Rain

Ten Things I hate About Chennai -No.8

Its rains a lot here. It's raining now as I write this.

For many years I lived in Manchester, so I thought I knew all about rain.
But the rain here is different. Its wetter, and it doesn't go away. Even when its stopped.

And whereas the rain in Manchester fell frequently and often, it did at least wash some of the Mancunian grime away and make the place seem a bit cleaner, Occasionally  the clouds would part, the sun would shine, and a rainbow might appear above the Oxford road arching from somewhere over the Refuge Tower to Picadilly Gardens. It was a bit like that moment in Wizard of Oz when Dorothy lands in Oz and everything turns from Black n white to glorious technicolour,

Well. Your not in Kansas any more Dorothy. Your in Chennai.

In Chennai the rain turns the litter strewn streets into litter strewn sewers.
Sometime within a matter of minutes.
One minute your strolling down to Cafe Day for your mid-morning cappucino, the next your wading
back to work and wishing you had thought to pack a pair of fishermens waders. (The kind they use when they go fly fishing and have to go in waist deep.)

One time I came out at lunch time after it had been raining during the morning to find Santhome High Road was already doing a passable impression of the Ganges Delta. Its only 50 yards to Coffee Day, (  Slogan - A lot can happen over Coffee -No shit) but if  I wanted a coffee it was clearly going to be a case of sink or swim ( or perhaps more accurately stink and swim)

There was one other option. I believe it was Nikoli's sugggestion (work colleague) but since it was still raining heavily I went against all my principles and summoned an auto from the Auto drivers hangout opposite the college. Even in the short time it took him to drive to us the river had already risen several inches, and since Coffee Day is in the direction against the flow of traffic we decided on another venue a little 'down river'. Sometimes I like to think I can quite literally go with the flow.

We set off in the direction of the "Palm Shore" restaurant a few hundred yards away.
The water already lapping into the footwell of the auto, and the rsing current threatning to capsize us at any moment. The driver pulled up at he Palm Shore, but the problem was there wasn't one. A shore I mean. Just several feet of murky brown water swilling around the entrance.

"Here Sir!" the driver beamed. Indicating we alight, but I refused and yelled
 ''You need to get us nearer!"

No Sir. Not possible. Water too deep.! Here is good!

No! Here is not GOOD! Im not getting out!

Here good sir!

NO! NOT GOOD!

Oh for the love of God.
Just Take us back!

Back Sir?

Yes! Get us out of here!

No eating Sir?

No eating.. Just take us back.

The manager of the Palm Shore stood in the doorway eagerly awaiting us.
And was probably even more disspointed than I that we would not be  joining the rest of his very wet clientele for lunch that day.

I gave him an apologetic wave as we departed.

Or perhaps I was
Not waving.
Just drowning..

Lost

Another reason I hate Autos is that I lose things in them.

They are small. The Autos that is. They make a dodgem car seem like a stretch limo. This doesn't seem to worry the locals too much who have no problem cramming entire generations of their family into them for the school run. But for us Westerners with our love of personal space and breathing things can seem rather cramped.

If your carrying a few bags of groceries and your laptop, then the problem is exemplified. The only place to put your shopping is on the small shelf behind the passenger seat. They may be safe there but they also out of sight, and therefore out of mind.

Unfortunately in my case this is frequently where they remain when I get out.

The stress of haggling the fare with driver and/or worrying that the agreed fare is actually what we agreed, means that when we reach our destination my mind is often elsewhere and my body wants to follow unencumbered. I usually get out promptly, thrust the 'correct' amount of ruppees at the driver, turn and walk briskly away. Ignoring any or all requests/calls/pleas/crying/begging along the lines of ' Sir! Sir! More! 10 rupees waiting time etc..'

The upshot is that in the relatively short time I have been here I have already lost;

1 bag of shopping from the Mercado Deli in Besant Nagar -contents included a jar of Bonne Maman (very expensive) Orange Marmalade. (Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!)

1 Pair of dark blue Adidas Football Shorts.

1 Compaq 510 Laptop  in its case along with 1 Daler A4 black hardbound  sketchbook.

The only thing I was particularly upset about in the above list was the sketchbook, (and possibly the marmalade the morning following its loss.) The shorts too I could live without

However the laptop is/was the property of Raffles Millennium College, and so procedures had to be followed and a full report filed to the police.

