More Car Shopping

The car shopping saga continues. We started our day by driving around for over an hour trying to find the location of a 12 hour dance festival that was posted in TimeOut Mumbai. The listing had an address and a phone number, and the map promised a vague idea of where the venue might be. Well, either the map or the listing were wrong, most likely both. Even our driver laughed about it, he said the address doesn’t make any sense, because it mentioned both Andheri and Oshiwara, which are quite far apart from each other. Of course, calling the phone number was equally useless, because no-one picked up, and not even the driver was able to understand the brief message one would hear upon calling the number.

So that was that. Next stop was a Bajaj/Tempo showroom in the Eastern outskirts of Mumbai, in Bhandup. Their sales guy had actually visited me in my hotel two weeks ago, to show me some brochures that were trying to be glossy. Back then, he said no problem, I can show you car Wednesday. He never called again. I called him last weekend, he said definitely, I can show car tomorrow. That didn’t happen either. I called him again last Wednesday, he said Saturday, no problem, we have car in showroom. Ok, so we drive to Bhandup from the westside of the suburbs, and it turned out to be a fairly nice drive through the Sanjay Ghandi National Park, a real park with lots of birds, and trees and flowers, and, yes, real tigers. Because residential areas are shooting up everywhere around the park, it happens then and again that some little kids get in too close, and unpleasant, contact with the tigers.

Anyways, the park looks nice, it has two lakes, and we’ll definitely come back here sometime. When we finally find the Bajaj/Tempo, there’s a lot of commotion, we get tea and water and coffee offered, and the sales guy greets us very excitedly. But, of course, he has no car to show. He has a number of autorikshaws standing around, and the Tempo Traveller that he tried to interest me in, but that’s a 15 or 20 seat bus. So now he says maybe Tuesday or Wednesday he can show me the car I was interested in, if not, he says, maybe I should go and buy a Mahindra, i.e. the competition. The Mahindra Scorpio appears to be the strongest Indian SUV in town, but at $19,000 or so, it’s more than I want to spend, and I really don’t need an SUV with 110 or so hp; I’d like a simple one that’s safe in a potential crash, gets over the incredible potholes, lets us go into the rural areas on weekends, and can easily get repaired at every corner.

After that, we needed some lunch. We go to a place nearby, where we were immediately sent into the airconditioned room on the upper floor. That A/C is a bit too cold, so we go back to where we came from, and started ordering from the sticky menu. The whole place is staring at us, especially Ksenia, who generally gets stared at wherever she goes, it is sometimes getting a bit annoying. But the food is great, the chai is good, and we manage not to use our left hands. Behind us are two utterly drunk guys in their late teens, who eventually stumble out of the place. To our side is a few teenage boys shoveling in the food like it’s going out of fashion. We are the only ones with a fork and spoon. The boys constantly look over to us and hardly even pretend they aren’t looking.

Next stop is Chembur, back towards home. Rumor has it that there’s a Tata showroom that actually has cars to show and that would accept credit cards for the initial deposit. When we get there, they do indeed have the Tata Sumo that I had in mind. It comes without any bells and whistles, but has an A/C, even in the base version. One version up has power steering. The top model also has central locking and electric windows, neither of which we need. At around $14,000 it’s not exactly cheap in my book (who has never owned a car in his life), but it’ll do. So then the commotions and negotiations begin. They didn’t like my Indian government issued Foreigners Regional Registration Office ID. They had probably never seen one of those. They said it’s only valid for a year, normally they’d require a passport, which would be valid for 15 years or so. We said, we are very sorry, but we will probably not stay for 15 years, and this is an official document, with an official stamp, issued by the Indian government. It even has our address in there. Unfortunately, it’s the address of our hotel. Don’t we have a phone bill, they ask. I wonder out loud how a phonebill could be more official that this Indian government issued document with my address and a bunch of stamps in it.

