The Kids are Alright

So I've written some about myself,  but people seem much more interested in the kids.  So here's the low down.  

The new school is tough.  The International School, Bangalore (TISB) is a British school and most Americans find their approach heavy-handed and disciplinarian.  Becky and I both went to Catholic school, so no problem.  As a result, the other students are either European or Americans of Indian Origin.  When the blond Schmitt kids arrived, everyone asked them where in Germany they lived -- usually in German.  It's still a little confusing to their peers (and some teachers).  On 'heritage day' most kids wore Sarees, Khaftans,  Leiderhosen, or other 'costumes' to reflect their nationality.  Our kids wore Jeans and T-Shirts.

The school bus, a first for these Grosse Pointe kids,  picks up at the end of the street each day at 7:30am.  Since they were the last kids to sign up for the bus route,  they were assigned the last seats on the bus.  The rear-most seats combined with the numerous speed bumps (they work better than stop signs to slow traffic) and a lead foot bus driver make for a vertebrae compacting ride.  They can regularly get 1-2 feet of air off the seats,  if traffic allows.  

Will is in 9th grade and besides cutting his hair and pulling up his pants,  has made quite an adjustment.  Its been a different house, country, school, friends and curriculum (IGSCE) combined with school on Saturday.  The Brits don't hold back.  The course load is heavy.  He has Biology,  Physics, Advanced Algebra and Chemistry for starters.  Of course the Indian culture is not happy unless there is a minimum of 2 hours homework each day.  We're quite proud of him.  He sleeps on Sundays to recover.  

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Will has made the easiest adjustment to the spicy food. (even when we tell our cook Soudha to make it for a baby's mouth).  Will can't get enough spice.  Nolan and Emma'a mouths will be in flames and Will says,  "a little plain".  

Will has also made it out on the town several times with his friends after school Saturdays.  Movies, go-carting, the mall etc...  As a Parent it's a little unnerving to send him off with his friends into a foreign city and the only adults present are the drivers.

Emma has already made many friends (and some drama) in the neighborhood and at school.  Typical stuff -- riding bikes in the neighborhood, board games and movies at her friends' house.  She loves to be the center of attention and being a blond American girl in India,  she gets all the attention she wants. Emma will actually stay after school to pal around with her friends who board at the school.  She actually finds India “as boring as back home” and want to be a boarder at the school.  She expected more excitement and less gated community suburbia. 

Nolan and Emma share a cold one with Javeed. 

Her fashion sense has been a little repressed since she started wearing uniforms.  She has taken up the guitar and we hope to have her play a Christmas carol.  (Christmas music is a little hard to come by.)

Nolan also does very well in school,  but finds it a little boring.  He's much more focussed on extracurriculars and schoolwork is just something to pass the time.  For example,  he led the class in  a game of "lets see who can slide farthest across this mud puddle".  Not sure if he won, but was Top 3 based on his clothes alone.  He plays goalie and half back on the school soccer team.  

Overall they are well adjusted,  miss their friends and Taco Bell.   On a recent school day off,  we made the trek across town to eat at the only Taco Bell in Bangalore.  They hardly even liked Taco Bell in the US.  It's funny what you miss.

I thought I discovered another Taco Bell in Bangalore,
but it was only a mobile phone store. 

Diwali

Diwali is a celebration of knowledge (light) conquering ignorance (darkness). It is the loudest holiday I have ever seen. It has elements of Christmas: a week-long holiday with big gift giving, holiday bonuses, and plenty of holiday lights. Diwali takes it to the next level and throws in 4th of July fireworks. We're not talking well regulated community funded professional displays. It's everyman for himself. Indians purchased 920 million 'crackers' this year in the week preceding Diwali. A cracker is anything from a bottle rocket to a full blown 500-ft. mortar. The sky is truly the limit. The 'cracker houses' that sell them are still doing a brisk business a week a later.

Unlike the USA, you are more than welcome to hurt, maim or kill yourself in India. Drugs need no prescription. (And they are MUCH cheaper here). You can legally load a family of 4 onto a motorcycle so long as someone has a helmet. You can have any seat on a public bus, including atop the roof or hanging off the side. Having come form a Petrochemical company that is ultra-safety conscious, I cringe just thinking about the safety level of those 'crackers'. Needless to say, we've not purchased any.

