Apartment

I finally got an apartment. I decided to trade off distance for quality (sort of) and price. This combined with my natural frugality has forced me to try to learn the local public transportation system (a bus costs about 4 - 9 rupees, a 'share' auto rickshaw--which takes several people to the same area of the city--is 15 - 18 rupees, and a private auto rickshaw is 100 or more rupees). I have yet to find a published map of bus routes so I've mostly been learning by trial and error, with more error than anything else at this point. I also learned only too late that men and women don't sit next to each other on the bus. Apparently, you can stand anywhere you want, but certain seats are for women only (and these seats are designated only in Tamil). Even if there is an empty seat next to a woman, a man should remain standing rather than sit next to her unless it is his sister, mother, wife, or other relative.

I live in an area in the northwest of the city called Mugappair. It seems nobody is really sure of the English spelling as I've seen it on various maps, store fronts, and other postings as Mogaphair, Mugappair, Moggapair, Mogappair, and Mogapper. On my Chennai city map it is spelled Mogapper but I think Mugappair is closest to how it is pronounced. I'm probably the only white person within a 5 kilometer radius. However, several members of my church live in the area and one of them helped me to find the apartment (thankfully avoiding any brokerage fees and helping me to get closer to the local, 'non-white' price).

It is a bit far from work (it takes me about an hour with the traffic and convoluted roads) and I'm considering continuing the search for something closer to the office. The place has a small living room/dining room/entryway area, a tiny kitchen, a bedroom, and an attached bathroom. I am paying 12,000 rupees per month (about $300) so it is a little cheaper than my Boston rent and I even get my own bathroom and kitchen as well. The owner of the building has a few businesses and right now he has an Internet start-up (web page developing) in a room on the roof (which is more like a large patio). Other than the distance and my inability to access the Internet on my wireless card, it isn't a bad place. I even have a lady who comes three times a week to clean and do laundry for 600 rupees a month. My ability to communicate with her is extremely limited (my Tamil isn't great yet), but so far, we have been able to manage. Now if I can just find something productive to do amidst the wall to wall press of bodies on the bus during my morning commute...



My apartment building.


I was pretty proud of these elephant print sheets that I bought.


Throughout the city you can find these huge lit up icons; quite surprising the first time you come across one unexpectedly.


I have parakeets again! Well, really they belong to the building, but they are right in front of my apartment.


My landlord's company. The sign isn't actually hanging up as you can see.


Trash pile on the driveway outside my building.


The view from my roof.


View of Venugopal Road.


A thatched house next door.

More pictures can be found here.

Stifling Bureaucracy

Bureaucracy seems to be an unavoidable consequence of government. I'm sure the U.S. is also very bureaucratic, ridiculous, and frustrating for outsiders; but as a citizen, my interaction with the official machinery of government is relatively limited (excluding taxes).

As a foreigner working in India, I've been privy firsthand to Indian bureaucracy. Even before coming, I had to pay a large sum (nearly $200) and fight for a few weeks to get my visa (although this has been outsourced--gotta love the irony--so I was presumably dealing with Americans for this headache). Last Thursday, I was finally able to get registered with the government, just two days before the deadline (foreigners who are staying for any length of time must register within 14 days of entering the country). Friday was a holiday (Independence Day) and they are closed Saturday so Thursday was my last possible opportunity. In order to register, I needed about 15 different documents including a letter from me to the immigration officer ("Dear Sir, please let me work in your country..."), several letters from my company, the articles of association of my company, a copy of my contract, two passport sized photos, etc. One of the required documents was proof that my PAN card is on its way. I don't know what this card is (I think it has something to do with taxes), but to get it, I had to have a bank account and a statement showing that I had money in the account along with several other documents including a copy of every page in my passport, all but two of which are blank. To get a bank account, I had to have proof of employment, proof of address, a copy of my passport, passport sized photos, etc. and also had to wait five days for the account to be set up. After the account was set up, I could deposit money and then wait another one or two business days to get a statement--which I needed to get a PAN card, which I needed to register, which had to be done within 14 days of entering the country...anyway, you get the idea. This is to say nothing about getting a cell phone, which also required a letter from my company, a copy of my passport, proof of address, and a bank account.

