Exploring Yelahanka New Town

So as previously mentioned, most single teachers are not placed in furnished apartments in Bangalore proper, rather a small town called Yelahanka New town. It is smack between our school and the city... It is also closer to the airport than most Bangalore locales. Some of us are across the big, ol' highway (called both Bellary Road and New Airport Road--- reminds me of Austin, with its big highway, double names- Capital Texas HWY and HWY 360) about 15 minutes away. Yelahanka New Town is rather quaint and limited but not really that far from a more happenin' town, Sahakarnagar (say that 3 times fast). Most important to sensitive auditory me, it is relatively quiet in Yelahanka New Town... And in our gorgeous apartment complex, it is genuinely quiet- aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!! In other words, Purva Venezia is a gorgeous bubble of my life in India that I feel equally grateful and guilty about... Because I get peace and excellent rest but live far beyond the normal means here in Bangalore.


Let's get down to the nitty gritty, in Yelahanka New Town, we really have everything you could possibly need or want on a daily basis. Here is my noted list that obviously pertains to my needs and wants: several decent grocery stores, hardware stores, a coffee shop (*Cafe Coffee Day- India's version of Starbucks), a vet, a contacts/glasses shop, pocket pharmacies, clothing shops, kitchenware stores, electronics stands, cell phone service stands, a park with walking paths, a cute-little-rooftop-cafe/ yoga-meditation center **(you read that right), several libraries (***mine is a membership only library that I pay a small fee every 6 months so that I can check out 1 book and 1 magazine each visit), lots of delicious chai joints, a few sketchy dhabas- some sketchier than others :) and my favorite take-out, New Royal Darbar- because the food is crazy cheap and delicious and the Muslim delivery dudes looooooooooooove Mr. Todd!!!

If you just need something different, it's merely a hop, skip and a jump to the tongue twister town, Sahakarnagar! Here we may arrive via the main highway mentioned above or the small town, crazy roads... And you find several American chains (oh yay): Dominoes Pizza, Kodak Photo Center, McDonalds and Gold's Gym. A little better are the Indian chains ###: Barista Lavazza Expresso Bar,
Health & Glow (India’s premier one-stop shop for cosmetics and healthcare requirements for women of all ages--- uh, yeah, and also hands down, the most awkward shopping experience ever- the sales ladies follow you around, shove products in your face and hover in your personal space- yikes!), Sweet Chariot Bakery (seriously yum cakes and pastries for the sweet tooth in you, right Flo?) and others... A couple great restaurants are there too: ++ Swathi Gardenia and Tanvi Restaurant and BBQ Lounge. There is also a bigger and better grocery store called Big Market (I know, very original), and soon, there will be a natural/organic grocer right next door called Nature's Basket.



*http://www.cafecoffeeday.com
**https://www.facebook.com/Vrikshfoodnwellness
***http://justbooksclc.com
****http://m.justeat.in/restaurant/menu/7234

###
http://www.healthandglow.in/about_us.html
http://www.barista.co.in
http://www.sweetchariot.co.in

++
http://www.swathigroup.co.in
http://www.tanvi.biz

Bangalore Night Life... Then

Before I blather on about my first night out in Bangalore, India, with my ridiculous use of hyphens and superfluous adjectives- I would like to tell you about the generalities and the fallacies of the generalities of Bangalore nightlife...

True: *Bangalore has a curfew
False: The party ends early.
True: The party ends early at the pubs. Last call is 11:30, and you have until usually 12 or 12:30 to find a way home.
False: The party is over once the bars close...
True: After parties are there for those whom like the night life...

Me? I am quite liking the early curfew... gigs start earlier, so I can still get my music fix, and we all know my 3 drink limit... I prefer to drink delicious drinks and drink them slowly... so why do I need more time to drink? I have a very nice time, and then, I get sleepy... Hey! It's time to go home! Great! I fall into bed and wake up NOT hungover but refreshed and happy that I had a great time out the night before... moderation is my cup of Hot Toddy... I kill me.

True: **It is illegal to drink alcohol and dance in Bangalore.
False: You cannot drink and dance in Bangalore.
True: Depending on the venue, you can drink AND dance in Bangalore, trust me. Otherwise, I would not be able to survive, nor try to seduce my boyfriend into moving here with a clean conscious. That dude likes to get his groove on, and dang it, I do so love to watch and carry on too!

True: Kingfisher, Kingfisher, Kingfisher, it's everywhere.
False: Kingfisher is the only beer you can drink in India.
True: Kingfisher is abundant but so are the crappy States' brands... and Foster's can be located without too much brain pain. In Bangalore, there are even breweries- WHAAAAAAA???!!!! Yes, and the dark beer ain't too shabby. Praise Dionysus! I cannot live without a delicious, stout mug of beer every now and then. I love many, many, many things about my beloved Ecuador, but if I had to live without dark beer and blueberries indefinitely, well, it would end in divorce and tears... in my dark beer. I know, I know, I really should stop while I'm ahead... but I am a certain man's daughter, and I come by the cheese rightly... and because I love him so, I'll never change that part of me.

