Christmas in Delhi

If Delhi's got something over Hyderabad on Christmas, it's that it's pretty darn cold so at least it actually feels like Christmas! (for me, anyway... Tyler spends his Christmases in LA with his family and the Christmas tree lot, so perhaps Hyderabad feels more like home to him!)

We woke up early on Sunday, spoke to my cousins over Skype, and then headed to Christmas mass.  I've never quite thought about this before, but the Vatican (Holy See) has an embassy in Delhi -- not too far from the Pakistani embassy and down the street from the American and Chinese embassies.  This is the only embassy I've been to where there hasn't been insane security (we laughed at the huge gun sitting unmanned as you walk inside).  We enjoyed Christmas mass in a cozy little chapel, presided by two Latin priests who sang quite a lot of hymns in Latin.  We blasted out Joy to the World and O Come Let Us Adore Him.

Later that day, we finally broke out our brand new tandoor oven (well, new from about three months ago; we figured Christmas was a pretty good excuse to finally take it out of the box!)  Of course, things don't come straight from the box to use very easily in India.  Our brand new power strip sparked out while the tandoor was smoking and clearing all kinds of enamel and other debris.

Since our power strip died, our tandoor now needed to compete with our fridge -- only one could be plugged in at any one time.  With my new Punjabi khana cookbook in hand, we lovingly prepared the marinate to soak all the vegetables in.  We couldn't wait to eat our delicious Christmas meal!!

Note to self: perhaps it's not the best idea to open presents while the food is cooking, especially when one of the presents is a new Kindle that we both became obsessed with exploring!

Christmas dinner got a little burnt... who's up for TGI Fridays?

Thoughts for the New Year

"When you have come to the edge
Of all the light you know,

And are about to step off
Into the darkness of the unknown,

Faith is knowing
One of two things will happen:

There will be something solid to stand on,
Or you will be taught how to fly."

-Anonymous poet


Here's to welcoming the new year with renewed faith (in the universe, in ourselves, and in each other) and much joy.

What's in a name?

Tyler got me a Kindle for Christmas (and not only a Kindle, but one pre-loaded with lots of fun travel books for our upcoming trip to Istanbul, and a subscription to the New York Times!).  Since then, the Kindle has scarcely left my side (it's like the commercial from when we were little: "My buddy...my buddy... wherever I go, he goes too! -- my buddy and me!")

I'm officially hooked.

Today on my Kindle, I read an interesting op-ed in the Times on changing one's name.  Now, this is an area I have thought a lot about for a year and a half now, beginning soon after Tyler and I had become engaged.  As the wedding approached, I talked to tons of girlfriends about their choice of keeping vs. changing their name and more importantly, the factors that went into their decision.  I had always assumed I would change my name, yet as our wedding approached, I started to acquire the undeniable symptoms of separation anxiety.  I mean, I liked my last name.  At the same time, I did like the feeling of "one-ness" and unity that having one last name implies.

Who knew that India would provide a year's extension in which to work out my internal neuroses -- as my passport, visa, and all things legal are in my maiden name (and good luck trying to convince the folks at immigration why your names do not match up across documents).

Fast-forward to the article in today's Times.  The author writes, "Twelve years ago, I changed my name to Alina Simone... When I think back to my old self, I think of an entirely different person, not altogether likable, whose singular distinguishing characteristic was the chronic inability to follow through with anything she said she would do.  I picked up and abandoned projects with great regularity back then, careful to always avoid the frightening terrain where my true ambitions lay.

Then I changed my name and it changed me.  In my new incarnation as Alina Simone, I had no reputation, no history of unmet expectations, nothing to lose.  I started singing; I formed a band.  I poured my best self into my new name."

The thing is though, that I like who I am as Tricia Morente.  Sure, there are habits I'd like to stop and habits I'd like to start, but by and large, there's no desire to run away from who I am.  

Although, it is an interesting thought: What would you be in a new incarnation?  Who would you be in your best self?

Perhaps I've been looking at it all wrong: rather than losing who I've been, perhaps a change in name can ultimately be a means towards becoming the person I truly want to be.

And with that, I think of a friend's recent email, looking ahead to the new year.  He writes:

I have a strong feeling about 2012.  It is not just another leap year.  I look forward to seeing it unfold -- for each one of us and for the globe as a whole.

Enjoy the leap -- of faith, of consciousness, of everything that is.

Our Christmas Eve Day in Pictures

Our stockings are up Contrary to what you might think, Christmas in India is actually very similar to Christmas back home, with a few minor modifications...

Santa's just a bit scarier here, with his plastic mask and all...

Instead of Christmas carolers, we have Hare Krishna revelers...

Christmas trees are a bit skinnier...

And instead of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, we have potatoes and lime on every street corner...

Not quite the Christmases we remember, but also one we won't forget soon.  Sending everyone a very Merry Christmas!!  We miss you!

