Kerala Weekend

Kate, Angela and I arrived in Kerala via Air IndiGo. The flight was a relatively quick 2 hours from Hyderabad for the ladies and I'd been able to stay on the same plane from Delhi.

We spent the first night in Cochin before heading south a few hours to tour the Keralan backwaters.

To show some of the places we went, I created this interactive map. Double click to zoom in, or click the blue markers to expand them and see links to photos:


View Kerala in a larger map

On Sunday we did some sight seeing around Alleppey, headed north to Fort Cochin and finally headed to the airport after a wonderful vacation.

Taj Mahal

Talking Politics, Mr. Tambourine Man

Today I had the amazing fortune to tag along with Becky on another journey across India to meet more members of her new extended family: this time in our own back yard, Gurgaon. We left with our cab driver Amit and drove about 10 minutes to Sector 31 where we met Paranjoy Guha Thakurta. Though Becky has explained the relation to me twice now, I'm still a bit confused about the specifics as to how she will become related to him. That aside, we had a delightful time talking to Paranjoy. He's an accomplished professor, author and journalist. In excellent English he went to some trouble to describe to us the political system in India (the largest democracy in the world with 1.1 billion people), the changing face of India (increasing literacy, decreasing poverty and increasing newspaper readership as a result) and his opinions on a number of recent political events such as the recent "shoe incident" during the elections http://www.panthic.org/news/129/ARTICLE/4919/2009-04-17.html.

When speaking with him, I was struck by not only his scholarly brilliance (as he quoted politicians, cited various statistics and referenced major historical events) but also by his compassion for those around him. As we sat in the living room, he alternated bouncing his 5 year old son on his lap, dancing with his 7 year old daughter to the tune of the cassette playing in surround sound and educating Becky and I on the world we had now found ourselves in.

Though I could have sat there all day, eventually more family members arrived and we broke for lunch. We had sushi at a delicious Japanese place just across town. After some prawns, veggies, pork dumplings and rice we headed back to Paranjoy's place where Anshuman (who we'd stayed with in Hong Kong) played some Dylan tunes on his acoustic guitar while Paranjoy played the harmonica and Becky and I sang.

Before long, Paranjoy rushed off to Delhi to tie things up at the office, Anshuman to meet with his new girl "friend", and I was left to think about how lucky I was to have had such a wonderful Saturday afternoon in a small, cool living room, away from the heat, chorus of honking and general chaos outside on the streets of Gurgaon.

Wedding Crashers

The wedding was beautiful! The Indian people love color and aren’t afraid to show it. Saris of the most beautiful fabrics, made with gold leaf, red, pink or turquoise dye shimmered as the sun set. The wedding ceremony (which was just about to commence after 4 days of build up, prayer, parties and the like) began with the groom’s party arriving through the gates. There was music, dancing and much joy and everyone was still in the parking lot! As the groom (and his entourage) approached the hotel entrance, the bridal party blocked the entrance, teasing him and demanding gifts in Hindi. I was told that this tradition began when the sisters of the bride used to keep the groom out of the house before he came to take her away (to his family). The sisters could teased and bribed to comply with the groom’s heartfelt desire to meet his bride. An hour had passed and we were just now entering the building! The whole wedding followed the groom upstairs where another hour went by before the bride was brought in. In stark contrast to the groom’s gallant entrance, and as opposed to western weddings, the bride entered with her family and friends quietly and through the side door of the room. For her this day was to be a solemn one, as she was to lose her parents. Regardless of how she actually was feeling at the time, this tradition comes from the fact that historically most Indian marriages are arranged and little, if any, contact existed between the bride and groom before the wedding. As such, the bride would normally have mixed feelings about leaving her family to join a stranger known only to her parents.

