The Expert Guide to Shopping in Hyderabad

By popular demand and with excellent feedback from visitors from Dublin to Sao Paolo, from to Sydney to Buenos Aires, from California to Tokyo, I bring you:

Ashley’s Expert Guide to Shopping in Hyderabad

(You learn a thing or two shopping in Hyderabad for 6 months…)

Fixed Price Stores:

These are stores where bargaining is as acceptable as it is in an American shopping mall (i.e. you’ll receive a chuckle at the notion).

Hyderabad Central: Great selection, moderate prices (great prices for the quality). Best place for a ‘one stop shop.’ Includes an extensive ‘Ethnic’ section as well as western and ‘fusion’ styles.

Neeru’s Elite (across from City Center Mall): The best place to get top quality formals including sarees and lahengas, but also one of the most expensive. Consistently good quality, huge selection of men’s and women’s formals, as well as a good salwar kameez selection and occasionally some ‘fusion’ fashions.

City Center: Looks kind of depressing, but is possibly the ‘malliest mall’ in Hyderabad. The best place to get ‘fusion’ clothing for women. Globus has ethnic, fusion, and western sections and Chemistry is a new Bombay chain that has some great western/fusion stuff, but at western prices (shirts for $30-40 US, dresses for $50-70 US). Globus is cheaper, but Chemistry has better quality.

FabIndia: Best for linens and clothes, but also contains an interesting random ‘organic’ section with things like soap and dried food. The clothing contains muted colors and avoids the bling of most other Indian clothing stores. More expensive than other retailers of equal quality (HYD Central, Neeru’s), but the selection of muted colors can’t be found elsewhere.

Metro Shoes Bombay: Best selection and quality, I bought several pairs here a year ago, and they are the only shoes I bought in India that haven’t broken yet. There are easily over 100 open-toed women’s shoes to choose from, including many western and Indian styles. They also carry some western brands like Levi’s and Geoxx. Most women’s shoes run 800-1400 Rs.

Levi’s (Jubilee Hills Location): Biggest selection of Levi’s in Hyderabad, this store is pretty big for Levi’s even compared to Levi’s stores in Europe. It sells all of the Levi’s designs from the European stores at 1/3 -> ½ the price. New jeans cost 2000 Rs ($50 US).

“Fixed Price Stores”:

These stores are “fixed price” because they have price tags but are willing to give discounts, especially for bulk purchases and/or purchases of expensive items. Approach bargaining with the ‘Is there a discount? What about bulk discounts?’ phrasing, since they may give the ‘this is a fixed price store’ line. Rest assured, they have given some hefty discounts in the past, despite the effectively optional price tags.

Saga: The best quality scarves and pashminas I’ve seen anywhere in India, with prices to match. Run by Kashmiris, the head salesman made me Kashmiri mint tea with bottled water and discussed Kashmiri culture for an hour before giving me a 40% discount on two pashminas (* queue ‘results not normal’ disclaimer, most people get 5% - 10% off). They also sell tchotchkes and carpets (they will try to sell you a carpet), but the tchotchkes you can buy elsewhere for significantly cheaper prices and equal quality. Ask for a discount, especially if you buy more than one, even if it is going to be a ‘lifetime gift’ as the salesman likes to put it. If you enjoy textiles you should ask to see the 40,000 Rs pashmina/scarf – it has the most amazing craftsmanship I’ve ever seen.

Maglam: This store, in an old house, has multiple stories of tchotchkes ranging from hookas to place settings to bed linens to elephant statues. If it is a common tchotchke sold in India, it is probably sold in this store. The prices are usually significantly higher than you would pay almost anywhere else, but it is easy to get a lot of things at once with reasonable quality. They most definitely will bargain, especially for bulk discounts – the more you spend the better discount you should shoot for.

Swagat: Popular ex-pat place to buy pearls and jewelry, this place has good quality and hefty discounts (although they are ‘discounts’ on marked-up prices). This doesn’t have a ‘market’ atmosphere, but bargaining is required or you will get fleeced. Try to go with someone knowledgeable about quality.

Markets:

Full price is for suckers.

Shilparamam: If you have time, you should go here first and last. First so that you can see what they have that you want and get an idea for the cost so that if you see the items at fixed price stores later, you’ll know if it is a good price. And last because this has the most extensive selection of Indian crafts (textiles, wooden toys, folk art) in Hyderabad. They also sell clothes but you can get better quality at Hyderabad Central without the hassle. You MUST bargain here or you will get fleeced, and the ‘cut their price in half’ strategy from other parts of the world doesn’t apply either. You can frequently get the items for a quarter of their starting price, and they often will laugh at you after you pay them a 200% inflated price. Many stalls sell the same things, so shop around, and the ‘he’s selling it for X’ is often very effective. You should pay between 100-300 Rs for scarves here, depending on the quality. You should NOT pay more than 400 Rs, even for the ‘highest’ quality that they have. If you want to pay more than that, you can get better quality from Hyderabad Central and Saga.

