Backup Plan = Goa

In these trying economic times we should all be prepared for the unexpected and have a backup plan (a second best professional alternative should the axe fall). My backup plan is an indescribably beautiful tropical paradise called Goa. Profession yet to be determined, but I am thinking Tom Cruise Cocktail-style bartender, or surf-instructor.

Goa is amazing. By visiting on my final weekend here, I truly left the best of India for last. Goa has miles and miles of beautiful sun-drenched sandy beaches, each beach with its own name and character. I spent my time at Calangute, one of Goa's busiest beaches, and Arambol, one of Goa's least trafficed beaches and had pleasant experiences at both. While the sun and surf are amazingly relaxing, it is nonetheless impossible to escape completely from India's determined entrepreneurs. Vendors tramp up and down even the most secluded beaches hawking souvenirs, fruit, massages, and even ear cleaning services. I overpaid for cheap sourvenirs but passed on the other services, particularly the ear cleaning, which I am pretty sure is a pick-pocket scam. The more organized commercial establishments are the beach huts which offer chair rentals and food. The more ambitious of the huts turn into bars and dance-clubs at night, providing the basis for a 24-hour scene.

In addition to some spectacular beaches Goa also offers up a dose of history and culture among the impressive churches of Old Goa, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Though the classical architecture seems a little out of place among the palm trees and tropical verdure, it somehow works with the overall easy going culture of the place.

Appropriate to its history as a Portuguese trading colony, Goa is a place where East meets West and generally the good parts of each have been retained. Goa is relatively uncrowded, relaxing and clean. But at the same time Goa teems with the same vitality and emotion that so embodies India. I'd recommend a trip to Goa to anyone and if the economy continues is steady slide into the abyss, I'll see you at the bar.

My 20 Million Neighbors

Mumbai is crowded. It was my first impressions when I arrived and spent two hours slogging 7 miles through traffic to get to my guesthouse and will most likely be my last impression when I depart.

First the facts: The island city of Mumbai has a population of 13 million people packed into an area of 25 square miles. If you include greater Mumbai the population number rises to 20 million. By comparison Manhattan has 1.6 million people living in an area of 23 square miles. Mumbai is almost 10 times as densely populated in what is essentially a horizontal city. In fact at nearly half a million people per square mile, Mumbai is by far the world’s most densely populated city. (source: Wikipedia) Manhattanites imagine being surrounded by ten times as many people in everything you do, then role back the infrastructure development and standard of living by about 65 years. Voila, you have Mumbai.

The experience of living in Mumbai means dealing with too many people in too small of an area everyday and in every facet of one’s life. The traffic is horrible, the trains are incredibly crowded (see forthcoming post), the rents are astronomical, and even walking down the street becomes a major chore.

A walk down any street in Mumbai means dodging people, cars, and construction rumble. At one point someone had the good sense to build sidewalks but they range from packed to totally usable. On the main thoroughfares hawkers set up their stalls selling clothes, refurbished mobile phones and pirated DVDs, effectively reducing the sidewalk to half its intended width. On the shady side streets near my office the side-walks are inaccessible at times, blocked by double parked cars and impassible at other times with sleeping people, construction refuse, and even sewage leaks barring the way. Getting on the sidewalk is like entering in a maze, you may be able to get to the end, but more likely than not you’ll hit a dead end and be forced to back-track. So that leaves just the street with its honking taxi’s rushing by. A total lack of directional discipline by fellow pedestrians exacerbates the mess.

So how did Mumbai get here? Before the Brits set up a trading post, Mumbai was essentially uninhabited. As always happens, economic opportunity drives increasing immigration and with no effective controls on population people just keep poring in. Mumbai is also an infrastructure and urban planning disaster (a topic for another post) which compresses the population mass into a few small corridors and limits vertical expansion, leading to a much higher effective density. Imagine! Hence, crowded it is and crowded it will remain until either Mumbai looses its luster as the preferred immigration destination for India's masses or the government takes comprehensive action to address the problem. The good news is that you won't hear me whining about crowded highways, T-cars, restaurants, theater or sidewalks in the U.S, because in comparison to Mumbai it is a walk in the park

Mughal Magnificence

Most people think of India as a Hindu country, and in fact 80% of the population are Hindus. But for nearly 500 years before the Brits took over, Muslims ran the show, reigning over most of northern Indian and parts of southern India. Perhaps the most impressive dynasty was the Mughals who from their capitals in Agra and Delhi ruled northern India from 1556 to 1707. The Mughals ushered in a period of relative peace and prosperity and under their tutelage art and trade flourished.

Fortunately for the world, their favorite hobby was building elaborate tombs in which to bury their loved ones and on which they could inscribe the Quran (Koran). For those of you who are not religious scholars, the Quran is pretty long, 30 books in total, so if you are going to inscribe it on a monument, it has to be a big monument. Needless to say they rose to the challenge, building Humayun’s Tomb, Akbar’s Tomb and the Taj Mahal. Before lending their names to these mausoleums the emperors liked to live the high life and built lavish palaces inside their fortified cities at the Red Fort and the Agra Fort.

The main contributor to Delhi and Agra’s embarrassment of architectural riches was Shah Jahan who built the palaces of the Agra Fort and the Taj Mahal, before moving his capital to Dehli where he built the Red Fort and the Jama Masjid. In so doing Shah Jahan depleted the imperial treasury and opened the door to his usurping son Aurangzeb, who imprisoned Shah Jahan in the Agra Fort.

Aurangzeb’s ascension was the beginning of the end of Mughal power. In an instructive tale, one still not appreciated by much of the Muslim world, Aurangzeb’s turn towards fundamentalism brought about the end of the Mughal empire, as Hindu’s rebelled against special taxes on non-Muslims and embraced local leaders who formed break-away states. This politically fractured India would prove to be an easy target for European colonization and eventually British control in the 19th and 20th century.

While there are mixed opinions about the effect of Mughal rule on India, and India’s Hindus and Muslims don’t always get along, the Mughal’s incredible architectural legacy and particularly the Taj Mahal has been embraced by all as an important part of India’s cultural identity.

Alibaug, Kashid Beach and Cricket

This weekend I went to Alibaug, a town a short ferry ride from Mumbai, which is the jumping off point for weekend beach trips outside the city. Alibaug itself is a dusty junction with cheap hotels, suspicious looking restaurants, and an endless number of generic shops selling the same dozen convenience store items. The guidebook said that Alibaug is popular among Bollywood stars and Mumbai’s wealthy, but our fellow passengers on the ferry ride over resembled neither.

