Trash Backlog

This is the building across from mine, but they are the same so you get the idea. I would be the second floor on the left, far left garage door. Pleasant enough if somewhat like an extended stay motel. Actually one of the ladies that helped me sign the lease made a comment to that effect. She had been asking what I did and the subject of my extensive travel came up. When she said "Ah, so you're used to hotel living" I didn't realize how much she meant this place too. Fun story: the first thing that same gal actually did when I told her what I did is marvel that we are still in business. "The Yellow Pages? Nooooobody uses those any more" she went on and on to this effect, hammering home the instability of my industry as I was signing on the dotted line. Finally I gently told her to clam up. The moving guys gave a counter opinion later, mentioning how much they used and advertised in them.

But anyway. What you really want to know is: how's the new place?

We'll play the Upgrade Game.

Space: Upgrade!

Its a lot bigger than the old digs. More storage, large closets. Plus the garage is nice and has a small room off that as well.

View: Downgrade.

They said it had a view of the woods. More like a glimpse around a corner if you crane your neck. Mostly I have view of cement and skateboarding, yelling children. The amazing sunset and beach are gone for sure. It's also noisy in a way I haven't adjusted to yet. I'm sure eventually it will be no problem, but right now I'm sleeping the distracted sleep of a hotel guest, awake at every disturbance and ill at ease despite the comfort.

Commute: Downgrade.

I'm coming around on this a little since I've found a back way to work, but the DFW traffic is brutal. And it's tough both ways. Even using the shortcut it takes 20 minutes to go a few miles.

Amenities: Even

Well, the truth here is that they really swerved me on the appliances. They said they were one thing and they just aren't. They are substantially older than what I was shown. And worse than my previous set. The fridge is smaller too. But it does have an ice maker. Ask better questions next time, kids. It bumps up a little because I've bought my own washer dryer and a new TV which are both upgrades. So, overall it's better, but I was a bit bladed by the switch.

One digression I do want to make is to talk about the trash. The deal is, they pick up your trash four days a week. But only during two-hour windows at night and only in their provided containers. Kids, those provided containers are about the size of a small kitchen waste basket.

On the whole, I think it's a good plan: in this heat I do not want any trash hanging out at all. But as I move in, I have a lot of trash so you have to do this constant trash shuffle to get it out. I've been using old shopping bags for trash, taking those out regularly, but the bulkier stuff is troublesome. Like styrofoam from packages and such. So I'm working on a trash backlog.

And that's pretty much been my life so far: work, waiting on moving and delivery people, trying to get adjusted and unpacked and working on my trash backlog.

Sixteen-Cent Solution

I made a bowl of ramen noodles for lunch today.

It was the first time I've had the frugal college staple meal in probably 20 years. I was kind of dubious about it right up until I poured the steaming broth into the bowl and the flood of sensory memories came back to me.

I remember eating ramen thickened with cream cheese and broccoli as a young man. I was just starting out after school and on the cusp of a love that would last a decade. It was an exciting, scrappy time and the soup seemed like a make-do masterpiece- a revelation of possibility. We could make something presentable and excellent out of the meager supplies we had.

Years before that I sat on the floor in the basement of the art department and ate ramen raw between classes. I'd break off chunks like it was some lame granola bar. The look of astonishment on my professor's face when she saw me doing it puzzled me. I'm just eating ramen here. Doesn't everyone do this? Leave me alone, I'm doing my thing.

It's the MSG-flavored broth that holds the memory. It tastes like soup you buy in those vending machines; the kind with poker games on the side of the cup and a fortune on the bottom. I remember drinking that soup waiting in the train station in Hartford joking around with my family. The vended soup always tasted more nourishing than it was. And that's the way the ramen felt today- deeply nourishing. Drinking the broth at the bottom brought a sweat to my temple and a deep sigh to my lips as I put the bowl down.

I guess I'm feeling the past closely since the move. Some past selves seem impossibly-distant. Like you have no connection to the story of that life. Thinking it was really you then seems odd and apocryphal. Other moments are close. Like you could step out the door and into that different person's life.

But you can't and distance is a liar in both directions. So I sipped the soup and thought about it and sighed.

The Kickball Wall

Today I started going through my stuff to sort the stuff that's making the trip and the stuff that 1-800-Got-JUNK is going to haul away on Tuesday. At first, everything you go through brings on a wave of memories and nostalgia. As the process continues you become a little more mercenary about it.

But I'm most of the way through and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Each piece auditions itself in different ways.

