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Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Shopping Experiences
In the last week I have spent a good amount of time shopping. Janu, a close family friend who is also my age, took me out first. She is going to the U.S. for grad school next month and has been kind enough to let me tag along on her shopping outings when I am looking for something to do. With her, with family and on my own I have been to a wide variety of shoe and suitcase stores, trinket shops on the street, large market bazaars and malls.
One striking similarity was most of the branded/designer stores I went into with Janu played all American music. The strange part was the song selection. In one upscale women's shoe store I heard unedited 50 Cent tracks followed by Sean Paul, except instead of Sean Paul's voice it was some kind of Chipmunk-singing version of his song playing at double speed. But once I got inside GVK One, Hyderabad's most upscale mall, there was a markedly different atmosphere. Although malls here are only about 50,000 to 100,000 square feet (versus Lloyd Center near my house in Portland which is 1.4 million) this one was picture perfect. The place smelled expensive, was expensive and everyone inside was dressed expensively.
I have come to experience how every venue here is catering to a very different crowd, hence the different approaches. The Adidas store Janu and I hit on the street had more employees, different music and different prices than the Adidas store inside GVK One mall. And the guy peddling Adidas knock-offs on the street starts at about half the designer store sticker price and can be bartered down to 10% of that.
The art of bartering is definitely the most interesting part of shopping in India; something that has nearly been phased out of the U.S. market entirely. The malls and large stores here do have set prices but the street bazaars, vendors and auto drivers are all open for negotiation. And when I say open for negotiation I mean you either play the game or you go around paying triple for everything.
While shopping with my cousins at a large arts, crafts and clothing bazaar (Shilparamam) I watched Seema get the price of sandals dropped from 250 Rupees to 100. Granted a 60% price reduction can't be achieved in many situations, but in this one it was.
First guideline to successful bartering is to be a local. Obviously I fail at that so thankfully I have my family to help me out by buying things for me while I hide around the corner.
Second guideline is not to need anything (and if you do, be sure nobody knows it). It's all about your state of mind. For example, in the states I almost never walk 5 miles. If I didn't have a car or bike to use I would find a bus or the metro. But here I have all the time in the world, I'm young and healthy and the weather is always fantastic. Why not walk? I always have the option to grab an auto anywhere if I'm tired but if they ask for too much or give me the "broken meter" routine, walking isn't going to kill me. Only with this mindset written on your face do the prices start falling and the meters start working.
The third guideline: The first person to cave on their original price loses big.
Example: You go to buy a hot dog in the states and the vendor says $10. Obviously ridiculous and you know he won't sell any at that price. You say $2 which is much closer to the going rate and he should probably come down to $8 without much of a fight. When this happens he loses all credibility, looks confused and as long as you keep hammering away at $2 he'll most likely come all the way down to you.
Initiating the compromise is admitting you are overly greedy and/or naive. At this point whoever is looking to compromise admits they are more desperate to make the transaction. This has been tougher for me so far because I was genuinely naive about how much things should truly cost here. But after about a 3 week grace period of idiocy I decided to dust off the economics degree sitting in the back corner of my brain and step up to the plate. I have time, energy and now some idea of the reasonable prices. Everyone I'm dealing with has somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 fierce competitors standing on the same street. Assuming no collusion on their end and/or stupidity on mine, I should come out a winner.
One striking similarity was most of the branded/designer stores I went into with Janu played all American music. The strange part was the song selection. In one upscale women's shoe store I heard unedited 50 Cent tracks followed by Sean Paul, except instead of Sean Paul's voice it was some kind of Chipmunk-singing version of his song playing at double speed. But once I got inside GVK One, Hyderabad's most upscale mall, there was a markedly different atmosphere. Although malls here are only about 50,000 to 100,000 square feet (versus Lloyd Center near my house in Portland which is 1.4 million) this one was picture perfect. The place smelled expensive, was expensive and everyone inside was dressed expensively.
I have come to experience how every venue here is catering to a very different crowd, hence the different approaches. The Adidas store Janu and I hit on the street had more employees, different music and different prices than the Adidas store inside GVK One mall. And the guy peddling Adidas knock-offs on the street starts at about half the designer store sticker price and can be bartered down to 10% of that.