After all these documents are completed, you get the opportunity to go to the immigration office and wait in line to talk to various people. Each person looks through all the documents at least 3 or 4 times; it is impossible to discern whether they are deliberating on every minuscule detail or just pretending to be thorough.

I was lucky; I only had to go through this process once. Several of my colleagues have been 2 or 3 times (by the time their forms are approved, they are invariably late registering and have to pay a late fee or fight through the bureaucracy again to try and get it waived). A Canadian colleague, on her third time through the process, also went last Thursday and was able to help me navigate the leviathan. They seem to have been targeting IFMR employees recently and they sent us to the assistant director of the place. After he carefully went through her documents for 15 - 20 minutes, he went through my documents (many of which were the exact same as hers) for another 15 - 20 minutes. I was the beneficiary of her efforts as my registration packet was approved (after waiting in two more lines and speaking with two more people) without having to return with more documentation. So, I'm finally legal. I can only imagine the process I'll have to go through next July when my visa expires...

Treacherous Traffic

Concepts of personal space differ across cultures. What is an acceptable bubble of interpersonal space in one country or region may feel intrusively close or coldly distant in another. No doubt that the typical Indian can tolerate levels of physical proximity much closer than the typical American.

But here, there also seems to be a vehicular space difference. A car driving by within a foot or two of you in the U.S. elicits cuss words and other gestures of disapproval. Here, a car, motorcycle, rickshaw, or even bus can pass close enough to wipe the sweat off of your hand without anyone raising an eyebrow.

Traffic here is a mess of motorbikes, scooters, three wheeled auto-rickshaws, small cars, buses, big trucks, and pedestrians. It twists and turns through ill defined roadways with every sized vehicle weaving in and out and around each other. Lanes to go in opposite directions are defined broadly and there seems to be no such thing as lanes moving in the same direction; you just stake out a space and do everything you can to keep others out of it. Whereas in Boston, the pedestrian always has the right of way and many people step out into the street without ever having looked to see what was coming down the road; here, the biggest moving object seems to dominate. Even pedestrians walking on the side of the road must be careful not to get in the way of some approaching vehicle. A cacophony of horns blows throughout the city continuously in a vain effort to communicate and coordinate movement (and you guys thought Boston drivers used their horns a lot!). Overwhelming? Yes! But beautiful in its own way; like small blood cells, rushing to form a larger pulse. Movement keeps the city running--just make sure you don't get in the way.


Where does the road end and the sidewalk begin?


An auto-rickshaw: my primary mode of transport other than walking.



My hotel: the Crescent Park. It isn't the Marriott, but then they don't have to search through (and under) your car when you go into the gates either. I highly recommend it, although I think it is a bit pricey (the IFMR rate is 1,737 rupees a night which is approximately $40 - $45).


My work: Institute for Financial Management and Research (IFMR). I'm part of the Small Enterprise Finance Center (SEFC). We love acronyms around here.



My office. I sit in the cubicle near the end (for now). Not quite HBS (we are still working on getting our own ancient Roman mosaic and reflecting pool for the lobby:)

More pictures can be found here.

Pictures from Mahabalipuram

The first week that I was here we went to Mahabalipuram, a city about 1-2 hours south of Chennai for a training. Here are some pictures:


The Shore Temple (which is on the beach) is dated from the 9th century C.E. It is not currently used for worship.











This pillar, inside the temple, represents Shiva, the destroyer

A traditional Tamil dancer who performed for us, together with some muscians.













Scene near one of the temples. It shows the Goddess Durga slaying the demon.












The city is famous for stone carvings such as this one of Lord Ganesh.
















We also saw a fire dancer.



More pictures can be found here.