The Rage

I hate to say it, but I am precariously close to the brink of intense road rage, the like of which cannot be remotely fathomed unless one has spent a reasonable amount of time in an Indian metro.

I realize violence isn't the answer, and especially as we're three days away from the anniversary of the birth of Christ.  But I don't think an environment has quite stirred me up as much as our ten block radius.

I used to play a game of how many times cars would honk at me during the ten minute walk from my house to the metro station, but I would lose count after about 15 or so.  It's quite incredible, and I just keep telling myself that they actually think it's good driving to honk so many times needlessly (when my friend, Priya, was getting her driver's license in Hyderabad, her instructor kept yelling at her because she wouldn't honk the horn enough!)  It's become too easy of a joke to say how much cars honk (even when all alone on the road at 4:15am, my cab would honk every five minutes or so, as though to make sure his horns were indeed working fine since the last time he checked).

But telling yourself these stories only helps so much when the horns honk so loudly and directly in your ear that you just want to yell yourself (or throw whatever you happen to be holding)!  I was teasing Tyler that he doesn't have as many stray dog friends in our new neighborhood versus his old one, and he remarked that the dogs here just seem so stressed all the time with all the cars honking in every direction!

So instead, I focus on the positives.  That's the thing with India.  One second you feel intense anger at the car that honked right in your ear; literally the next, you spot laughing schoolchildren, crossing the street with their arms wrapped around each other, and can't help but smile. (It works the other way too.  I was just emailing Tyler how excited I was for dal, murgh makhani (butter chicken) and garlic naan tonight, then spotted bloodied fish being sold on our sidewalk (as in, literally displayed on a single newspaper upon the sidewalk, blood dripping and attracting flies and dogs from all directions... that's one way to kill an appetite!)

As much as the walk to and from the metro station infuriates me, it's also quite magical -- passing crumbling architectural structures, I imagine from the 18th century or so.  Always, there's cricket to be played (I wonder whether the children realize the magic of playing cricket amidst these gorgeous structures).  The animals make me smile as well.  There are dogs who pop out from the dumpster, looking embarrassed they've been discovered; or serene-looking cows acting like kings of their castle.

And that's the beauty with India.  Everything happens all at once; you can't have the magic without the mayhem; the serenity without the noise.  Perhaps there's really no juxtaposition at all -- it's the yin and the yang, combined, that gives one a fullness in life.

Still.  I really think I could do without the honks.

True phone call, about 10 seconds ago

Ring, ring...

Me: Hello?

Caller: Hello?

Me: Hello?

Caller: Hello?

Me: Who is this?

Caller: Is this 99109 92924?

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Caller: I'm calling to ask if this is your number: Is this 99109 92924?

Me: Yes. How can I help you?

Caller: Yes, I am calling this number.

Me: Yes?

[The caller then hangs up, only to call back 30 seconds later... Only to hang up after I pick up.]  

I just have to laugh.  Phone etiquette here is quite funny.  At best, it's highly efficient.  I call someone, and they pick up and tersely say: "Yes, tell me."  There's no chit chat, just straight to the point (funny because I have to remind myself not to do that when I'm speaking to American colleagues!)

Perhaps the funniest though is telephone etiquette in Hyderabad.  When I first moved to India and called someone, it was not uncommon for the recipient to pick up and say: "Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?" (this is not an exaggeration)  Each time I would start to speak and say who I am, the recipient would say another, "Hello?"  I remember one time when ordering pizza, I had to just say: "Stop!" so we could get past the salutations and I could place my order!

This trend was actually so pervasive, that for a while, my then roommate, Jack, would start to pick up his cell phone when friends call, answering: "Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?"- and then just hang up.  

It would be a bit silly, if it also weren't so true.

Fear-based Leadership

I came to India four years ago with a hypothesis, born out of my time working with Katzenbach: that the true challenge to social enterprises scaling up is around talent -- much more so than financial constraints to scale.  This is not, of course, to belittle the need for capital that is aligned with the organization's social goals.  Yet in my experience, this aspect, while challenging, is also much more straight-forward than recruiting/developing/retaining talent.  So often, what I've seen in India is an inspiring entrepreneur, intent on growing his or her idea.  Yet the challenge soon becomes building not only the leadership team, but the front lines -- which becomes much more difficult with scale.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking about leadership styles -- particularly with the a plethora of articles being written about fear-based leadership in the US, based on uncertainty and the economic environment.  When I first got to India, I got feedback that I was being too "nice" to people who reported to me; that I needed to instill more fear.

I recently did some consulting work for a Delhi-based organization whose staff was so fearful of the CEO that no one would speak up at meetings (not so uncommon in Asian organizations, as I saw this trend in Thailand as well, when I wrote a business school case on a leading conglomerate there).

In thinking through these cultural differences, as well as the current trend in US management styles to veer towards fear-based leadership, I found this Strategy & Business interview with Meg Wheatley particularly interesting.