This wedding too was an arranged marriage. Earlier in the day we’d been told that the mother of the bride was open to allowing her children to find their own match, but as marriage age had come for her, she had reached out and asked for help. The mother had networked within the community, and found a suitable Indian groom who also lived in New York and was of age. The bride’s and groom’s parents met and arrangements were made. Departing a bit from tradition, the young couple had met and had a chance to get to know each other before their wedding day since they are both living in New York. They looked excited, a bit nervous but quite committed to each other and whatever their future together would hold back in New York. We watched the entire ceremony, the exchange of garlands and the 7 revolutions around the fire. Most of the wedding was conducted in Sanskrit which had to be translated to Hindi for the crowd, bride and groom. When it was all said and done, we went back downstairs for the final reception, dinner, drinks and dancing.

Mom & Dad – when you read this, please don’t offer any traditional Indian “help”.

Vineeta's Place

Vineeta was the first one of Becky’s inlaws (to be) I had a chance to meet. After lunch we invited ourselves over early to wait for the rest of the family. A Chandigarh local, she’s been living there for several decades now. Saying that we were greeted warmly does not do it justice. The apartment was cool and comfortable and as we stepped in, I was introduced to Bua, the eldest living member of the family. Both of the tiny elderly women threw their arms around us and exclaimed how much they loved Becky, the newest daughter in the family, and loved me for having accompanied her safely on such a long journey. They doted on us offering snacks, water and a Coca Cola Light before sitting with us in the living room to hear of our day’s adventures, families back home and the travels we’d made.
As the rest of the family arrived, I had a chance to meet Auntie and Uncle Shankar (Auntie and Uncle being terms of endearment and respect in Indian families). Anshuman (who we’d stayed with in Hong Kong) was also here for the wedding and so the 7 of us shared a late afternoon meal as we joked in the living room. Auntie, Vineeta and Bua then let us know that they’d like to do a little ceremony to celebrate the engagement. If I didn’t feel like part of the family before this moment, I sure did then. Gifts were given and they prayed to bless Becky’s marriage while I snapped pictures. It was an incredibly warm, heartfelt ceremony and I felt lucky to be there!

Sight Seeing in Chandigarh

I woke up on Saturday morning and, remembering my weariness the night before on account of Becky’s bug experience, checked my limbs and face for bites. Finding them clean I sat up relieved and went for my first “Indian shower” as Megan had termed it late our first night in town. What she meant was that instead of a shower head like we’d be used to in North America, there was a bucket, a faucet on the wall and a drain in the corner. The water heater was off even though we’d asked to verify that it was on the night before. I’ve learned that sometimes “yes” is sometimes a polite way to say yes, no or ‘I have no idea’ in the event that something was lost in translation between English and Hindi.
I met Becky for breakfast where I was able to point to an egg in the fridge and have it hard-boiled for me to accompany my morning tea. Intent on finding some new accommodations, Becky and I packed up and put our things into the Tata Indica which we’d hired for the day (an Indica is similar to a ‘smart car’ in size but manufactured by Tata which is a massive corporation in India who makes just about everything). We went first to Sukhna Lake.
Chandigarh is famous for being the planned city of India. The urban scene reminds me ever so slightly of suburban California with its clean tree-lined streets, sunny skies and the feel of organization in the air. When Chandigarh was built, they demolished the entire are and started tabula rasa. In the process I understand a lot of waste was created and so was born the Rock Garden which was the next stop on our tour. A man named Nek Chand Saini who was fed up with the town’s wasteful behaviour decided to take it upon himself to make something of the waste that the government was creating. The resulting labyrinth through commandeered government land was ahead of its time. Now renowned as the second most popular tourist attraction in India, second only to the Taj Mahal, it stands as monument to recycling, art and represents another one of India’s great juxtapositions.
I told Becky that if I had one word to describe my experience so far in India, it would be juxtaposition. There are many things here that I’ve encountered in my life in the US but never within the context I’ve found them here. I’ve been shocked and tickled at times by the things that will show up in totally fresh places here in India.
Back home I’ve seen cows, but never on the freeway. I’ve seen children but never on the train tracks. I’ve seen families of four but never all riding the same Honda motorcycle. The Rock Garden of Chandigarh is a place where many everyday items have been meticulously arranged in ways that look out of place to the western eye. As such, I thought it quite appropriate that this would be such a celebrated national monument.
We procured tickets to the Rock Garden from a little hole in the wall for about 100 rupees each. We entered through a chest-high stone gate into the maze of pebbles, ceramics, glass, electrical components and volcanic pumice which together formed a 2-8 foot wide cavern. As we walked forward along the path, it was like tracing a dried up river bed which had slowly carved its way into the ground. The resulting canyon walls on either side of us varied in height from a few feet to well over 60 feet tall. Like a natural canyon, the decorated walls created a cross sectional view into Chandigarh’s history, preserving the materials that had made up the landscape of yesteryear for generations to come. I enjoyed making my way through the chasm, snapping pictures as I went, as we passed fountains, waterfalls and eventually thousands of miniature statues.
A sign pointed towards ‘phase 3’ which indicated to me that I’d just passed phases one and two though it wasn’t clear to me what the distinction was. Making our way to phase 3 involved ducking under several more chest high bridges and meandering around another magnificent waterfall before finally entering a wide open courtyard with 40 foot walls, a bounce house, an aquarium, a vendor selling cotton candy and soda, a swing set and a man giving some children rides on a camel. Another amazing juxtaposition! Far from what I’d expected to find around the bend, Becky and I enjoyed photographing the children running circles around us for the better part of an hour before retracing our steps toward the exit to greet our waiting taxi.