"Hey, I'm a bag of electronics! You like electronics! I know you that you haven't touched me in five years, but maybe tomorrow's the day you'll need 60 feet of ethernet cable! Plus, I'd be hard to sort through!" Grudgingly keep.

"Remember me? Your old papers. You promised to go through me, but you never did. You kept me this long, why change now?" Toss.

And so it goes. Christmas tree, keep. Christmas paper, toss. Christmas lights, keep.

There's a weird algebra to it.

How many copies of the books you wrote do you need? A few.

How many computer books do you need? None.

How many Latin dictionaries do you need? All of them.

What about glassware? Oh god, I don't know, let's just keep it all.

Some stuff you keep for sentimental reasons even though you don't use or need, like the flask my brother gave me.

Other things you have to be honest with yourself about even though you don't want to. I think that that is the fate of Gargoyle Dog. He has been a good companion and seen me through some tough times. I remember long, cold days writing books in Portland with only him for companionship. In those days he wore the Mardi Gras beads, but only begrudgingly. He was a good Gargoyle Dog.

But he has a broken wing and spends most of his time with the cookbooks these days. It's time to say goodbye. If I had been braver, maybe I would have left him in Portland when I moved. But it's time now.

Goodbye Gargoyle Dog and all the other things that I'm leaving behind.

Cruel Geometry

The guy came today to estimate how much space on a truck it would take to move my life to Texas. Short answer: not much. He prowled about the place with a practiced eye, taking notes on his clipboard here and there. Will this be going? Do you have the original box for this?

As the survey continued, Bob (for that was his name- Bob) made some basic small talk.

Why are you moving to Texas? I filled in details helpfully, but Bob wasn't really having much of it. To me the move is a Major Life Event. To Bob it's just a basic math problem. One that he solves every day.

So we looked out at the sun going down over the water off my beautiful deck. I was feeling perhaps slightly nostalgic for something I hadn't lost yet.

I told Bob that I would miss this in Texas. He told me quite flatly that "Nothing lasts forever." and went about attending to his clipboard. Now I'm not sure how Bob intended his trope, but from the context I took it to mean: you won't be in Texas forever either, chummy.

He may have intended it as a comfort, but I doubt it. It's just the simple truth of a man who sees lives in transit every day. To him, all the boo hoo hoo comes down to: do I need an 18-wheeler for this job or not?

Bob's right, though: it won't be forever. I've spent the last few years on the road and I understand transition. It's impermanence that I'm not totally settled on.

I had to work out my own geometric puzzle at work today. I knew the answer right away but I didn't like it. So I re-checked and thought it through. It always came out the same. So I called my friend and explained my reasoning. She told me at the end that I was right and just needed to face it. Put on your big girl panties she said.

She's right. I was right. Bob's right.

Time to face it and move on.

Home at last.

This post was written several weeks ago, but just posted today

I'm home at long last but wiped out. Got in last night, but will only work a little today. I'm physically and emotionally drained and am trying to make some sense of the last six weeks.
This trip was considerably harder than the previous in every way.
As the Lonely Planet guidebook says: "No matter how diehard you are, it's hard to find anything in Chennai to rave about". It's a tough city and we were staying out by the airport. It's hot, rough-scrabble and there isn't anything really to do. There is a tax on alcohol that ranges from 50% to 70%. Even the models and actors we saw at fashion shows and tv shoot just weren't that hot. The hotel gave us problems and the food just wasn't as good as Bangalore.
But it isn't just our entertainment and creature comforts; Chennai was a depressing city that assaulted your good will. Poverty and slums were always a step away and it was hard to miss. People relieve themselves everywhere and it's muddy and dirty. Everyone gets sick and has a perpetual cough.
The work was harder, longer and more desperately required. Starting something is easy; finishing it is hard. This trip we were trying to wrap things up but there was a lot conspiring against us. You can only do so much, but working hard and not getting the results you want is difficult. And I had to do some things as a manager that were hard
It was a tough trip.
But it was a great trip.
This trip had a lot of growth experiences built into it. And those kind of experiences aren't always pleasant. You can wrinkle you nose at the guy in the elevator and think he's a creep for not bathing, but then you see how they have to get water from a hand pump every day and you start to get it. While we griped about the sub-standard showers in our hotel rooms our driver slept in the car at night and somehow looked crisp in whites in the morning. We understand these things, but It's hard to get over your upbringing and truly empathize.
We saw abject poverty and stunning riches. We saw fashion shows on the catwalk and cows eating the glue off of posters. We saw markets so dense with people that you couldn't move. We heard songs to Allah sung in the catacombs of emperor's tombs. We were threatened by a snake charmer, brow-beaten by monkey-handlers, harassed by a transgendered beggar, and stared at by nearly everyone.
We watched ceremonies to ward off the evil eye, painters etching palm leaves, security guards sleeping at their posts, lions having sex, stoneworkers at the grinding wheel, and more. Our friends went on engagement-meetings to find brides, had cake smeared on in their faces and were kicked in the air for their birthdays.
It was a great trip. It was a hard trip.
And it's the last one I will make there in the foreseeable future and I'm ok with that. I've been too long on the road. I've been away more than I've been home for the last year and a half and I need to work on reconnecting and building a life here. So, thank you India, thank you company for sending me, but now I need to put you aside and look to my home.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Marina Beach

