR director of the India business to let him know that he would be personally responsible for my safety.

All sorts of advice from colleagues ensued--

"Don't take the aisle seat on a plane. Some sick Indian man would take the opportunity to squeeze past you and rub his crotch in your face."

"Don't take a taxi. Make sure its our staff wearing uniform who is driving you"

"Don't go to India. Just don't."

A lot of these comments were said loudly, in English, in the open plan office. I wonder what our colleagues from India must have thought of all this.

When we were growing up, our elders (teachers, parents etc) always painted the Baboo Singh or the Apu Neh Neh as the Boogeyman.

"If you are naughty, the Kekling will catch you, cut off your tongue and make you a beggar"

No wonder we all grew up being wary of other races.

That this trip happened just after the Delhi bus rape and a number of high profile assaults on tourists in other parts of India probably made it worse.

The only person who sang another tune was P's G, who told me to extend the trip over the weekend and visit some of the tourist spots with my colleagues. But then again, he is the same guy whose personal mission in life is to visit all the sovereign states in the world, war-torn or otherwise (He has been to Afghanistan and Chad), so he kinda has a different world view. Plus, he's an Aussie.

With all these background noise, I definitely got a little worried. I actually googled 'safety and crime rates in India'. That was how worried I was.

I packed glasses and face masks and long sleeves and long pants. I planned for my hair to be in a severe slicked back pony tail at all times. I would repel potential attackers by my formidable auntie-ness.

Paranoia followed me at my first stop.....

At the airport

I worried when I couldn't see the hotel driver at the arrivals hall.

I avoided all eye contact and walked straight ahead, until I had no choice but to ask the security guard.

He didn't speak English. Dammit!

A guy who looked like a tout started talking to me and asking me if I needed help. I was suspicious of his intentions (if only I apply the same common sense to all men problems).

In the end, he did help me find the right driver. I don't remember if I thanked him, I just wanted to be cocooned in the safety of the hotel car.

Preparing for the next day' meeting

I forgot to bring some candy for a facilitation exercise so I had to find somewhere to buy sweets. Also, I got angry at myself for being stuck in the hotel room and not exploring Amazing India, yet again. This was not the intrepid and seasoned backpacker that I pictured myself as (most likely because it isn't true anymore, if ever). So i bravely decided to venture onto the street. Such bravery!

Raintree on St Mary's Road. Its an Eco-Hotel!

The hotel was supposedly situated in a fairly upmarket residential area, but the streets were unpaved and neat piles of litter stood waiting for the garbage collector.

The newspaper agent/sweet shop was a 5 minute walk on the same street as the hotel and I was the only non-Indian on it. All eyes were following my every move as side-stepped traffic and garbage and people.

The shop was not the 7-11 that I imagined it to be. It was literally one of the now-extinct Mamak shops that my mother had bought fresh coconut milk from when I was growing up. You can't find such shops in Singapore anymore.

This one was little more than a tiny shop crammed with sachets of shampoo, cigarettes, papers and telephone cards. The shopkeeper in his dhoti peered at me curiously. Sweets were sold individually in big plastic containers, much like that ones that hold our Chinese New Year love letters.

"How much is one?"

I thought he said 100 rupees and was immediately indignant that he was just trying to fleece this obviously non-local customer. Turns out it was my deafness and each sweet was only 1 rupee. I bought 50 out of embarrassment.

At the Hotel again

Back at the hotel, my room door lock suddnely didn't work. The staff took 1 hour to fix it. I wondered if I should put a chair against the door at night to prevent would-be rapists from breaking in. While waiting, I chatted with the hotel staff, a young management trainee (are there any other kind of jobs for graduates these days?), about what he wanted to do with his career and life and why he was in Chennai. He was unfailingly polite and too apologetic, although he didn't offer me an upgrade. Between the scrapping and bowing and the "Madams" and "Ma'ams", I now I know what its like to be treated like a memsahib!

Before I knew it, I was on my way to catch the dreaded internal flight to Bengalore (I couldn't check in online and reached the airport just before the flight, so I had already resigned myself to the fate of middle row seat). I was almost ready to conclude that India was safer than I thought and that my paranoia had been unfounded.

And then. I caught sight of the pilot of the flight.....

Two words. Top. Gun.

Indian version lah! But still.

My friends call it poetic justice.

Chennai

Chennai, 16-20 Oct 2012
(To be accurate, a hotel in Chennai, since I never saw the city)

So this was the first trip I've ever made to the subcontinent, for work too. Admittedly, its not a destination I have every considered for vacation every before.

And there were many apprehensions-- food, safety, cleanliness etc. I even bought snacks in case there was nothing "safe to eat"--- you can't blame me, after hearing stories; I also swore not to eat anything uncooked.

Turns out I needn't have worried. I barely had chance to step out of the Hilton the whole trip-- although I was still super paranoid and brushed my teeth only with mineral water, and avoided all cut fruit or salads and heaven forbid, sushi! (there was a Japanese convention in the same hotel, and the Japanese guests didn't seem to have the same qualms though-- although they could have just been sick of Indian cuisine)

Hence, I broke the curse of Delhi Belly-- a case of runs that every first time visitor to India was expected to contract without fail.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much chance to experience much of Chennai-- although I did catch glimpses of it travelling from airport to hotel to restaurant. Flooded streets, power shortages, traffic jams--- all attributed to the early advent of the monsoon.

My one true immersion was getting to try different types of food and most of it was pretty delicious, but also heavy on the stomach, so I could only try so much. Favourites are sweet corn fritters and apam (a sweet rice pancake)! Gonna be looking for that back home :)

The worse part of the trip was the flight out. There was some ridiculous rule that you had to get a security stamp for all carry-on luggage but this was not explained so ended up back- and- forthing with the security. Never a good idea to argue with the airport authority, but then again, a sleep-deprived traveller is also a force to be reckoned with. Fortunately, the matter was resolved when a passer-by offered a spare tag.

Takeway from the trip: I received a bit of education about Indian culture though from my Indian colleagues. One example is marriage. Most of them have very resolute ideas of what marriage should be-- arranged is good (parents know best, and it limits the amount of lying/social desirability that either side does in the dating game), man must be older than the woman by 5 years (so that he would never have to see his wife ageing more than him); women should have children 1 year into marriage.

It's interesting to have strict social norms, and to have no qualms about following them. I particularly enjoyed speaking to the ladies to hear their views. (There were only a couple of them around). Educated up to their ears with MBA, and modern girls all, they felt it was perfectly alright to have their futures planned for them by their parents, and even welcomed it as a "load of their minds".  Pretty cool and made me think how different social norms change perceptions entirely, for in Singapore, match-making is something you may be ashamed of.

As if turned out, I didn't have time or occasion to spend any money at all. However, I did buy a book at the airport while waiting for my delayed flight. Halfway through R. Narayan's The Vendor of Sweets now, and really enjoy how the author brings to life the flavour of small-town India and its inhabitants. Shall be getting my hands of Indian literature more now.

Don't have many pictures of India to showcase, but just noticed how interesting that there is a common colour theme throughout!