True: The music scene is limited here.
False: The music scene is limited here... if you don't take the time and energy to find it... So, it's no Austin, TX, with music every single flipping minute of every night, but at the same time, I don't feel guilty when I stay in and work on my own art and other projects... I go out when necessary, and yes, that usually includes fun with friends AND awesome music, preferred. I am still learning the whole nightlife shebang here, but like all cities, it's just a matter of interest and time. I am learning all the venues that play the music I enjoy, but I also use this site often: http://bangalore.burrp.com/

Back to our story, soooooooooo... I finally meet Elizabeth in person, and I hug familiar, but never a dull, Flo. They show me some secrets of the apartment, like how to heat up the water for the shower and tricks for remembering what all the switches do (There are switches for the lights, fans and any appliance you plug into a socket- that's a lot of switches, readers. Switches are either turned off or on- if energy is wasted, it is your fault). We make quick plans to go out that night for snacks and drinks, and I can, at long last, meet Christina and Andy, two other residents of my apartment complex and fellow coworkers. Let's call us Purvs (we live in Purva Venezia) for fun.

We make a plan to meet out front of the complex at 7 pm... I think- heck, it's been a while and some of the details are hazy... I take my first shower in India. It lasts all of 10, luxurious, hot minutes before it gets cool and then cold, a minute after that... reminds me of showering in Ecuador, except without the fear of electric shock. I learn that it takes approximately forever to get to the front gate of my apartment complex from my particular apartment building, and I meet the PURVS up front and center. What a handful we are!!! A lot of "strong personailties" here, but you know what? I'm into it!

We are all from very different parts of the States and also, Romania. Christina is the outlier, yes, in terms of nationality, but jeez, she is fabulous and more independent/strong than most North American women. What a force! The lady is ever direct but with grace, always... I have a lot to learn from her. She is lovely, single, exactly the same age as me and speaks a slew of languages. She reads books in about 4-5 breaths, and she will outwit your wit without batting an eye. Okay, so I really should write her dating profile... if she had a dating profile. Sorry, hot men, lusting for Christina after reading my vividly accurate description.

Andy is the last card I have yet to reveal... he's the river, if you will... a boiling pot of sarcasm and simply a ton of fun. He's a good, solid friend and a wealth of excellent advice. A man with an intense presence, who looks like a retired rugby player. He likes to pretend he's an ass, but he's just a total sweetheart and a really great person. I hope to learn more about him in my time here in India... then I can metaphor/simile the crap out of him in his horror on this blog too.

So yeah, we meet, grab a couple of rickshaws and begin our journey into Bangalore proper. My first rickshaw ride? Absolutely a breeze. Barely any traffic, for some reason. Nothing too crazy at all. It was kind of miraculous, turns out. We end up off of Brigade Road, somewhere, and decide on a venue called Le Rock for snacks and beers. Hilarious bar... hilarious, yes, in a horrible kind of way-much like the thrill of watching a B movie. "Hair Bands Galore" is kind of the theme at this joint. Snacks were edible, videos on the boob tubes were a fun mix of frightening familiar and then, "Who the hell is this?,"*** and the company was great!

Then, the Purvs whizzed out of the 80's and into the night air of the 13th Floor Bar- Shi-shi wannabe bar, hehe. The view is nice, won't deny that... and I love open air venues... but drinks are decidedly overpriced and NO ONE is allowed to dance. This is a travesty for an inebriated Jo.

Flo and I took our first selfie together in Bangalore and began a tradition of event selfies of FloJo. Oh lawd!!!! Watch out facebook, fake world. All of this evening was cute, but nothing beat the ride home... the rickshaw driver offered to let Christina drive us back!!!! Stupendous and frightening all at the same time! I mean, it's my first night here, okay... and my new Romanian friend is going to drive a rickshaw for the first time... WITH ME IN IT! I do believe the pictures tell the story better than I could ;)

*http://www.newindianexpress.com/cities/bangalore/After-MLAs-nudge-CM-to-review-Bangalores-nightlife-curfew/2013/09/19/article1791564.ece

**http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2008-02-17/bangalore/27748203_1_live-bands-dancing-excise-officer

***https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyeKTMBFeyE

Through the Bubble Wrap

On the other side of teary-goodbyes and wistful what if's, I awake to a new life of bubbly, brave, bosom buddies. I read this over-the-top statement with unforced gaffaw, mind-you, but the truth can sometimes be candy-coated, I've learned... and I am the last person on Earth to believe it. Not that I'm a pessimist. I'm absolutely and resolutely not. I've had someone ask me this with angled arrogance, ready to pounce on my expected, "I'm a realist," with Tigger-ed enthusiasm, "Doesn't that really mean you are a pessimist?" His snarky grin afterwards? I wanted to eat it and projectile spew it onto his raised cheek bones... because there's a big difference between being a pessimist and being a realist, trust me. I've been both, and one is greatly preferred for the lotus flower bouquet of "you just never know." Because that's the damn truth of it... you do never know. In addition, some of the worst moments of my life have proven the BEST kinds of outcomes. Being a realist affords you the luxury of knowing possible outcomes and many times, preparing for the best in either/or cases.

