Indian Fashion I

Okay, I've been a little side-tracked but, as promised, here's a little India Style 101 (which is about as much as I can manage). Yesterday, was a big Kerala holiday called Onam All the women in our office from Kerala wore either Sarees or Set Mundus (pictured). They were all really simple, but beautiful--stiff monochoramatic cotton or silk with iridescent gold embroidery around the borders. Anyway, I made the mistake on complimenting someone on her saree, and she informed me that it was, actually, a Set Mundu (or, Set and Mundu). A handy-dandy two-piecer, which seems like it might have lots of Westernizing style possibilities . . . Set and jeans, anyone?

News Which Causes Me to Clap Gleefully while Eliciting Strange Looks from my Indian Co-Workers

Joy! Bliss! Ecstasy!! All of which sensations which will last until our Maniac in Chief nominates Robert Bork or
Donald Segretti to the post. But for now . . . YIPPEE!!!

Bomb Attacks in Hyderabad

Last night (Saturday)
two bombs went off in Hyderabad, killing 36 people (reports are ranging from 35 to 45). It didn't happen anywhere near the hotel where I'm staying, and I didn't know about it until I got back to my room after dinner, and it was all over the local newscasts. I'm not sure if it's ranking much coverage at home. It doesn't seem like it. Anyway, the lights went out a couple of times at the restaurant but, frankly, sometimes the lights just go out here, and I don't know if had anything to do with disruptions caused by the explosions.

Hyderabad is about 50/50 Muslim and Hindu, and there's a pretty full history of public violence. But, the recent attacks are viewed as meant to incite inter-faith tensions, with the aim of derailing India-Pakistan peace talks. Thankfully, so far it's been no dice.

Why Water Buffaloes Rule

Every morning on my way to work I see water buffaloes, pretty much just maxing and relaxing along the side of the road. People don't take much notice of them, and they don't seem to take much notice of people. Courtesy of our non-existent drainage, there are some very, very large "puddles" that emerge after the late monsoon rains. So, just yesterday I noticed that a few water buffalo had taken over one of these wholes and were submerged up to their heads . . . and this is in the middle of the morning rush, at a busy intersection with people and stray dogs weaving around mopeds, cars and mini-cabs. Unfortunately for the buffalo, they don't share the same sacred status as the cows . . . they often turn up in the hotel's buffet selection. Tasty.

Outbreak!

I guess that's what I get for cavorting with children. It was fun while it lasted, since then I've been afflicted by a pretty hideous case of "Delhi Belly." (And, yes, I know I'm actually in Hyderabad, but "Hyderabad Amoebic Bacterial Infection" doesn't really have the same ring.) So, I've been spending a lot of time on the toilet, and . . . we're all friends here, right? . . . not always making it in time. Tragic. But, the truth is, I can't really blame the children. The culprit is just as likely to have been on of the sweaty Deloitte consultants pawing over the dinner buffet.

The Best Children's Birthday Party Magician in All of Hyderabad

My boss' daughter celebrated her fifth birthday today at a princess themed outdoor extravaganza. To wit: there were two moonwalks . . . one shaped like a giraffe. There was a stilt walker and two Laurel and Hardy inspired clowns (kinda scary, but I managed not to freak out in front of the kids). Pin the tail on the donkey and a toy rifle shooting range. Face painters and an actor in a Winnie the Pooh costume, who may have been drunk (at least, I like to think so). There was a chocolate fountain and a cotton candy spinner--the humidity made the cotton candy seem as though someone had licked it all over. Still delicious. Oh, and a magician! A magician whose "disappearing" scarves I more than once spied poking through his clenched fist. As far as I was concerned his best trick was convincing a series of children to eat colored bits of paper. Don't ask. His next best trick was causing a series of multi-colored, mylar shapes to erupt from a round tin. This trick caused a veritable melee, with children charging the stage to grab the shiny interlocking discs. But, none of that was as enjoyable as watching the bedraggled magician's assistant then rush into the crowd to snatch the mylar from the, uh, reluctant children. Apparently, metallic doodads are harder to come by than one would think. He only managed to get about half of them back, because once the kids realized what was happening they demonstrated evasive maneuvers worthy of Colombian drug smugglers. A mutual animus colored the rest of the performance. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself tremendously.