“Welcome to Chandighar”

In Chandigar, we stepped off the train into the deafening roar of barn swallows. The thousands of tiny birds who had taken up residence in the rafters above the train platform did not appreciate being so rudely disturbed by our train’s arrival and they had no qualms about expressing their discontent. As we walked down the platform, unable to hear one another, Becky and I scanned the crowd for signs or instructions. We started walking down the station and I noticed two well dressed, official looking men standing about 5’3” with their backs to us and signs displayed towards other disembarking passengers. Remembering our experience at Delhi international, I thought better than to ignore them and made my way around for a better look. Sure enough, our names verbatim from our passports, were displayed prominently on an 8.5X11 sheet of paper taped to a slightly larger piece of white cardboard. “Hello” I said, pointing to the sign. “Mr Bowman?” one of the Indian men asked. I smiled and said, “no, Mr. Powel. Nice to meet you.” “Welcome to Chandighar” he said.
They took our rollaway bags, turned and began walking south at a quick pace. Becky and I walked briskly to keep up, meandering our way through the crowded train platform. We hopped in our car and were whisked off to the guest house. Another “typical” driving experience in India, our driver laid on the horn more often than he let off it. When we arrived we were greeted by a staff of 3 who hurried to cook us dinner of Chicken, vegetables and rice which is becoming somewhat of a staple in my diet. At dinner, we were joined by a young thirtysomething named Sandeep who was also staying at the same guest house. Our bedrooms were part of a government audit building and Sandeep was staying there for a three month training. Again, since we were in town for a family event, Becky’s new in-laws took care of arranging the accommodations. The rooms were far from 5 star and Becky discovered a large bug on her pillow shortly before bed but at a rate of 100 rupees a night (about 2 dollars US) I figured you get what you pay for.