Charminar: Hyderabad’s historic muslim bazaar in the old city, this is often better as a site-seeing event rather than a shopping event because many people find this area overwhelming with the crowds and beggars. Don’t buy pearls here unless you are with someone you know and trust who has a good sense for quality and excellent bargaining talent. This is Hyderabad’s most famous place to buy bangles, and you should bargain, bargain, bargain. You will do significantly better if you learn phrases in Hindi/Urdu, and you should NOT pay more for bangles than you would pay at home. Some German tourists I know spent $30 US on one bangle, which was possibly the biggest rip off I’ve heard of. Glass bangles should cost no more than 3 Rs each at the highest, highest end. I got two bangles per rupee when I went to Charminar in a burkha with a friend from the office, that means that I got 1000 bangles for 500 Rs ($12.50 US). Clay bangles will cost more, and you will be upsold on them because of the high profit margin. Just remember, you can sometimes buy 1000 glass bangles for the price of 1 or 2 clay bangles. Climb the Charminar monument to get a good view of the bazaar from above (100 Rs for foreigners).

Key Shopping Phrases in Hyderabad:

Hydrabadi Hindi/Urdu:

Interesting fact: The Muslims in Hyderabad typically speak Hindi, while the Hindus typically do not. The Hindus typically speak Telugu, a South Indian language written in a unique script that is, and that I am told is the second largest native language in India. Telugu is also the official language of the State of Andhra Pradesh, of which Hyderabad is the capital. When you arrive in Hyderabad, the signs are often written in English, Telugu, and Urdu script (which looks like Arabic).

Pre-bargaining optional bonding time:

Aap kaise hai?

How are you?

MaiN* teek hoong.

I’m fine.

Aap ka naam kya hai?

What’s your name?

Mera naam ___ hai.

My name is ___.

Ja-i-ye.

Please go.

The meaty (non-veg) shopping stuff:

Kitne?

How much?

Asli ki mat kya hai? NahiN* firanghi mat, Hindustani mat.

What’s the real price? Not the foreign price, the Indian price.

Mujhe maloom hai ki yeh dam nahiN sahiN hai.

I know that that is not the best price.

MaiN Hyderabad meN ek/do/teen mahine raha kur ai hoong.

I have been in Hyderabad for one/two/three months. (recommended to gain credibility).

MaiN hindi sikh raha (m) /rahi (f) hoong.

I’m studying (masculine/feminine) Hindi.

MaiN hindi bolta/bolti hoong nahiN bahoot accha.

I don’t speak hindi very well.

Yeh bahoot sundar hai.

It’s very beautiful.

Shukriya.

Thank you.

Pir milenge.

Au revoir/Good bye (implying you will meet again).

Allah hafiz (pron. Alla-feez to my ears).

Adieu/Good bye (implying something is ending or you may not see each other again soon).

*Shukriya and Allah hafiz are Urdu and wouldn’t be used by Hindu Hindi-speakers such as the people in Verinasi.

*N= nasal sound, almost silent at the end of words, but uses a French-sounding nasal that is dependant on the vowel preceding it. Most people will understand you if you just leave it off.

Telugu:

I really only know a few. Asking someone who you think is a Hindu if they speak Telugu can often open doors for you. Then you can say:

Baunava?

How are you?

Bauna.

I’m fine.

Saying anything in Telugu tends to really amuse people because it is such a random language that no one outside of Andhra Pradesh learns, especially Firanghis (white foreigners). Your efforts to speak Telugu are often emphatically appreciated.

Here is another Telugu phrase I know:

Car vacchina tarvata nakku cheppu.

Tell me when the car is here.

Often putting any English word in the place of ‘Car’ (most commonly, ‘Pizza’ ;) can ask a Telugu driver or guard to notify you when X arrives.

MaiN Hyderabad MeN HuN

Well, I'm back in India almost a year after I left. What has changed? The new airport. What hasn't changed? Everything else.

When I arrived, I was first off the plane thanks to my business class seat and ran as fast as I could to customs. Having spent the last 24 hours planning my strategy to not get stuck in the customs line for 2 hours, I wasn't going to let anything stop me from getting there first. I was done in 5 minutes and out the door of the airport in another 5 since I didn't check any luggage (in order to avoid the hour long wait for the bags to come out on the carousel, I managed to stuff everything into a briefcase and a small duffel bag).

As I walked down the stairs, a cleaning boy stared at me, turning his head to keep staring while he tried walking up the stairs, and suddenly (but not unexpectedly) tripped and fell. He kept staring. Then the 8 people working at the duty free shop in the empty airport and wearing spiffy uniforms mistook my glance for interest and called 'madame, madame...duty free? Many nice things to choose!' and I knew I was back in India.

Then I walked outside, breathed in the Hyderabad air that smells like a mix of smoke, incense and humidity, and recognized my driver right away. He also recognized me, a year later. Daram Chand is one of the Hindi-speaking Muslim drivers who I rode with half a dozen times over the 6 months I was here, and I am quite sure he didn't realize that I had ever left.