And so on a Monday afternoon Umamageswaran (Uma) the I.T. technician (who else) and I took and Auto down to Besant Nagar nick (police station).

Now Police station waiting rooms are nobody's idea of a favourite hangout I guess.
But while Uma wrote a full and detailed account of my stupidity in his best handwriting I had plenty of time to ponder the utter drabness of the interior decor (or lack thereof,)
India is nothing if not colourful, but stepping inside Besant Nagars version of Precinct 13 was akin to entering not so much a black hole as a dark brown one. One from which no light could escape much less anyone unfortunate enough to have been taken in custody,

My eyes fell upon the poster behind the (Female) duty sergeants desk. Who was by the way warily eyeing Umas statement whilst he wrote, and looked as though she would relish the opportunity to arrest him for poor grammar, or (more likely) kosh him for a spelling mistake.

Anyway back to the poster. Actually it wasn't so much a poster as a large list of numbered bullet points of statistical crime data in the Besant Nagar vicinity. Including helpfully:

10.Crime Prone Areas, and 11, Prohibition Black Spots. Obviously its my sincere wish to avoid both of those, but it was No 15. which really stood out

15. NO  OF BAD CHARACTERS

This had a sublist

HD -Nil
DC -Nil
KD -Nil
Rowdies- 7

A sense of relief washed over me. No HDs (  Heroin Dealers? Hard Dicks? Hairy Dorks?)
No DC's (Dirty Coppers? Drunken Crazies? ) No KD's (Ketamine Dealers? Killer Dogs?)
and only 7 Rowdies! There's more Rowdies than that at a Parbold Village Womens Institute meeting
(and come to think of it probably more Ketamine dealers too)

Besant Nagar is obviously a very safe neighbourhood. Im so glad I moved here.
Thank God for the boys in blue (or brown n khaki to be accurate)

I only hope its a recent poster. Although I have my doubts on that score.

Eventually Uma finished writing the report. It must have been OK because the duty sergeant didnt arrest or kosh him, in fact she seemed to be almost smiling and joking with Uma by this stage, and I wondered for minute if love might be in the air along with the stench of custodial fear, blood, urine and sweat.
Then it was handed to me for verification on the accuracy of the events as portrayed. To be honest I couldn't really read his handwritng but I signed anyway. No doubt I may face a perjury charge someway down the line and end up as a statistic on the poster. NF (Naughty Foreigner)

Spell Bound

Joined up writing please

Besant Nagar Crime Stats

Reboot - Note to self (and others)

So Che Che as you and my regular reader(s)* will know it has been some days since my last post, and the regularity and consistency of my posting relating my tales of life as an expat Dad has been somewhat erratic. There are all sort of reasons (excuses) for this, the main one being that I am a bit rubbish.

However from hereon I have decided that rather than being disappointingly inconsistent with my posts I will strive instead for inconsistently disappointing.  In other words I will post with appalling regularity and some of my posts will be appalling, but they will at least be there.

And even if they are all a load of rubbish then so be it.

This is India. So a load of rubbish is very much the norm.

Here's a couple of pics to prove my point:

*(I wasn't sure whether the plural was necessary but hope springs eternal)

Ten Things I Hate about Chennai

Im having a hard time narrowing this down to just 10 but here goes :)

10. Straight in at number 10 we have

Auto Drivers - these guys are a breed apart.  Although there are a million trillion of them, very few actually seem to want to pick you up when you most need it ie. in the morning to get to work in the rush hour. Almost all will tail you when your just out for a stroll and in no particular hurry.
4 out 5 of those that do actually stop when hailed, will simply wobble their heads as if to say OK, and then drive off after you tell them where you wish to go.

Santhome? (My work district) No chance. Its not as though its some notoriously dodgy suburb on the wrong side of town. And anyway the whole of Chennai is a notoriously dodgy suburb.
When your finally lucky enough to find one willing to take you and his chances in Santhome, then begins the fare negotiations; This can take some time, depending on how late you are already.
These guys were born to haggle, you were not. And they can sense desperation a mile away.
Either way, and no matter how accomplished your own haggling skills, your paying somewhere between 50-250% over the regular meter fare.

In the main there are 2 distinct kinds of driver, and driving style, and none of them is the Stig. The majority (by far) it would seem attended the Chennai Kamikaze Auto Driver training School. Not all of them passed by the way but that would not seem to be any bar to becoming licenced to kill.