In an earlier post I used the comparison that Chennai was New Jersey to Bangalore's New York. This wounded the hometown pride of several of my friends and coworkers from the Garden State and for that I am truly sorry.

Sorry that I have to do it again that is!
Today we went to the beach as part of a sightseeing tour. It was a both strange and familiar. I'll walk through the li'l adventure and you tell me if it reminds you of the home of Asbury Park.

We wanted to go to Fort George and maybe some shopping nearby. The Fort was kind of a dud. We weren't very interested in the churches and stuff around that our driver Money was trying to show us. But Marina Beach had some livelt interest. Take us back there, please!

Money relectanly drove us toward the beach, taking detours to show us other buildings along the way. At length we arrived, but he drove away from the action. No, no, Money- take us over there by all the vendors and stuff! Money complied but when he dropped us off he gave us a stern warning: "Be careful. Danger. Very Very."

It didn't seem dangerous. Just another beach boardwalk with vendors, families, kids, games and craziness. The game above is the traditional Pop-the-Balloon game. Except that they are using real BB guns and the only prize seemed to be the act of shooting a gun. Below is a giant robot music listening booth. Listen to music from a giant robot, only 10 paisa!

Money's warning disturbed us and we kept a close eye on our wallets and cameras, especially when we started down the crowded corridor of stands on the beach that headed down towards the water. There were enough young men in groups staring at us to make you think about it, but it still seemed fine.

Then we saw the sign that told us that about 1600 people died on the beach every year. Actually, verbatim the sign says:

This sea area is so dangerous. Don't take bath here...This year, more persons lost their lives while taking bath here in the sea. Avoid taking bath here and save your lives.

Then is helpfully breaks down the stats with a chart that tells you the ages and origins of the dead. It was mostly youths from Chennai. Was this what Money was warning us about? Not to swim here? We weren't dressed to swim, but then neither was anyone else here and there was evidence they had been in the water.

We walked down the sandy path, browsing the wares and people watching. A vendor started barking, touting his wares and Val commented he would fit right in in New Jersey. Hmm. There were some strange foods I wanted to try, but in the heat I didn't dare. But I'm curious what Boost Horlicks are.

After the beach we went to a popular shopping plaza and some other stops, but we liked the beach. It's good to go where the locals are going and see a little of how they live. Even if some of it isn't pretty.

So there you have it: a boardwalk, a vague undercurrent of danger and excitement, music, games, food and fun on the seaside and guys who would fit right in in New Jersey. Case closed!

Vandalur & Dead End Shopping

Saturday we went to the Vandalur zoo. It was a sprawling affair with mostly-open air natural-style enclosures. The first thing we did was hop on one of those Jurassic Park buses and go see the lions. It was billed as a Lion Safari, but it was more like let's-drive-up-the-driveway-of-the-lion-area-and-then-turn-around-and-go-back. It lasted about 5 minutes.
But there were some close-up views, even though they were obstructed by the jostling humanity on the bus and the chicken wire and bars on the windows.


And some unusual activity.


After the lions, the driver dropped us off the middle of the park. It's made of a series of long, looping roads. We looked at the signs trying to figure out where to go, but they lacked the You Are Here legend and were mostly in Tamil. In the end, we picked a direction and headed off.

There were big cats - white tigers, panthers and jaguars. The walk was decent and there was enough shade to make things bareable, though by the end I needed a time out at the snack station. We also saw some birds, hippos and elephants, giraffes, zebras- the usual zoo stuff.

Along the way our party crossed paths with a Muslim Girl's School on an outing. One thing about Indians that we've noticed; they don't mind staring at you. You expect that when you catch someone staring at you, they will look away. Not here, they just keep staring. With these girls I'd smile and wave or say something; they just kept staring in stony silence. We were more interesting than the exhibits to some of them.


