It's been a week since I arrived to Chennai and it is time to write something down. I have thought a lot about the form (a journal, a blog, a series of emails,) about the audience, about the language. Ultimately, it is important to save these thoughts and impressions, but also to communicate them to my friends and family, and there is no one solution that fits all the needs. The most difficult decision was the one about language. I picked English because I realized that the biggest part of the intended audience know it well enough to read a text comprised from a limited vocabulary such as mine. And most of those who don't, have somebody close who can translate it for them.

One of the reasons I haven't written anything so far is that jet lag that hit me upon arrival was the hardest ever known to human race. If I had to go through this again on my way back, I would, without a doubt, make India my new home. I arrived here from Zagreb on Friday, March 25 at midnight and slept throughout the weekend. It felt good, because I felt that, after a few weeks running on empty, I was finally catching up with my sleep. Plus I thought that it meant that jet lag missed me this time. How wrong I was! Throughout the next week I would sleep 2-4 hours a day, waking up usually around 2 am and contemplating the rest of the night. In the morning, just after sun has risen enough to fully light my room, I would start yawning and feeling tired, but it was time to get ready for work. Last night, after a long walk to Marina Beach, I finally slept for seven hours! How small things can make one happy. One good thing that came out of these few sleepless nights is that I finished an excellent book by Arundhati Roy called "The God of Small Things" (Alison thanks!)

When I arrived to Chennai, after a fairly short wait in the immigration line and a fairly long wait for luggage by an ancient conveyor belt, I was met by four guys from the FatPipe Chennai office. I knew Uma and Ashok from my previous visit, while with Pachai and Thiru I communicated only through email. Pachai is our new and talented graphics designer, while the other three are system administrators slash test engineers, with Uma also being the boss of this office. Even though it was late night the weather was sticky hot and air-condition in the big SUV they rented felt good. Small talk, friendly smiles, dark but familiar streets of Chennai, chaotic traffic. I am anxious to see the place they found for me. We turn into a small street and stop in front of a new white three-story building, with a small parking lot in front, separated from the street by a black iron fence. It looks nice and clean, which is very important detail in this part of the world. We carry my stuff up the stairs and enter the apartment.


My new home

First thing I notice is white marble floor. I am thinking how its cool touch must feel good on this heat. The apartment looks brand new and I was later told that it really was. Living room is furnished with a small sofa and a matching chair, coffee table and some sort of entertainment center (a truly universal piece of furniture), with a TV and a VCD (Video Compact Disc, a standard that was quickly replaced by DVD in the West.) To one side it extends into a dining room with a table and a few chairs. There is also a red fridge, with a red power stabilizer on top and a strange looking armoire next to it, whose doors sport several holes with a bell hanging in each of them. I open it and see some Hindu religious pictures inside. It is some sort of prayer furniture. Double glass door leads to a small balcony which overlooks the street. Next to the dining room is a spacious kitchen, with a door to another balcony, which was assigned a role of a laundry room. Two opposite walls of the living room have doors that lead into two bedrooms. One is completely empty and the other one has a queen-size bed, a chair from the living room set, and a lot of storage space. Bed sheets are made from the same light green fabric from which the curtains are made, which is kind of cute. The room is significantly cooler than the rest of the apartment. Thiru points to a window-mounted air-condition with a big smile. Another worry of mine disappears. I tell them how delighted I am. I had prepared myself for much, much less, so this makes me pretty excited. Thiru later explains that the apartment belongs to his parents, who live nearby and plan to move here in a year or so and how they furnished it completely in last two weeks to make it ready for my arrival. I am infinitely grateful!

This morning I woke up at 7 and, after exchanging a few SMS messages with Elizabeth, went out. It was a beautiful morning, sunny but still not too hot. I headed toward a small park at one end of my street. The park is fenced from the street that surrounds it. From the other side, the fence is followed by a paved trail, which was full of walkers and a few joggers. Everybody was moving in the same direction and taking this activity very seriously. I went in and joined the stream of people. Most of them were middle aged (as Arundhati says, a viable dieable age) or older. Some wearing athletic clothes, while the others just replaced shoes with sneakers in their everyday outfits. At one place by the trail there is a small praying place. Some walkers pause there for a short prayer, and then continue with physical activities. Three men were meditating in a lotus position in a small pavilion further down the trail. Four middle age men were playing tennis on a small dirt tennis court.