So, eventually, they give up. Ok, so what’s next? They’d like a Rs100,000 deposit, and yes, they take credit cards for that. No problem. Well, I guess I should have known, but of course neither the American Express card, nor a regular Visa card is accepted. Indian bank issued Visa/MC cards only. So, after some back and forth, it turns out they will accept Rs15,000 in cash for now, and with that, they will get the car from the factory. Then, next week, I need to come back with the remaining Rs85,000 to give them the balance of the Rs100,000 deposit. Preferably as a DD, i.e. a certified check. Ok, from taht point on, it’ll be another 10-12 business days to have them get the car registered. Finally, the car would be ready for me to pick up, if and when we pay the remaining balance of the Rs600,000 total. Needless to say, the last points took us over an hour to negotiate. The sales guy kept changing his story about what money is due when and for what item of the list of things that need to be done to have the car and keys in your hand. He kept going back to saying Sir, can you give me six lakhs now, by check (six lakhs = Rs600,000)? I kept saying, no I can’t, besides, I won’t give you the full amount untill I have the keys to the car in my hand.

So this went back and forth for a while, the General Manager of the place got involved (or, rather, we were summoned to his office), who tried to tell me that he’s taking a big risk by letting me not give him the full amount now. As he was sort of insinuating that I should be very thankful for his service, he kept saying You know, Sir, I take one lakh now, but then you might change your mind and not want the car. I guess the logic escaped me and I tried asking him, wouldn’t it be rather stupid of me to hand you one lakh ($2300), and then change my mind? So then he tried to explain to me the ways of doing business in India (well, in India, you see, Sir, we have certain rules and regulations…), and at that point I slowly started to sense that he was beginning to feel insulted by my arguing with him (after all, he was probably twice my age), so I left it at that. I think we have a deal, I guess we’ll see next weekend, when I hand them the rest of the deposit.

High-Tech India

My driver was an hour late this morning. He was very sorry, I was half an hour late to a meeting, but I think the reason was because he got us a new car. Well, it’s not a new car, it’s a different car. The same little Maruti (I think), about the size of a Mini Morris but not quite as sexy. At least the left backdoor is now working again. The A/C is just as crap as before; it’s either below freezing or just as hot an humid as outside. I am rather annoyed that I have to pay $800 a month for this, just to get around and to work at all. That’s when you start missing the $70 NYC subway monthly. Of course, this town doesn’t have a subway. 16 million people, but only two suburbian train lines, and a big bus network, that’s it. Everybody suggests to stay away from the trains and busses, way too crowded, way too unreliable, always late, and a little dangerous. Not to mention the fact that neither have any windows or any doors that would close, so if there’s a nice monsoon shower, you are bound to get soaking wet. I have no idea what they will do in this town if and when in a few years half the population has its own car and they are all going to try to get to work in it. There’s just no way anyone will have a commute of less than an hour or two, not to mention the pollution, which is already incredible. But a subway or a mono-rail in the largest and most important city in India? Not happening.

On the way to work we passed a huge crowd of people blocking the entire traffic on a two-lane street, because they had to take a very close look at the motorbike that was just being pulled out from under a big truck. No idea what happened to the guy on the bike (or maybe it was a guy and a woman, her sitting sideways behind him, as they usually do here), but, basically, anyone cruising around on a bike in this town has to be seriously suicidal. Not only are there regular speedbumps everywhere, but there’s potholes everywhere, huge crowds of people left and right and crossing the streets without any notice whatsoever, plus the autorikshaws are always going zig zag, plenty of rich boys in SUVs driving like complete assholes, and of course busses and trucks literally do not stop for anything. Still, helmets are optional, and there’s quite a few bikes with dad and mom and two kids scrambling not to fall off and onto the road. It is quite amazing.