The art of bartering is definitely the most interesting part of shopping in India; something that has nearly been phased out of the U.S. market entirely. The malls and large stores here do have set prices but the street bazaars, vendors and auto drivers are all open for negotiation. And when I say open for negotiation I mean you either play the game or you go around paying triple for everything.
While shopping with my cousins at a large arts, crafts and clothing bazaar (Shilparamam) I watched Seema get the price of sandals dropped from 250 Rupees to 100. Granted a 60% price reduction can't be achieved in many situations, but in this one it was.
First guideline to successful bartering is to be a local. Obviously I fail at that so thankfully I have my family to help me out by buying things for me while I hide around the corner.
Second guideline is not to need anything (and if you do, be sure nobody knows it). It's all about your state of mind. For example, in the states I almost never walk 5 miles. If I didn't have a car or bike to use I would find a bus or the metro. But here I have all the time in the world, I'm young and healthy and the weather is always fantastic. Why not walk? I always have the option to grab an auto anywhere if I'm tired but if they ask for too much or give me the "broken meter" routine, walking isn't going to kill me. Only with this mindset written on your face do the prices start falling and the meters start working.
The third guideline: The first person to cave on their original price loses big.
Example: You go to buy a hot dog in the states and the vendor says $10. Obviously ridiculous and you know he won't sell any at that price. You say $2 which is much closer to the going rate and he should probably come down to $8 without much of a fight. When this happens he loses all credibility, looks confused and as long as you keep hammering away at $2 he'll most likely come all the way down to you.
Initiating the compromise is admitting you are overly greedy and/or naive. At this point whoever is looking to compromise admits they are more desperate to make the transaction. This has been tougher for me so far because I was genuinely naive about how much things should truly cost here. But after about a 3 week grace period of idiocy I decided to dust off the economics degree sitting in the back corner of my brain and step up to the plate. I have time, energy and now some idea of the reasonable prices. Everyone I'm dealing with has somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 fierce competitors standing on the same street. Assuming no collusion on their end and/or stupidity on mine, I should come out a winner.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Language and Education
The past week has been very hectic for my family. Illnesses seem to have found everyone at the same time, including a heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery for my Uncle. Thankfully the surgery went smoothly and everyone is recovering well (including myself after a rough bout of food poisoning). As such the last week has left me a surplus of time to simply sit and listen to my family and fully appreciate how adept they are with different languages.
Much of my family is triligual and has little trouble interpreting for the rest of us on the spot when necessary. This really puts into perspective how pathetic we are in America with anything other than English. Learning Spanish is such a chore to most of us and we spend one decade of forced learning only to reach the aptitude of a gradeschool child.
Necesito usar el bano. Yo tengo hambre. Vamos a la piscina. I could survive south of the U.S. border but literally surviving would max out my current skillset. A native speaker would find me painful to listen to for at least 6 months. My cousin Pilo on the other hand could go to a double feature today of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows followed by Dabaang (Hindi), then give a flawless verbal summary of both in fluent Telugu. In fact my ammumma--who had to forgo finishing high school with 4 children to raise before her 21st birthday--could do the same and then match my spanish proficiency with her Portuguese!
We've got 10 years of formal Spanish education to work with and I will assume more resources than my ammumma had in a 1950's India. I think it's past time for us to step up to the plate in America, tempting as it may be to skate by with only English under our belts.
Much of my family is triligual and has little trouble interpreting for the rest of us on the spot when necessary. This really puts into perspective how pathetic we are in America with anything other than English. Learning Spanish is such a chore to most of us and we spend one decade of forced learning only to reach the aptitude of a gradeschool child.
Necesito usar el bano. Yo tengo hambre. Vamos a la piscina. I could survive south of the U.S. border but literally surviving would max out my current skillset. A native speaker would find me painful to listen to for at least 6 months. My cousin Pilo on the other hand could go to a double feature today of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows followed by Dabaang (Hindi), then give a flawless verbal summary of both in fluent Telugu. In fact my ammumma--who had to forgo finishing high school with 4 children to raise before her 21st birthday--could do the same and then match my spanish proficiency with her Portuguese!