Perhaps it seemed like there was an element of disapproval from the Muslim girls. Not so with the young boys. They came up and stared, when I turned to acknowledge them, they were delighted. It was like when the monkey in the cage sees you back. They saluted and were of course happy to get the horns out for snaps. I've really enjoyed the kids on these trips.


Later in the day we tried to go shopping. We'd been blanked so far by the other shopping areas so we had high hopes for the new places our counterparts had recommended. Bangalore had so much great shopping we foolishly assumed Chennai would be the same. We struck out again.

We have pretty much given up on finding good shopping times here. Still, it was long, active day. Although we had had plans to visit some of the nightlife, we ended up calling it an early night. Tick tock, Chennai, only a few days left...

The End of Octopus Paul

The Royal Meridien Hotel has not treated us like kings.
They have done several very rude things that beggar comprehension.
For the most part, we have made few friends here among the staff. That's kind of unusual for long stays like this.

Chef William is the exception.
He's a big, happy Chinese guy whose favorite thing is to come in beside you and put his head next to yours as though he was posing for a picture. He's always beaming and acting astounded and happy that you are having a nice meal. He likes to send little treats and surprises over to our table to see what we think of them.
One day Mike asked him about the South Indian coffee. They make it by mixing a thick coffee syrup with steamed milk. Often they do it at the table so you can have them adjust the strength. Delicious, but how do you make the syrup? Mike asked Chef and he brought out the coffee maker and explained how it works. We never would have figured it out on our own; the brewer looks nothing like a Western coffee maker. Val and Jona went out and bought them following William's help.
On one of the first weekends, Mike and Jona had dumplings at the buffet that they raved about. Since Chef was always ready to whip us up some goodies, I asked for a some. He was a bit crestfallen; they could not be prepared immediately, but if we came back tomorrow night he would make a special dinner just for us. It turned out to be a multi-course dim sum feast. A delicious and welcome change of pace from rice.
During the meal we told him that Mike and Jona were leaving soon. Chef seemed a bit broken-hearted to lose such dear friends but took comfort in the idea that he could make us another special dinner; cooked at our table around the grill. Sure, Chef, but we can't do dinner, we work at night. Chef decides to break custom and do it as lunch.


It was a great lunch, even though it was embarassingly large. There was a salad and then a veggie course followed by shrimp, chicken, fish, beef, octopus, rice, soup and desert courses.
Now, the octopus was the star of the show. Chef took great delight in revealing it. "Oooh" he would laugh "No more World Cup! Octopus Paul work all done! Now we eat him!"

He cooked it for a long time. As you see here he cooked it intact on the grill. Paul had been marinating a while and be the time Chef William declared him finished he was amazingly tender. Not the usual octopus snap you get, but firm, yet giving. Very flavorful.

At this point, Chef William could cook us pretty much anything he wants. Since then he's come over to us at lunch a couple times and cooked us whatever he had in mind. Steamed ginger fish, udon, that sort of thing. All better than the merely-functional buffet. Now this is the test. Chef William told us that he has a once-in-a-lifetime treat and did we want it? Sure, Chef, we'll eat whatever you put in front of us.

Ok, the course is silkworm.

Hmmmm. We want to, but our brains rebel. Tomorow night is the night we can have them. Will we be brave and do it? Time will tell....

Mike Mhley, the Universe is Calling

This is Mike Mhley.

I've known him for a long time and have spent two months in India with him on two separate trips this year.

He's been a good travelling companion. Quick-witted, and even-tempered, he's been a great source of humor and a calming perspective during some trying times.

For example, he got off a plane the first trip and slid straight into hectic shopping situations on Brigade road without batting an eye. It took most of us several days to get aclimated; Mike did it within hours and was cracking jokes right away.

When things changed and we needed him to do different things, he did them without complaining and got it done.

And he has a way of making you like him. The girls in every trip have fallen in love with him and titter and laugh when he goes by. Here he charms a goat into posing for pictures. Incidentally, the shirt he's wearing declares that "Vegas is for Pussies".



Mike believes in the book The Secret. I don't really understand it, but basically the book tells how you put positive wishes out into the Universe and they are granted. When you fret and are negative, the things you worry about come to pass as well. It has something to do with electricity and maybe G0d and karma. We would joke about; "Oh Universe, please help me out here." or when something goes right "Thank you, Universe."