That is how time works here. It is as if time itself has slowed down to a snail's pace. Even with all of the development that has been rampant, Hyderabad is exactly the same as it was. The same potholed streets are packed full of people and traffic, sputting auto-rickshaws, sputting mopeds with families of 6 riding on them, papaya and lime stands, posters for local politicians, water buffalo, garbage-eating goats, stray dogs, workers carrying rocks on their heads, and the same beggar children who are so mal-nourished that they haven't grown since last year.

Bharat sthan bahoot dilcasp hai.


I went shopping yesterday and used my Hindi to get bargains that even impressed my driver and caused the salesman to bob his head even more virulently than normal. My exchange went something like this:

Goal: 250 each per pashmina.

Me: How Much?
Him: 750 Rupees ($15)
Me: (extreme laughter) Asli ki math kya hai? NahiN firangi Math, Hindustani Math. (No really, how much? Not foreign price, Indian price)
Him: (surprised laughter) You tell me your price.
Me: 100 rupees
Him: 100 rupees! This is 750 rupees!
Me: This is not 750 rupees! I got it for 90 rupees at Charminar!
Him: Charminar! This is not Charminar.
Me: (look in the eye, very serious) MaiN Hyderabad MeN paNch mahine reheti thi. Mujhe maloom hai ki dam nahiN sahiN hai.
(I lived in Hyderabad for 5 months. I know that this is not the best price).
Him: Ok, you tell me.
Me: 100
Him: 600
(10 minutes of numbers)
Him: 300. Final price. Not profit for me. I give to you, no profit.
Me: 2 for 400.
Him: 2 for 600
Me: That's the same as 300 each. I offer you 200 each. 2 for 400.
Him: (head shaking wildly) 250 each.
Me: Calega. (agreed)
750 -> 250 ($15 -> $6.25).


I went to dinner with Shyam, a home-grown Hyderabadi Telugu guy who I used to sit next to in the office. He was one of the first people in the Hyderabad office and I love talking to him about India.

We went to Serengeti, my favorite restaurant in Hyderabad, that happens to have a jungle theme, think 'Rainforest Cafe' except with Indian food and 2-3 waiters hovering around your table at all times waiting for you to look like you may possibly be finished eating your bite of food so that they can serve another scoop to you.

One of the most amusing things about Serengeti was that the waiters used to be dressed up like African guerillas in army fatigues - a costume so politically incorrect in so many ways - and they clearly had no idea what they were wearing and why. Sadly, someone must have pointed this fact out to them within the last year and they have changed their uniforms to be British imperialists in khaki jungle uniforms. The irony of this new uniform choice is possibly more amusing than the guerilla uniforms, since I'm pretty sure most people who go to this restaurant know what British imperialists uniforms look like, seeing as they are the uniforms the Brits wore while imperializing India.

In a moment reminiscent of the imperial era, when we left the restaurant, the valet opened the back door of Shyam's car for me...meaning that he assumed that Shyam was my driver. I said, 'Oh no, I'll be sitting up front thanks' he shrugged and bobbed his head. Modern India is a complicated place.


I am currently enjoying the entertainment of the Star Movies channel 'India's most popular English movie channel.' Star is a conglomerate that owns several channels including a new addition 'Star Cricket' ('All cricket all the time!'). The movie channel generally buys the cheapest English language movies available on the planet and advertises them as if they are good movies. I'm currently watching a made-for-TV movie called 'Dino-Croc' about a genetically engineered monster crocodile that accidentally gets set loose in a nature preserve in LA. A small boy has just snuck onto the nature preserve to find his dog and is being chased by the monster crocodile while a dramatic rendition of the choral finale of Carmina Burana plays. Run little Jimmy, Run!

Ashley's Back in Asia...And in a jetlagged stupor at the Singapore Airport

Hellllloooo! I am reporting in from the business class lounge in the Singapore Airport on my way to Hyderabad for the first time since I left India almost exactly a year ago. I am flying business class for the first time in my life, and despite 8 hours of almost decent sleep on the plane, I am still totally loopy. Due to the loopiness factor, I plan to write this entry in stream of consciousness style in order to scientifically document the mind on jetlag. This means that I am not responsible for 5th grade level grammar mistakes, heinous misspellings (did anyone ever notice that 'heinous' does not follow the 'I before E except after C' rule?), and incorrect metaphors.

To contribute to this experiment, the only thing for me to really do for the next 8 hours while I wait for my next flight is to sit in this lounge, watch the olympics live (showing the Chinese team at practically every event in which they compete...currently watching ping pong, a sport that I'm pretty sure would not be televised in the US), study Hindi (MaiN Hindi sikh rahi huN ;) so that I can shoot the shit with peeps in Hyderabad, write this blog, and drink champagne (which shall now be referred to as 'Creativity Juice' (brought to you by the champagne and light spirits PAC...)

