Siblings

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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https://www.belgianwaffle.net/2006/02/540/

I met my boss for lunch yesterday to talk about
work related things.� The good news is
that I am going to work a four day week which will mean half days on Wednesdays
and Fridays, so I will be able to pick the Princess up from school twice a
week.� The bad news is that April 3 isn’t
that far away and the logistics of being two working parents of three small
children are terrifying.

As ill-luck would have it, the Princess begins
a fortnight’s Easter holidays on the day that I start back.� We have booked the poor mite in for two one week
courses learning about the music of the world.�
Stop sniggering.� She’ll love it.� She needs a packed lunch for this
extravaganza (she gets a hot lunch at school) and I fear that she wonÂ’t eat
whatever I offer.� I would like to take
this opportunity to apologise to my mother for ignoring 13 years worth of
packed lunches.� So poor Madam, not only
will I be starting back to work which will be a shock for her, but also she
will be in a new and strange place and not with her school companions.� The boys will, obviously, be starting at the
creche which, presumably, will give them the opportunity to pick up some nasty
bugs and which, I fear, they may not take to quite immediately given that the
number of breasts available to them will be fewer than at home.� We will probably have to travel separately,
three of us in the car to the creche, which is inconveniently distant, and two
of us on foot or by bike to the school which is gratifyingly close.

And, the PrincessÂ’s birthday, which she has
been looking forward to for 10 months now, falls on the 12^th of
April and, as far as I can see, all potential invitees will be away on Easter
holidays.� And it will be something of an
organisational marathon.� I have promised
her the sun, moon and stars because when we go to the supermarket, she just
looks at the sweets and says “I can have those for my birthday, but not now”
and never makes a fuss.� I think we will
require a special shop to pick up all the goodies she has earmarked for the
special day and which she so richly deserves.

And I am off on a work trip at the end of
April, so Mr. Waffle will be spending 2 days alone with his offspring and the
school/creche run.� He has asked his
secretary to schedule no meetings or trips.�
He is very afraid.

Oh, and IÂ’ve promised to host the bookclub in
April.� I regret to tell you that I have
heard my loving husband muttering mutinously about straws and camels.

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https://www.belgianwaffle.net/2006/02/539/

Email from sister in Delhi:
“So saw 7 places this morning – they are massive (3 bedrooms) and in ex-pat areas. But generally they are a bit shabby – bathrooms are old, cupboards dark and far too many chandeliers. Also maybe it’s the level 2 area because the diplomats who would be my neighbours are from strange countries – Iran, Azerbaijan, Cyprus
and one place I’d never heard of.”

Phone call from sister in Delhi:
Her: There are 40 people working in the local office here and aside from the general manager’s secretary and me they’re all men.
Me: Mummy’ll be delighted, maybe you’ll meet some nice man.
Her: No, they’re all already married.
Me: What all of them??
Her: Well, once you’re over a certain age here, you tend to be married; it’s all arranged weddings.
Her: But we’re interviewing.
Me: How many female candidates?
Her: Er, none.
Her: I feel a bit vulnerable as a woman on my own here. You don’t see any women on their own on the streets, so I’m looking for accommodation far enough from work, so that I can get driven. Did I tell you that I have a car and a driver?
Me: Splutter.
Her: It’s very different from China [where she worked for a bit and people kept stopping her on the street to take her photo because she was the only westerner they’d ever seen and check out those weird blue eyes].
Me: I suppose.
Her:Somehow, I felt less foreign there and it was less intimidating. Sigh. I suppose that I’ll get used to it.
Me: And you’ll have a driver and chandeliers.

Text message from my sister at 6.00 this morning (of course I was up, why do you ask?): Just saw my first cow on the street.
Me to Mr. Waffle: Gosh, fancy that, how exotic.
Him: Jeez, they have cows there too.
I don’t think that he’s getting into the spirit of things.

Comments
oneideaperday
on 15 February 2006 at 09:41
A cow on the road over hear is a pain in the arse. A cow on the road abroad is exotic. It’s that simple.
poggle
on 15 February 2006 at 09:53
I nearly ran into a cow on the east coast road in Malaysia – so I was almost the pain in its arse.
(And be very, very careful how you respond to that statement, oipd ….)
UndercoverCookie
on 15 February 2006 at 10:16
having a driver is not quite as decadent as people assume. He won’t be in a chauffeur’s uniform and open the door for her. He’ll be a small man with a sweaty back whose job it is to drive a lot and a wait around a lot more. It’s not a well-paid job and involves a lot of sitting around and the hours are long. The biggest advantage of having a driver is never having to park and also being able to send him to collect someone, pick up items from the post office, drop off a borrowed jacket to a friend’s and all manner of little errands like that.
oneideaperday
on 15 February 2006 at 10:24
Pog, I have no idea what you mean. Almost drove up it’s arse eh? That would have been a bit of a bugger and no mistake. The cow certainly would have got a bum deal. And his owner would no doubt have told you to sod off. Those watching would have cracked up though. (Ouch – apologies for that last one).

poggle
on 15 February 2006 at 10:32
*sighs*
dmts
on 15 February 2006 at 10:50
Yeah, you’d have been right in the shit and no mistake.
oneideaperday
on 15 February 2006 at 11:08
Now that’s just dirty.
dmts
on 15 February 2006 at 11:09
Uh? Right.

poggle
on 15 February 2006 at 11:39
And this from the man who said ‘cracked up’ H. Tch.
belgianwaffle
on 15 February 2006 at 12:55
OK, you lot, clean it up. You know who I mean. Ta for the sweetie though, Heather. And the explanation UC, I intend to forward it on to the sister, but I suppose she already knows…