So, week one is done and things have certainly improved since my last entry (in the blog, obviously.).
This is a lengthy one btw, with a few digressions into my inner monologue so try and bear with me...
Saturday, I went for lunch in a nice restaurant with Phil, the MD over here. Gutted to find that smoking is not allowed in any public building here (officially anyway)... upsetting but hey, shit happens. After lunch, Phil came to check out the apartment (and the young boy situation) and agreed it probably wasn’t ideal. Within an hour, Phil and his driver helped me move to a hotel room at a nice place in Bandra West while Phil took a few days to check out better places for me to live – nice one Phil!
At this point, there are a couple of things worth elaborating on:
1 – Bandra West is a bit like Mumbai’s answer to Shoredicth.
Its not really pretentious but has a nice style about it and there are cool bars and restaurants around. Having said that, there is probably less chance of you getting knifed for your trainers here than back in the Ditch.
2 – Phil has a personal driver, full time... amazing!
The drivers name is Jitan. His day consists of commuting to Phil’s gaff using public transport, then waiting outside to drive Phil to work then going back to Phil’s gaff and waits about so that if and when his girlfriend need to go anywhere, he is on hand. At 6-ish (or whatever late hour he gets done), he drives to pick Phil up and the process carries on into the evening if he fancies going out for a few beers or a meal etc..
I genuinely believe every man should have a personal chauffer. Phil has kindly furnished me with use of Jitab for a few work commutes, a flat move and even a trip to the booze shop to pick up a ten pack of kingfisher for my apartment.
Seriously though, I have seen the light... for years I have thought that being too lazy and irresponsible to learn how to drive would somehow stop me from ever owning a car, not so. Here, it is perfectly acceptable to own a car and pay someone else to drive it for you!!!
Saturday evening I went for Dinner at the MCA (Mumbai Cricket Association) with Avi (the Product Manager here) Mohan, who had by this stage forgiven me for getting him up in the early hours the day prior (during what shall here forth be known as young boy-gate). Now the MCA is a pretty nice establishment with the bar and restaurant overlooking the cricket ground. Its a ‘members only’ venue with an almost Masonic vibe which made me feel like I should have either brought some cream chinos, or at the very least a leather apron.
We were welcomed through the door so I assumed that Mohan was a member, given his standing in the community ... then again, they may have just taken one look at me with my pasty complexion, in a baby pink shirt, sporting a shiny ginger quiff, and assumed that I was British aristocracy.
After the meal, Mohan headed home and Avi and I hit the town and went to a bar where expats hang out. The bar was class, full of young leathered people from almost every country you can imagine, all working out here. Now don’t get me wrong, there was the occasional gimp wearing a name badge like it was f*cking yuppie speed dating ... I mean, not to over analyse but by sporting a name badge in a city bar at roughly midnight on a Saturday night, what you are effectively saying is ‘I am a bell end’. Therefore, If the idea behind you wearing the badge is to invite people to come and make friends with you, then, my simpleton friend, its not going to work out. Go home immediately and change your name to William Nomates.
Ok, digressed again sorry.. the night was great, met some cool people and even bumped into Prabu, a friend I met out in Nice in 2009.. . Bizarre but good to see a familiar face.. definitely sort out some beers with him at some point. We went back to Avi’s gaff with a few people and discussed the kind of highbrow, academic topics you would expect from a group of young international professionals. The highlight of the mass-debate, was the discussion around next generation lavatory design, specifically trying to work out how the best ‘auto-wipe’ system might function and the associated KPIs one would use to measure the efficiency of the wipe.
Sunday was a bed day as i was feeling the wrath of a late finish from Saturday so nothing of interest there.
Monday, first day in the office. Im not going to bore you with all of the work stuff but there are a couple of points that need to be mentioned about the office situation here. Much like the driver, I have found further prime examples of where things need to improve back in the UK.
1 – Office waiter
Not sure of his actual name and he doesn’t really speak much either, nice chap though. For the benefit of the blog, we will call him Manuel. His principle job is to float around the office in his waistcoat and occasionally a dicky bow and bring people coffee and other drinks, on a tray and in a real cup. He, of course, also collects the cups and does all of the washing. If you dont want a house coffee (I wouldnt reccomend it, as it tastes like weasel p1ss), he will sometimes pop out to Costa to pick one up for you. No Sh1t, this is true.. I have seen him wearing white gloves. Well, in truth, he did wear white gloves but only this morning I clocked him appearing to be a glove down, and looking less like a posh raver and a bit more like Mumbai’s answer to a Billie-Jean-era Jacko..