I got a little Sony digital recorder last week because I had a brilliant idea to interview all the interesting people I know about interesting stuff like they do on 'This American Life' and then post it on my blog in a series of conversations with people about interesting stuff (I articulated it better when I wasn't loopy). I was really gung-ho about this project, but seem to have hit a stumbling block with a) the recorder software doesn't work on my computer and b) the recordings sound like they're in a tin can, kind of like the recordings I made of myself singing Bette Midler's 'From A Distance' on my dad's old tape recorder when I was 8 years old.

This anecdote entered this blog entry because I just heard the Sony recorder beeping when I moved my bag and was reminded that it's so 'ingeniously' designed that I can't figure out how to turn the damn thing off, and seem to have recorded several segments unintentionally. Those will be thrilling to listen to later, I'm sure.

Once I figure out how to get the recordings up, I'm still planning on posting them (assuming I can figure out how to post audio recordings to blogger, another hurdle to my plan). I already have several excellent interviews just waiting to be edited and uploaded, including the story of a super cute Ukrainian Jewish boy and his family running through the airport in New York with relatives stuffing bills in their pockets on their way from Kiev to the big unknown West Hollywood, USA during the turbulent days before the fall of the Soviet Union;) I plan to contend that the tin can quality sound and bad editing contribute to the artistic message of my edgy amateur recording project- Real People. Real Stories. Real-time Recording.


But, back to the main themes I planned to talk about in this entry, my 'Theses' as a high school English teacher or college freshman TA might say. [Fragment. 10 points off]. First, I never finished writing about my trip with Yev to Bulgaria in June. Second, I'm on my way to INDIA! For the first time since I left India a year ago I'm returning to my old stomping ground, which from everything I've heard, has changed a lot in a year, including the opening of the first modern airport in India.


Yay! Two americans just won the women's all around gymnastics competition! And I can see the underwear lines of the chinese girl who hands out the medals, because she is standing right in front of the camera in a very tight skirt. Uh oh, Nastia doesn't know the words to the national anthem but tried to mouth the words anyway - way to show everyone you don't know the words! Why do they do that? If they just didn't do it at all no one would notice, but instead they always do "Oh say can you see, na na na, blah blah blah." Either way, the 4 ft tall, 10 year old on the Chinese girl came in third, and all I can say is "You Go, you 5'3, 100 pound, 'enormous' 18 year old American!"


The lounge has really cleared out, which is weird because lots of people have insanely long connections in Singapore. I surmise that they time flights like this so that more people have to shop in the airport. The cleaning staff now officially outnumbers the guests in the lounge. Speaking of staff outnumbering guests, it's possible that the flight crew outnumbered the number of passengers in business class on my flight yesterday/today.

I say yesterday/today because I have officially lost the day of August 14. I don't know where it went. I left on August 13, I arrived on August 15, 18 hours later. Did it go where all lost things go? Is it hidden with Jimmy Hoffa, the end of Mozart's Requiem Mass, my keys, and that pile of individual socks that disappear every time I do the laundry?

Here are some more brilliant observations I made earlier while on the plane. To summarize, Singapore Airlines business class is pretty wicked (in the 1980's glam rock/Ron in Harry Potter meaning of the term, not the standard dictionary, Wicked Witch of the West meaning):

• The service is pretty insane. In SFO I couldn't find the lounge so I went to the gate and asked where it was. A girl escorted me across the entire airport to get to the lounge. It was seriously a 10 minute walk each way. I thought she was going there anyway, but when we got there she turned around and headed back to the gate!
  
• I got to be on the top of the airplane! Those elusive seats you see on the top of 747's and wonder what it's like to sit there. One word: Awesome.
  
• There were about 8 rows of 4 seats each, two fully reclining seats on each side of the aisle. Window seats get a secret comparment/shelf to put stuff on.
  
• Haven't felt like a kid (or Jed Clampett) in a long time, but there were so many buttons to control the seat, I couldn't figure out how to do basic things like recline. I was like the Indian guy next to me on my flight from Hyderabad to Thailand who had never been on a plane before and couldn't figure out how to buckle his seat belt.
  
• The secret compartment next to the window where I could store all my stuff during take-off and landing was awesome. When I called it a 'secret compartment' (after fiddling around with the high tech buttons for 10 minutes trying to recline my seat) the guy next to me, an Indian businessman from Singapore, gave me the 'isn't that cute' laugh (the semi-verbal equivalent of a pat on the head)...probably the same laugh that I gave the guy who couldn't buckle his seat belt...
• The seats did this fully reclining thing that is somehow designed such that when the person in front of you reclines, they don't recline into you, they 'recline' forward. This is a truly brilliant invention, probably brought to us by the same wonderful person who designed the movie theaters where the seats are tiered enough that even if a tall guy with a big hat sits in front of you, you can still see the screen. Now that deserves a Nobel Prize.
  
