A New Tourist Attraction

I haven't posted in a few days, though there's always plenty to tell you about, because I've been miles away from my computer. Even though I hadn't actually started working in the office yet, I was invited to accompany my co-workers to a hill station. Hill stations in India were, for the most part, developed by the British as places to go to escape the blistering heat of summers in India. As you might guess, they are situated in the mountains, where the elevation provides more comfortable temperatures. Now they are popular destinations for both Indians and foreign visitors.

The particular hill station we went to, one of the most popular in southern India, is Kodaikanal, a little over 300 miles from Chennai. Apparently, it's extremely popular in the summer, but this time of year the crowds were manageable.

The interesting thing about the crowd, anywhere we went, was that it was pretty much made up entirely of Indians, with four exceptions (that would be Alain, Steve, Mary, and I). I didn't really think much of that--I'm in India, after all--until a strange thing started happening. A group of Indians (male or female, teens or younger adults) would come up and ask to have their pictures taken with one or more of us. They would pose with us, generally ask where we were from, and then, after several shots, politely thank us. Some of our Indian friends suggested we make a little extra spending-money by charging them. As it happened to me three or four times in just two days, that might be worth a try.

Okay, I've always had my oddities, but they were never apparent enough for strangers to ask to pose with me! To be honest, this has never happened to me in Chennai, where people are just going about their daily lives. The people posing with us were tourists, looking for interesting views and experiences, just not as far from home as we were. Wish I could hear them explain these pictures to their friends back home.

(Almost) Never Alone

I haven't yet told you about my friends in Chennai. What a difference having them here has made. Alain (We say it "Alan"; it's better than butchering the French pronunciation.) is from Switzerland, but spent about a year working in the US before coming to Chennai nine months ago. Part of my role in the office here will be taking some of the pressure off him, as far as training and directing the Indian programmers in coding the systems we need. He's quite a techie, but very fun, and convinced that there's no point in living in India if you don't enjoy spicy food.

Steve is another co-worker, more mild-mannered, and the gracious target of much of the humor that we so enjoy together. His wife Mary grew up not that far from where I did in Ohio, but we never met until living in Orlando. She does not work in the office; people are more her specialty. God has given her a compassionate heart, adventurous spirit, and loads of practical skills. All of those have made her a great guide for my first week in Chennai.

As if that weren't enough of an advantage for anyone moving to a different country, I'm also the guest for a few weeks of the woman (and her family) who manages the offices we're working in. She's given me a lovely bedroom, complete with my own bathroom. Sometime mid-morning I head over to Mary, Steve, and Alain's apartment and spend time with Mary, and the guys when they're around, until one of the guys walks me back in the evening. Each morning there's a new adventure at the breakfast table of my hostess. She's breaking me in so gently, that it actually started with cornflakes, sugar, and milk. But food is a different topic, with details to come later, I hope.

Fashion in India

It's as though I landed on "What not to Wear" but without the embarrassing part of everyone seeing my old wardrobe, or the part of being told what I should buy to flatter my particular body shape. Okay, I didn't get a $5000 Visa, either. But I have pretty much bought a new wardrobe! As planned, I really didn't bring much from home. And with this heat and humidity, everything I wear has to be washed after one day, so there was some urgency, besides the fact that next week I start working full days in the office.

In India, there are really only two main options for women's clothing: saree or salwar kameez. The latter is a long tunic over loose, pajama-like pants. It's extremely comfortable, and way easier to put on than a saree (or sari). I wear a size large--these are small people over here--so it's just a matter of the color, fabric type, and decoration. I think I've bought seven ready-made already, and beautiful material to have another made by a roadside tailor.

Well, of course, you just need to see for yourself.

The trip to Chennai, including stops in Washington, D.C, and Frankfurt, took about 25 hours. Though the thought of a trip of that length alone was initially quite distasteful, I adjusted my attitude and decided to enjoy even that adventure as much as possible. And it really was a most pleasant trip. True to form, I got about four hours of sleep the previous night (well, I was packing for six months!), so at certain points I was awfully tired, but the flights were pretty much on-time, and my seat neighbors were pleasant. It was a good experience.

At the Chennai airport, the customs line was long, but uneventful (i.e., they let me in!), and the wait for my luggage was long as well, but my three friends were waiting with a taxi right outside the airport. I was in India, and thanking God over and over for such a good trip. I was in India!