Pardon the Interruption . . . Fool!

I just realized that Pardon the Interruption (the best sports show on television) does an audio podcast on iTunes. Joy! JOY! JOY!! This will go a very long way towards staving off homesickness. When I was 19, hearing Please Don't Go Girl in an El Corte Ingles, in Santander, warmed the wee little cockles of my heart. Now I'm gladdened by hearing Michael Wilbon call punk-ass golfer Woody Austin a fool (repeatedly!) I guess I'm becoming more sentimental in my old age.

High Culture in Hyderabad

I spent the day engaging in the time-honored tourist activity of museum going. Nearly everyone I work with has told me that I must go to the Salar Jung Museum. So, in the interest of shutting everybody up, I drove more than an hour across Hyderabad, in the typically insane traffic, to check it out. I had especially heard a lot about the "Veiled Rebecca" by Giovanni Maria Benzoni (1809-1873) and I have to give it up; it was truly remarkable. The figure appears to be entirely covered by a diaphanous, delicately tassled veil. It's really a marvel of patience, as much as anything else--but, that's just the perspective of someone who's attention span can be measured in nanoseconds. [OMG!! Jaws is on Hyderabad teevee and they just finished the whole "shark in the water" exchange. Fantastic!--Sorry, there goes that attention span again]

Okay, so aside from the "Veiled Rebecca," which was pretty cool, the Salar Jung was not really what I expected. It honestly never occurred to me that there could be a Western standard for museums, but I guess there is, because I couldn't help but notice that the Salar Jung was dark and dusty. Most of the exhibit spaces were lit with florescent lights. It was raining outside, and the ceiling leaked at various points throughout the building. All of the artwork in the Modern Indian Painting exhibit was mounted in the college dorm style. I could definitely go on, but I was actually okay with most of that (it's not like I'm some fancypants arts-appreciater) until I got to the Western Painting exhibit which was brightly lit, freshly painted and velvet rope bedecked. It seemed like the Indo-Asian art was really getting short shrift . . . Dear God, as I'm writing this an ad for a product called "Fair and Handsome," a skin bleaching cream just came on. I swear I am not making this up. Right . . . so, what was I saying about Western art seemingly be valued over indigenous work? [sigh]

What Posh Has Wrought

I really tried to get into Footballers' Wives on BBC America, because I really and truly love trashy television. But, I just couldn't do it, and I think this part of the reason. British jocks are, apparently, completely whipped!! Granted, American jocks seem to consider domestic violence to be part of their off season training routine, and obviously, if forced to choose between the two extremes, I'm all about the former . . . but, that doesn't mean these chuckleheads aren't mockworthy.

60 Years, 60 Great Books . . .

Not a bad batting average, at least according to the The Hindustan Times I've read three of the books they list: The God of Small Things, The Interpreter of Maladies, and A House for Mr. Biswas.

I noticed they left off A Fine Balance, by Rohinton Mistry, and The Namesake, by Jhumpa Lahiri. But, other books by Mistry and Lahiri make the list. Anyway, maybe the fair minded folks at The Hindustan Times figure that books featured in Oprah's Book Club and made into big budget Hollywood movies, respectively, have already gotten enough press.

Legacy of Partition

Funny that India and Pakistan are always cited as a positive model for a post war Iraq. In reality, partition was pretty much executed with the same praiseworthy combination of hubris and ignorance--resulting, natch, in vast numbers of people being killed, maimed and displaced--that we see today.