We've got 10 years of formal Spanish education to work with and I will assume more resources than my ammumma had in a 1950's India. I think it's past time for us to step up to the plate in America, tempting as it may be to skate by with only English under our belts.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Scam Artists
Before reading this I want to clarify that the vast majority of people I have encountered here in Hyderabad are very kind and friendly. But wow, if you are 6 feet tall rocking obviously American clothing you have S-U-C-K-E-R stamped all over your face.
The first scam hit me 2 days ago courtesy of an auto-rickshaw driver. I was on my own in a section of town about 10 or 12 kilometers from the apartment. By the time I was ready to come back it was about 8 o'clock. My cousin had warned me when he dropped me off that the auto drivers would try to rip me off and that the true fare from where I was back to our place should be no more than 120 Rupees. He also said to try to find an auto with a working meter. Lucky me, it was raining, I was on a highway without much to look at and only 3 autos were to be found. None had meters. Down the gauntlet I ran.
Auto Driver #1: 250 Rupees, no exceptions. You must be kidding, definitely no.
Auto Driver #2: 200 Rupees final. Still not biting.
Auto Driver #3: 300 Rupees! At this point I was ready to try my luck walking down the highway gutter rather than let these guys mop the floor with my wallet. But seeing my look of disgust this guy immediately dropped to 250. Finally someone to negotiate with! I got him down to 200 and realized that was the best I was gonna get here and now so I took it. He didn't speak English but I know it was 200 final because he showed me the number 200 on his phone with a smile and thumbs up. On went the music and away we flew.
6 Bollywood jams later we get to my stop. I pass two 100 Rupee bills to my driver but as I'm getting out of the cab he turns around and grabs my arm. He puts the money back in my hand and shows me the number 300 on his phone. Is this a joke? I already agreed to pay him pretty much double the going rate and now he's trying to extort triple from me?
Then I realize something.
I'm twice the size of this undernourished Indian cabbie and without a meter he has no evidence of giving me this 25 minute ride. I could take the money he just gave back to me and walk inside of the apartment complex where the security won't allow him to follow.
Then I realize something else.
Every U.S. dollar is worth about 38 Rupees, making this ride about $5 and change. So I believe I did the right thing when I forced my extortionist cabbie to take the 200 we had agreed on and then refrained from giving him an elbow in the sternum when he shoved that phone back into my face with the number 300 on the screen.
Scamming truly is an art here and incident #2 is my case and point. Just yesterday I took my first long walk on my own through the neighborhood. My final destination was a large cineplex and mall that is about 4 kilometers from the apartment. I was almost to the cineplex when a man on the sidewalk told me I had something in my ear. At this point I wasn't paying much attention and said thanks as I brushed off my ear. He persisted and said I missed it and he would get it for me. Being the dazed gullible foreigner I am I acquiesced. He proceeded to whip a cue tip-like stick out of a plastic bag and stick it into my ear in what I'm convinced was less than a second. Next I felt something wet and gritty in my ear and then he placed a pile of what I think was wet sand in my palm.
Somebody hold the phone. I know that didn't just come out of my ear. Noticing my skepticism the man quickly pulled out his "credentials" and handed them over. I looked down and saw a laminated blue card that had "Licensed Ear Cleaner" typed across the top. Before I could read the rest of the garbage in front of me my good samaritan ear cleaner pointed to the emboldened price of 500 Rupees per stone removed. Then he showed me the small pebble embedded in the pile of dirty sand that supposedly came out of my ear.
Don't worry, I've been asking myself how I could possibly allow things to get this far for the last 48 hours. But in my defense walking the streets of Hyderabad is no easy task. There are no sidewalks or signals, the streets are largely unnamed and every vehicle is set on running you off the road. Amidst all this I was trying to walk 4 kilometers without getting lost. Differentiating the scammers from the neighborly folks gets a lot harder with all of that on your mind. But that being said, I did finally wake up when I took a look at that ear cleaning license. At that point I was ready to throw him over the nearest overpass, but at the same time I had to hand it to him. This whole routine was so unprecedented that I had no idea what to make of it. If he hadn't shown me that ridiculous homemade license I might have actually tipped him some money and continued toward my destination in a daze. But seeing as he did show me, I put the card back into his shirt pocket and gave him the most disgusted look I could muster in hopes of drowning him in shame (unlikely) before shaking my head and walking away.