• The flight crew memorized everyone's names before we got on board and they addressed me as Ms. Roof from the moment I arrived on the plane. Ms Roof can I carry your luggage for you? Ms. Roof would you like a warm towel? Ms. Roof can I offer you some champagne? I wonder how far in advance they get the passenger list, and do they get our passport photos? How would they know what we look like when we get on the plane? Do they have to spend the hour before the flight studying our names and pictures? Maybe they have secret service ear-pieces:
  
• 'Ms. Roof approaching the entrance, I repeat, Ms. Roof approaching in 10, 9, 8, 7... Jonnie-alpha-beta - INCOMING!'
  
• 'Roger That. Ms. Roof intercepted, luggage and champagne have been handled. Over.'
• '10-4. Mr. Srinivasan now approaching, I repeat Mr. Srinivasan is approaching...'
  
• Overall, I felt like the flight crew was there to seduce us. At 2am they served dinner. They asked me what I wanted from the menu and I told them I just wanted the salad. The salad in general is a good example of the calibre of Singapore Airlines business class (let's not get started thinking about what first class must be like if this is business class...). Meals are served with a personal place-setting with a table cloth, dishes, silverwear, and crystal glasses. My salad came on a chilled porcelain plate, and included scallops, greens, and cherry tomatoes. It was literally served on a silver platter. When I finished my salad they asked me if they may offer me some fresh fruit? Ice Cream? Chocolate creme brulee with fresh berries? Now seriously, even at 2am, who can refuse chocolate creme brulee with fresh berries? Then there were 10 choices of tea, a wine menu, and in the morning I had a mocha made with melted chocolate chips (I know it was made this way because there were some half melted chocolate chips at the bottom of my cup). I'm pretty sure I actually gained weight on the flight.
  
• And finally, I'm pretty sure that the stewardesses have their hair permanently plastered to their heads. I also wonder if they have official breaks to reapply their make-up, because they were like movie stars. For 14 hours their hair and make-up stayed perfectly in place. They do so much walking and baggage lifting in official uniform platform heels and skin-tight tailored outfits for 18 hours at a time - maybe flight attending should be an olympic sport! It's amazing how good looking the flight crews are in countries where discrimination based on looks is allowed and where being a flight attendant is a cool thing to do. I don't expect to see any gorgeous stewardesses on American Airlines anytime soon.

No one likes really long blog entires and I have now passed another hour. However, with 7 more hours to go until my flight, I shall continue...

I have mixed feelings about Hyderabad. I'm excited to see people, but I'm also worried that I'm going to get sick. Coming back is reminding me just how hard it is to live there, and to not even be able to brush your teeth with tap water. Which reminds me, I am now taking my second malaria pill. Right now. This instant...Ok. done. I couldn't open the water bottle, no matter how hard I tried. I ended up having to go get a different bottle, and now I'm drinking Gerolsteiner German sparkling water that tastes too much like minerals. So much for independent woman of substance... But, that's pretty much all my tired mind can wrap around at this point.

I've been studying Hindi for the last few days so I can shoot the shit with the drivers and a few other people. I'm hoping to see Sayed, my favorite driver, while I'm there. We'll see how well I can communicate with him in Hindi this time around. He pretty much taught me everything I knew, which is mostly street Hindi with a thick Urdu slant. When I say the things he taught me to people who speak classical Hindi from the north, they say chuckle and say 'where did you hear that?' I think I'm pretty much saying "What up, yo? You down with the 411?" which, we can all agree, already sounds pretty ridiculous coming from me and would sound even more hilarious coming from someone with a thick foreign accent. Luckily, as far as I know, he didn't slip any swear words into the phrases he taught me.

I think I'm doing pretty well for studying for 2 days - I even wrote myself a little essay (in the anglicized script, not in davanagari sanskrit script- one step at a time...). Simple grammar isn't that hard (famous last words from someone who hasn't had anyone check the grammar in the brilliant little essay), and it's the only language I know of other than English that uses the verb 'to be' in present tense (like "I am going" = "MaiN ja rahi huN" when "MaiN huN is "I am.' For comparison, in Italian the present tense is 'Vado,' in French it's 'Je Vais' and in Russian it's unofficially anglicized as 'ya paidoo.'). Here is my enlightening little essay for any Hindi speakers out there:

Mera naam Ashley hai. MaiN (N stands for a frenchy nasal sound) California meN reheti huN. MaiN 'IniTech' meN karti kam huN. MaiN karti kam huN kampyutareN ke sath. MaiN aksar yatra karti huN ko dur sthani. MaiN bharat (the word for India, which, when pronounced bharAt means a wedding procession...) karti pasand huN kyoNki yeh bahoot sundar hai. Log bahoot accha haiN. MaiN Hyderabad meN paNch mahine reheti thi. MaiN bahoot dosti se milti thi. MaiN hindi sikhti huN, magar maiN bolti huN nahiN accha. MaiN nahiN par sakti ya likh sakti huN. MaiN sochti huN ki hindi mushkil bhasa hai. MaiN yatra karna chahati huN meN Bharat aksar. MaiN dekhna chahati Rajasthan, Assam, aur Darjeeling. Mera manpasand sthan ki maiN ko yatra karti thi Kerala hai. MaiN Singapora meN huN.

