You've probably noticed that I call Palm Meadows, where I live in Bangalore, the "bubble." And it is truly a bubble. We have nice, even, palm tree-lined roads with beautiful landscaping set inside a gated wall protected by barbed wire and security guards. It even smells nice inside Palm Meadows, at least most of the time. Not when there is a garbage fire burning just over one of the exterior walls, but we can't have everything perfect inside our bubble I suppose.
And it certainly is not perfect. Our power still goes out frequently and the Internet works intermittently and sometimes the pool water is a little cold :) But we survive as best we can in the conditions.
But today I was fortunate enough to join some of my favorite people on a walk outside of the bubble. My running friends, Leisa and Daleen, enjoy a nice 5k run outside the bubble most early mornings and I would like to join them but wanted to know what I was in for. So a group of 6 of us did a nice walk today in the bustle of the morning commute. Let's just say that we were not anywhere near the bubble even though we were simply walking around it.
The first thing I notice when I leave the bubble is the noise. It is truly remarkable how different the noise level is outside the gates. Horns honking incessantly, dogs barking at anything that moves, diesel trucks speeding over bumps and ditch sized divots in the road. The second thing I notice is the amount of interference I need to watch out for - motorcycles on the sidewalks, holes appearing out of nowhere in the sidewalk or roads, power lines hanging very low. This is not a place where texting while walking is advised. Third are the smells. gross diesel and choking smoke from cars, feces of undetermined origin, garbage everywhere, and then out of nowhere the nice and very local smell of incense burning in the huts and houses and, on one road in particular, a lovely row of flowering bushes.
One eventually gets used to the unevenness and noise levels. The cars sideswiping our shoulders took a bit more getting used to and I'm pretty sure I will never be cavalier about that. Also the dogs are scary and heartbreaking. I love dogs. But street dogs are scary. Until I see an injured street dog dragging a leg and then I want to scoop him/her up and go to the nearest vet. But that is a story for another time.
I was looking forward to meeting Bessie as I've heard about her from the running ladies. I wasn't disappointed, but I do think she was giving me the evil eye.
Today, as I do many days, I got to thinking about how people live outside the bubble. I wonder if the person, or more likely family of many, living inside the small hut is happy there. If the women I see on the sides of the roads washing dishes with dirty water over sewers are concerned about disease and health, and if the women I see washing clothes by soaking them in a bucket, banging them on a rock, rinsing and repeating long for a washing machine. Do they even know how convenient life can be inside the bubble?
And many of them do realize how convenient life can be because they work within the bubble households. They get to see how the bubble people live with cars and electricity and running water and even HOT water. And it is not just expats that live in the bubble. All of the bubble houses are owned by locals and many live in their houses. The expats are simply renting. So it isn't as if the expats invented this lifestyle, it is here but not available to many.
The average income in India is $1500 per year. I know that I find the grocery shopping to be fairly inexpensive here (unless I want a decent bottle of wine or imported product.) But it is hard to really understand what $1500 buys. So I did some conversions. $1500 is almost 100,000 Rupees - not quite, but that is what I am sticking to for the sake of argument. Before I continue, I need to make very clear that I am not an economist, I have no understanding of international currencies and stock markets and anything else that involves anything more financially complex than paying bills or balancing my bank account. This is simply an observation of a current expat wife.
I've thought about some of the things I've bought over the past few days. 20 rupees for 4 tomatoes, 60 rupees for a quart of milk, 1700 rupees for my cell phone bill, over 300 rupees for a 4-pack of toilet paper. If I am making $100,000 dollars a year I don't think I would ever pay $20 for tomatoes, $60 for milk, $1700 for a monthly phone bill and certainly I would have to forgo the $300 toilet paper. So even though I think of these items as fairly inexpensive, it is completely out of reach for the average local. My housekeeper asked me for a loan the other day to pay tuition for her two children. 20,000 rupees for public school tuition. (again, not an expert so I don't really understand what the fees are for, but I assume it is for food and notebooks and uniforms.) I don't know what her household income is but I can't imagine how she can afford to feed and house her children and ensure they have a decent education so maybe they can live a different life than she does.