A distinct minority veer the other way (quite literally).These guys take their time (and yours) And are happy to meander along gently driving cross legged whilst singing along to Tamil radio. They will take you a circuitous route through the steamy underbelly of Chennia in order to get you to your destination, but then so do their Kamikaze colleagues. The difference is that this time you can actually see (and smell) the sights en route, and this is not always (ie.never)  desirable.

No. 9 tommorow..

Indian Induction

The College itself is quite small. (Maybe its small but perfectly formed, we shall see)
It occupies 4 floors of a converted commercial office building in a part of the city called Santhome.
That said its quite a nice working environment, and from my office I have a view across the trees and roof tops to the Indian Ocean!

Here are some pics:

This a pic of the outside entrance.
The man standing next to the car is Saravan the college driver.
Im not sure if you can read the banner posters from the photograph.

The pair nearest the front entrance door say "Success by design" under the Raffles College Logo.

The one nearest has a pic of a flying yogi boy hovering above a design for a a sort of chair and underneath it says "We help you accomplished" your dreams. ( Can you spot the grammatical error in that sentence Che and do you think I should point it out to Pranav?)

After a whistlestop tour of the classrooms.studios and workshops Pranav introduced me to a rather slick looking young Indian named Pavel who works in marketing. Apparently this meant it was his job to give me my induction presentation. which meant he showed me a few slides of pictures of the college. Having just been shown the real thing by Pranav I didnt quite see the point of the pictures. I was about to tell him that my short term memory is still quite good so I didn't really need to see pictures again to remind me where I was but then he showed me pictures of some of the other Raffles Colleges along with location maps.
His whole style of presentation was slightly MI5, and I began to wonder if Raffles was just a front for some sort of Secret Service Organisation. Either way he managed to convey that I was privy to important inside information and so I kept quiet. He then went on to mentioned things like term dates, holidays, and various conditions of employment in my contract. Apparently there is a whistleblower clause- I wonder if I am breaking it here? Best not publicise this blog too much eh?)

Welcome to Raffles!

I was awoken from my reverie by the phone ringing.

Hello?

"Good mawning Sir"! said the friendly Indian voice at the other end.
"Red Cross"?

"Sorry?" I said.

"Red Cross Sir?" he repeated

"Errr...no I dont think sooo" I said, wandering if this was somehow some left over remnant from my helicopter confusion dream.

"No Red Cross Sir?
 Umlette? Indian Red Cross?"

Ahhh! "Breakfast!"

"Yes Sir, Red Cross!"

"Indian Red Cross Sir?"

"YES! Yes please. Indian Red Cross!" I said excitedly.

"Ok Ok Sir! Indian Red Cross five minutes!' He said. (And probably "calm down you fool its only breakfast" in Tamil after putting the phone down.)

And so 5 minues later I sat down to my first Indian Breakfast, which was basically an Omlette with 4 small slices of bread arranged in quarters on top, and served with a cup of incredibly sweet milky tea.

I wolfed it all down, and then ran downstairs where Saravan was waiting ouside to drive me into College.

Once again the sheer volume, noise and chaos of the morning rush hour traffic was overwhelming, and once again Saravan handled it with consummate skill.

We stopped en route to pick up Pranav at his apartment which as it turned out was only about 200 metres from the college door, so at the time I'm wasn't quite sure why he didn't walk to work. Now, having been in Chennai a few days, I realise its because he values his life. Walking isn't really a viable option here. So if your the College Director, a chauffeur driven lift to work isnt so much a perk of the job as Life insurance and Health Care all in one.

Once again he seemed delighted to see me.

Good morning, good morning Myles! he said.
You have slept well? Not more jet lag?

Yes, very good thankyou Pranav.

Ahh! Good good. He was doing the wobbly head thing again.
"And your place is comfortable?"

Yes, fine thanks!

Ahh fine fine! More head wobble.

And you had Red Cross?

We drew up outside the College entrance, and he eagerly jumped out the car.

I followed him up the steps and he opened the glass entrance door for me.

"Please!" He motioned me through

"Welcome to Raffles!"

Nesting Instinct

Pranav had come to the airport with his driver who is called Saravan
We jumped into his car and we set off toward the city centre.