Well the Universe is taking in Mikey in a different direction and I'm thinking about him today.


I don't really believe that Things Happen For a Reason and stuff like that, but I do have faith that people can bounce and change doesn't have to be bad, even if it is often painful. Mike has skills, talent and puts love into what he does. The Universe is taking him somewhere and I'm just glad that it brought him into my orbit for a little while. I've learned from him and enjoyed his company.

Thanks, Universe.

At Loose Ends

Today is Mike and Jona's last full work day. We're sad to see them go, and it throws the reality of the timeline into sharp focus. As the end of this trip approaches we get restless. The work mission has some real challenges, but there is only so much you can do. You get anxious, wanting you trip to be an unqualified success.

To distract myself in the few minutes I have to myself, here are some snaps.
Dan, this one's for you:
This guy is Sathya Sai Baba. He and his previous incarnation Shri Sai Baba are very popular here. Well, at least Shri Sai Baba is. In Bangalore Ganesh was on every dashboard. Here it's Sai Baba. Sai Baba was a real-life guy who became a saint around the turn of the century. He combines Hindu and Muslim elements into his teaching.
The other guy, with the huge afro is his reincarnation.
Or maybe he's just a con man who knows some magic tricks and founded a charity organization.
Either way, he has a fun look and his iconic I Dunno shrug on a postcard gave us a lot of laughs in Bangalore. We'd be like: "When will this deliverable be ready?" Shrug. I dunno. "Will the internet actually work today?" I dunno. I'm usually sort of amused when he turns up.


Here's a coconut juice vendor in action. I bought a drink from him, He whacks it open with the cruel machete and then plops in this frail little straw. The cute, slim bendy straw potruding from the bulky husk of the coconut seems incongruent. The milk was tasty, if somewhat warmer than I had hoped for.

These are just a couple of old dudes I thought were fun. We have questions about the skirt-style wrap they wear. What is it called? Isw it worn by a specific set of people? How come some are plaid and some white? It seems to be looped under and then around- how do you tie one?

While in T Nagar a guy wearing one came up to me and Mike in the shade. He was friendly so we quized him on the subject. His English wasn't great and of course we have no Tamil so all we could really get out of it was that it was a very cool, comfortable outfit to wear and that it was made of cotton. Fair enough. Maybe I'll get one and bathrobe around the house in it.

Ah well. That's all for this time, kids. Next I think we may meet some of the people and have to begin saying some goodbyes.

Sunday Shopping

This is the Thagaraya Nagar shopping district and the site of the densest non-event crowd I've ever been in. The sheer volume of human activity makes New York look quaintly staid. These are just people shopping, not seeing a ballgame or show or something, just out for a Sunday Stroll and some shopping. They were buying socks and such. This isn't a sale or anything, just a regular day.
T. Nagar, as the locals call it, is made up of all kinds of shops: large 7-story superstores, tiny hole-in-the-wall nooks, street stands, and winding, cramped warrens of improvised covered stands leading in and out of actual buildings. We tended not to like this last sort as well because it became disorienting and easy to end up turned around on the wrong street. And it's not easy to recover lost distance in T Nagar. Even in the stores you have to use this slow shuffling gait. You don't want to go blocks in the wrong direction in this heat.


We saw lots of improvisation that made us smile. This guy is a bicycle coffee vendor. He has giant bags of biscuits and other supplies strapped to the front. He is pouring the dense South Indian coffee syrup into a small plastic cup. Next, he'll dispense hot steamed milk from the spigot on the side of the metal drum strapped to the back of the back. Viola~ coffee to go for only a few rupees, please.
This is an outdoor stall. There were hundreds of these, but good luck finding anything to fit our big, Western bodies. Most things I couldn't get over my shoulders, never mind the rest of me. Val looked hard for tops, but in the end couldn't find what she wanted in the right color. All this shopping and we came up blank.

It was past lunch and I was eyeing a samosa stand when Jona and Mike hollered for me to come over. The gentleman above had come out of his store carrying a melon. It was painted with spots and had a burning swath of camphor on the top. He waved it in the air in a series of circular gestures. Some sort of puja. He dumps the camphor in front of the store (you see the still-burning flame there on the left) and then raises the melon over his head and smashes it down on the ground with great gusto.

Next he finds some coconuts and starts smashing those, too. We've seen that at temples before, as it is fairly common. The signifigance I think is about humbling yourself before god. No one in the street is paying it much attention. In fact, the weird American taking photos of it seems more interesting to most of them. After the shopkeep smashes three he leaves the camphor burnng in front of his store and heads inside. A young girl runs around picking up the coconut pieces, apparently to eat. Later in the day we saw a number of smashed melons scattered around the streets, so I guess this was fairly common.

