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07/22/2012

Amen

 The day after the arrival of my friend in Delhi, I explained to her the difficulty that I have had to meet people. I am talking about the hundreds of weird Indian guys who want to “be my friend” or about expatriates who spend their evenings trashing India. These are easy to find. But the others it’s another story, maybe even more because with experience you become hyper suspicious (perhaps too much).

And as to contradict me, this is what has happened the same day: my friend and I were sitting on the balcony when I noticed the neighbours of the first floor of the opposite house (about 20 years old) packing a frame.

Half an hour later the doorbell rang.

A young Indian with spots glasses.

That handed me over a frame!

One of his friends had visited an exhibition and purchased (for €12) the following piece of propaganda for Bibles:

 

india,neighbour,poster,bible

 

And he thought that this poster would be better in its place in my house!

07/20/2012

Blind date in India!

In the same vein than my last note (cf) my friend organized a dinner with a friend of friend she met in Malaysia.... I was already not so motivated (this kind of plan with Indians does not inspire anything too good to me, question of experiences). And then she sent me a picture she had found facebooking his name: 

India,blind date,facebook

 I roared with laughter. No kidding! It must be a mistake, or else a joke! Well, no.

 

In the evening, I checked: I already had a doubt because she had told me she had found only one person with this name. Even if it is a very funny name, among 1.2 billion, there are necessarily more than one...

And when I facebooked the same, a dozen profiles came up! She found one she liked: "Hey it would be nice if it was him". And me: “Don’t get too excited, this is Shahid Kapoor on the picture!”*

In short it will be a surprise....

 

For the curious readers the surprise was not bad.

Even if the outcome was no different than the one I was fearing: it is apparently really hard to resist the white sirens' song ...**

 

* Note of myself: a Bollywood star.

** It is actually just an image, no need to be a siren, nor to sing, to be perceived as an easy "fuck". Yep there is some bitterness here, but not too much!

07/18/2012

Zumba or not zumba?

My French friend came to visit me in Delhi.

 

She gave me a big kick in the ass, "forcing me" to go out, socialize (I also have been a super wing-woman for her!) etc. The moment she landed, she bought Times Out, highlighted stuff and we were out! Which also created a few funny situations.

 

Let's start with the free trial class of zumba. We decided to meet one evening at 16A Lajpat Nagar. I told her that it was probably a printing mistake; it had to be A16 (and therefore block A). After twenty minutes of rounds, we landed outside a gym (at the A16); the kind of gym where you wish you would never go: in a basement, maximum 40 square meters, a sign that makes the mouth water: 

india,gym,zumba,delhi,politeness

My friend told the reception guy that we had come for the free trial class of zumba. No spark of understanding in his dull eyes. She tried again. He offered us to go to the changing room. We almost did but it was not clear where the class would take place after that since the room was filled with machines.

To cut the story short, I stepped in. As I often say, to be polite, a French has to be extensively polite and make this kind of extended sentences: "Would you be kind enough to pass me the milk please?". While in India, no need  of such tumid questions. The best way to ask for milk is to say: “Milk?”. If the sentence is too long you may lose the attention of the person you are talking to and in any case, it is not rude to go straight to the goal. I have to say, I still find people rude sometimes, but this mainly due to the tone of voice they use, especially when they treat waiters as slaves. But I guess if you have a nice tone, just saying a word is not impolite. So guess what I asked the brainless bodybuilder I was facing?? "ZUUUUUMMMMBAAAAAAAAAAAAA".

Can’t say I had the right tone that time but I was getting pretty irritated by the whole joke!!

And then guess what?? He got it!! "Ha!. No, no zumba here! ".

 

We would not give up. After a long search (a cycle-rickshaw and a ten minutes’ walk), we found the 16A, cursing the magazine for not putting the name of the street (and for once the street had a name!!). We arrived in a nice ultramodern (but empty) health farm!

And, finally, I could not escape my first class of zumba...