But, those bad old days are so in the past, and anyone who dwells on or, like, wants to learn from them is just a lame sucker dwelling in the totally uncool reality-based community (which, I hear, is a lot like your grandparents' "assisted living" facility outside Boca, only without the tricked out golf carts). Because, guess what?! India and Pakistan have such an amazingly strong, and totally stable relationship today. It is completely based on trust and mutual respect. Kind of like Amy Winehouse and that weird, androgynous guy she married . . . only with nukes instead of smack. So you can just stop hatin', Haters!!

Independence Day!

Today India is celebrating is 60th year of independence from British colonial rule. Pakistan celebrated yesterday. The tri-colors are everywhere around Hyderabad. Of course, the whole city is pretty much shut down, and there are supposed to be parades throughout the day, and fireworks tonight. Plus, I've been assured that the streets will be filled with drunken knuckleheads fomenting mischief . . . I guess that means I should keep an eye out for Jenna Bush. Good times!

For Miss D

I'm prepared to accept that some of you might find these hideous, but this curve-heeled pump/multi-colored, footless knee-high combo makes me salivate. I guess psychosis appeals to me as a fashion aesthetic . . . doesn't that come with being a "child of the 80s"? If only I had gone into street pharmacology, and not misspent my youth on books n' crap, maybe I could afford to adorn my feet like a color blind hobo. Really, I love this look.

Auf Wiedersehen, Turd Blossom!

I know that he will continue to work his evil from whatever dark slimy hole he slithers into, but I have to feel some joy about the purported demise of Turd Blossom--W's most apt nickname to date. Like so many members of this administration, he makes me wish I believed in hell.

Wine for the Weary?

I guess it more naissance than renaissance. Either way, the good news is that India is finally getting on board the wine caravan. After my trip in June, I complained to everyone who would listen (or graciously feign interest) about the ridiculous cost of wine in India. A middling glass of French table wine ran $30. The good news is that, after three weeks, I was a VERY cheap date when I came back to Brooklyn. But, let's not kid ourselves . . . I've always been a cheap date. So, the news wasn't really that good.

According to this article, complaints from the US and EU have caused India to reduce their tariffs on imported wine, starting in July. Fingers crossed, these reduced costs will trickle down. Finally, the existence of the WTO actually makes a difference in my life!

Fashion Imperialism

About a week before I left for India, I stopped by Henri Bendel to do some quality just-looking-thanks and no buying. [Quick aside: what's happened to that store?! It used to be comparable to Barney's, but now it's gone all Soho Bloomingdale's on me. Why, Henri? Why?!] I tried on a cute little sequined dress by Ashish--not the one in the picture, but that on'e cute too, no?--which I noted was made in India. So, I had the brainstorm that I would investigate shopping for Ashish clothing while I'm in Hyderabad. Maybe a wider selection, I thought. Or maybe just different offerings . . . who knows. Well, I contacted a rep for Ashish today and, if you can believe it, they don't have a stockist (that's the Ashish rep's, Nadine, word) in India! How sad is that? The clothes are made here, and there's not a single retail outlet in the entire country. The whole thing smacks of Irish Potato Famine . . . just on a much more shamefully superficial, non-life-threatening and trivial scale. But, still.

Elvis and Racism via the NY Times

This article, basically, encapsulates a running debate I've been having in my own head for about 20 years. I've always loved Elvis' music. But, then Chuck D said it was wrong . . . what's a "Little Sister"-lovin' girl to do? So, I admit to being a little relieved that he seems to have revised his position. I still get his underlying point, though.

Hyderabad Redux

I've just come back to India, after spending about three weeks here in June. The flights from Europe all seem to arrive/depart between 1:00 and 3:00 in the morning. Frustrating, because it means I might never get a proper daytime view of Hyderabad from the air. I'm still a bit disoriented, but I was pleasantly surprised to realize how many landmarks I recognized, even in the dark--especially, once we got near the office, natch.

This time around, I plan to be on for two months. Hopefully, I'll be able to travel some this go 'round. I'm still dying to go to Goa . . . maybe Jaipur?