Back to Candy Land--- meet Flo, the cutest, dimpliest pixie, Jersey, hip-girl you ever met. She swims in and out of giggles. I swear it. No wonder she walks so carefully and slowly! Who would want to crush all those Willy-Wonkaled, soapy spheres of delicate, hiccuped glee? I tripple-tortoise taunt you not to like her and bet my first-born babe to Rumpelstiltskin hooey that you cannot resist her infectious laughter tantrums. You can't. It's strictly an impossibility, bearing no over-sensitivities to loud noises... because she's not the quiet, mousey type. Oh, no.

I met Flossie back in February at the Boston job fair during the Nemo blizzard fake-out. Beantown went a little barmy with its projections of the storm, but hey, it led to Flo inviting me to crash in her hotel room for the rest of the fair and one uncanny friendship. You see, thinking practically, I chose to remain in the city instead of going with my original plan to stay with my sister's family out in Wenham. Despite my everlasting familial yearning to get to know my nephews better, I knew that come morning, taking the train back to the fair and my dream job just wouldn't be feasible... so my superhero brother-in-law called and booked me a lovely hotel room near the Harvard Square stop...

For the next weekend- oops! Just a shoulder shrug, funny mix-up, head shake later, I dashed back into the snow-flurries, hoping to soon find my way back to the Cambridge Hyatt and Flo's generosity. Well, "soon" became a desolate walk of teeth-chattering footprints along the river, and I really could not believe my good fortune when a lone SUV pulled up beside me, opened its back door and shouted, "You are from the job fair, right?" I 360-ed, grateful for my garish-orange, sweater dress and exhaled a white cloud of, "Yes," into the frigid air. Confirming the voices indeed came from fair folks and not creepsters, I hopped into the warm, metal bubble of comfort and zoomed back to the buzz-whizz-whoosh of jobs-in-a flash, a.k.a. the job fair.

Okay, so what next, other than dial up Flo and humbly beg to make good on her insane gesture??? Well, giggle festing, interviews and job offers from the same, charming director later, we became fast friends, wondering at the coincidence of it all. Flo became than just Dory's imaginary friend from Finding NEMO and FloJo more than just a ridiculous, Olympic moniker. Seriously, can you believe the coincidences? Me either. Such is my bizarro-fab life!

HELLO Lizzzzzzzz! Independent, free-spirited, hippy-licious, funky-fun, sassy-frass! Wow-wee, I have met my match in the go-getter attitude game. I mean, really, I cannot compare. It's not fair- she's got a few years on me... Can I be like her when I grow up for ever and ever? Because I know already she's one cool chickee for all time... she whi

ps out her Ivory Coast French in pretentious, pent-house clubs and takes off for long bike-rides with strangers, as if sparkly unicorn stickers decorate the States' headlines about Women in India... but she's lived in far more unpredictable places and taken mighty-good care of herself all along way, so you just tuck that judgment gavel back into your 4-breasted, tweed coat. This lady's got wisdom and street smarts engraved into her bones. I mean it!

These two lovely ladies were the first to step over my *Griha Praveshed threshold and wake me from my jet-lagged, heavy slumber.

*Griha Pravesh is a well known Indian Hindu custom. It is performed during the occasion when one enters in a new house. In some cases even re-entry into an old house also calls for performing the ceremony of Griha Pravesh. This custom is executed on a previously fixed date and at a particular time according to the astrology chart. The purpose of this ritual is to keep away the evil forces from the house by worshipping the Almighty.

When a house gets ready, the family moves in after performing the ceremony of Griha Pravesh. This Griha Pravesh is an old practiced ritual since the Vedic period. This puja is performed to invite the Gods and planets symbolically to the newly built home. It is also said that Griha Pravesh puja is done to appease the Gods for seeking their blessings for the well being of the family members of the newly built house. The puja is also conducted to keep away negative forces and is also marked as the thanksgiving ceremony to the gods and the ancestors for the boon of having a new house. During the Griha Pravesh the `Muhurat` or the auspicious moment is decided according to the `Panchang` or Hindu calendar.