Later today news came out that there was a terrorist attack in London. A couple of days ago, some militant muslims tried to bomb a Hindu temple in northern India, basically to take it back from the hindus, who a decade ago or so had destroyed a mosque that was located at the same place and replaced it with a hindu temple. That time, 2000 people died in the resulting riots. Of course, way back, the place had been hindu to start with, so when the muslims originally came into the area, they replaced the hindu temple with a mosque. And so I guess it’ll go back and forth for the next 1500 years. What’s strange is that some parts of the opposition party BJP called for a strike to protest the terrorist attack. The logic somehow escapes me, and I am trying to imagine the Democrats call for a strike after 9/11. Anyways, the BJP is apparently basically running under the banner of Hinduism and Nationalism, and they are always happy to use religion as a way to get votes, in quite the same appaling way as the Republicans. Not sure what platform the other main party is running on, but since they’ve ruled the country for almost the entire time since independence, with abrief exception, it’s probably safe to assume that they are corrupt buerocrats to the bone.

Corruption is by the way pretty much a given. Students openly say that they got placed at prestigious colleges because they had some family friends. Doctors may refuse treatment unless there’s some upfront cash (and, yes, people die). There’s big signs in the airport telling travellers to report any airport staff who attempt to get a bribe. Not to mention the real estate market, which is full of illegal constructions, demolitions, etc., all courtesy of greased palms.

Closer to home, I am being told that the reason SMS isn’t working on any of our two pre-paid SIM cards is that you have to actually call the mobile phone company to activate your SMS services. Except that the phone number you need to call is always busy, so a nice voice tells you to call later. Today I have actually received the post-paid, i.e. subscriber SIM card. No SMS either though. Now, in the case of a subscriber SIM card, one can actually call to activate SMS. Except, it takes a minimum of seven days untill that activation actually happens. Needless to say, voicemail does not come standard with mobile phone service, pre-paid or post-paid, and noone seems to have it. So much for high-tech India.

On a different front, it now looks like we will move to our apartment next Monday or Tuesday. So the last thing we’d still need around here would be a car. We are still waiting to be able to get some money wired over here, it’s taken three weeks to get that Indian bank account fully setup, meaning: the netbanking password is still in the mail. The easiest thing of course would have been to pay with a credit card, but that’s not an option. The car dealers don’t seem to have credit card machines, or if they do, they insist that the customer pays the 2% extra that VISA/MC/AMEX gets out of every deal. So at this rate, we might have a car in three weeks or so.

Luckily, the weather is actually not so bad. It’s very muggy and quite warm, but not too hot. It was quite a bit worse when I was here in April, and the smells in some of the crowded residential areas were dizzying. Anything from the wildest spices and incenses (often to be found on the little dashboards of cabs and autorikshaws), not to mention the thousands of street food vendors, and of course plenty of piss and shit and molding buildings and god knows what infested puddles of old water. Now I kind of miss them, although I do think of Central Park sometimes. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to it already. I guess I’ll have to go back to Crawford Market, and this time I should shoot some pictures.

Saturday in Mumbai

Things are looking better. Of course, traffic is still an amazingly huge madness, and the two sports channels on television don’t seem to tire of showing World Wide Wrestling or replays of last weeks Cricket, nor do the other channels seem to have anything better to offer than atrociously bad soap operas or American Idol style crap, but today was a good day nevertheless. We managed to find a very interesting store full of fantastic Indian designer clothes; we found a bunch of art galleries with a mixed bag of paintings and sculptures, some of them very nice; we had incredibly good dinner at some vegetarian place (at less than $2 for the two of us), and I got myself a long overdue haircut that wasn’t any worse than anywhere else, except at a tenth of NYC prices. Well, ok, it was a little worse than usual. We also ordered two tailored shirts, and if they turn out well, I’ll get some tailored suits. The choices and prices of fabrics are simply amazing and even though Ksenia insists that the fabrics aren’t quite Italian quality, the tailors definitely seem to know what they are doing.