From Alibaug, my friend Benjamin and I set out in a rickshaw taxi for Kashid Beach, which was reputed to be among the nicest and least crowded options available. When we arrived we found that Kashid was far from undiscovered, it was teeming with Indians. We had clearly found our way to the locals beach. Most of the men were playing cricket, volleyball or soccer while the women strolled along, took dips in the sea or sat back in the shade. Far from the Bollywood stars in bikinis, the women of Kashid beach were mostly generously proportioned older women going swimming, fully clothed in their saris.

Still after an hour long rickshaw ride we were determined to make the most of it. We found a spot to set up our towels and were immediately beset by a pack of 15 Indians inquiring where we were from and wanting to have pictures taken with us. We humored our new admirers. By far the funniest part of the exchange was when an incredibly dark Indian fellow asked to see our sunscreen and began applying it apprehensively. He was far beyond any SPF rating known to man, but it was definitely amusing.

We shortly found ourselves in the middle of a cricket game with our towels directly behind the bowler (pitcher). While the risk of come-backers in cricket is relatively low we still decided to move. Cricket games continued to pop up around. I am pretty sure were acting as the home run boundary for our next game, “If you hit it past the white guys it’s a six (homerun)”. After many a ball bounced near us we decided to try our hand at India’s national pastime. The nearby game was happy to give a few turns at bat. I connected for two sixes, as well as whiffing a couple of times. The pitching is much lower than baseball so you have to take a more looping swing at it. Net-net I am not likely to have a career as a professional cricketer.

Alibaug was definitely not what we expected but was fun nonetheless.

The Great Mosquito Hunt

India is a country steeped in ritual. Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Parsis, Sikhs, and Jains each have their own set rites and rituals that dictate the rhythm of life in India.

In keeping with the character of the country my life has taken on a sort of ritual rhythm as well, of a more secular and pragmatic nature. Foremost among these rituals is the Great Mosquito Hunt. The Great Mosquito Hunt takes place every night at about 2am. Having gone to sleep around midnight it is usually about one to two hours before the half dozen freshly inflicted welts wake me from my slumber. I wake up scratching an arm, back, or neck and cursing my winged assailants.

Now begins the hunt. The lights come on and the search begins. I scour the walls of my meager dormitory, littered with the remnants of hunts past. Sometimes a flying a silhouette catches my eye, and I track the beast till it alights on a curtain, wall or piece of furniture. Then the age old conflict of man versus bug draws to a climax. With speed and precision I dispatch my quarry and peace is again restored, the hunt concluded.

Mosquitoes are a serious problem in India, given that they can and often do carry Malaria. Travelers like me can take anti-malaria medications, but locals not so. One of my colleagues, an Indian women who went to Wharton, was out for a month with Malaria, totally not cool. Government attempts at large-scale mosquito eradication have meet with the same fate as most government projects in India, total failure. Technology and enterprise have stepped in with solutions to the mosquito problem including a product called Godrej GoodNight, which is manufactured by the parent company that I work for. GoodNight is a low dose pesticide in liquid form which is released with heat generated by a unit that plugs into the wall, sort of a citronella candle on steroids. Alas, the unit in my room has been totally ineffective in keeping the bugs away. Maybe I have a dud, maybe the mosquitoes have grown immune. Whatever the case may be it appears that for the next month the Great Mosquito Hunt will continue to be a part of my India ritual.

Delhi, Agra and Wanderlust

I spent last weekend exploring the monuments of Old Delhi and taking in the Taj Mahal. What did you do? I ask the question in part to be a jackass (sorry working stiffs of the world) but in part to make a point about travel.

First the review. Delhi and Agra were awesome. The two cities are incredibly rich in culture, history and architecture. Where else in the world can you comfortably see six UNESCO World Heritage Sites in two days. My basic itinerary was; Bain party on Friday, Old Delhi historical tour on Saturday, and New Delhi on Monday.

I got a warm reception from my future colleagues in Bain’s Delhi office, despite not yet having fully joined the family. I am happy to report that Bainies in India seem to share the same cultural values as in the U.S. They are work hard, play hard types with a solid appreciation for a few drinks and an entertaining India cover band. I am looking forward to the Bain experience (and a paycheck).

Delhi was more than I expected (complete post to come). My tour of old Delhi included the Red Fort, Humayun’s Tomb and Qutab Minar. Qutab Minar was by far my favorite. It is kind of an Indian version of the Roman forum with countless crumbling archways and palaces and one massive column (minaret) rising 70 meters from the ground, still standing after all this time. I would highly recommend it. I also visited Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque, which was highly overrated in comparison to all the other sites and quite appropriately does not make the world heritage list.

My trip to Agra included Akbar’s Tomb, which I quite liked, the Agra Fort, which is too similar to the Red Fort to be exciting, and the Taj which was simply spectacular.

The weekend of exploring gave me some time to think about travel and why one rarely meets Americans on the road between the dusty places of the world. MBA’s are a rare breed, I think no other group appreciates travel to the extent that we do. On the cusp of achieving salaries that can support some extra spending and aware of the importance of globalization we are keen to explore the world. But what about the rest of America and what about, us later in life?

It seems to me that the US is conspicuously lacking in Wanderlust, the desire to travel and see the world that infects Canadians, Australians and Germans and must have at some point infected out ancestors who came to the U.S. from somewhere else. So what happened to the US and why don’t we have the intellectual curiosity or drive to explore other countries? I think a large part of it is a feeling of cultural or economic superiority and a second piece is complacency and desire to have a sense of place.

Let’s be honest, when we all grow up and achieve fabulous success and wealth (as we are all destined to do) we end up buying second homes in Tahoe or Nantucket or Jackson Hole and spend our vacations there out of a desire for convenience, routine and a sense of belonging. While this impulse is understandable it is also a shame. By staying only in one place we miss out on the learning and cultural exposure that comes from travel.

As Mark Twain wrote, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.” Twain at his populist best is talking to the average American, who definitely needs to get out and see the world. And while I think most of us, my close friends and relatives, are already quite broad, wholesome and charitable, it couldn’t hurt to top up the tank. So next year make it Agra instead of Aspen, the skiing will be worse but the sites are better.