Northward on the Jan Shatabdi

As I’m writing, Becky and I are traveling north on the Jan Shatabdi train through the Indian countryside. Overall the train ride has been pleasant. We’re riding with assigned seats in an air-conditioned car which makes a big difference when the ambient temperature is 90+. The 2nd class commuter trains we saw when getting ready to leave from the Delhi train station were packed and I was concerned that our first attempt at booking our own train ticket might have yielded us more of an “adventure” than I’d signed up for. The commuter car was standing room only and the barred windows made the passengers inside look like prisoners as they hung their limbs outside grasping for fresh air. Even more concerning was the process by which excess passengers were literally pushed onto the train as it began to inch northward out of the station. When we made our way over to platform 11 and saw our accommodations I was much relieved. Now I’d say that our train is hardly luxurious by US standards, and on account of the roaches, I’d put it just below a greyhound bus in terms of luxury, but compared to what I’ve seen, I’m quite content with our current mode of transport.
As we pass through town, city, fields and then the next towns I’m struck by the cultural transformation that appears to be going on here. Juxtaposed I see industrial buildings with solar panels on the roof adjacent to rural fields of wheat where day laborers work tirelessly in the hot sun to harvest bundles of grain. Wheat is a huge part of the Indian economy and I was told that India produces much of the world's wheat supply globally.
At each train station we make a brief pause long enough to see the little heads of children bobbing past as they play or collect empty bottles on the tracks below the station platform. When the train picks up speed we pass through shanties with tarps draped over poles for rooftops and sari-clad Indian women walking barefoot along dirt paths. The train buzzes further and we pass a pool of filthy standing water where emaciated holy cows graze through multicolored human waste in search of nutrients. I find myself wondering why someone doesn’t take care to feed the cows, given their holy status in India, but I suppose mere mortals aren’t intended to intervene in such matters.
In many of the more rural fields there are two other types of man-made structures. What I think are clay or manure conical structures about 10 feet in diameter and 8 feet tall might serve as either storage, stoves or maybe even small residences. I’ll have to ask someone. The second structure is brick, and cube-like about 10 feet on all sides. The windows and electricity lines which characterize a percentage of these structures lead me to believe that these are likely to be residences.
Our fellow passengers in the first class car are quite friendly. Several coordinated in their best English to juggle assigned seats so that Becky and I can now sit together. They helped us to procure a cold Pepsi from the vendor passing through the cabin and watched to ensure we got proper change. The woman behind us truly represents the future of India. A middle aged woman, well dressed and poised, for the past 5 years has worked to help impoverished children get educated and to provide scholarships for as much as 10% of new enrolling classes in private school. She has also worked with an organization to improve the working conditions of many of India’s factories by encouraging companies to think long term about their employee’s health and improve air quality by installing systems to remove pollutants from the air inside the buildings. We enjoyed speaking together for some time but I figured I’d relax for the remainder of the trip and take some time to jot down my thoughts.

Old Delhi

Office Life

I haven’t written much on the office or the team here in Gurgaon to date but I’m quite amazed by the way that Google has been able to replicate the office experience here halfway around the world. Though from the outside things look different, there are many reasons to feel at home in the office.
Decor is the standard Google colors against a white canvas of drywall. The lobby looks like most other Google lobbies, and the cafe reminds me of the Namaste station in Charlie’s cafe in Mountain View serving up curries, naan and veggies. The most important similarity has to be the kindness and intelligence of the people. I’ve immediately felt at home, hitting the gym with Abhijit after work, going to lunch with a crew of 8-12 and attending too many meetings. It’s very Googley. I’m excited about the 12 weeks ahead but I’m already feeling the time crunch. There is a lot I want to share with and learn from the teams here and such little time to do it all in. I’ve worked this week to start setting up a calendar for myself to manage the many projects I’d like to accomplish.
There is a large mental shift going on in the office right now whereby management is moving from a top down focus on productivity to a new focus on revenue & proactive relationship building as initiated by the team members themselves. Having been through such a transition in Mountain View, I think that I can offer significant perspective and guidance on what it means to be proactive and how to succeed with such ambiguously defined roles. The challenge is that in some ways, top down instruction is pervasive in Indian culture. I’ll share an example from the office. There is a series of bathroom stall newsletters put out in North America called “learning on the loo” or LOTL for short, where best practices on a multitude of subjects are shared with the broader team. One example from North America might be how to more effectively use Gmail labels to organize your inbox.
In the Gurgaon office, the first example I encountered of the local rendition of LOTL described “how to tell a story” including a 4 step process to set the scene, personify the characters, give the details and finally the conclusion. When I saw this, I thought that a 4 step process to spontaneity seemed a bit ironic but also in some ways documenting characteristics that I’ve found successful is almost certainly a method I’ll implore here. That being said, my hope is that by focusing on the reasoning behind the decisions I’ve made during the past 2 years as a Relationship Manager rather than just the decisions themselves, I’ll be able to equip the teams here to cope with similarly ambiguous tasks in the future and achieve great things for Google and themselves in the process.

