Indian Samurai इंडियन सामुराई

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: 

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...