Tokey the Rickshaw Driver

As a short follow-up to the previous post, I should caveat that the taxi / rickshaw dynamic is not the same everywhere. For instance, Bangalore’s taxi fleet is new, metered and professionally run. Similarly, the auto-rickshaws in Delhi are of a different breed than those in Mumbai; far less inclined to use the meter and aggressive in invoking the commencement of “night rates”, essentially extracting double the daily meter rate if you bargain hard. I had by far my most interesting rick ride one evening in Delhi from Connaught Place to Prithviraj Road where I was staying. After negotiating an acceptable price I hopped in a rick driven by an older gentleman, with the characteristic betel stained teeth of the Indian street. Clearly a wizened veteran of the tourist transport business, he quizzed me in broken English on where I was from and how long I was staying in India. I answered him politely and our dialog continued. Moving beyond the formalities he asked me if I liked to smoke. Somewhat unsure about his exact meaning but sure that the answer was no regardless, I declined his invitation. Then sure enough he whips out a cigar-sized joint and lights it up as we whizzed along. I protested, but his English evidently did not extend to domain of things he didn’t want to hear. We were already well outside the tourist area, so with no prospect of finding another rick this late and an untenable walk, I was stuck with Tokey the ancient rickshaw driver. To his credit Tokey’s driving was not noticeably affected as we whirled around Sir Edwin Lutyen’s, maniacal maze of traffic circles. From his adept multitasking ballet of puff, cough, ash, steer one could discern that clearly this was not his first time mixing business and leisure. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at my destination, both a little light-headed but intact nonetheless, and with yet another interesting story for the folks back at home.

Rickshaws, Friend or Foe?

By now, you have all learned of my enmity to toward taxis and their driver’s unending efforts to cheat foreigners. Thankfully, there is an alternative to taxis in Mumbai, the mighty auto-rickshaw. Auto-rickshaws are three wheeled vehicles with a moped like cockpit and steering mechanism in the front and a bench for passengers in the rear. They are charmingly underpowered with a zero to thirty in about 5 minutes and significant risk of not being able to put-put their way up a highway overpass. Their open-sided design means that you are exposed to the world, for better or worse. Honking horns sound louder; putrid smells are more offensive; and when stopped at a light or in traffic you are fully at the mercy of the women and children beggars who will aggressive plead their case and paw at you until they figure out that you are not in fact the Rupee dispensing machine that they believe all foreigners to be.

Despite all their obvious shortcomings, I love these little underdogs of the road. They are cheap, space and fuel efficient, operate by an accurate meter and their drivers are for the most part honest and deal fairly with tourists and locals alike.

• Cheap: A 10km rickshaw ride will run you about 100 Rupees ($2USD). Except on my normal 10 rupee ride from train station to compound, I usually voluntarily over pay the guys by 25-50% making clear that I am tipping them for good service.


• Efficient: Rickshaws are very fuel efficient, similar to a moped a few gallons will last you a very long time. Rickshaws are also space efficient, you almost fit two ricks into a single lane, not that lanes really exist here or if the did that people would abide by them.


• Metered: Rickshaw drivers use a meter which displays the price of your ride minus one Rupee. This a far less complicated and transparent system than the taxis which use a “rate card” to translate the price on the meter, which has not been calibrated in 10 years, to an actual price.


• Honest: Rickshaw drivers, for the most part, accept the determination of the meter and don’t try to extract a tourist premium. While I am inclined to believe this stems from the goodness of their heart, an alternate theory is that it stems from the fact that they are less experienced in the tourist manipulation game. You see rickshaws are not allowed to operate south of the Mahim Creek in Mumbai, which prevents them from plying their trade in the major tourist areas of Colaba and Churchgate. Since they serve mostly a local population, fair dealing is their modus operandi and extends to foreign passengers as well.

All in all, rickshaws are without a doubt friends and allies in the everyday struggle to get around in Mumbai. Despite their humble appearance their fair dealing distinguishes them as truly titans of the road in an otherwise treacherous transportation landscape.

Bombay Nights

So far I have chosen to focus my ponderings on the cultural differences and consequential matters of economic development that I have in some way experienced I am afraid, though that the blog has failed to capture at least one key point --- Bombay is a lot of fun.

My first introduction to Bombay nightlife was three weeks ago when I attended an expat event at Henry Tham’s, a swanky Chinese restaurant and bar. As I walked through the restaurant’s stylish 15 foot doors, I was blown away. The place was packed with well-dressed people in their 20’s and 30’s drinking expensive cocktails, laughing and shouting over the incredibly loud Indo-house music. The scene could have been out of a bar in New York, London or LA (probably not Boston since I didn’t see any Red Sox gear).

I was taken aback by the whole experience. It was like stepping through a portal to the developed world. After the initial shock wore off, the house music proved to be too much so I joined a group of friends at another rooftop lounge, called Dome, on top of the Intercontinental Hotel. Dome was equally trendy and impressive but thankfully a little more mellow. I have since been to a few more bars and clubs in Mumbai and have yet to be disappointed. While the roads, sanitation, housing stock, public transportation and power infrastructure are all woefully inadequate, I am happy to report that the bars are up to international partying standards. For the wealthy Mumbaikers and expats that can afford spend $10 on a drink, Mumbai is ready to over-serve you in style.

A Well Caffeinated Country

India is the land of Tea. According to Wikipedia, tea was first grown in India in the early 1800’s, and by the 20th century India had grown to become the largest producer of tea in the world. The Brits, who adopted the whole tea thing from the Chinese in the 17th century, brought tea culture along with colonization. Indians were at first slow on the uptake. Despite being the world’s leading supplier by the early 1900’s, India proved to be a tougher consumer market. Determined not to be deprived of an opportunity to sell back their finished goods at tidy profit, the Brits launched a massive marketing campaign in the 1920’s, 30’s and 40’s which succeed in turning India into the largest tea consumers in the world.

Tea continues to be popular here, mostly in the form of sweet chais, which magically arrive at my desk every morning and afternoon courtesy of the office butler guy. Despite being served in these tiny thimble-sized cups the tea is quite tasty and helps somewhat in snapping me out of morning and post-lunch daze.

While tea is clearly the incumbent, coffee has definitely been making inroads. The most obvious manifestation of the emerging coffee culture are the two chains battling for Starbucks-like supremacy of the Indian coffee market, Barista and Café Coffee Day. Both Coffee Day and Barista clearly favor the European sitdown café experience. Even in off-peak hours a take-away order still requires a 5-10 minute wait post ordering, not including additional time to pay the bill after you have received your drink. The coffee is not too bad and they offer the pretty much the whole variety of drinks that you find at Starbucks. Quantity is a problem; grande and venti aren’t on the menu so you take what you can get, I recommend double ordering, it works for me. If I had to pick a winner I’d say it is going to be Coffee Day. With better locations, hip-colorful décor, slightly cheaper prices, and a far superior frappuccino; they are my pick to bring coffee to the masses.