A Day in the Life

My first day in the office was almost shockingly productive. The office here is mainly concentrated on the 9th floor of the building with some spillover onto the 8th. The DCS (dedicated client service) portion of the team, which I am working closely with, sits on one half of the building and is only comprised of about 50 people from my best estimate. This is a stark contrast with the massive DCS team in North America spanning 4 offices & with far more people than one could meet.

On the first day I had a chance to sit down with my new manager Amarpreet, who's a quite nice, and a very charismatic guy. He's new to this role but not to Google & I think we'll have a lot to learn from each other.

I also met all of the account managers who work with teams in the US. There are only 7 of them - and this is the core team I'll be working closest with for the three months I'm here. Many of them I've met over video conference in the past, but it was amazing how much more I could learn (and teach) with a half hour of 1:1 time.

I still have yet to successfully post pictures to my picasa account, and because I've still got mild jet lag, I suspect that I won't get around to it for another day or two.

First Impressions

Gurgaon so far is amazing. I haven't yet unpacked or really gotten settled in but it's warm, humid, quite windy and sunny outside. Inside the 5 bedroom apartment is incredible. It's massive. My room is larger than my room at home, the floors are marble and ceilings are about 12 feet tall. Arif who is our staff manager is incredibly friendly. I had some chai tea this morning which was quite good!

Brunch in India is a bit of a ritual for the expats. We got in the car and headed to a place called AI which had all you can eat (and drink) with a live Jazz duo to provide the backdrop. We sat outside in the shade and I imagined all my friends and family sleeping on the other side of the world and how amazing it was that every night when I slept, across the world, someone was sitting at brunch in the sun just living the dream.

We then went to the market so that Becky and I could get traditional Indian formal wear for the wedding we plan to attend this coming weekend. Becky and Megan had quite a fun time trying on many brightly colored fabrics as the local shop owners doted on them while I took photos. Then we went to the open market so that I could get my outfit. I tried on a shirt and traditional outfit, priced at $1300 rupees (about $26 dollars) and satisfied with my find, I made my purchase.

We left and the market was bustling! I've never been to a busier place. Cars & motorcycles slowly pushed their way through the crowd of people, rickshaws, dogs, goats and cattle tooting their horns frequently as the moved. There were no lanes on the roads yet there seems to be a sort of protocol understood by the locals as to when one should yield, flash your brights, use your turning signals or beep your horn. I'm thankful to have someone else doing the driving though when I get back to the states, even NYC will be tame by comparison.

Arrival

We arrived after 2 AM local time at Delhi International. Becky is extremly 'well connected' as indicated by the fact that we had someone waiting for us with a sign as soon as we got off the plane to help us through security and to the baggage claim. Customs took 3 minutes, I waited about an hour for my bags to arrive, then as we exited, Megan Mackh (a 15 month Delhi veteran originally from the Mountain View office) and her driver were waiting for us.

We drove back to the apartments and though the roads were empty at 330 AM, I could tell that driving in India was going to be a different experience.

The Departure

The flight to Hong Kong was long. Becky and I had left San Francisco about two hours behind schedule. We sat near the back of the Boeing 747-400 and had isle seats opposite each-other.

When I went to Spain in 2006 I had debilitating jet lag for the better part of a week. While packing for my India journey, my roommate Wes advised me to stay up until I am synced with my new ‘local time’ since that’s how the ski racers do it. Knowing myself, I didn’t think that it was realistic to stay up for a day and a half, so I had decided that I’d heed his advice and try to think of myself on HK time as soon as I got on the flight.
Therefore, when we boarded at 330 PM PST it was already 630AM in Hong Kong.I figured it was already a ‘late night’, took an Ambien and conked out for about four hours. When I could sleep no more I stirred, watched four new releases on my personal seat-back entertainment system (thank you Cathay Pacific Airlines), listened to a CD, and after about 14 hours of travel time we were in Tai Pei.