We had pressed through a lot of distance at this point and the heat was making me want to duck into a shop for a cool drink of water. At length and after an exciting road crossing we find a place. A man ushers us toward the back room where a hand-made sign reads AC Room. It seems odd, but we go in and find ourselves alone in a separate (air-conditioned) dining room. Were things pricier there? The rest of the place was packed. Waiters without much English come over to take our order, sure of a big payday. We aren't hungry, though. We just want some bottled waters and maybe a snack. I see ootapam on the menu and order an onion one.

Ootapam is simiar to dosa; it's basically a thick rice batter pancake which may have something else cooked in. I like the onion, but tomato is ok too. They serve it with chutneys and sambar, which is the tasty veggie lentil stew you dip it in. The one we got here was served on a banana leaf and had some spices over the top as well. Masala maybe?

Of course they bring four instead of one. No worries, though as four dishes and four large bottled waters end up costing about $2.50.

This guy is pulping sugar cane to make a refreshing drink. See the pot below? I've had this before and it's good, but I think the best part is the cool machine they use to make it. If it came in bottles I don't think I'd bother. As long as I'm on the topic, we've been enjoying the fresh lime soda of course but ginger beer is also popular here. It's tasty, but the sharpness catches the American palette of gaurd at first.

The one shopping item I saw for the first time here was wigs and hair extensions. There were stalls for it and street vendors like the woman below. Hair dying is very popular as well. We see very little salt and pepper in the uniformly black heads of hair at work and some of the crew teased one of their counterparts for coloring his hair. We see less henna'd Muslims here. It tends to be more Christian - oh and Sai Baba is everywhere. I'll have to blog about this later.

And of course with that many people, there were beggars. Several of them laid on the ground and pulled themselves along with their legs folded like this. Seeing more than one in the same pose made we wonder what it indicated. Whatever it was, we dropped coin in the cup. The hawkers weren't as bad today, perhaps because there were so many people they just couldn't follow you along.

Overall, I found the crowds at T. Nagar more exciting and fun than troublesome. If I had to do real shopping there instead of mostly people-watching, my patience might wear thin. But, again: that's the most striking thing. Not that there are a million people crammed togther, it's that there are a million people crammed together and getting along with each other. The calm acceptance vibe was striking even as cars and motorcycles push through these insane crowds. Not that it was easy; we all went home and slept afterwards, just that it was astounding. Another amazing sight in India.

Chennai Fashions

Last night we went to a fashion show in the hotel. It's fashion week here in fashionable Chennai and the hotel has been abuzz with unusual activity. The staff wanted to give us free tickets and we didn't want to miss the chance to participate in some cultural activities.
And, I just need to say that this was a long, brutal work week. Lots of long hours and frustrating situations. And remind me to tell you about the fire drill. Anyway - we were ready for a little diversion.
So, a bit before the appointed hour we show up to get our tickets. But of course this task takes three helpers who run around and finally inform us that the show is at 6:30, not 6. No, wait, 7. Yeah, that's it. So we go down to the function room around 7 and nothing's doing. It ends up starting around 7:30.
The function room is full of booths by the sponsors failing to garner interest from the crowd milling around.
Mostly it was people like this dude:


Except he was one of the only other Westerners. Here he is looking happy about a foor massage that was somehow sponsored by TaTa brand water. I know, but just roll with it.
The other people waiting around seemed mostly like people's mothers and the occassional hipster type:

So, eventually the show starts and they let us in. Being VIPs of the hotel, we go to the front row and sit in seats reserved for the hotel. But then some jerky guy comes up and shoos us out of them and makes us sit in -- get this -- the Second Row! I'm scandalized by this and am beginning to be sour on the event. It was a lot of waiting, the usual people pushing you and now this guy was a jerk about how he did it. He wasn't gracious and this is like the fourth jerky thing the hotel has done to us.

Then the show starts. It's kind of amusing. One girl loses her shoes, the models are wearing these weird flowers and bees on their heads and keep doing all these corny moves as they pass each other on the catwalk. Like pantomiming "call me" and high-fiving.

The whole thing is over in about twenty minutes. I didn't really care for the clothes on display but it was kind of a hoot. I'd never been to anything like that and it was another side of India that we got to see. Well worth the wait and the price of free tickets.