India is Trying to Kill Me

I have long suspected it, but now I am sure. Until yesterday India had stuck to conventional tactics; the careening taxis, the Katyusha rockets of our undeclared war. But today India went nuclear….or should I say, biological.

Just about every developing country has its own nickname for food-borne illness; Montezuma’s Revenge, Bali Belly, and for India, Delhi Belly. I woke up this morning in severe distress. At first I thought it was a hangover. Like Washington at the Battle of Trenton, India had chosen to attack when my guard was down. I had gone out to dinner and drinks the night before with my Indian friends; Nikita, Saurab, Rahul and Shykar. Who would have thought that Indians liked Tequila shots? Crazy! Anyway, we had gone to an upscale bar that served food from the restaurant next door. I shared a non-veg appetizer spread of different meats and chicken dishes with Nikita and Shykar. It was tasty going down, but it turned out to be my undoing.

I lay in bed most of the day contemplating which of my bumbling housekeepers would find my body, before finally turning the corner around 4pm. I’ll live to fight another day, but it was a close one, certainly an experience that I am not eager to repeat.

Taxi Strike - Hallelujah!

Taxi and auto-rickshaw drivers went on strike today to protest a government plan to phase out taxis over 25 years old. While I think it is ridiculous that they are striking over the removal of cars that should be in museums, I must say the strike is the best thing that has ever happened to Bombay. With the 55,000 taxis and 150,000 rickshaws off the road, my morning commute was almost a half hour faster than normal. The streets in downtown are walkable, there is less honking and spitting, specialities of the taxi drivers, and I am fairly convinced that no tourists will be ripped off by taxi drivers today. Hallelujah! While I may feel differently after I hoof it the 2km each way to my party tonight, right now I am in a state of taxi-free Nirvana.


ADDENDUM: In another defeat for organized labor and another victory for Martin, I was able to find a taxi who was willing to cross the picket line and take me to my party for a slight "premium". He charged me 5x the normal fare, but it still amounted to only 150 rupees ($3USD) so I still win. The taxis resumed service at midnight and the roads are again crowded and chaotic; a short-lived victory I guess, but a victory nonetheless.

Mumbai is a Dump, Literally

Let’s just say that I did not have the best of homecomings… another day, another fight with a cabbie trying to rip me off. It also didn’t help that after two days of staying in a 5-star hotel I was resuming my ½-star existence.

Anyway, one of the things that I particularly liked about Bangalore was its relatively cleanliness. Sure, there was still some litter on the ground in the park, but there was a conspicuous absence of the huge mounds on garbage dumped on the side of the roads as is the case in Mumbai. I opened this morning’s Times of India to find an article on exactly this issue entitled, “Piling up: Mumbai’s debris problem”. The article goes on to say that 10,000 tonnes of solid waste are generated in Mumbai each day, but only 2,500 tonnes are dumped daily at dumping grounds, leaving 7,500 tonnes to litter Mumbai’s city streets. Much of the waste is from construction projects in the city and is surreptitiously dumped in the middle of the night along Mumbai’s highways. The article goes on to say that they are trying to put some sort of regulatory scheme in place whereby dump truck owners have to register their trucks and obtain approvals before dumping. Good luck with that one, I sure you are going to get lots of cooperation there…

I am usually willing to give India some slack for the challenges of development, but this is disgusting. The fact that there are educated people socially-aware enough to write about this topic and that nothing has been done for this long is unacceptable. In my opinion it’s totally garbage.

Bullish on Bangalore

I just returned from a two day trip to Bangalore where I gave a Tuck admissions presentation to 100 prospective applicants. The admissions presentation went well and I think we can count on another year of rising application volumes from Bangalore. The added bonus was that I got to spend a little time exploring the city, and I must say I am quite impressed.

In case you happen to live under a rock, Bangalore is the IT capital of India, and is at the center of the outsourcing movement that has propelled India’s economic development. The most common analogy is to Silicon Valley, and I think the comparison is quite appropriate. Bangalore has a more temperate climate with temperature about 5 to 10 degrees lower than the sweltering Mumbai temperatures that are consistently in the 90’s. Similar to the Bay Area, Bangalore’s landscape includes a large amount of green space with Cubbon Park and Ulsoor Lake located right in the city center and the huge botanical gardens located in the near suburbs. Similar to Silicon Valley, Bangalore is a relatively young city which has allowed it to develop the infrastructure required to keep pace with its growth with fewer historical impediments. The roads are wide and less congested than Mumbai and a new monorail system is coming up. Like San Jose and Santa Clara, Bangalore’s distinctive feature is the sprawling IT campuses that surround the city. These campuses are home to companies like Wipro, Infosys, and TCS (if you have never heard of these companies look them up because they are going to be the IBM’s of tomorrow) as well as multinationals. Overall, Bangalore presents the picture of a prosperous rapidly modernizing city with a high quality of life.

Bangalore is a glimpse into India’s future and if other cities can follow Bangalore’s lead it will be bright future indeed.

Kingfisher – Good Beer, Excellent Airline

I just got my Kingfisher Airlines flight from Mumbai to Bangalore and boy was I impressed. The airline was by far the most professional, efficient and pleasant consumer experience that I have had in India to date. The stewardesses were young, attractive, and well dressed. The seats were comfortable and reasonably spacious with a personal TV installed in the back of every seat. The flight departed on time with none of the mysterious queuing on the runway that happens in the U.S. And to top it all off they served a full meal on an hour and a half flight, and the food was some of the best food that I have had during my stay. The experience was like flying on classy, full service version of JetBlue. Amazing!

Kingfisher is perhaps more well-known for its beer. Kingfisher is the number one beer brand in India and approaches the ubiquity of Budweiser here. Unlike the “King of Beers”, Kingfisher is quite good. The beer is a light lager similar in taste to Stella Artois and compliments spicy Indian cuisine perfectly. In addition to being quite tasty it’s also a good deal, selling for a quite reasonable 100 Rs ($2USD) in cheap bars and restaurants and 150 Rs at the swanky joints in Colaba, where you will pay at least $10USD for a mixed drink. Beer penetration in India is low, as beer, even cheap beer, is a luxury good. As disposable incomes rise, Indian’s will increasing reach for a cold one. The Indian beer market is expected to grow by 17% CAGR through 2011 and with a 25% market share, Kingfisher beer like its mascot, should be flying high.

“India Is Very Cheating”

I didn’t say it, my driver did. In his charming broken English, he was warning me about cab drivers trying to rip me off (little too late for that). As I learned though, Vijay’s view is slightly more nuanced. He went on to say, “educated gentlemen – you believe, not educated – no believe.” This pretty much comports with my experience so far. Most Indians are helpful and friendly towards foreigners, but a few see dollars signs all over me and are unscrupulous about affecting the wealth transfer to which they feel entitled.