I think for 2 days with a dictionary with a 15 page summary labelled 'Simple grammar' it's pretty good! If only I could remember this stuff when I'm talking. Instead it comes out 'MaiN globbymumbleboo hai.' Alas, perhaps some practice will make it better.

Here I am, another hour passed, and I still haven't gotten to Bulgaria. Perhaps its because I was there several months ago now, I already wrote several blog entries on the trip, and I'm loopy. I have half an unpublished entry in which I rip apart a recent article on Sofia that was published by the Chicago Tribune. Suffice it to say, even the headline was so inaccurate that it could be disproved by any unpaid intern fact checker, and they really do need to institute some sort of punishment for people who write travel articles that are grossly incorrect.

A few not grossly incorrect notes on Bulgaria:

• As the photos prove, the Black Sea is not black but instead a deep color of blue. The only thing black about the Black Sea is the color of the pollutants floating around in it.
• The currency is linked to the Euro, and therefore, although things were cheaper than Vienna, they were by no means cheap, and certainly not as cheap as they should be given that Bulgaria is in the Balkans,has a struggling economy, vast rural areas, lots of poor people, and areas of challenged infrastructure.
  
• We can also thank an influx of British tourists and holiday house owners for the lack of hospitality and general expensiveness of anything anywhere near a resort area. Bulgarians were less than friendly, and I can see why. Their entire Black Sea coast has been destroyed by the development of crappy cheap resorts to cater to western Europeans looking for a budget vacation by the sea. The very reason people went there for generations is now missing, since the natural beauty and interesting culture has been almost completely replaced with 1960's style cheap resorts built up on all the formerly beautiful beaches.
  
• As with Romania, it's tough to pontificate the 'right' strategy for how Bulgaria should develop. The new EU infrastructure including a new big airport in the Black Sea port of Burgas so that Brits don't have to see any of Bulgaria but the cheap resorts and a real highway from Sophia to Burgas, is making it easier for some Bulgarians to do business and get out of poverty. Many of the towns that are tourist stops only still exist because of the tourist dollars that keep them financially afloat. But, at what cost does this development come? Bulgarian culture is struggling to stay afloat against the influx of western culture that has grown like wildfire since Bulgaria joined the EU. Bulgaria's music, full of middle-eastern tones and reminiscent of Greek and Turkish music, now has to compete with bad German techno from the early 90's in clubs. How could anyone prefer dancing to bad German techno to those seductive middle-eastern beats?
• The Bulgarian goverment also faces challenges to development since there are still remnants of the old ways. There is a sign in customs that says 'No Payments Allowed' meaning, don't try to bribe your way through customs... There were cops everywhere pulling people over randomly, and apparently to make that custom easier, the city government of Sofia had passed a few draconian laws saying that you weren't allowed to have a dirty car in Sofia and you weren't allowed to wear sunglasses in a car (presumably because they couldn't see your eyes to see if they could make eye contact with you and pull you over).
  
• In contrast to the previous point, Bulgaria is another one of those countries that lets you do pretty much whatever you want at their precious historic sites. While it is awesome to be able to sit on Roman ruins and take funny pictures, I'm pretty sure this doesn't help preserve them. In the World Heritage Site Byzantine ruins in Nessebar, kids were playing a version of in-door soccer using the ancient pillars as bouncers to get a 'goal' ie. bounce the ball off the ancient altar. The boys did this every day of the 4 days we were there, so I assume it was a regular sport. While the fence 100 metres away from the edge of Stone Henge preventing you from pretty much seeing anything is a bit much, using ancient ruins as a soccer stadium kind of takes it to the other extreme - if only there was a happy medium.
  
• Despite any shortcomings we experienced with strangers, the Bulgarians we knew and met at the wedding were delightful and so hospitable. Irina's wedding was so much fun that it lasted over 12 hours that went by in a blink! They stayed out later than that at a club, but we were partied out. That Bulgarian music is just so easy to dance to!
• Irina's Bulgarian wedding included a civil and a relgious ceremony and a reception at the palace of culture with great views of Sofia. The civil ceremony was surprisingly nationalistic, with the woman leading it wearing a sash of the Bulgarian flag, and saluting while the Bulgarian national anthem played (can you imagine playing the star-spangled banner at your wedding? way to kill the romance!). Much of the tradition that is also included in America, like the exchanging of rings, took place during the civil ceremony (possibly a holdover from the old Soviet days when religious ceremonies weren't allowed?). Everyone brought flowers for the couple and family members danced in the street to an accordion in the alley outside the court house after the ceremony.
  