Now, because of a combination of un-seasonally late ‘winter head winds’ and potentially because of a volcanic eruption in Alaska, we had to stop in Tai Pei to re-fuel. I was suspicious of the crew change and wondered why the Pilot would get off only an hour from our original destination, but decided that if I was too tired to drive, our pilot might be too.

The turnaround lasted about an hour and by 9 PM local time (6AM back on the west coast) we were on our flight again to Hong Kong. I passed out immediately and awoke to a relatively proud announcement on the PA system that our pilot had found a ‘short cut’ from Taipei to Hong Kong. I was relieved to be touching down.

After we got off the plane I was impressed by the efficiency with which passengers were herded to their connecting flights. A Cathay Pacific employee busily placed stickers on weary travellers indicating their connecting flight numbers. Since HK was my destination for the night, I was able to proceed unbranded to the next station where our temperature was monitored. I wanted to stop to take a picture of the ‘no hats’ sign, which I inferred was allowing the young Chinese man watching an infrared camera to spot sick travellers in need of quarantine.

While waiting to proceed through customs, I connected to the free wifi connection and sent home an email to my parents letting them know that Becky and I had arrived safely. The internet is cool. This was one of many moments I’ve already had when I’ve stopped briefly in awe to ponder our global community.
Anshuman was waiting for us as we exited baggage claim. I realized that this was the first time Becky had seen him since he had achieved the status of family for her; brother-in-law to be precise. Walking out into the massive terminal I was impressed by how English-friendly Hong Kong seemed to be. Signs for the train, even advertisements had massive English translations. Anshuman made me feel quite at home, a gracious host he jumped to grab us tickets for the 24 minute train-ride to down town from the airport and then escorted us to the train, lugging two of our massive, over-weight bags behind him.

The train was beautiful. Similar to the experience I’d had in Japan, the mass transit systems in Hong Kong are amazing. Made me really hope that Obama makes the type of infrastructure investments that I’ve been imagining he might. It’s a great experience when mass transit just works.
I was feeling quite good all things considered. Awake and relatively alert I stared out the train window as we made our short ride downtown. We arrived at Anshuman’s 55th floor apartment at about 11 or 1130 PM local time, changed, and went up to the rooftop to take some panoramic night images. I kicked myself for not having brought the manual for my DSLR but managed to take some mediocre images using ‘night mode’.

Then we went out. Man, Hong Kong can party! It was already after 1 AM local time when we set out walking to the bars. I wasn’t sure what to expect. As we walked I was impressed by the number of English speaking Caucasians we passed. Hong Kong is quite cosmopolitan and I had to remind myself that this was only a brief stop-over on our journey to India. We made it to the location where Journey’s new front man was discovered. There was live music there, but Anshuman told us that we could find a better spot. As we rounded the corner, the party literally spilled out into the street. It was standing room only and we were outside the clubs still! People were drinking, dancing and as we passed a group of about 15 people wearing togas I thought I might be in for a wild night. I was somewhat relieved when the club Anshuman had chosen to take us to, ‘insomnia’ was actually a bit tame in comparison. It was a tiny place, dark and smoky with low ceilings but as we walked past the bar, I could see that it kept going quite far back into the depths of the building. The stage was right next to the dance floor and as the cover band started to rock, everyone got up to dance. There was so much energy in the room that I barely noticed it get to be a bit after 3 AM.

The three of us stumbled home and back to Anshuman’s apartment where he graciously made us our beds. Given the time difference I had a chance to call home briefly and touch base with Dad while Becky got a ‘heart to heart’ talking to from Anshuman upstairs on the roof.

I really can’t say enough about how lucky I feel to be taken care of by such fantastic people. Our gracious host made this stay in Hong Kong not only comfortable & convenient but so much more. Though nervous when I departed, I’m feeling great about having taken the risk to set out on this adventure and the lasting memories I’ll have as a result.