From a macro perspective India does have some significant problems with corruption, particularly in the public sector, with officials keen to extract their share of the development dividend. India was ranked 85th on Transparency International’s corruption rankings, slipping 13 places in the last two years. That puts them behind the likes of Cuba, China, Senegal, Ghana, and Thailand. Not exactly great company. India also ranked 122th in the ease of doing business survey, behind Russia and Pakistan. They were second to last, at 180th out of 181, in terms of enforcing contracts.

Fortunately, my dealings with government officials are limited to asking policemen for directions and I am not entering into any contracts. As for the cab drivers, I figure the Indian concept of Karma has their number and that they are destined to be reincarnated as gas station bathrooms.

Supercuts, Watch Out! – Hear Comes India!

This weekend I reached a fork in the road. Do I risk being mis-identified as the late Kurt Cobain or do I get a haircut? I was seriously tempted by the former, but in the end I decided on the latter course of action. But where to go? India does not have Supercuts. After extensive research (a few minutes on the local search engine called http://www.justdial.com/, looking for a place I could sneak off to during work) I settled on the AirCool Salon, and all I have to say is Supercuts better watch its back.

AirCool was great; the ambiance, the service, and particularly the price. I entered AirCool to find a dozen barbers dressed in white working on customers seated in antique wooden barber chairs. I was seated in a vacant chair and was presented with two options for my haircut; trim or short. I went with trim, erring on the side of caution. Despite my apprehension, the haircut turned out great and included a couple interesting extras that you won’t find in the US; a vigorous post-cut head rub/massage, and a water-bottle spritz in the face followed by a toweling off.

The most amazing part, though, was the price. My haircut cost $1.49 (70Rs) at today’s exchange rates. Compare that with the inferior experience at SuperCuts for $15 and you are talking a serious labor arbitrage. I spent a couple minutes thinking about whether I could somehow load these guys into a shipping container and send them to Boston before abandoning the thought. But my haircut experience is a good analogy for the labor cost arbitrage for more portable services that is at the center of the Indian Outsourcing boom. A top software engineer in India gets paid $20K a year while in the U.S. the going rate is over $100K. A call center employee makes around $3K a year while in the U.S. minimum wage laws make it impossible to pay even the most useless phone automatons less than $30K a year. The appeal of outsourcing is obvious and everyone in the U.S. providing services that are “outsourceable” better watch out. Thankfully, management talent, like haircuts, is still not easily transportable, yet. But it is only a matter of time before that metaphorical shipping crate arrives, and when it does you better not be holding the scissors.

Scheming Indians

I continue to be amused by the linguist differences between Indian English and American English, particularly when it comes to business terminology. I suppose we have the Brits to blame for this but I think the Indians have added to the linguistic diaspora.

Perhaps my favorite example is Indian’s use of the word “scheme” in place of the American English terms “business, company, or organization”. I suppose a business is a scheme of sorts, a scheme to provide a product or service and make money, but the word scheme in the US has a negative connotation, of course. A ‘business scheme’ in the American context has the implication of some sort of fraud being committed, e.g. a pyramid scheme, a ponzi scheme. Perhaps it is because of the etymological similarity to scam, don’t really know.

A similarly strange business expression is the use of the word “promoter” to describe a founder or entrepreneur. These two phrases come together beautifully on CNBC India every night with India’s captains of industry introduced as “promoters of a scheme”. It sounds strange, and definitely worth a chuckle, but perhaps they have it right. As an investor in the US equity markets I certainly feel like the victim of a scheme as I watch my net worth vanish in massive chunks every night. Perhaps the promoter should have told us that stocks can also go down. So, if you find that promoter guy, bring him to me, so I can throttle him for a while.

It’s Good to be the King

And the Godrej Group, the parent company that I work for, is the king or at least one of the kings of the Indian consumer market. The company was founded over a century ago as a manufacturer of locks and safes, expanding quickly into soaps. The company has since grown into a multi-billion dollar conglomerate with businesses in food-processing, consumer packaged goods, fertilizer, chemicals, machine tools, IT services, office equipment, furniture, appliances and white goods.

Given the breadth of the company’s portfolio its products are everywhere, think GE and P&G combined. Its legacy red logo or recently adopted multi-colored version can be seen on advertisements plastered on the back of buses, buildings and of course on its omnipresent products. The Godrej group was selected as the 4th best brand in India by the leading Indian business weekly. The company has very high salience and strong brand equity (shout-out to Keller) and Godrej Properties enjoys a level of trust and credibility this is unrivalled in the real estate development industry as a result of being part of the group.

Godrej’s other main asset, particularly relevant to the real estate division, is a huge expanse of land in the suburb of Vikrohli, where their factories and employee housing complex are located. This land skyrocketed in value along with all the land in an around Mumbai. A couple years ago when municipal laws were changed to allow additional development of the land, the company’s stock price doubled in value.

Of much greater near term benefit to me is the fact that this land provides a little bit of an oasis from the chaos of Mumbai. The guesthouse in which I am staying is located on the sprawling employee housing complex. The complex is a about a mile in circumference, affording me a pretty good running route, doing laps around the inside perimeter road and up and over the hill that dominates the middle of the campus. The campus also has a clubhouse with a descent gym by Mumbai standards and a nice 25 meter pool. While this is a far cry from running on the Dartmouth golf course or going for a long bike ride on near-deserted roads in Vermont, or going to the Dartmouth gym, it is enough to keep me sane and healthy for now.

In addition to its nice facilities for employees, Godrej also mandates a 5 day - 42 hour work week, rather than the 6 day work-week that is common among Indian companies. All in all it’s good to be a part of the Godrej family, and for them, it’s good to be the king.

Gandhi’s Birthday & Elephanta Caves

Yesterday was Gandhi’s birthday so I got the day off. Good work Mahatma, props to you. I used the day to go to Elephanta Island, an island in Mumbai harbor that is the site of a very impressive cave/temple complex. Elephanta is a UNESCO World Hertigate site so I was fairly confident it would be worth both the trip and the 500 rupees admission fee.

The hour ferry ride to the island was quite relaxing and the caves themselves were spectacular. The main cave was about 200 square meters in area with huge ornate columns supporting the ceiling. The cave contained a dozen or so massive panels of Hindu sculpture, highlighted by a huge head of Shiva. Very interesting stuff, the experience would have been even better had I known a little more about Hindu mythology, which I have resolved to do before my next temple visit. As it stands, I can’t really tell the God’s apart, they all look the same to me. I now see the appeal of monotheism…reduction in complexity.