• The church ceremony in the second largest cathedral in Sofia was everything I thought an orthodox ceremony would be, with lots of incence, chanting, and walking around in a circle. There was an added bonus of some crown-wearing. Since it was in Bulgarian, I have no idea what they were saying, but the effect of the rituals in the church were pretty awesome themselves. I enjoyed the modern touch of about 100 digital cameras going off every second to get pictures of the ceremony.
  

I have passed another hour and now I am very, very, very sleepy. It's 12:27am in California and 3:37pm in Singapore. I must stay awake, but I'm getting that truck-ran-over-me feeling that comes with extreme jetlag. I don't know what I would be feeling if I hadn't slept on the plane. I might be in the corner in a fetal position. Hmm, that actually sounds kind of appealing...

I have had a total of half a glass of creativity juice, a cappuccino, a mineral water, a cream puff, and a mini-eclair and I'm ready to pass out. I shall now leave to go find a corner for the rest of my layover on this very, very long day of travel (I left for the airport 26 hours ago). I think watching olympic ping pong is the perfect ointment for my current state of mind...ping...pong...ping...pong...


Baby hot dog speaks for itself.

The World From (100 feet) Above

The formatting of this entry got all screwed up and I have fixed it by editing the HTML. I feel like I have just crossed a threshold in my computer-using life.

Yesterday Yev and I went on a hot air balloon ride in Napa Valley at sunrise to commemorate my quarter-century birthday. Along the lines of my previous entry about travel making me appreciate things more, even when I'm home- I realized that I still haven't done many of the things that California has to offer. And so I decided that I wanted to do one of those very 'California'(and, I admit, yuppie) things, and take a balloon ride over Napa.

We awoke at 4am to roll out of bed and drive to Napa from Palo Alto (about an hour and a half drive) in order to be there by 5:30am. Amazingly, we did it and in the wee hours of the morning found ourselves in a vineyard , standing next to an enormous balloon with a little bitty basket big enough to barely fit our 6 passengers and one captain. The basket was a bit smaller than we anticipated, and even though the basket was definitely small enough for us to be able to fall out if we so chose, it still turned out to be a lot less scary than I expected. We leisurely floated up and around between 10-400 feet above the ground, and my favorite part was when we were just 20-20 feet off the ground (we felt like we were going the fastest then).

To get a hot air balloon up, they basically blow up at 125ft balloon with a big tank of fiery fuel and then you float up slowly. You depend on the wind to move you, much like a sail boat, so if there isn't any wind, you might just float in the same place. Luckily it was a clear, slightly windy day which made for perfect conditions. The balloon can't stay aloft on its own, and so every time we started veering down (sometimes only 10-15 feet above the ground), our captain with the handle-bar mustache, Russ, whose name I know because it was imprinted in big letters on his belt, would pull the string and set the fuel ablaze to get the balloon back up and to avoid a showdown with the not-too-pleased vineyard owners.

We were joined on the trip by a couple on their honeymoon from Seattle who didn't say a single word the entire time, and a girl and her brother in their mid-20's, who I will call Jenny and Bobby (not their real names) from the Napa Valley who were there for Bobby's birthday. Bobby had special needs, and brought that sense of innocence to the conversation that tends to come from children. He kept asking Russ if he was from Texas because of Russ's cowboy demeanor (and handlebar mustache...very astute of Bobby, I think).

It turns out Russ wasn't from Texas, but does work on a ranch in Northern California as his 'day job.' Bobby asked Russ about being from Texas about every 10 minutes, every time Russ spoke, I think, and it became hard not to laugh. Jenny would then have to shout 'No, Bobby, he's not from Texas' because Bobby had to take his hearing aid out because the blow torch used to keep the balloon up was so loud. We were finished by 8am, and after getting 4 hours of sleep the night before, I was about ready for a nap. It's amazing how long your day is when you wake up that early, and by noon we felt totally jetlagged. Possibly the first time anyone has felt jetlagged after a hot air balloon ride...

The whole thing wasn't as exciting as I expected, but it was very interesting to see how the balloon worked, how it's possible to be 400 feet above the ground in a tiny basket and not be scared, and it was a great way of seeing Napa. All and all, a very California thing to do as my 2 week countdown to my next travels begins.

Inside the Ballon before we took off

Getting the balloon up with the 'blow torch'

Fellow sunrise ballooners

What's left of the balloon after we packed it up - almost a bean bag chair!

I'd also like to give a shout out to our balloon company at www.NapaValleyDrifters.com. This was waaay less touristy than I expected it to be.

Back in the Hotel California

Curses! The big time lapses between my entries are diminishing what little blogging credibility I built up with the tales of my time in India and Asia!

Alas, when I actually bring myself to sit down and write, I develop all sorts of grandiose plans to write every day, publish articles, win a Pulitzer, blah blah blah, and then the next day those addictive TV series DVD sets turn me into a Ray Bradbury "this is what technology can do to you" TV zombie. You know the culprits, the series that end every episode on a cliff-hanger thus turning the unsuspecting watcher into a TV gunky who, much like a drug addict, only realizes they have a problem when they find themselves rationalizing staying up all night just to find out what happens at the end of season 1. Then 925 minutes and a permanent indentation on the couch later, you know what happens at the end of season 1 - a clever cliff-hanger that can only be resolved by starting season 2...and thus the vicious cycle of zombie behavior continues.