Apart from the heat and humidity, the first thing I really noticed about Chennai was the traffic.
It makes Piccadilly Circus seem like a quiet country lane. Literally Millions, no make that BILIONS of cars, motorbikes, and auto rickshaws, all packed 5/6/7 to a lane, and all constantly beeping their horns, and weaving around each other trying to gain some sort of competitive edge!

Saravan was obviously an experienced Chennai driver, and did as much weaving and beeping as his competitors.  On the way Pranav kept up an excited commentary about how Chennai was an up and coming Indian city in the midst of great growth and change. 'Soon the New Metro will open!" he said.
"This will be REALLY great achievement!"
He said it with such pride that you would have thought he had built it himself. (As it turns out his dad was a Railway engineer. so maybe that explains it.)
Unfortunately my jet lag was beginning to really make itself felt by this stage, and I was fighting to stay awake and appear interested, but I suspect my drooping eyelids and nodding dog head told a different story.

To change the subject & stay awake I enquired about the sort of little religious shrine on Saravan's dashboard with what appeared to me like a little fat Golden Buddha, and a golden sort of elephant creature with lots of arms, and two little Indian flags, all surrounded by a flower garland.

Saravan saw me looking at it, and said
"This for Ganesh sir!"
"Very Big Festival!"

"Yes! Pranav agreed excitedly.
"You have just missed it! It was the birthday of Lord Ganesh!
"He is the son of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. he has the head of an elephant but the body of human. Lord Ganesh is the symbol of wisdom, prosperity and good fortune!" 
He smiled all through this sentence and nodded his head in little side to side movements all the while as he said this as if agreeing with himself.

Hmm I thought to myself, I wonder if he's seen that film 'The Elephant Man' 
Having an elephantine head and human body didn't bring John Merrick much prosperity and good fortune did it? No! He was nabbed by the circus and paraded round the ring for the amusement of the punters like, well an elephant really. He ended up screaming "I HAM not a HANIMAL!" at them which only caused further hilarity, and then choked to death on his own tongue( or was it ears ?) by going to sleep without a pillow. But all things considered I thought it best not to mention this, and just said that I was sorry I had missed the festival. 

"Don't worry!"  Pranav smiled and nodded. There are many many festivals here in Tamil Nadu!
"You will see them all!"

Finally we reached the hotel which was/is to be my new home for the next week or so.
It was called NPL's Nest, and so once they had shown me to my room I pretended to be a cuckoo, and moved in next door! (That was a joke Che!)

Actually it was pretty basic but clean and comfortable place, with a simple single bed with clean white sheets, but it wouldn't have mattered if it had been an actual real straw/twiggy like nest;
I lay down and instantly fell asleep.

When I awoke a few hours later I didn't know where the hell I was.

It was very hot and I could hear lots of beeping horns outside somewhere, and apparently a helicopter was just landing in my room. But then I remembered & realised the helicopter was a ceiling fan, and that it was in fact me who had just landed.

For a few minutes I just lay there enacting my own personal 'Apocalypse Now'*' scenario.

"Chennai!" I said to myself
"S**T!
I'm still only in Chennai.
I wanted a mission, and for my sins they gave me one.."







*Apocalypse Now is a War Film with MASSIVE explosions that you will love when your old enough to watch it Che Che.

Chennai What I mean?

Hi Che Che!

So here I am in Chennai, India!  (Bet you like the way it has your name in it!)
I landed a few days ago and was very jet lagged and tired after such a long flight (or I should say  flights) - The entire journey took me nearly 24 hours!

So anyway, Chennai is a big city in the South of India in the state of Tamil Nadu.
(Actually its in a right state too but I will tell you about that shortly)

It used to be called Madras, in fact sometimes they still call it that.  Madras is one of my favourite types of curry by the way but that's not why I came here.

Instead I am going to be teaching design at the Raffles Millennium Institute, which as its name would suggest is a very prestigious and world renowned educational establishment, at least that's what it says on their website.

My boss is called Pranav Desai, and he was at the airport to meet me.
His first words to me were;  "You look completely different in real life."
 I wasn't sure how to respond to that.
The scouser in me wanted to say something like;
"I flew 5000 miles for a job not a date" but instead I just nodded politely and said
"Yes I have had a bit of a haircut!" (Remember Che, you did it for me in France, and it was actually quite a lot of a haircut.)
Then I said "You look exactly the same!' (because he does!)

Here's a picture of him (as copy/pasted from my Skype contacts):