I finished the day at Indigo Deli, a quite good sandwich shop and deli near the Gateway of India. I had a delicious pastrami reuben sandwich, very cosmopolitan, indeed. I’ll finish the post where I began, thanks Gandhi for the great day off.

The Maharaja Mac

One of Mumbai’s main tourist attractions is the Gateway of India, a majestic stone archway located right on the waterfront. Today, I went to an equally famous set of arches, the Golden Arches.

McDonald’s in Mumbai is quite an experience for a couple of reasons, the most important being that there is no beef on the menu. Hindus, of course, don’t eat beef because of the whole sacred cow thing, not quite sure how that works, something about reincarnation, but anyway I digress. In place of beef on the menu they have substituted other things like Chicken or Veggie burgers…you have never seen the fish filet sandwich advertised with so much fanfare as over here. Big Chicken McNuggets culture, obviously.


I decided to step up to the plate and ordered the Maharaja Mac, the equivalent of the Big Mac in India, except with Chicken patties rather than beef. The Chicken version was definitely not as good as the real thing. For one the special sauce has been Indianized, the have added to the Thousand Island base some Indian spices, kind of tasted like paprika. It was also missing the diced onions. Overall verdict, something was definitely lost in translation. But I am happy to report that the fries tasted just as salty and delicious as any Mickey D’s in the USA. The chocolate shake was also up to standards.

While not winning on food, one area in which McDonald’s India has distinguished itself is ambiance. The price point of McDonalds in India, 150 rupees for the Maharaja Mac meal ($3USD), ensures that only middle class and above frequent McDonalds. In place of sweat stained t-shirts and sagged pants, the patrons at the Mumbai restaurant were dressed in button downs and slacks. The décor was also reflective of a “finer” dining experience with granite tables, nice chairs and even a plasma TV on one wall. An interesting culinary experience, but I think I will stick with my “Mystery Masalas” served by the affable, but non-English speaking guesthouse staff.

A Big Green Weekend

This weekend I spent immersed in two types of green 1) the lush tropical greenery of Karjat, where I took part in a waterfall rappelling adventure and 2) the Dartmouth community of Mumbai, which convened for a luncheon get together.

Karjat is located in the mountains outside of Mumbai in a beautiful valley. Our excursion consisted of a 45 minute hike to the top of a waterfall and then rappelling down through the falls. I have done quite a bit of climbing so that part wasn’t that novel, but having the waterfall streaming down on you as you rappelled was very cool. Also, the rappeling route descended down to the entrance to a set of large caves in which ancient buddhist monestary had been built. If I only had my floppy hat and whip it would have been straight out of Indiana Jones. The trip was organized by some Dartmouth / Parthenon people - yeah for Parthenon for being so hospitable to me.

The Dartmouth event was hosted by Patty Greene D’83 (wife of Chip Greene D’83 T’90), at their house in Malabar Hill. With a dozen or so alums in attendance, some great food, and a bit of reminiscing about life back in Hanover; the event was really fun. Among the group, there were four Tuckies in attendance from the classes of “02, ‘04’, ’07 and ’08. The presence of so many distinguished alums from the world’s best business school is clearly a testament to the growing importance of India as a global economic power. Yeah for Tuck! Most of us will be attending the admissions event in Mumbai on October 10th, trying to further spread the gospel of Tuck in India.

Work in Progress - Please Cooperate

I realize that recently the blog has been a little prescriptive, too much of the foreigner identifying the challenges that lie ahead and not enough praise for the progress that has taken place.

A sign along the road today, from the MMRDA (Mumbai Metropolitan Region Development Authority) brought this to mind. The sign read “Work in Progress – Please Cooperate”. India is indeed a work in progress. It has achieve much in the past few decades as it has transitioned from a poor agrarian-based economy to a burgeoning services based-economy, emerging as the back-office to the world. Still it is hard to ignore the fact that there is still much work to be done, particularly in the area of infrastructure (roads, transit systems, buildings, plumbing – see previous post). We take all these things for granted in the U.S., but in fact they are the hallmark of a mature developed economy.

In the not too distant future India will join the developed world and will have all the amenities that we in the US currently enjoy. In the meantime, India remains a “work in progress”, and I and the billion other souls on this subcontinent will have to “please cooperate”.

In Memory of Hot Showers

Since arriving in India I have not had a hot shower and chances are good that this will continue. Let me tell you about my bathroom. On the far wall is mounted a strange appliance called a Geyser (pronounced "geezer"). The function of a geezer is to provide hot water on demand, although your typical geezer takes at least 10 minutes to heat up. Once warm, the geezer provides intermittent hot water as the tank empties and refills. Next to the geezer is my shower area. At about knee level there are two faucets, one for hot and one for cold. Below the faucets is the bucket (I’ll return to that later). Higher up the wall you have your typical showerhead and hot and cold controls that stare mockingly at me each morning. You see the geezer, great salvation of the developing world, is in fact not attached to the showerhead, but solely to the hot faucet at knee level.


So basically what happens is that I freeze my ass off in the cold shower, and occasionally douse myself with a bucket full of lukewarm water from the faucet attached to my surly friend the geezer. This continues until I achieve a reasonable level of cleanliness or hypothermia sets in.

The messed up plumbing in my bathroom is symbolic of India’s infrastructure woes, all the components are there (or could be) they just don’t work right. As I learned from an expat friend today, an equally big problem is that this passes as acceptable under the rationale that “this is India”. India will have to expect more from itself if it is to achieve its goal of truly becoming a global economic power.

A Very Civilized Evening

This evening I attended a piano concert. “Why”, you might ask. “Martin you don’t strike me as a classical music lover”. The reason was that I was invited by my parent’s friend and sponsor of my internship, Nadir Godrej, and I thought it would be rude to turn down his hospitality. The concert was held at the Tata Theater at the National Center for Performing Arts. The pianist was Andrei Gavrilov, who performed a pieces by Chopin, Scriabin and Prokofiev (Yeah, I didn’t know the last two either).

In any event, it was a great opportunity to see how the other half – make that the .0001% - lives. Very wealthy Indians are extremely cosmopolitan, speak flawless unaccented English, and enjoy the finer things in life. This lifestyle is enjoyed by a privileged few and wealth distribution in India is one the concerns surrounding continued development (although India currently has more equal wealth distribution than the U.S. as measured by Gini coefficients). The current boom is making the rich, richer but the poor are not really participating. The consequences of this dynamic can be seen in the recent opposition to development projects such as Tata’s Nano plant in West Bengal, which they are the process of abandoning in the face of opposition by villagers whose land was “purchased” by the government. Just to editorialize a bit, the land was indeed purchased and the villagers were paid, some politician has just taken up the cause and the villagers are happy to go along hoping to double dip, either to get their land back or to be paid an additional sum. Meanwhile the surrounding area is deprived of the jobs and economic development that the plant would bring. Obviously, very self-interested in short-sighted.