That's not a backpack between the driver and his wife, it's his son.

With the locals armed with 920 Million rounds of explosives, we were advised by friends down the street that we should leave town for a couple days if we expected to get any sleep. They were right. Think "Shock & Awe", Baghdad 2002. It's actually quite spectacular for the first hour or so. After that, it's just hard to hear the TV.

We left town and headed to Mysore, a tourist town nearby. I'm not sure we escaped any fireworks, but were able to take in the attractions. Some pictures are attached for your viewing pleasure. It's all fairly standard historical stuff - except you need to pay a guy a couple rupees to watch your shoes while you get to walk around in your bare feet.

St. Philomena Basilica.

Loading up the School bus at St.Philomena's

We counted 11 kids.  Imagine how

many can fit into a VW Bug.  

Trash Inspector on top of the garbage can.

Monkeys are Raccoons

with an attitude. 

Bulls get to park wherever they wish.

Bounty from the Sea

Imagine Christmas and winning the lottery all on the same day.  This is how we felt when our ocean shipment arrived after 3 months in transit.  It was just a few bikes, mattresses, food and various sporting equipment.   No big deal ? Big deal.

  

After:  A real bed.

 (I had no input on the bedspread.)

Before:Sleeping on dirigibles.

When you've been sleeping on a either a futon or an air mattress for two months,  a genuine honest to goodness american pillow top mattress is heaven.   As if we moved out of a cave and into the Four Seasons.  No more camping,  we're home now.  The fluffy american mattresses did prove a challenge for the Indian stairwell and movers.    So,  in true Indian fashion, the problem was solved with sheer manpower.   The upstairs bedrooms have exterior balconies.  With three guys on the bottom and two at the top,  the mattresses were hoisted over the railing and flipped onto the beds.

Mattress Toss.

The arrival of the sporting goods means outside fun.  We finally made good use of our dead end street.   Our first big street action was a cricket match and it happened on the 8th day of Dasara.  As everyone knows,  the 8th day of Dasara means car pooja.   Pooja, a Hindu prayer offering,  is made to receive the blessings of a particular Hindu god.

Smashing Pumpkins. India style.

Street Cricket in front of our House

Due the importance of the car, even our Muslim driver,  Javeed,  thought it necessary to 'make car pooja'.  He brought along his two sons that day,  both on the back of his motorcycle.   Sahil and Nadeem joined Will,  Nolan and I in a game of street cricket while Javeed meticulously cleaned and decorated the car.   We stopped when Javeed smashed a pumpkin on the driveway in front of the car.  And then a coconut (after a few tries).  The finale was the squishing of lemons under each tire by running them over.  David Letterman would have been proud.  We all posed for pictures afterwards.  

Becky and I.

Nadeem, Javeed & Will.

Left to Right: Sahil, Nadeem,
Will, Emma & Nolan

While several care packages took the edge off our cravings, the American food brought joy to all.  Nolan was most excited to get Nutella.  He puts in on on Chapati, Vegetables,  Bananas and others things where it actually tastes good.  He may stop eating altogether when we run out.  Same goes for Will, but his choice condiment is Peanut Butter.

Meet the Staff

Americans pride themselves on getting the job done.    We have a can-do attitude and getting your hands dirty is a good thing.   Hired help is a foreign concept, but common here.  We are adjusting to this new concept.   We hired a Driver, Maid,  Gardener and Cook.  I assure you they are all very much needed.

Indian Traffic

A driver is a safety necessity.  After weeks of observation,  I'm just now starting to see some order to the madness of India's streets.   The larger the vehicle,  the greater the right of way.   In reality, driving is the least of Javeed's skills.  He is also our translator, advocate, advisor, teacher, fixer, shopper and chief of staff.    

The dust of India keeps Sudha,  our maid, busy 6 hours each day just keeping things tidy.  When we arrived,  the house hadn't been cleaned for 3-weeks and our feet were stained black just from the dust on the floor.  Sudha also has many talents.  I never knew underwear could be folded and pressed.  It's amazing how many T-Shirts can fit into a single drawer when they're ironed. 