India Welcomes You

On August 1 I left Boston bound for India. The previous week (July 24 - July 30), I'd had my niece and nephew visiting Boston, which was great. However, between playing tour guide and finishing up some DVDs of pictures for the youth that I'd been working with, I was forced to pull a few all-nighters and was pretty exhausted when I left for the airport at 4 am (after staying up all night again).

The Delta flight from Boston to New York was uneventful. I got a little nervous when none of the New York airport workers seemed to recognize the name of the airline I was to be flying on (Etihad -official airline of the United Arab Emirates). The 13 hour flight from New York to Abu Dhabi wasn't bad. The airplane was nice and there were over 50 movies to choose from.The 7 hour layover in Abu Dhabi was tedious and definitely the worst part of the trip. The airport is nice, but small, and there is nothing to do. I unsuccessfully tried to stay awake to get on the new time schedule more quickly.They mysteriously upgraded me to business class for the 4 hour flight from Abu Dhabi to Chennai. It was nice!I met a bunch of Italians in the Chennai airport and was able to practice the language as we waited to get through passport control and customs. A driver was waiting with a placard. He took forever to go get his car while I waited just outside the airport doors, constantly fending off other taxi drivers who were seeking a high-priced tourist fare. The hour ride through the city was pretty precarious (perhaps even worse than driving on African roads), but without incident. The city is just what I expected it to be--crowded, extremely loud, and dirty.The hotel was nice and even had Internet. They didn't have my room type available so they upgraded me, informing me that they would later downgrade me.

I found the local branch of my church on Sunday. It was good to have a familiar atmosphere and meet friendly people who share common core values. There are two branches in Chennai; one has a number of ex-pats and the other one is completely Indian. I was the only white guy other than American missionaries which reminded me a bit of some of my African experiences.

Monday I ventured into the office with a co-worker who just started at IFMR and who is also staying at the Crescent Park until he can find a place. I briefly met a bunch of people whose names I retained for less than two seconds and signed my name a million times to open a bank account. Everyone was busy preparing for the retreat which would begin that afternoon, so I spent much of the day sitting around. I did meet briefly with my boss (who is from Turkey) and found out that I would be staying in Chennai and working on a channel finance project. I did venture out to get passport photos (the 10 or so passport photos that I brought from the U.S. were apparently the wrong size).

Monday afternoon we left for Mahabalipuram (known for stone carving and a ninth century temple on the beach) which is about an hour or so south of Chennai. Sendhil Mullainathan (Harvard) and Antoinette Schoar (MIT) flew in all the people who are working on their projects for the training. There were about 35 people including support staff. Some had come from Uganda, others from Latin America, and one from Cambodia, but the majority were based in India. Most were American except for those based in India who were mostly Indian. Of those in my group (small and medium enterprises) based in Chennai, I think I'm the only American.

I was a little disappointed to find out that the "resort" we were staying at wasn't as nice as the hotel where I had been staying in Chennai. It was great to meet everyone and the trainings were interesting, although I had trouble staying awake through most of them. My inability to keep my eyes open was a bit embarrassing (a negative by-product of lack of sleep and not drinking coffee). Strangely enough, I again ran into the Italians who I'd met at the airport. They had come to Mahabalipuram for a few days and were staying in the same hotel.

The food here is awesome and India is paradise for vegetarians. Unfortunately, my stomach doesn't completely agree and I've had some issues the past few days. Everything is so good that it is hard not to eat too much.

We returned Friday night and I spent most of the day Saturday looking for an apartment and trying to get my cell phone set up. It is nice to be back at the Crescent Park Hotel and to begin to get to know a bit of Chennai. If anyone has connections or leads on cheap housing in Chennai, please send them my way. So far, it looks like I might end up paying as much for an apartment here as I did in Cambridge ($350). Granted my apartment in Cambridge was really cheap and the apartment here would be a bit nicer and fully furnished, but it is hard for me to justify such a huge expense when my income has been cut to a fourth of what it was.

I'll try to add some pictures later.