Returning to the concert, it was a very nice event and I think I even liked the music. Am I getting to that age already? I mean, its not going on my iPod, but still pretty good. Clearly I am much in need of an evening of heavy drinking, pong, and 80’s rock. Missing Tuck already.

The Indian Head-bob

Body language and gestures are something one seldom thinks about, but nonetheless are critical to how people communicate. Nowhere is this more obvious than the in the head gestures that we use to signify ‘yes’ and ‘no’; nodding and shaking of the head, respectively. In their typical fashion, the Indians have done us one better, adding to their repertoire, the head-bob, and unleashing on foreigners a torrent of confusion.

The Indian head-bob is executed by drawing a horizontal figure eight (an infinity symbol) with one’s chin. The Indian head-bob can mean yes, no, I have no clue what you are talking about or any gradation in between.

I have been head-bobbed at number of times, evidently with varying meanings as derived from the different outcomes arising from the experiences:

• Head-bob 1 / the guesthouse staff: I was head-bobbed at by the guesthouse staff in response to my question about whether the wi-fi router could be fixed. A week later I’ve seen no attempt to fix it so apparently the meaning was “I don’t understand you and even if I did I’m not going to do it.”
• Head-bob 2 / the rickshaw driver: I received a head-bob from the rickshaw driver on Sunday when I asked for confirmation that he knew the way to my destination. A little after getting underway he pulled up next to another rick and asked for directions. Evidently the bob meant “more or less, plus I can always ask for directions while we in route.”
• Head-bob 3 / my colleague: One of my colleagues employed the head-bob on Monday when I told him my approach to the project that I am working on. At the end of the day today he told me that the approach wasn’t at all what he was looking for. In this case, the head-bob meant, “Not really, but why don’t you figure it out.”

Next to byzantine red tape, corruption, political deadlock, and inadequate infrastructure the insidious head-bob must rank up there as a serious impediment to India’s contined development and global integration.

An Inauspicious Period

As I was doing my morning real estate industry reading today I came across an article entitled “Shardh May Burn Rs 500-700 Crore Hole in Market”. The article went on to explain that during the Shradh, the two week period preceding the Navrati festival, the real estate market slows down dramatically (~ $100M decline) because the time is thought to be an inauspicious period in the Hindu religious calendar and hence people refrain from buying assets.

http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/Companies/Shradh_may_burn_Rs_500-700_cr_hole_in_mkt/articleshow/3507655.cms

Fascinating stuff, truly. Perhaps herein lies an explanation for the subprime debacle and the market meltdown, the last few years have been an inauspicious period in the financial markets calendar and we have failed to head the warnings. More likely, I think the problem lies in greed, lack of regulation and market manipulation, but that is probably a post for another day and another forum. Btw, thumbs up for Paulsen and the rescue plan. Hang in there fellow Tuckies in the banking (formerly investment banking) sector.

The Umbrella Guy

On Saturday morning my new friend Mitali and I set out to buy a few provisions for our weekend trip to the country. We hopped in the back seat of her car and Mitali told her driver to head to the bakery down the street. This sort of thing seemed normal enough. Everybody in Mumbai has drivers. The traffic is horrendous and requires the skills of a Mario Andretti to navigate. But my confusion began to grow when I noticed another passenger in the front seat. Was he one of Mitali’s friends? I was not introduced. Huh? My perplexity was shortly resolved when we arrived at our destination in the midst of a monsoon downpour. The silent passenger suddenly sprung into action, darting from the car brandishing two colorful umbrellas. With the skill of no less than a Buckingham Palace soldier at the Changing of the Guard, he popped up the two canopy’s and all of a sudden he was at my door offering me the hilt of his multi-colored weapon. Ah hah, the umbrella guy!

People in India have servants. It is a strange concept for foreigners (even the pampered ones like myself) to fully grasp. The cost of labor in India is extremely low and in the fine tradition of outsourcing those that can afford to do so use servants to alleviate some of the stresses of everyday life. I am fortunate enough to have a driver that mitigates somewhat the frustration of the one and half to three hour (each way) commute to and from work. Thank god for Nathu, my driver, without him I would be faced with the mildly life threatening chaos of the train each morning.

I, of course, do not mean to sound pretentious or entitled. These people are obviously much more than the services that they provide. Although his English is somewhat limited, Nathu and I have had some conversations about Indian life and culture and I try to be respectful of his time and needs in determining my transport plan each day. The umbrella man also proved himself much more dynamic over the course of the weekend, rendering some amazing service, preparing the house, cooking some excellent omelettes, and attending to our every need. These people are the bedrock of the Indian service economy and through their industriousness and hardwork, illustrate the qualities that in a broader sense are driving India’s amazing growth.

Weekend Trip to Amby Valley

I am headed to some ridiculous luxury development described as "India's first aspirational city" with a colleague and some other expats.
http://www.aambyvalleycity.com/
It looks pretty cool. I will of course share the highlights when I return

A fork, a fork, my kingdom for a fork

I know it is going to sound culturally insensitive, but I am not down with the whole eating with your hands thing. One of the other guesthouse occupants presented an argument that eating with your hands, or at very most a spoon, makes sense because of the greater use of gravies and flatbread (chapati, nan, etc.) in India cuisine. I have given it some thought and I don’t buy it. Here is why:

• Germs, Germs, Germs: Hands are used for everything, even in an office environment your hands come in contact with a host of common items that can carry germs. From door knobs to keyboards to copy machines, unless you work in an ISO 14644 Class 5 Cleanroom your office has germs!
• Hand not optimal the optimal tool for the job: My hands are rounded, lack stabbing ability and are generally not as well designed for the conveyance of food from plate to mouth. If they were, utensils would not have been invented (anywhere).
• Neutral if not negative impact on efficiency: More hand washing required leading to elimination of efficiency gain from not having to wash utensils. Obviously, if you are going to eat with your hands, you wash them both before and after. At least in the office environment this is the practice. I am hopeful that it is more widespread.

The hand vs. utensil debate came to a head today when I was presented with a chicken leg(drumstick + thigh) in green sauce accompanied by the optional mini plastic sugar spoon. After starring at the saucy chicken for a while and making a few attempts at stabbing it with my tiny ineffectual plastic spade, I cracked and asked for utensils. A fork and knife were summoned from a distant land (upstairs closet) and order and harmony were restored.

