Letter to Everyone

Men hold hands here! I think in most places being gay isn’t openly accepted, and I don’t think that most of the men I’ve seen holding hands are gay. But it’s so interesting to see all kinds of men holding hands – macho-looking types, teenagers, men on the beach… they dance with each other too, so much more comfortably than men in America.

Everything can be delivered to your home – toilet paper, tubs of icecream, mcdonalds cold coffees… (they have McDelivery motorcycles! ). It was really surprising to me at first, but makes sense because delivering provides someone with a job. I’ve noticed that you can get anything done here because there are so many people, someone will be willing to do it as a job – there are always always taxis and rickshaws, fancy hotels post people in the bathrooms to turn the water on and off for you as you wash your hands (we don’t have that in the states do we??) you can buy anything you might need just by sitting on a train long enough, because people come through selling everything from plastic card cases to fruits and bread. We have maid, which is a weird experience. I read in the Brothers K that as weird as it is to have someone work for you, it’s one of the best things you can do with your privilege – provide employment. At the same time, I’ve noticed that even rich, very well-off people will try to get the best deal. The opportunity cost -- convenience -- doesn’t seem to motivate people as much. Rich people still eat off the street (understandable because it’s so good!) and bargain at markets and ride the same trains (albeit in first class). Maybe I’m stereotyping, but I feel like you could rip off a rich person in American much more easily than you could rip off a rich person here.

Today, my friend and I were trying to find a taxi. We spotted a whole line of them across the street (a rare find in a city where taxis are always speeding off to the next customer) and dashed across to practice our hindi and get to our train station. The first one said no, the next one said no as well, and pointed up ahead. The third one spoke to us a lot but all in Hindi and I couldn’t understand. Our friend, who speaks Hindi perfectly was a few feet behind us and cracking up – we didn’t understand why. After being rejected two or three more times, we got to the beginning of the line of taxis and looked up – to see nothing other than a gas station! our Hindi-speaking friend was now doubled over laughing – we had looked so ridiculous the whole time!