Dinners

Two nights ago, I had dinner with a Peruvian woman, who is volunteering in a village in near Puneand flew to Kolkata for the week. Much of the village hasn't ever been outside of the village. She said it was difficult for her to relate. She was also sad for the girls, whose lives will be determined by their futures husbands.

Last night, I wondered into this weird quasi-karoake bar for dinner. There was a band of 5 musicians playing synthacized Indian tunes while a couple people took turns singing into the microphone, which was set on echo. There were only a few customers in the place. I sat there sipping on a Coke chocolate ice cream float thinking about how funny and ridiculous it all was. Then I took a peek at myself, a grown man, nursing a float in a bar, and realized that I was pretty ridiculous too. The drinks were so overpriced, the Coke float was the least so.

Generally, I'm doing pretty good. It took some time, but I've gotten used to lots of things. I no longer compare everything to the familiarity of America, but instead to the quality of things in the different cities in India I've been to. But there are still frustrating moments that remind me that I'll always be an outsider.

Last night I tried to get chocolate from a stall. No one understood me. The thing is, I've asked for chocolate a million times here. Every vendor knows the word "chocolate." Maybe I was saying it with an accent that I don't normally use. That's the issue, people only know enough English that if you don't say what they know perfectly, it's like you're speaking Greek. The same thing happened an hour ago at the metro. You have to get the ticket from a person at the booth. I asked for "Park." The guy replied, "Where do you want to go?" "Park!" "Park-a-street?" "Yes!" "Where do you want to go?" "Park!" "Park-a-street?" "YES!" I mean, that's the name of the station, Park Street. It's not called something else in Hindi.

As I was getting off the metro at Park-a-street, a little grungy middle aged man decides he doesn't want to wait for people to get off the metro, he has to get on immediately. He puts a swim move on the guy in front of me and helps him along with a push. He does the same to me, which implants my shoulder into the door (and left a visible red mark). I immediately throw up my forearm into him. Of course, I'm pretty buff here, so it gave him a good jolt. Apparently into a number of people because the guy, a woman, and a few more people starting screaming their lungs out in Hindi at me. I yell back repeatedly, "He pushed me first!"As the doors close and I walk away, the few people leaving the metro next to me take turns giving me dirty looks. At that moment, I was discouraged. Perhaps unjustly, thinking that I would never get benefit of doubt here in a situation like that.