But, alas, our walk finishes up back in the bubble and I wonder if I would ever manage that route alone. I'm sure I'll get more and more comfortable as I get used to being outside the bubble and also outside the protection of the car. But, luckily for me, our walk finishes up with the lovely ladies discussing future shopping plans and possibly a meet up at the club in the bubble for drinks on Friday night. Ahh…back to my comfort zone. And, I hope we provided some amount of amusement to the many who witnessed the crazy white ladies doing the prancercise.
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| The view from inside the bubble |
But today I was fortunate enough to join some of my favorite people on a walk outside of the bubble. My running friends, Leisa and Daleen, enjoy a nice 5k run outside the bubble most early mornings and I would like to join them but wanted to know what I was in for. So a group of 6 of us did a nice walk today in the bustle of the morning commute. Let's just say that we were not anywhere near the bubble even though we were simply walking around it.
The first thing I notice when I leave the bubble is the noise. It is truly remarkable how different the noise level is outside the gates. Horns honking incessantly, dogs barking at anything that moves, diesel trucks speeding over bumps and ditch sized divots in the road. The second thing I notice is the amount of interference I need to watch out for - motorcycles on the sidewalks, holes appearing out of nowhere in the sidewalk or roads, power lines hanging very low. This is not a place where texting while walking is advised. Third are the smells. gross diesel and choking smoke from cars, feces of undetermined origin, garbage everywhere, and then out of nowhere the nice and very local smell of incense burning in the huts and houses and, on one road in particular, a lovely row of flowering bushes.
One eventually gets used to the unevenness and noise levels. The cars sideswiping our shoulders took a bit more getting used to and I'm pretty sure I will never be cavalier about that. Also the dogs are scary and heartbreaking. I love dogs. But street dogs are scary. Until I see an injured street dog dragging a leg and then I want to scoop him/her up and go to the nearest vet. But that is a story for another time.
I was looking forward to meeting Bessie as I've heard about her from the running ladies. I wasn't disappointed, but I do think she was giving me the evil eye.
Today, as I do many days, I got to thinking about how people live outside the bubble. I wonder if the person, or more likely family of many, living inside the small hut is happy there. If the women I see on the sides of the roads washing dishes with dirty water over sewers are concerned about disease and health, and if the women I see washing clothes by soaking them in a bucket, banging them on a rock, rinsing and repeating long for a washing machine. Do they even know how convenient life can be inside the bubble?
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| Woman washing her dishes over the open sewer. Behind her is most likely her temporary home where her family lives while one or more members of the family work at a nearby construction site. |
The average income in India is $1500 per year. I know that I find the grocery shopping to be fairly inexpensive here (unless I want a decent bottle of wine or imported product.) But it is hard to really understand what $1500 buys. So I did some conversions. $1500 is almost 100,000 Rupees - not quite, but that is what I am sticking to for the sake of argument. Before I continue, I need to make very clear that I am not an economist, I have no understanding of international currencies and stock markets and anything else that involves anything more financially complex than paying bills or balancing my bank account. This is simply an observation of a current expat wife.
I've thought about some of the things I've bought over the past few days. 20 rupees for 4 tomatoes, 60 rupees for a quart of milk, 1700 rupees for my cell phone bill, over 300 rupees for a 4-pack of toilet paper. If I am making $100,000 dollars a year I don't think I would ever pay $20 for tomatoes, $60 for milk, $1700 for a monthly phone bill and certainly I would have to forgo the $300 toilet paper. So even though I think of these items as fairly inexpensive, it is completely out of reach for the average local. My housekeeper asked me for a loan the other day to pay tuition for her two children. 20,000 rupees for public school tuition. (again, not an expert so I don't really understand what the fees are for, but I assume it is for food and notebooks and uniforms.) I don't know what her household income is but I can't imagine how she can afford to feed and house her children and ensure they have a decent education so maybe they can live a different life than she does.
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| One of the curious children we saw on our walk today. He was very interested in the crazy walking ladies, but it doesn't look like he is dressed in uniform for school. |
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