Needless to say karma owed me huge at this point and started to repay the debt with a decent, metered auto ride home where everyone got a good laugh out of my experience.
The first scam hit me 2 days ago courtesy of an auto-rickshaw driver. I was on my own in a section of town about 10 or 12 kilometers from the apartment. By the time I was ready to come back it was about 8 o'clock. My cousin had warned me when he dropped me off that the auto drivers would try to rip me off and that the true fare from where I was back to our place should be no more than 120 Rupees. He also said to try to find an auto with a working meter. Lucky me, it was raining, I was on a highway without much to look at and only 3 autos were to be found. None had meters. Down the gauntlet I ran.
Auto Driver #1: 250 Rupees, no exceptions. You must be kidding, definitely no.
Auto Driver #2: 200 Rupees final. Still not biting.
Auto Driver #3: 300 Rupees! At this point I was ready to try my luck walking down the highway gutter rather than let these guys mop the floor with my wallet. But seeing my look of disgust this guy immediately dropped to 250. Finally someone to negotiate with! I got him down to 200 and realized that was the best I was gonna get here and now so I took it. He didn't speak English but I know it was 200 final because he showed me the number 200 on his phone with a smile and thumbs up. On went the music and away we flew.
6 Bollywood jams later we get to my stop. I pass two 100 Rupee bills to my driver but as I'm getting out of the cab he turns around and grabs my arm. He puts the money back in my hand and shows me the number 300 on his phone. Is this a joke? I already agreed to pay him pretty much double the going rate and now he's trying to extort triple from me?
Then I realize something.
I'm twice the size of this undernourished Indian cabbie and without a meter he has no evidence of giving me this 25 minute ride. I could take the money he just gave back to me and walk inside of the apartment complex where the security won't allow him to follow.
Then I realize something else.
Every U.S. dollar is worth about 38 Rupees, making this ride about $5 and change. So I believe I did the right thing when I forced my extortionist cabbie to take the 200 we had agreed on and then refrained from giving him an elbow in the sternum when he shoved that phone back into my face with the number 300 on the screen.
Scamming truly is an art here and incident #2 is my case and point. Just yesterday I took my first long walk on my own through the neighborhood. My final destination was a large cineplex and mall that is about 4 kilometers from the apartment. I was almost to the cineplex when a man on the sidewalk told me I had something in my ear. At this point I wasn't paying much attention and said thanks as I brushed off my ear. He persisted and said I missed it and he would get it for me. Being the dazed gullible foreigner I am I acquiesced. He proceeded to whip a cue tip-like stick out of a plastic bag and stick it into my ear in what I'm convinced was less than a second. Next I felt something wet and gritty in my ear and then he placed a pile of what I think was wet sand in my palm.
Somebody hold the phone. I know that didn't just come out of my ear. Noticing my skepticism the man quickly pulled out his "credentials" and handed them over. I looked down and saw a laminated blue card that had "Licensed Ear Cleaner" typed across the top. Before I could read the rest of the garbage in front of me my good samaritan ear cleaner pointed to the emboldened price of 500 Rupees per stone removed. Then he showed me the small pebble embedded in the pile of dirty sand that supposedly came out of my ear.
Don't worry, I've been asking myself how I could possibly allow things to get this far for the last 48 hours. But in my defense walking the streets of Hyderabad is no easy task. There are no sidewalks or signals, the streets are largely unnamed and every vehicle is set on running you off the road. Amidst all this I was trying to walk 4 kilometers without getting lost. Differentiating the scammers from the neighborly folks gets a lot harder with all of that on your mind. But that being said, I did finally wake up when I took a look at that ear cleaning license. At that point I was ready to throw him over the nearest overpass, but at the same time I had to hand it to him. This whole routine was so unprecedented that I had no idea what to make of it. If he hadn't shown me that ridiculous homemade license I might have actually tipped him some money and continued toward my destination in a daze. But seeing as he did show me, I put the card back into his shirt pocket and gave him the most disgusted look I could muster in hopes of drowning him in shame (unlikely) before shaking my head and walking away.
Needless to say karma owed me huge at this point and started to repay the debt with a decent, metered auto ride home where everyone got a good laugh out of my experience.
