Home is where the heart is.

Some random observations from being home for the first time in 18 months:

• London is very, very grey and very, very sombre and the streets seem ridiculously narrow. And empty. As much as China might be reeling from the recession, in London it is startlingly apparent that everyone is very grimly hanging on;
• I have missed the casual way Brits slip in terms of endearment when talking to strangers – love, dear, sweetheart, darling – a verbal welcome home;
• God the British accent is strong! Such strange sounds after Mandarin. I didn’t realise just how “internationalised” my accent has become until Mr B laughed at me for slipping back to my roots;
• Globalisation is alive and well when I hear Mandarin being spoken all around the UK, even down where my parents live, a place not exactly known for its multiculturalism;
• Why are the British obsessed with insurance? Why are there so many bad insurance ads on TV? Was it always like this? Why is the country obsessed with meerkats? Simples;
• You can tell you’ve been living in India when loud complaints from passengers to bus drivers make Mr B and I laugh – if a Mumbai bus driver had missed a stop, passengers would be handing out slaps instead of sarcastic comments;
• Compared to Mandarin, trying to get myself understood in French is a doddle;
• Really? Everyone is actually going to vote in a Tory govt? Scary times ahead whoever wins, I guess, given the level of public debt;
• I love the English countryside, despite Mr B’s disparaging comments that the UK landscape is tame – it is so green;
• Being able to drink water straight from the tap without thinking about it is now a novelty. As is being understood every time I open my mouth and knowing, without thinking, how things work in day to day life;
• I miss quorn and Linda McCartney pies;
• Of course, the only people actually spending money at Prada and Harrods at Heathrow were Chinese;
• We have fabulous friends.

Interestingly, unlike after our August visit to Mr B’s home, I’m not culture shocked.  In fact I’m glad to be back. Could this be because we’ve passed the 6 month marker?

Sheng ri kuai le!*

An estimated 3m people are right now heading to Beijing to celebrate the 60th birthday of the People’s Republic on 1st October. In contrast, Mr B and I are heading west to visit my homeland. It will be the first time in a year and a half I’ve been home and I can’t wait but we’re also aware we’ll be missing a historical milestone in our new home city.

The military hardware has practiced and re-practiced its routines and driven around the streets in the process (one of the more bizarre things Mr B and I have seen since arriving); the pensioner volunteers are out en masse, mostly gossiping with each other and occasionally giving directions but no doubt ready to spring into action should crisis present itself; the imposing black humvees with machine-gun toting swat cops have positioned themselves at major junctions in plain sight; flower arrangements along the parade route have been inspected by flashlight at midnight (another of the bizarre scenes we witnessed two Fridays ago); colourful banners and red lanterns have been dusted off;  subway line no 4 has opened right on schedule and uplifting celebratory posters have appeared everywhere.

There is no denying that the authorities are taking preparations very seriously when so much national pride is at stake. Last week, there were rumours abound on the internet that syringe attacks were planned on the city’s subway system. Explosions in two city restaurants last week were not reported in most of the city’s media.

To add to the building seige mentality, experienced expats are hoarding cash and food, knowing that nothing is going to get restocked over the next week, while expats living in the diplomatic compounds closest to the parade route are hunkering down for what amounts to a 24hr lock in.

Speaking today at the American Chamber of Commerce, veteran China watcher Sidney Rittenberg posed the ultimate question ahead of the 60th anniversary: when all other major civilisations (the Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Maya, and those on the ancient Indian subcontinent) have come and gone, what have the Chinese done differently that has made their culture and language survive and thrive for 5,000 years?

Answers on a postcard please.

*happy birthday!

There’s no place like home?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – the toughest part about being an expat is the juggling.

In particular, juggling visits to family and in-laws on different continents, trying to keep up with old friends at home and newer friends scattered around the globe. Add in the necessary long-haul flights and this inevitably means that precious holiday days are spent not on actual lazy vacations but rather on cramming in time with as many people as possible when we do get to go home.

No-one is ever satisfied by this. Family members feel slighted that we didn’t spend enough time together and we have the awful, delicate, process of trying to work out who we would most like to see because there is never enough time to see everyone we want to see and our friends have their own demanding lives to deal with. This means Mr B and I just end up exhausted and irritable with each other. And to top it all, we’ve found ourselves back in the throes of some miserable culture-shock upon our return.

Skype and other wonders of modern technology blah, blah, blah, mean that we’re in regular contact with a core group of family and friends but it never feels like enough. Never!

Perhaps underlying this frantic effort is an unconscious desire to maintain a social safety net in case everything goes pear-shaped and we find ourselves camped out with my in-laws (our current “just in case this Recession gets even worse and expat employees are next to go” exit strategy). Perhaps it is just part of the modern condition. Perhaps this is a plea to everyone we know to bear with us, not take anything personally, and most of all to think about coming out East instead.