While people are walking

I got back home and started writing this journal. Uma, Ashok, Thiru and one of Suresh Kumars picked me up around 2pm to go for a ride and look for a place for a company picnic in two weeks when our boss-couple would be here. Since it wouldn't be advisable to start such an endeavor hungry, we went to a place where we had had a dinner a few days ago. This time we went to the second floor, which serves north Indian food. First floor is specialized in gourmet meals from the South. Interior is much different too. While the domestic department (first floor) looks fairly ordinary, second floor is modeled after Dhabas, traditional cottage-type road side dinners in the North of the country. White uneven walls, furniture from dark wood and dim light from fake petroleum lamps create pleasant atmosphere. Menus are huge and heavy and they have only traditional names of the dishes, so I let my Indian friends choose. It takes a while, but I know it will be worth it. We start with a veggie soup with almonds, then a sampler platter of fish, chicken and mutton arrives. Spices give them very saturated red and green colors. Naan with some delicious chicken and mutton masala follows. At the end, we get some masala-pepsi – Pepsi with a mix of spices – as a digestive and sort of dessert and off we go. I light my first cigarette since I am in Chennai.

Uma and Thiru


Ashok

We drive toward south, where all the beach resorts are located. While driving we are having conversation about languages in India. Chennai is the capitol of Tamil Nadu state, with predominant Tamil population which speaks Tamil language. I learn that Tamil is the oldest living language in the world and that there is a strong movement for its conservation. They feel that the language is threatened the most by Hindi, which is one of the two country's official languages. The other is English. They even go so far in their fear from Hindi that Tamil Nadu's government chose to communicate with the central government in English instead of Hindi. Ashok asks me about my native language. I start with many times repeated story, “Once upon a time there was language called Serbo-Croatian...”

We pass by several resorts, and stop at an ethnic village park that they mentioned a few days earlier. As in many other tourist attractions in India, entrance fee for foreigners is more than three times higher that for Indians, which is still pretty cheap, but should be noted nevertheless. The idea of the village is to display different styles of dwellings in a few southern states. As far as I can tell, houses are well built and authentic and offer a good glimpse into the life of rural India. We see Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala. They are all very different from each other, with Kerala being the most exotic. The Kerala house is built completely from beautifully carved wood. On one side of the house there is a small boat carved from a single coconut tree trunk hanging from the low roof. This kind of house can be found in Kerala backwaters where boats are the main mode transportation. Another interesting thing about Kerala is that significant part of population belongs to Syrian Christians. The family in “The God of Small Things” is also Syrian Christian, but I don't know where the name comes from. Karnataka houses are built with irregular pieces of stone, similar to the old way of building along the Adriatic coast (and elsewhere in the world). The adjacent village has houses with foundations made of cow dung, which, apart from its adhesive properties, also keeps insects and snakes out. In between different states we watch a performance of traditional dancers.

In the ethnic village


Dancers

After a short coffee-tea-sunset break we head back to Chennai. Now we take another route. The road is called IT highway. “IT” comes from the fact that in addition to a number of software companies that built their offices there, along that stretch of the road there is 45 engineering colleges! That explains a few things about outsourcing. The “highway” part should be taken with a grain of salt. There are two lanes in each direction and a foot wide median for the most part, but sides of the road are crowded with shops, tea stalls, pedestrians, bikers, dogs and cows, and on the median and around it clusters of cows are lying calmly as if in the middle of an isolated meadow, just inches from the speeding traffic. Very interesting highway, that IT highway. Another interesting thing about it is that many of the colleges that line its sides are founded by mobsters. My friends explain it by high profits (in this non-profit industry), but also as a way to buy respect in the society.

We get back to the city and I invite them over to my place for a beer, but first we need to find some. Tamil Nadu is a state drier than Utah (am I lucky or what?) Liquor sale is exclusive right of the government and they don't sell anything imported. When it comes to beers, India has a few decent ones, like King Fisher, Taj Mahal and Piper, but natives prefer imports, which can be found under the counter in some stores. We go to one such a store and get some Holsten, made in Germany. Living in Utah for seven years I instinctively check percentage of alcohol. It's 5%, not bad. The beer is pretty pricey: Rs 75 (~$1.75) for a 330ml can. Especially considering that one can get a decent meal at a restaurant for Rs 20.

We sit in my apartment and talk, comparing how things work here as opposed to the U.S.A, plus I add some Croatia and Europe. They tell me some funny stories. For example, an independent analysis recently found that all the major soft drinks on the Indian market contain too high amount of pesticides. Immediately, the sales significantly dropped, but some farmers in Karnataka saw an opportunity to reduce the costs in farming and started using Pepsi instead of pesticides – it was cheaper!

On question about how rigorous police in India was, the answer was illustrated with an example of a hypothetical accident in which somebody dies (they wouldn't call it a killing, because it was not intentional.) They claim that with Rs 3000 (~$70) one can get away with it, plus “You can always blame it on your breaks.” An interesting concept of responsibility.