Friday, December 10, 2010
First Impressions
After 22 hours of flight time and a borderline inhumane layover in Singapore I finally made it to Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh (India). I am staying with my cousin Pilo, his wife Seema and two daughters Sasha (3 years old) and Samya (3 months old). We stay in an apartment in an older neighborhood near the heart of the city. So far most of our time has been spent shopping and eating out.
Lesson #1 from shopping: Standing in line is war. If you aren't standing within 4 inches of the person in front of you then you aren't standing in line. Indians can muscle into space in front of me that I didn't even know was there. What I need to realize is that most of them aren't doing it on purpose, it's just how you have to be to get things done here. If you're trying to be polite in the grocery line then you just aren't going to eat. There is no time or room here for western inventions like "personal bubbles of space."
Traffic here goes by the same principles; organized chaos. Signals do exist and cars have working turn signals (i think), but that's just white noise for everyone on the road. Driving here is more like go-cart racing, except with scooters, auto-rickshaws (motorized 3-wheeled cabs), cars, buses and people everywhere. At first I was sure it was pure chaos but the more I ride with Pilo the more I notice the rhythm of things. Honking and body language are legitimate tools for communication here. This is a brand new concept for someone from the states where honking and body language are used solely for unleashing rage.
Eating out has been fantastic. Everything is exploding with spices and flavor and the staff always treats us like guests in their home. But they usually have to feel me out first. I am pretty much the whitest guy in every restaurant and all of my Jordan brand attire usually sinches the fact that I'm not from around here. But when I'm sitting with Pilo there is a bit of a family resemblance and our server is never bashful on confronting Pilo over who and what I am. At first after finding out I'm American they refuse to let me order anything spicier than plain bread. But Pilo is always quick to explain that our mothers are sisters and that makes us brothers and I will have exactly what he's having. This always satisfies them and they turn to me with a bright smile and an Indian head sway. While we're eating everyone comes by our table to chat with us, play with the girls and many times just watch approvingly as the young american kid eats his dosa and chutney.
There is really nothing western about where we are but I am finding that for every American luxury that I am missing there is an Indian luxury that replaces it. Hyderabad is growing rapidly as one of India's largest tech centers and has a western side that I am happy to be removed from. I would love to visit the brand new multiplexes and malls, but I am happiest living where the cultural flavor of the city is strongest. Pilo is showing me India in a way that only a local can.
Lesson #1 from shopping: Standing in line is war. If you aren't standing within 4 inches of the person in front of you then you aren't standing in line. Indians can muscle into space in front of me that I didn't even know was there. What I need to realize is that most of them aren't doing it on purpose, it's just how you have to be to get things done here. If you're trying to be polite in the grocery line then you just aren't going to eat. There is no time or room here for western inventions like "personal bubbles of space."
Traffic here goes by the same principles; organized chaos. Signals do exist and cars have working turn signals (i think), but that's just white noise for everyone on the road. Driving here is more like go-cart racing, except with scooters, auto-rickshaws (motorized 3-wheeled cabs), cars, buses and people everywhere. At first I was sure it was pure chaos but the more I ride with Pilo the more I notice the rhythm of things. Honking and body language are legitimate tools for communication here. This is a brand new concept for someone from the states where honking and body language are used solely for unleashing rage.
Eating out has been fantastic. Everything is exploding with spices and flavor and the staff always treats us like guests in their home. But they usually have to feel me out first. I am pretty much the whitest guy in every restaurant and all of my Jordan brand attire usually sinches the fact that I'm not from around here. But when I'm sitting with Pilo there is a bit of a family resemblance and our server is never bashful on confronting Pilo over who and what I am. At first after finding out I'm American they refuse to let me order anything spicier than plain bread. But Pilo is always quick to explain that our mothers are sisters and that makes us brothers and I will have exactly what he's having. This always satisfies them and they turn to me with a bright smile and an Indian head sway. While we're eating everyone comes by our table to chat with us, play with the girls and many times just watch approvingly as the young american kid eats his dosa and chutney.
There is really nothing western about where we are but I am finding that for every American luxury that I am missing there is an Indian luxury that replaces it. Hyderabad is growing rapidly as one of India's largest tech centers and has a western side that I am happy to be removed from. I would love to visit the brand new multiplexes and malls, but I am happiest living where the cultural flavor of the city is strongest. Pilo is showing me India in a way that only a local can.
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