2 – Tiffin
This is true gold. There are any number of places that will deliver food to the office for you but our company has a specific deal with a place that does Tiffin boxes. For those that don’t know, a tiffin is a bit like a big thermos flask with a load of compartments in it. Think of it as a lunchbox for curry. If you want to be involved, just tell the receptionist (which of course I did) and every day at 1pm, a tiffin will arrive with your name on it. You don’t know what will be in the box so its a bit of a lottery but so far I have had nothing but decent curries. A typical box will contain; yoghurt, poppadom, a few chapattis, rice, a Dal and a curry of some sort. You eat your curry and then just leave your mess all over the kitchen and Manuel promptly rocks up and cleans the place and the tiffin people come and collect the boxes at the end of the day. At the end of the month, you pay for your lunches at the nominal rate of 50 Rupees per day ... you cannot go wrong at c70p for an delivered curry banquet!!
The rest of the week has been standard issue really, with a few standout events to note:
Moved into a nice little one bed serviced apartment in the same hotel building. Great facilities and a variety of staff on hand.. on hand is the big difference here as being on hand means being on the end of the phone NOT ON MY KITCHEN FLOOR!. Really pleased with the new lodgings and even have two balconies on which I can smoke and get eaten by minibeasts.
Last night (being Thursday), we went to a nice place called Olive. Apparently this is the place to hang out on Thursday’s in Mumbai. Great bar, loads of Bollywood celebs (or at least wannabe's), models and yet more expat businessmen (minus the badges this time). Only downside is that the music is slightly on the chart dance side of things and the DJ, who clearly thought he was the dogs, was utterly sh1te. All in all a wicked night, finished at about 3am this morning so as you can imagine, im not feeling the love in the office this morning...
My closing thoughts are around public transport and my experiences with it in the last few days.
No longer riding in with Phil, I now commute using the city’s selection of some 300,000 Rickshaws. They are, quite frankly, death traps... but I like them.
Firstly, the drivers don’t really speak any English... to be honest, im not sure they speak at all. They do like to grunt it seems, and shake their head around a bit.. which can mean either yes or no so its difficult to tell if they have understood where you want to go.
So far this week, I have ended up in the arse end of nowhere twice through misinterpreting a Stevie Wonder head motion and a grunt from the peoples chauffers. Still it actually helps with workplace motivation as by the time you get to work, you are so thankful to be alive, that you put your all into the day as if it were your last... which of course it could be as you still need to commute home at the end of it...
Other than the magical mystery tours, we had the a situation last night where my Rikshaw became physically locked into the front wheel arch of a silver Hyundai in the middle of a 6 lane expressway junction. Took about 10 minutes for the two drivers to work out how to separate the vehicles.
On Tuesday night, we ran over a boys foot as we skirted down the edge of a slum to take a shortcut back into town. It wasn’t the kind of child abuse I was expecting following young boy-gate but not a great result either way.
I will leave you now (as my brain and fingers are starting to hurt) with two things I saw on my Rikki ride into work this morning (a journey that shall be known as 'the gauntlet') that together form the true highlight experience of the week...
First off, I spot a taxi in front of us in traffic with a sticker on the back that read ‘Lets Eradicate TB – DONT SPIT!’ That in itself was brilliant.. but no more than 10 minutes later into the journey, as I was pondering how serious the apparent guerrilla flobbing issue must be here, I witnessed a load of guys waiting outside the gates of a building (it looked like some kind of factory). One was sitting on a step coughing and hacking and sniffing back for a good few seconds, then he stopped, turned to his right .... and hocked on his friend's feet!!! This is 100% truth... I was speechless... His mate was standing next to where he was sitting so the feet were right there, how did he not see them??? .. his mate, who was wearing a pair of now flem-coated open toe sandals, just grunted and wiped his soiled feet on the back his own legs... Bonzer.
Speak soon,
Gray
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