In the sophisticated American marketplace in which brand = lifestyle, we’ve forgotten why brands evolved in the first place: as a promise of quality. Early packaged goods manufacturers needed to convince buyers that they could trust a non-local product; a brand was thus an assurance of consistency and quality. In today’s supermarket, you choose a product based on your lifestyle: soap for girls, soap for men, soap for kids, soap for rich people, soap for the eco-conscious. Your decision isn’t about quality assurance, it’s about lifestyle equivalency.
I learned today that brands in India should still be evaluated first for their promise of quality. Jenny mentioned last week my electric tiffin – something every office worker relies on to heat up his food. I bought the cheapest model. An unbranded model.
This afternoon I plugged it in under my desk, expecting the smell of Gunga’s delicious bhindi to soon drift up. Instead, the odor was that of plastic. Melting. And behold my lesson in consumer products for the day: the branded one costs more for a reason.
It was much less scary to experience my first earthquake (a 4.3) than I would have thought, probably because it happened in the middle of the night. We awoke and realized it was an earthquake, but couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed and go to a doorway. Soon enough it was over and after a few heart-pounding moments, we drifted back to sleep (Dave contends he stayed up about an hour imagining earthquake escape scenarios). I’m sure we would have been much more freaked out if it had happened in the middle of the day.
Anyhow, we had a fun day yesterday. Went to the DCWA (Delhi Commonwealth Women’s Association) International Bazaar 2007 – a huge charity where many embassies had booths selling food from their country. We gravitated to the New Zealand stall where I had a glass of delicious red wine (having been deprived of it for 4 weeks) and Dave got a lamb burger. Later we took the metro to Delhi’s Little Tibet, Majnu Ka Tila. It’s a very compact neighborhood, but clean and quiet. We enjoyed walking down dark back alleys.
We went to the Trade Fair yesterday. So did everyone else.
Dave saw a blurb in Time Out Delhi about a group of people who gather to seek out hidden food gems in Delhi. He sent them an e-mail and suddenly we had dinner plans. We went to a Gurdwara Bangla Sahib, a Sikh temple, where we placed ornate scarves over our hair and walked around the temple, getting to know the members of the group (EOID). We then sat crossed legged on the floor where we were provided with tin plates and soon after, men came around with spoonfuls of hot dal and miscellaneous vegetable mush. It was pretty good! Afterwards we went to a roadside stall and talked some more over hot chai, ending the night at a restaurant for those still hungry (I had a scoop of pistashio ice cream with whipped cream).
We’ve hired a helper! Her name is Ganga and she comes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to clean our 2-bedroom apartment and to cook. She whips up all sorts of delicious vegetarian dishes. So far she’s made cauliflower with potatoes, okra, green beans, cabbage, and tomato curry with paneer. Dave has a canister with 4 little compartments all in a thermos to take to work. The best part is it has a cord and he can plug it in to reheat – instead of waiting for the microwave to be free.
Time Out Delhi is ruling our social life. It comes out every 2 weeks and is always full of great events and ideas for the weekend. The latest addition reviewed the restaurants in the food court at Dilli Haat.
“DILLI HAAT is not just a market place; it has been visualized as a showpiece of traditional Indian culture- a forum where rural life and folk art are brought closer to an urban clientele. The DILLI HAAT provides the ambience of a traditional Rural Haat or village market, but one suited for more contemporary needs. Here one sees a synthesis of crafts, food and cultural activity.”
A synthesis, indeed! We had gone to Dilli Haat in August and bought some gifts (like a very ornate gold lock and key), but because vendors are rotated, we happened this time to see a lot more interesting crafts. We bought some eco-friendly and biodegradable disposable plates made from the sheaths of a arecanut tree.
But we didn’t come to Dilli Haat to shop – we came to eat. After some bickering about where to go, Dave won and we went to the food stall for Nagaland (one of the smallest states in India, situated in the north eastern corner of the country). We tried the thali, which consists of a heap of soft rice, watered down dal, fatty pork in a spicy red curry, boiled leaves of spinach, pickled veggies and a very spicy raja mirchi (a relish made with India’s chilliest chilli). Neither of us cared for it much except for the relish. Next time we’ll go to Paama, the food stall for Rajasthan.
It’s nice to live in an apartment where you can set the mood with lots of lighting options. And this apartment has a ton; there isn’t a spot that doesn’t have it’s very own light. The most are in the dining and living room (see combined photo above). So many, in fact, every time I want to light up an area in particular (and not one to waste unneeded electricity), I play a game of trying switch after switch before finding the right one. It’s a bit excessive. To illustrate my point and to help myself figure it out once and for all, here is a photo of the switches for just the living and dining room (18) with an added guide.
- Spotlight by kitchen table
- Unknown
- Unkown
- Strip light over small couch
- Strip light opposite on opposite wall from small couch
- Strip light by entrance area
- Fan in entrance area
- Fan over couches
- Strip light in dining room – above frolicking horses fan
- Fan over kitchen table
- Unusable
- Unusable
- Spotlight over smaller couch
- Spotlight in entrance area
- Spotlight left of frolicking horses fan
- Striplight in dining room, right wall from frolicking horses fan
- Spotlight above long couch
- Spotlight above TV
We didn’t like Gurgaon immediately. It used to be a sleepy town (Gur means sweet and Gaon means village), but now it’s being re-built up as a new high-tech city in India. There is construction happening all over; it’s dusty, smoggy and the electricity goes out often. We had a market next to our giant housing complex, but we had to call a taxi to go anywhere else. And go where? New Delhi is an hour away (could be as little as 25 mintues or as much as 2 hours depending on traffic) or to a mall. We made the decision to move to southern Delhi at the expensive of a longer commute for Dave. We love our new apartment. It’s nicest apartment we’ve ever had – though I bet Dave will probably contend 107 Seeley will never be topped.
Now we can walk to several markets and hop into auto rickshaws and go anywhere in Delhi. We are very happy with our decision to move.
It’s clear that this part of town (Gurgaon) is new to fancy restaurants. We’ve been to two. The first was in the first floor of Dave’s office building – it was a Chinese restaurant (Mainland China), and the three of us (including Didit, the guy we live with here) were the only ones in the restaurant. And so the had pretty much every waiter in the place hovering around us. The second a plate would be empty, three hands would reach in the grab something off the table to put on our plate. They interrupted every conversation as waiter after waiter asked us if we had what we needed. At the end of the meal, they eagerly brought over the comments card, hovered over I filled it out, and then stood right there as they all gathered around to read it.
On the other hand, we went to a hotel restaurant (Fortune Select Global) where they brought us all drinks menus, but no other food menu. The waiter came over and intently told Dave about the buffet and the seafood platter, but didn’t speak loud enough so that I or Didit could hear. When Dave asked for a food menu, he brought only one. When Dave asked for more menus for the other two, he brought only one more. It was a few more minutes when the third one finally came. They brought us our drinks, but didn’t bother to open my beer. They took our orders, but didn’t bother to take Didit’s menu. And so on.
But look at me complain – there are 500 million people in this country who wish the worst of their problem was that the waiter didn’t take their menu.