You know you love me! xoxo

These Are A Few Of My Favourite Things (in Mumbai)

Now that we’re leaving the Maximum City, I thought I’d share a few gems in case any of you are lucky enough to find yourselves in probably the most fascinating city on earth:

1. Britannia: For fabulous Parsi food and a great atmosphere, especially the elderly owner who orders for you on your first visit. As well as the obligatory berry pilao, try the raspberry soda, a Parsi favourite.
2. Kyani: Another fabulous Parsi joint, this time a tea and cake shop. Great rose flavoured milk shakes. Very old school charm.
3. Chamomile: A delicious shop in Bandra selling a great range of Indian designed dresses – pricey normally but brilliant pre-monsoon sales.
4. Good Earth: Sigh. Home stuff shopping heaven, with a lovely cafe to boot. Perfection. I have spent far too much here during our time in Mumbai but do not regret it AT ALL!!!!! There are rumours it may be going online. Watch out if it does. It is SO great.
5. Banganga Tank: A wonderful hidden gem of tranquil space close to Malabar Hill.
6. Tea at the Sea Lounge, Taj Palace Hotel: Possibly the best afternoon tea on the planet. As well as cucumber sandwiches and cakes, a selection of dim sum and other yummy Asian foods are served. I wish we were going to be here when it reopens in Sept 09 following the terrorist attacks.
7. Indigo Deli: Best place for cheese in the south of the city and  a great restaurant for those occasions when you crave western food.
8. Dome: It may be a cliché but it really is the best place in town to watch the sunset over the Arabian Sea.
9. Aarey Dairy Colony: Green and peaceful – feels more like you are in the middle of the countryside than the middle of the city. Try to find someone who lives there to visit the buffalo and look for Aarey ice-cream across Mumbai.
10. Art Deco: Whether it is along Marine Drive, by the central Maidan or hidden away in Bandra, there are beautiful art deco buildings just waiting to be discovered. This city could beat Miami hands down if there was just a bit of a preservation effort.
11. Food and juice stand opposite the Bombay Seamen’s Association in Fort (the street parallel to Britannia). The best batata pav in the city. Delicious! Cheap! And wrapped in ship in port pages so you can check out what cargo is coming in and out of the city. For the best sugar cane juice in the city try the stall on the corner opposite Fab India in Fort (not the one right outside it but across the road).
12. Chimanlals – it is probably a very good thing I only found this place recently. It does amazing stationery, cards and wrapping paper. I LOVE it.
13. Haji Ali- there is something just so exotic about that little island Mosque. It looks incredible at sunset.
14. Black and Yellows – I have to psyche myself up each time I have to take one by myself because I hate being ripped off and there are some real rogues driving them but they are just such a quinessential part of the city. I’m not going to forget a very recent balmy night drive through Byculla to our place with a blaring Bollywood soundtrack. It is going to be a real shame if these tiny taxis are phased out. Although probably better for backs, legs and bums across the city given there is normally zero suspension and about 4 inches of leg room.
15. The irreplaceable M, Mrs M and their family – they’ve made such a difference to our stay here and we will miss them very, very much.

Chalo India

Working outside of India over the last few months (being a good, wage earning wife for once) has meant I’ve travelled in the company of Indians a lot. Its struck me that even journeying to India is good preparation for living in the country itself. Indians in transit are fascinating.

After Italians, I am convinced Indians must rank up there for most likely to be on the phone, constantly. In airport lounges around the world, you will find Indians holding loud conversations. Maybe not quite as loud as the Chinese but almost. And even better, their conversations are largely in English and almost always apolcalyptic which makes them great for eavesdropping (Bollywood films are a reflection of a national tendancy for high drama, I’m sure of it). For example, “I don’t care Manoj! We must get the system booted up again before we have a global disaster on our hands. Do it now!!!” (overheard in Singapore).

Indian travellers are expert packers. They will pack absolutely anything into the most creative packages imagineable and trust the system to deliver them more or less in one piece. This is what years of dealing with British inspired bureaucracy has left behind. There is the ubiquitous cardboard box with copious string/parcel tape/rope, tartan plastic shopping bags, sportsbags, and ancient suitcases. Unless you are a Bollywood superstar and then it is Louis Vuitton all the way (stand up SRK you’ve been spotted).

Mr B and I have also spent many an amusing hour watching the number of wheelchairs in use on India-bound flights. Fair enough for elderly people travelling to see their loved ones over long distances or the truly sick, but take a look next time you’re at an airport. Some of these people are just doing it as an optional extra, just for the fun of it. There is a lesson for us all here. Can’t be bothered to trek from one end of Terminal 5 to the other? Ask for a wheelchair. Want to be first on the plane? Ask for a wheelchair. Want to whizz through security and passport control? You catch my drift. On a recent visit back to Mumbai, I counted a staggering 13 wheelchairs at the ready. If someone is offering a free service, Indians will find a way to benefit.

In airport lounges, Indians invariably end up surrounded by huge amounts of crockery. Indians love a free meal. They will sample absolutely everything on offer because it is free. This is a life skill that the rest of us forget once we stop being students/interns. This is a life skill honed to perfection at Indian weddings.

And if nothing on the menu takes their fancy, or they are not able to get into an airport lounge, there is always the handy tiffin, filled to the brim with delicious home-cooked treats.

In-flight meals are a minefield for Indians, though, and here I truly sympathize as a fellow vegetarian. I was seated next to an irate party of 4 male family members recently. They were rightly upset that the veg meal they had ordered did not turn up. After trying to placate them with fruit plates and copious bread, the Purser was duly summoned (another Indian survival skill: always go up the hierarchy if you want anything done).

After much loud complaining about violation of religious rights and poor customer service, a deal was struck that satisfied all parties. A complimentary gift was offered to smooth the waters, allowing everyone to move on (metaphorically speaking here but in Mumbai, a handy tip for dealing with the traffic police claiming traffic “violations”).

The price? A pack of Singapore Airlines playing cards for each of them.

Chalo India!

Wife School Lesson for the Day: In India, stain remover = neat bleach = ruined shirts.