View from the top

Today we visited Planet Godrej, Godrej Properties’ signature project in Mumbai. At 50 stories Planet Godrej is the tallest residential building in all of Mumbai. It is perched on a hill and commands amazing views of the city. From the top of the tower, you can see India rising, literally, as a dozen or so half finished buildings rise from the city floor of marshland and tenements below.


I can see how the real estate business can be so alluring. The opportunity to create functional monuments that change the landscape of a city, to imagine a huge skyscraper where before there was nothing, and then to realize that vision in concrete and steel and glass – very cool indeed. Also I suppose the ridiculous amounts of money that you can make when you do manage to catch a shooting star are pretty exciting as well. Planet Godrej is a total homerun. The selling price for the units has increase 10x since the project was conceived. While some of the units were presold, suffice it to say GPL shot the moon with “Planet” (shamelessly lame pun I know, but I couldn’t resist).

Also, I look very cool in a construction helmet. I think it is second only to the fireman’s helmet in overall badassedness in the headwear category. I wonder if they would let me wear one at Bain?

Herbie arrives in India!

After a long journey (about 8,000 miles from the Mid-west to Mumbai) our portly friend Herbie, beloved star of the gripping business novel, The Goal, has made it to Mumbai. Fellow Tuckies and other fans of operations management, hold onto your seats because Herbie is in the house, the house of Godrej, that is.

I just sat through a training session on project planning that began by singing the praises of none other than Dr. Eliyu Goldratt and the Theory of Constraints. Having read the book I was asked to relate the central point to a room full of my Indian colleagues who had not been so enlightened. I struggled to tell the story of Herbie in a cross-culturally sensitive way, but eventually switch course and managed to convey the point that the book was about a plant manager realizing that the presence of bottlenecks in his factory was hurting production. I also was delighted to find an answer to the question of how does an operations guru, such as the esteemed Dr. Goldratt, get paid. Half of India’s largest companies including Tata and Godrej, employ this guy as a consultant.

Returning to the main point…Quite understandably, real estate development incorporates many elements of operations management to keep projects on time and on budget. There was a significant discussion of critical path and a related methodology called CCPM (Critical Chain Project Management). Interesting stuff, who knew that I would so quickly be able to apply my knowledge from The Goal in a real world context.

I haven’t seen Herbie, yet. My guess is that he is ensconced at the all you can eat Chicken Tikka Masala, but I’ll let know if I find his fat operations-rockstar ass.

One Lakh, two Lakh, three Lakh, Crore

So I am sitting in an orientation session talking about marketing spend and apartment prices. I am prepared for the quick conversion that I’ve been having to make between rupees and dollars (drop a zero and divide by four) when suddenly the presenter starts talking about total media spending during the cricket tournament amounting to one Crore. What the hell is a Crore?

Did you know that they have a different numbering system in India? Neither did I? Who does that? I understand the calendar thing, I mean there are not down with JC, I get it. But seriously, numbers? Here is the deal. The system is still base ten and all, but India adopted special names and strange comma placements for larger numbers. A Lakh is one hundred thousand, while a Crore is ten million. The comma placement is different too. One Lahk is written 1,00,000. One Crore is written 1,00,00,000. If they didn’t start this whole number thing a few millennia ago I’d say someone should straighten them out for being so pretentious as to have their own system. But they did, so I guess I’ll have to learn to make more conversions.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lakh

Maybe this is why Indian guys are so good at math, because they have to run all these crazy conversions between Crores and Lakhs before still arriving at the answer thirty seconds before me. Huh!?

Blow Horn – Not OK

On the back of almost every commercial vehicle (primarily box trucks) in Bombay is written the curious phrase “Blow Horn OK”. I think the sentiment that this is trying to express is, “hey I am driving a big truck and might not be able to see you, so if I am about to crush your tiny shockingly fuel-efficient compact car please honk.” Unfortunately it seems to be interpreted in Mumbai as a kind of call to arms to add to the absolute cacophony of the city.

Mumbai faces many of the traditional development challenges including serious environmental pollution, but I think it may be at the far end of spectrum in terms of noise pollution. Even out in the suburban area where I reside the sound of car horns fills the air day and night. While I have adapted to the noise, as I am sure most residents of Bombay have, I think after they resolve the issues of clean water, clean air, adequate infrastructure, adequate housing and acceptable living conditions for the 6 million people that live in the Dharavi slum they should hop right on the honking issue. At least put some “I heart Mumbai” bumper stickers over those silly “Horn Please” signs.

India is quite confused by my presence

It is my third day in country and it has become quite apparent that I am quite a novelty here. Every where I go people are curious about why I am here. Perhaps after the government finishes rounding up the terrorist bombers in Dehli they could send out a memo advising the population to not be alarmed by the strange blond white guy roaming around. “He is not here to hurt you, he is here to contribute to your economy.”

I went to the zoo today which set me back 30 rupees (15 cents), so maybe I am not contributing that much yet, but I digress. I am pretty sure that the average India would pay 10 rupees to hang out with me, such is the level of interest and attention that I appear to be receiving. This manifests itself in different ways with different people, from the nice Indian guy that helped on my first train adventure to the beggars in the train stations who know a good mark when they see one. In between there have been the kids that jogged along with me while I was running on Marine Drive and the random teenagers who came by to chat and asked me where my girlfriend was at Chowpatty Beach (I think they were hoping for a little bikini viewing action, some things are universal I guess). The adventure continues.

Perspectives on India

India is a fascinating country. Its rich history, impressive size and recent emergence as a global economic force have inspired travel writers and commentators for centuries. There has been much ink spilled of late as business authors compete for shelf space at airport book stores. I too am guilty of buying the pre-trip India hype book, but I think for real perspective (and literary talent) you have to look back a little further. The two quotes that follow from Mark Twain and Nehru do a nice job of illustrating the rich heritage of India and the almost palpable sense of change and opportunity present here.

"India is, the cradle of the human race, the birthplace of human speech, the mother of history, the grandmother of legend, and the great grand mother of tradition. our most valuable and most instructive materials in the history of man are treasured up in India only."
-Mark Twain

"A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new; when an age ends; and when the soul of a nation long suppressed finds utterance."
- Jawaharlal Nehru

While I am unlikely to achieve either the wit of Twain or the wisdom of Nehru, I hope you’ll at least find my blog entertaining and perhaps even educational. At very least, I hope to be able to share with you, my friends and family, my experiences in India.