Siblings

Sister in Chicago (temporarily in Delhi, in Brussels for the weekend – try to keep up): So, I’m not entitled to those tax breaks any more. And I pay tax at 33%.

Me: Mmmm.

Her: I can’t believe that I’m now classified as a high earner. How can this be happening in George Bush’s America?

My sister is here from India, for three days (that’s one hell of a carbon footprint). She loves the rain, the cold, the personal space, the food, the safe driving habits (everything is relative). It’s possible that she’s finding it a bit difficult to adjust to Delhi. She tells me that her friends have been fantastic – writing, calling, sending presents (although her friend L says that nobody is going to visit her unless she starts blogging in a more upbeat tone). Her friend E in Chicago forwards her post to Delhi once a month. He seems like a nice boy, and from Cork too. Apparently his mother thinks she sounds like a nice girl. My sister has pointed out the flaw in my assumptions by reporting the following chat between E and his mother.

Her: Your friend in India sounds like a nice girl.
Him: She is.
Her: Are you thinking of taking her to your sister’s wedding?
Him: Mum, I’m gay.
Her: Are you sure? She sounds like a very nice girl.

My sister called on the mobile to say that her furniture delivery was late. As she was phoning from her American mobile to Belgium while in Delhi, this seemed like a lot of technology to use to complain about punctuality. But she was pretty cross “They keep saying ‘oh yes, madam, we will be there very soon, please wait’ but they’re not here.” “Gosh, they sound a lot more polite than the Belgians who would just tell you ‘allez madame, on arrive’”.

I spoke to her the next day

Me: Did your furniture arrive?
Her: Yes, finally.
Me: Did you complain?
Her: No, I couldn’t.
Me: Why not?
Her: It would have made me feel like an evil imperialist – where I live is lorry free so they had to cycle 15 miles to deliver my bed by rickshaw.
Me: They delivered your bed on bicycles??
Her: Yup.

My sister has decided to give her own account of events here, should you be interested in more information on her Indian odyssey.

Him: I can’Â’t visit you before you go back to work in April; I have various social commitments and then IÂ’’m going to Switzerland for a couple of weeks to ski and visit friends.
Me: Well then, IÂ’ll maybe see you in May, although we may weÂ’ll be in Sicily at the end of the month for the new cousin’Â’s christening.
Him: Humph, no dimunition in the lifestyle then.
Me: Speechless indignation.
Him: Are you sad that your holiday will be over soon?
Me: Further speechless indignation.
Him: Will it be a bit complicated with the children when you go back to work?
Me: Yes [launch into explanation of elaborate childcare arrangements]
Him: ArenÂ’’t you annoyed with me?
Me(cautiously): Um, yes, generally, why in particular?
Him: Because I’m assuming that you will be taking care of all the childcare and youÂ’’re the woman.
Me: But youÂ’’re on the phone to me.
Him: But still, all those years of banging on about the glass ceiling. Something’Â’s rubbed off.
Me: You mean that you feel you have more effective tools to annoy me?
Him: Well, yes. What is the glass ceiling anyway?

On accommodation:
So just saw a place with bells for summoning servants, still a bit
shabby though.� Off to see newer places now. Will report anything
of interest.

On local colour:
Lots more cows today too!! Though nowhere near as many as yesterday when I was out at my meeting.
Just saw my first monkeys on the street.

And, most lengthily, on her trip home to Chicago:

Absolutely exhausted was on a conference call at 5am this morning and
now have to stay up until at least 3.30 am when I can board my flight.

I have been to a lot of airports before but Delhi is hell on earth. The
line [she has been in the US too long, she means the queue] moves at a rate which makes erosion seem rapid, horns sound all
around, everybody smells and the concept of personal space is virtually
non-existant.� I cannot see the top of the queue which is several
meters ahead of me before we get to the terminal door.� Next to me
a woman attempts to push her heavily laden trolley through the throng
to get her 11.45 flight but the sea of people is made impenetrable by
the amount of luggage carried, pushed and dragged by the passengers. A
vast number of well wishers, beggars and persons offering to carry
things rounds out the experience.� Still not even in the terminal.

Once in the terminal, I understand that the business class lounge was
not all she might have hoped for.� Poor snacks.� Very
crowded.� She tells me that to charge her laptop, she had to
unplug a lamp and plunge half the lounge in darkness.� Yes, I
know, it can be difficult to sympathise.

The next update came in the form of a call from Frankfurt early on
Saturday morning.� She had a tight connection but was confident
she could make it.� She zoomed off the plane and, as she was
travelling business, was one of the first off, but, alas there was an
airport employee gathering people for Chicago and she had to wait for
all the people travelling economy.� Gah.� Before boarding the
plane to Chicago, they had to be “wanded” (new ludicrous verb for
me).�� As there were no women available to wield the wand,
the men were wanded first.� The men boarded.� The female
passengers were eventually wanded, but as they emerged at the gate, the
airhostess looked at them and closed the plane door.� My loving
sister was incandescent.� Not to worry she spent most of the 30
hours it took her to get door to door drafting indignant letters of
complaint.

I spoke to her again on Sunday.
Me: Are you recovered from your marathon trip?
Her: Mmm.� I think I hate Delhi.
Me: Nonsense, you’ll grow to love it in the year you’ll be spending there.
Her:� The non-existant personal space.
Me: The monkeys!
Her: The traffic.
Me: You have a driver.
Her: That won’t help, if I’m dead.
Me: Um, the cows.
Her: The intermittant air conditioning.
Me: The, er, the, um, challenge of the project.
Her:� The complete absence of female colleagues.
Me: The weather.
Her: The weather?

I told her that Gaza M and Bosnia R are seriously considering going on
a visit and she is deeply pleased. Bosnia R is already in training for
a tough environment, he plans to spend 6 weeks walking 1,000 kms on the Camino de Santiago
from Seville to Santiago.� Of course, if they decide not to go
now, she may never speak to them again.� Based on her descriptions
so far, I can’t say I’m overwhelmingly keen to make the trip with my
little family, even if, we will each be able to have our own chandelier
in her enormous flat.

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