Sticky in Chennai

Hey, we are having a blast! Really, we love it here. It’s paradise! Really. really.

Except, of course, for the horrible pollution that has given me a non-stop hacking cough since the day we got here. Also, it is a bit of a hassle that it is impossible to even take a simple walk down the street because of a) the sidewalks are all 18 inches high, b) the sidewalks are all blocked by all sorts of weird obstacles, like electricity boxes and telephone circuitry, that anywhere else on the planet would either be high in the air or deep underground, c) the sidewalks are actually a place called ‘home’ by a large portion of the population of Chennai d) the sidewalks are caked, and in some places even fully submerged, under years and years of accumulated filth and refuse and e) the sidewalks are really just one massive urinal.

And really, I love the locals. Really. Sweetest people you could ever hope to meet. Honest golly. Just a few weeks ago I made a post reading INDIANS: THE NICEST PEOPLE ON THE PLANET SECOND TO NONE. What I have discovered, however, is that being nice is not their only distinguishing characteristic.

Example #1:
At our last hotel, the Raintree, the staff was very helpful. When we would go for breakfast inevitably the same eager young man would stride up to the table “Tea? Coffee?” He would offer with a wide smile. “No, thank you.” 5 minutes pass, the man returns. “Tea? Coffee?” “No” 5 minutes. “Tea? Coffee?” “No.” 3 minutes. “Tea? Coffee?” “No, leave us alone.” Repeat several times until we crack and flee the restaurant for the security of our room.

Example #2:
Monday: “Yes madame, the internet will be ready on Thur, no doubt! Yes madame!” Head bobbing madly in complete and total affirmation.

Thursday: “Madame, it turns out we need to get a permit from the city to dig a hole in the ground for the internet. Saturday, no doubt, the internet will be ready!” Cue head bobbing.

Saturday: “Yes, we got the permit madame, but we need to install the wire from the roof down to the ground. Just one more day madame!”

Sunday: “Oh, sorry, the office is closed today. Really, tomorrow it will be ready, oh yes!”

Monday: “Oh, you didn’t sign the forms the right way madame. Oh so sorry.”

And it goes on and on….

Example #3:
“Manu! We would like to get the paper delivered to our apartment. Is this possible?”
“Oh yes! We will bring the newspaper up to you’re apartment. No problem.” Cue head bobbing.

Next morning, Sunday 6:00 AM. Ian and Iris are enjoying glorious sleep. Ian is recovering from a grueling work week. The door bell rings. The couple ignore the bell. The bell rings again. The bell rings again. The bell rings again. The couple are in complete and total shock. The bell rings once more, 10 minutes of silence follows. And, unbelievably, THE DOOR BELL RINGS AGAIN!

Ian storms to the door to find a gentle smiling man. “Oh, so good sir! Here is your newspaper” he says with great pride.

Now there was a time (3 weeks ago) when I thought all of this was just simple cultural confusion, but now a part of me is starting to suspect there is something else going on. There might be something a bit darker at play… The man delivering the newspaper, with his broad smile and loving demeanor, perhaps, just maybe, while he was incessantly ringing the bell was he maybe thinking deep in his subconscious “Oh, you want your newspaper! I’ll give you your newspaper! Here is your newspaper rich white man! Come and get your newspaper whitey!” ring, ring, ring… “Oh yeah, your newspaper is waiting!” ... Just a thought.

Let’s just say the bloom is off the rose.