Manpower is plentiful.  It's part what makes India great,  but also what holds it back.   There's no need for labor saving devices.  Our lawn service cuts grass by hand with a small blade.  A lawn crew is half a dozen people squatting on your front lawn pulling weeks and cutting grass for the afternoon.  When Tata came to install our satellite TV,  I expected a panel van,  but it was two guys on a motorcycle.  One drove while the other held the satellite dish and drill.  

Indian Lawn Mower Blade

Indian Lawn Mowers

Having a Cook is also a must.  I personally tried my hand at it for the first couple weeks,  but when family morale dropped dangerously low,  something had to be done.  My American cooking skills we no match for Indian ingredients.   Everything here is done from scratch.  The only processed food is imported and expensive.   For example,  I can make Spaghetti and Meatballs,  but the sauce comes from a jar and the meatballs come from frozen foods.  Indians just don't eat processed food.  Their cooks to do all the processing.

While imported foods (Tomato Sauce, Bacon, Cheddar Cheese, Cereal and Pop Tarts) are expensive,  other foods are ridiculously cheap.  Tomatoes are 4 cents a piece.  Eggs are 12 cents.   However,  everything is somewhat smaller than what I am used to seeing.  I was a little shocked when I asked what a particular fruit was called and then told it was a Watermelon.  It was  the size of a basketball -- and it had seeds too.  So do grapes and cucumbers.  The kids are repulsed.  "Daaaad,  there's something hard in this grape."     

In the spirit of full disclosure,  we're actually having a mini-Master Chef India contest.  We found two cooks we liked,  Sarithe and Sudha.    Sarithe cooked last week and Sudha is cooking this week.   Winner to be decided Saturday.  

Ride of the Fogger

Each evening in the upstanding community of Palm Meadows, the Mosquito Fogger rides.  His highly specialized skill is to ride a bike down the streets at dusk wearing a mask.  I've not seen anything like it.  

The fog machine rides on top his rear fender throwing a deadly tail of smog.  As soon as he starts the machine, he rides like he's being chased.  Weaving in and out of traffic,  it's fun to watch.  Like a stunt plane at an airshow.  Until we realized India may not be so hip on carcinogens. Could they be using DDT? At that point we ran and shut the doors.   

A Bizarre Bazaar

Entrance to the Bazaar

On our Bangalore arrival,  we moved directly from the airport to our new house.     We found our supposedly furnished house was indeed a house,  but not furnished.   No pots,  pans silverware, bedding,  etc...  After a few days of indoor camping and wrangling with the realtor,   they agreed to provide us with some rental gear until our shipments come.

We arrived at the rental place,  a market bazaar in the Islamic section of Bangalore.  When you think of a 3rd world city street,  this is it.  The street is jammed with people and vendor stalls while motorcycles and 3-wheeled auto taxies zoomed through the crowd.  The smell is a mixture of nutmeg, cigarette smoke, diesel  exhaust with the occasional waft of sewage.  
  
It is not a place for women and children.  Javeed,  our trusty driver,  and I went to get the furnishings and left Becky and the kids safely in the car.  After a little searching,  we found the right guy,  but he had no idea what we were talking about.  After a few phone calls and some tea,  we straightened things out.  This whole process,  including the initial confusion,  is standard operating procedure for India.  We were then escorted down the street and told to pick out the wares we wanted.

Meanwhile,  Becky and the kids were safe back at the car.   Nearby,  a wild dog and a raven got into a tug of war over slimy piece of roadkill.    We know it was slimy because the bird won and while taking off with it's prize,  the roadkill slapped into the side window of the car and smeared slime across the window and roof.

So far, the kids have had no nightmares about flying roadkill, yet.

What is a sub-continent anyway ?

My wife, Becky, recently took a new assignment with Accenture. We always wanted to live overseas and with our son Will ready to start High School, it was the last opportunity. So, we loaded up the truck and moved to Bangalore. India, that is.  The sub-continent.  Home of silk, spice, shampoo and pajamas.

The story of the India Schmitts will be chronicled here.

"A" Marks the Spot