Today, again, the room was locked when I arrived at IISc. Luckily, Man-from-the-lab-next-door (I have realized that I am terrible with names. Or maybe just Indian names.) was there, and he convinced me to set up camp in his office. I spent the next few hours trying to do work while really spending my entire time answering questions about life in the U.S.
I go to Georgia Tech. Yes, I’ve spent my entire life in the U.S. But yes, I’ve visited India before. No, I haven’t been to that coffee stand, but I’m sure it’s delicious.
The man seemed most surprised, however, when I told him that I didn’t have a bike on campus. I told him that since I brought lunch from home most of the time, I didn’t really need to get around campus too much. And besides, I like to walk. But he wouldn’t have any of it. He disappeared for a few minutes and came back with the smug smile of satisfaction and one of his female post-docs. He then handed me a key, telling me it would unlock a female bike outside. (He was particularly proud of the fact that he found a female bike.)
Since I was now expected to go out and use this bike, I decided I might was well explore the campus a bit more. After a very relaxing bike ride, I decided I might as well visit the restaurant for a bowl of soup. (Dear lord, I eat so much food now. I don’t know how I’ll be able to sustain myself once I get back to Tech.) I zoomed to the restaurant, parked my bike, and ordered a bowl of soup – which took a surprising amount of time. For some reason, the waiter could not figure out why I would only want a bowl of soup and no rice or rotis. (Looks like native-Indians are still bigger foodies than I am.)
There’s a relief.
When the waiter came by with the soup and the bill, I pulled out my wallet. There was a twenty-dollar bill mixed in with the rupees, and the waiter immediately saw it.
Waiter: America?
Me: … This is American currency, yes.
Waiter: Dollars?
Me: Right.
Waiter: How much?
Me: Twenty.
Waiter: Rupees?
Me: About 900.
Waiter: 900?!
Me: … *Nod*
Waiter: You America?
Me: I am from America, yes.
The conversation continued for another few minutes, until he was called away to another table. But for the remainder of my lunch, he continued to hover around my table with a huge grin, asking if I needed anything else and making sure that I was really from America.
What a strange man.
But the hot-and-sour soup I had was wonderful, and the bike ride back to the office was delightful, so I soon forgot about my crazy-waiter-come-stalker.
After I came back home, we started part four of the great Bangalore-tour-of-relatives by visiting my mother’s cousin. Actually, their fathers are cousins, so I guess that means they’re second cousins. Or maybe cousins-twice-removed? Someday, I’ll learn how to identify all of my relatives. Maybe.
Anyway, between the food I had for breakfast and lunch, the extra food I had for lunch, and the food I had at these people’s houses, I was quite full. But we decided to go to Chung-Wah’s anyway. (I can never seem to resist the lure of Indian-Chinese food.)
Now, I’ve eaten so much, I feel sick.
But oh, it all tasted so good…
-June 28th