And so now, as I am home early from work on a Friday and am avoiding hooking up the television I-V (that's the letters, not the roman numeral), I plan to blob out lots of brilliant (not to mention modest...) ideas that have been floating around my brain since the last time I wrote 2 months ago...

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Since no one likes to read a long blog entry, I have decided to entice you to read on with this picture of an adorable puppy with whom I have no connection except that that I Google image searched him using the term 'adorable puppy.'

<- Awwweee, isn't he adorable?...and confused? Puppy: Why have they put me in this flower pot? Are they trying to plant me? Will I grow into a puppy flower? a puppy tree? Where's the kibble? I smell food... --------------------- First let's get the status update out of the way. I've been in California for 6 weeks since my European excursion ended (I'll be getting to my final thoughts on my time in Eastern Europe later), and in 2 weeks I'm leaving for a 10 day trip down memory lane in Hyderabad for a conference. I plan to visit all my old pals and show around some new pals - I'm dying to see what has changed drastically with all the development (my guess: Hi Tech City, the new modern airport, and the rich neighborhoods) and what has stayed the same (my guess: the Old City and the slums, which have stayed the same since the beginning of civilization). After that I am back in California for a week before I head off to another adventure spending time in Sydney until I am able to move to Singapore. I'm super excited about Sydney, but am definitely worried that once I get there I'll call Yev up and demand that he move there right away so that we can buy a beach house and live in Australia for ever and ever. Not quite sure why I'm afraid of that, since it sounds pretty awesome actually... I've only been there for one week in the past, and I have a sneaking suspicion that over a month there will make me love it even more. The fact that in 2 weeks I'll essentially be traveling for the next year+ is still so overwhelming that I'm in the denial phase. One comforting thought that helps me sleep at night: there is an IKEA in Singapore. This means that if I really go crazy, I can probably re-create my apartment with the same stuff in Singapore (at only twice the cost...). Come to think of it, that thought is equal parts creepy and comforting...

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Hmmm...this entry is really long. What else can I put here to keep you reading? How about, pandas riding a rocking horse? These are not men dressed in Panda suits...these are real pandas at the zoo in Chengdu according to the British news article that published the pic.


One of my favorite things about traveling is that it makes me pay a lot more attention to the details of what is going on around me - both while I'm traveling and when I'm back at home. Take, for example, the writing of the brand names on cars. When I was in China, it was so noticeable that the brand names were written in both English characters and Chinese (except the cherries, the Chinese brand), which stuck me as remarkably strange. I've never been anywhere else with an alternative writing system, including Egypt, Kiev, Bulgaria, Greece, India, Thailand, and Hong Kong, where the names of the cars were written in the local writing system.

Not to say that they aren't, but I never noticed them. But in China, every single car had a brand written in Chinese. Wouldn't it be cool if Toyotas had their brand names written in Japanese and English? Then we could learn characters of other languages, and have an idea of where the cars are from (precisely the reason they don't do this, I'm sure) - but it would be exotic and educational! Like those international olympic Coke cans. Note that even in China, American cars have their brand names written in English, unlike any foreign car company's logos in America.

My humanities-educated brain that automatically tries to analyze the root causes of my observations leads me in the direction of the US, about 40-50 years ago when Toyota was first trying to break into the market. Of course they wouldn't write the car name in Japanese, even if it was also in English - the xenophobic American populace of the 1950's and 1960's would have freaked out - it wasn't too long ago that we had thrown Japanese-Americans into internment camps - you bombed Pearl Harbor and you expect us to buy a car from you?

I'm surprised they even used the Japanese name Toyota and didn't come up with some other, more American name, such as the Freedom-mobile (although, they weren't making this decision with the Bush administration in power, or else it may have had a stronger chance of making it - "hey Verne, let's hop in our Freedom-mobile and get us some Freedom Fries!" After all, almost everything sold in America today was made somewhere else, and the more 'American'/'Patriotic'/'Freedom' their name is, the more guaranteed the product is to have been made in China.) If I were their marketing manager I would have created and entire line of Freedom and Liberty mobiles (although, come to think of it, the term 'liberty-mobile' may already be trademarked by the McCain For President campaign), and now I would be a gazillionaire - alas, wrong place and wrong time for my ingenious marketing ideas (GM- you can feel free to give me a high paid marketing job to get you out of the gas-guzzling, ugly-ass, outsourced-labor bankruptcy you're entering any moment now and I might consider offering my services...).

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On another note, I saw this YouTube video today. Apparently, 'Where in the Hell is Matt' has had quite a following that I missed. A gum company paid for him to go dance a little jig around the world in 43 countries. Can I do that please?