Showing posts with label mumbai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mumbai. Show all posts

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Tired of Indian men

After several mostly hassle-free weeks, Indian men have amped up the harassment factor. Yes, they have always stared and leered and made smooching noises, but before this week, no one but little boys actually touched me.

So first, while walking around Old Delhi, someone slid his hand down my butt. I whirled around. “WHAT THE FUCK! DON’T DO THAT!” I smacked him in the chest. He didn’t look at me, and moved to the other side, and I turned toward him and smacked him again on the chest. The guy tried to point to another guy, but he was the only one there when I turned around. My guy friend grabbed the culprit and muttered something, though I doubt my harasser understood.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Breaking point in India

I yelled, “I HATE INDIA!” today. I’m not proud of it. But I just had it with the bureaucracy here. I just wanted to mail a package home. When I did it in Delhi, it took three trips to the post office. On the first trip, I learned that post offices don’t sell mailing boxes (which the men at my hotel had claimed). On my second trip, I learned that you have to sew a white cloth around the box. On my third trip, I finally managed to mail the package.

I thought I was ready in Mumbai. The day before the attempted mailing, I stopped by the General Post Office (GPO) and was directed to a man who sews the white cloth around parcels. We agreed that I’d bring my items the next day and he’d have a box ready. By 4:10 pm, I was there. He commenced packing, I commenced filling out the proper forms.

At 4:40 pm, he walked with me to the appropriate counter at the massive post office. Really, the process should have ended there. But no. The system was down. I waited for half an hour as they hoped the system would come back up. Finally, I went to the desk. “What can I do, ma’am, there is nothing I can do.” “Can you do some of this by hand? Just weigh it and charge me?” “No, there is nothing I can do.” “There must be something you can do, I’m leaving for Goa tonight.” (that added to the frustration) “I cannot help you, miss.”

My wonderful father has died

Hao Van Vu, who left Vietnam after the war and built a new life in southern California, died on Feb. 20 after a lengthy battle with lun...