Ksenia definitely likes it here. Well, she keeps saying “Incredible India” is definitely the right choice of words. She already seems to have made up a long list of fabric and design stores that she wants to check out. We haven’t even been to any museums yet, let alone ventured outside of the city, but next week there will be two fairly big dance festivals to go to, so we definitely won’t be bored. The music scene seems to be very small, there’s only about ten listings in all of TimeOut Mumbai (which covers two weeks) and five or seven of them appear to be Karaoke – not exactly our idea of live music. Also, clubs apparently close at 12:30am, unless they are in a hotel, in which case they close at 3am, but we really have no desire whatsoever to go to hotel bars or clubs. Lounge bars are also not really our thing, but Mumbai seems to have a lot of them, although they are not easy to find.

The other day, Ksenia ran into some Indian girls. One of them was an English teacher who told her that for a wife to call her husband by his first name would be rude; it should be the first name plus jaar or jah or something like that, i.e. the polite form. Ah well. In other news, a woman who got raped by her father-in-law got condemed by a fatwa to live separate from her husband, since her rapist would now be considered her husband, which would make her real husband her son. Also, a young couple that, elsewhere, dared to elope got condemend by their village to leave town. I guess the fact that these things are actually reported in the newspaper would mean that they are newsworthy and unusual or controversial, and in fact there is an organization of muslim women that very strongly condemned the fatwa as a gross misinterpretation of the Koran.

Still, the English teacher will have an arranged marriage and insists that every one of her friends that had an arranged marriage is very happy. The idea is that your parents would have only your best interests in mind and that they would pick someone with your culture, background, and caste. And maybe that’s great, after all, people do want to marry someone that they have things in common with, but to have someone else, your parents, look for the commonalities and to have these commonalities be so narrowly defined by caste or clan or village seems rather … well, a little difficult to comprehend, and to see the same girl be on a shopping spree at The Mall and running around in blue jeans listening to Indian hip-hop on her IPod, doesn’t exactly make it easier.

Getting There

So I think we are slowly getting there. Well, first of all Ksenia got here. Four and a half hours late, but she did. The various arrival monitors at the airport indicated her flight as having arrived, or being delayed by anything between 30 minutes and two hours, but eventually she made it. The next day she took off to Crawford Market and to a dance performance at the National Center of Performing Arts (no entrance fee, and the performance matched the price). We still don’t have an apartment, but the process is moving along smoothly. While at Crawford Market, she had her ass grabbed only once, so it went relatively smoothly, even though she did call me at work at some point, because some guy had been following her for the last ten minutes.

On the plus side, we are spreading out in the hotel and in our hotel room, which is really more like a NYC size small one bedroom. Her cooking at home is definitely better than the Italian restaurant, which is good, but at $50 per person a bit too pricey for everyday use.

I am still not fully set up at work in terms of network connectivity and file access, and I am still on my prepaid SIM card as opposed to a regular mobile phone and data service subscription deal, but we are getting there, and I feel like I am actually having pretty normal work days while Ksenia is discovering every nook and cranny of Mumbai. I am not sure about it, but I would think that our driver is also happy that he gets to drive around a hot blonde all day, as opposed to sit on the parking lot waiting for me. Strangely enough, the left back door is still in the same shape it has been since it got crushed by the city bus, but I don’t really care. It leaks a bit if we are driving through a strong rain, but other than that it’s ok. Of course, our driver still hasn’t gotten the concept of keeping the A/C at moderate temperatures, so the commute is still ice cold on a daily basis.

At least I am done with the “business center” in the hotel. Ksenia brought her G4, and we are connected via the hotel room’s ethernet. Unfortunately, it’s not cheap either, but still better than the business center. Maybe it’s the rain or maybe it’s something else, but neither Ksenia nor myself have taken any pictures yet. One of these days, we’ll take some, but right now, we feel odd enough as it is, and running around taking pictues wouldn’t exactly help. Besides, in April, I drove around in auto rikshahs, which are great for taking pictures from, because they don’t have any windows. Now, I’d actually have to make an effort and, well, I haven’t been in the mood yet.