Reluctantly Crouched at the Starting Line

I know, super corn dog to be ripping off a Cake song lyric, but it's the first thing that comes to my mind as I begin this blog. It rings as true as any cliche, I fear... Mmmmmmhmmmmm, I am really Lance Armstrong meets Andy Kaufman, spilling all my superfluous ponderings about my life here in India. I mean, who the heck am I? Why are my thoughts and perceptions important enough to record on the internet? Why should anyone want to read about my experiences and reflections? I do not stake any claim or authority or wisdom that entitles me to this blog, believe you me!

Yet, some of my favorite people EVER are getting all Sammity Sam for not going through with my blogger, cross-my-heart's... so here I go... into the depths of purging my overwrought mind maze... but please forgive me, in advance, for my amateur blog-isms... further, for all the grammatical mistakes that are surely bound to ensue... I am more a poetess, not a writer-writer, if you know what I'm saying, Frank. I do not claim this SareeSwathe to be anything other than the meandering circuitry of a nearly 35-year-old, female brain from the US of A. Sure, I've lived in a couple other countries and like to pretend that I have strong assertions about some cultural similitudes or idiosyncracies, but please, really, take this blog for what it's worth and nothing more... my delicate fortitude begs of you this favor.

Okay then, moving on beyond the dirty knees stage- I have been living here in Bangalore, India since August 16th, 2013, and I pretty much am writing my married name to it (Mrs. JoBee India- of course) all over my history binder, class after class. Psych! I don't believe in changing my name in marriage!

Before I get into the fried-snickers recap of all the reasons I love my life here, let's start from the top: The trip here was monster truck long and as stressful as a cat in a carrier shoved under an airplane seat. Wait... yup, that's not a simile. First lesson upon relocating to India, animals actually fly happier in cargo. Oops! Poor Mr. T, my feline companion in crime, has been suffering THE WORST in his international travels with me due to my ignorant insistence that he must feel safer knowing that I am near him on the plane. Shut the anthropomorphizing front door. This ain't a Disney movie.

Turns out, I should have done more research on the matter. The little guys prefer the quiet and space of the cargo area... they can fly in a larger crate and not have to hold their gifts of ammonia and dingleberries for 13+ hours. That's right! I may be the worst, kitty mom I know... Mr. T made it all the way to the Bangalore, airport baggage, turn style before he literally lost his *&#$ all over his carrier and soft belly fur. Yikes! If you know what a persnickety, Ivy League, metrosexual, tom cat, Mr. T is, then you know the gravity of my err. I plain destroyed his painstakingly groomed do, dude. The guilt of wasted, OCD licking was astounding, as a I loaded my six, busting suitcases on top of each other and attempting to maneuver them out into the customs' lobby by myself.

Those italics are aimed at me... let the pushy letters remind us that I am now in India and lose the Rosie Riveter, woman power for a minute! Some lovely buttercups came 'round to assist me in getting my glutenous booty out of their way and into the kid gloves of the customs officers. Half an unnecessary hour later (longer and even more unnecessary story NOT later), Mr. T and I were out into the Bangalore night sky, locking relieved eyes with my director!

"Yes! Almost 'home' and in bed," was as far as my spinning, hamster wheel could muster at 1:30 am... small-talk, car-talk and 20 minutes later, we turned into my luxurious, bubble complex. Yes, it is a bit disgusting of me, and I know it... I am living like a queen... in India. Translation, I am living a hell of a lot better than I ever could dream in the States... in a poverty stricken country. For better or worse, I comfort myself in the thought that I am teaching the international elite to greater heights of empathy and compassion that might trickle-down towards better future, elite decision-making... you know, like trickle-down economics is supposed to- *ahem* Let a spinster teacher dream- AHHHHRIGHT!

I will not get into the nitty-gritty of my rocking apartment on the 12th floor, overlooking a well-groomed cricket field, forested park and swimming pool paradise. That would just be tacky. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?! This is my life?!?!?!?!?!? I immediately bathed my poor, little T in the kitchen sink, and patiently, he and my director waited for the grand tour of the 3-bedroom, 3-bath, 3-patio ridiculousness.

Whew, toweled-off, Mr. T's first bath of 10-years ever/over, I surveyed the welcome mat scene. Goodies everywhere. I repeat. This is MY LIFE?????!!!!!!!! I groveled thank yous and good-byes and apologies for keeping the guy up WAY after his bed time to pick up me at the airport, so he could get up at the crack of dawn a few hours later to direct an international school, and I slipped into bed and Mr. T cuddles for hours on end...

Until, bam, bam, bam... 2 girlfriends (one new and one rather familiar) knocking on my apartment door to welcome me to India, over 2-weeks late of the posted arrival date. Oh, yes, there are some back, back stories there. Hold your horses... until the next blog entry or so...