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| 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.