Things I Have Learned So Far

I can go the same distance, say an hour (i.e. 5 miles in this traffic), in a hotel cab for 2000Rs, or in an auto riksha for 100Rs (43Rs are 1$, so do the math). The hotel cab is nicer, but not 20 times as nice or fast as the rikshaw. In fact, the rikshaw is kind of more fun, and it might even run on compressed natural gas, like most of them do now. That’s definitely a plus over the Toyota Camrys that the hotel has.

Yes, definitely may very well mean no, never. I heard that yes, definitely a couple of times now, either when calling a car showroom about whether I can see or maybe even test drive a car, or when calling the hotel reception to see whether there’s a place anywhere in town where I could see a Federations Cup game (football, or soccer, for some people). In both cases, I was told that they’d call me back with an answer very very shortly, but that never happened.

The Indian head wiggle can mean yes, no, or maybe. It looks a bit like a regular head shaking, but it it comes with a slight rotating motion, which can look quite elegant and artistic, actually. In any event, it’s fascinating, but I am usually not sure what it means. I think in most cases, it means yes. Now, whether that yes actually then turns out to mean no, or maybe, or I don’t know, or why don’t you just go fuck yourself, is a different matter.

It’s a bad idea to ask a woman for directions. The first time I did, it was a young student in jeans and t-shirt and she looked at me like I was the dirtiest old bastard she’s ever met. Ooops. The second time, I had forgotten about the fist time, and this time, also someone dressed in jeans and shirt, a little older, she just walked away. Hm, maybe I really should work on my German accent, but I think I better just ask men.

There’s McDonald’s, Subway, Domino’s Pizza, Pizza Hut, and all kinds of other American atrocities one can consume here. US-style SUVs get high praise, US import cars even higher praise (despite an import tax/duty of over 100%). The celebrity pages in the Times Of India (there’s about four of these pages every day) are full of color pictures of Bollywood celebrities’ parties and breakups, and a dizzying array of relationship, shopping, and make-up advice. A whole lot of them sport the usual US casual wear, there’s t-shirts with the Stars and Stripes, sunglasses (of course, they are called shades) here, I think Miami Vice must be still a hit. There’s definitely CNN, CNBC, CNBC in Hindi, the Hallmark channel, and Friends on television. At least there’s also BBC World News, but other than that, the US has clearly taken over from the Brits.

Nevertheless, the Times of India is now the largest English language newspaper in the world, with a circulation greater than that of USA Today or the WSJ. Obviously, the customer base for these products is the rapidly growing Indian middle class. Apparently, just as it is considered absolutely cool in Russia to go out and be seen at McDonald’s, the biggest attraction and the thing to do for fun around here, seems to be to go to the mall. Crawford Market is out, The Mall is in. So here I am in India, determined to find the places that are modern and accessible, yet original and Indian. Well, not really all that determined. I am pretty sure Ksenia will find those very cool and original, very modern, yet very Indian stores and venues and restaurants, so I might leave that up to her.

One thing I haven’t learned is a single Word of Hindi. That will have to change. Rumor has it that one can get by with just English in India and while that’s true, it’s only about as true as it is for say France or Italy. A lot of people don’t speak or understand a word of it. A lot of people do speak English, but with an accent so strong that I have never any idea whether they are speaking English or Hindi right now. I read in the paper that in some province somewhere, people (or some political party) demanded that the teaching of English in school be banned. It’s quite possible to find a restaurant with an English menu but noone speaks English. While trying to get a mobile phone subscription (as opposed to prepaid), I had to deal with a whole number of people from AirTel calling me and we could simply not communicate whatsoever. My driver speaks a little English, but it would be absolutely hopeless trying to explain to him, for example, that I am not sure yet when I’d like him to pick me up the next day and that maybe I could just call him an hour so in advance when I do know. So I always ask him to pick me up at a certain time, and I usually end up having to let him wait forever. Anyways, so the point is, just as much as speaking English is an absolute must for anyone growing up in India who would like to jump onto the middle-class bandwagon, learning a bit of Hindi will be an absolute must for me and Ksenia to get around a bit easier and to see and experience a few things outside of The Mall.