day two

I arrived at a good (ungodly) five in the morning. I enlisted the nice Oberoi guys to help me call my driver who was lurking, but I found him and we went to the Katari Villa, where I signed in my name and walked upstairs. I got plenty of rest on the flight in (really), so I wasn't sleepy, and went upstairs to accidentally awaken my roommate, Aneesa, and the other girl staying with her. They were very game about it, and the other girl took me down to the Ganesh temple, where people were hanging jasmine scented garlands on the statue. We dodged a few cows then had masala chai at the coffee joint across the street (good!)

Since I had nothing to do, we decided to go downtown to meet Emma, another volunteer. We hailed an autorickshaw, a little motorized bike with a cab-like thing on the back, and zoomed downtown. Rickshaws follow no traffic rules but thankfully no one else does either, which means whoever has the quickest reflexes wins. (Note that Rickshaw drivers are required to state their blood type on the certification card. Not difficult to figure out why.) You honk instead of braking. Get good at dodging.

Bangalore really is a garden city - there's trees and jungley greenery everywhere, flower gardens and blooming purple trees on every corner. The weather is nice as well - hot and dry, none of that sticky misery inducing humidity you apparantly encounter elsewhere. However, it is dusty. Lung cancer may be inevitable.

We met at Mocha, a Western coffee shop run by Chinese - don't ask me. I had a curious chicken baguette thing, and we waited a while for Emma, who was giving a speech at the Rotary Club. Anyway, she arrived and we hung out and chatted for a bit, then walked down to have a look at some government buildings....very attractive, but unfortunately closed. We also walked through the park, which was nice and green and full of twisty trees, chaat sellers, and contented looking stray dogs. (The stray dogs here tend to be fat and happy looking.) And of course cows.

We went shopping on Commercial Street afterwards, poking through saris and Kashmiri souvenirs, as the shopkeepers stared. I'm going to scope out prices before I commit to anything, though.

We returned to the villa for dinner (okay...chicken curry and daal), then went out again to the Guzzlers Inn, a psuedo-English pub blaring loud rock music and full of progressively drunker Indians watching footballs matches. I was somewhat shocked at how little rum they serve you at a time, but on the other hand, it was inexpensive.(Like everything.)

We stayed there till' eleven, wherein my jet-lagged self was almost hitting the table from sheer exhausation. I slept much better then I thought I would.