In part, she says:

"I notice that when I ask people how much time they spend thinking together with colleagues, reflecting on what they’ve learned from their most recent efforts, they just stare back blankly at me. It’s getting hard to remember what it felt like to manage reflectively — to take time to figure things out together and to learn from experience...

In most companies, we do not have (and I believe won’t have for the foreseeable future) the money to fund the work that we have to do. Leaders have two choices. One, they can tap the invisible resource of people who become self-motivated when invited to engage together. This approach has well-documented results in higher productivity, innovation, and motivation, but it requires a shift from a fear-based approach to a belief in the capacity of most people to contribute, to be creative, and to be motivated internally. Alternatively, they can continue to slash and burn, tightening controls, and using coercive methods to enforce the cuts. This destroys capacity, yet it is the more common approach these days.

Around the time I began writing Perseverance, I read a book by Laurence Gonzales called Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why: True Stories of Miraculous Endurance and Sudden Death [W.W. Norton, 2003]. Gonzalez says that when people are truly lost in the wilderness, they go through predictable stages. First, they deny they’re lost; they keep doing what they’ve always done but with a greater sense of urgency. Then, when they begin to realize that they’re lost, they search frantically for any shred of evidence that would indicate that they’re not. Next they deteriorate, both physically and mentally. Their frantic search for the familiar, and their inability to recognize that their current maps aren’t working, leads to the ultimate moment when they realize they are close to death. If they don’t acknowledge that they’re lost and that they need new information to construct an accurate read on their situation, they will die.

When I read this, I thought, “That’s exactly what I see in organizations (and in our political leaders).” Too many leaders fail to realize that the old ways, their mental maps, aren’t giving them the information they need. But instead of acknowledging that, they push on more frantically, desperate to have the old ways work. When human beings work from fear and panic, we lose nearly all of our best reasoning capacities. We can’t see patterns, think about the future, or make moral judgments.

This leads to a terrible cycle, a death spiral. People in fear look for someone to blame; so leaders blame their staff, and staff blame their leaders. A climate of blame leads to self-protective behaviors. People take fewer risks; creativity and participation disappear. New rules and regulations appear, with unintended but predictable consequences: more staff disengagement, more wasted time, more chaos. People spend all their time trying to cope or writing reports to confirm that they aren’t to blame. When I’m speaking with a group and comment about the number of reports people have to write today, or the number of measures they have to track, the audience members roll their eyes and groan...

When you’re lost in the wilderness, the only way to survive is to admit that you’re lost — and to stop looking for signs that might confirm that you know where you are. Your old ways of doing things won’t get you out of this situation. Once you realize this, you can look clearly around you, and seek information that will help you rethink what to do. You don’t have to change the situation you’re in; you have to change your mind about it.

For any situation where the old maps are failing, you need to call together everyone who might have information that’s needed to construct a new map. This includes people at all levels of the system — anyone who plays a role that’s relevant. Especially as you face increasingly complex problems that have no easy answers, you need to be brave enough to seek out perspectives from all parts of the system. It takes a lot of courage for a leader to say, “Our problems were caused by complex interactions. I don’t know what to do, but I know we can figure it out together.”

The Entrepreneurial Bug

Easily one of the most exciting aspects of living in India is how entrepreneurial it is here.  Whereas the economy back home in NY still feels drenched in fear and conservatism, opportunity abounds here in India.  It's inspiring to have so many of our friends starting businesses and embracing the entrepreneurial spirit.  There's my former co-worker and good friend who started her own company in Hyderabad -- essentially a marketing platform for micro-entrepreneurs and service workers.  There's another girlfriend in Bangalore heading an inspiring social enterprise focused on newborn health.  Tyler recently had drinks with a future business school classmate of his, who started a healthcare foundation in India a few years ago.

An unindented consequence of moving to Delhi is how much our social circle has expanded beyond social enterprise.  In Hyderabad, if you are an expat, in 99% of cases, you are either working in social enterprise or in IT (and both "camps" live on opposite sides of the sprawling city, entrenching the insularism of both tribes).  In Delhi, our circle has expanded to include aspiring politicians, journalists, socialites, and bankers.  And of course, there's the diversification of businesses that our friends are starting.

Today, we served as tasters for two friends, who are opening a chain of healthy fast food Mexican joints called Picante.  The two friends, both Indian and schooled in the US, went to Darden Business School and essentially lived off Chipotle for most of their two years in Virginia (understandably!)  One went off to McKinsey after school, but couldn't help thinking that this idea could take off in India.  When his friend and future business partner finished b-school a year later, they decided to head back together and give it a shot.

Heading to the tasting this afternoon proved to be quite an adventure in itself.  An hour and forty-five minutes on the motorcycle, we went from posh South Delhi, to historical North Delhi and the Delhi University area, passing forts and crumbling Mughal palaces along the way... to what felt like the wild west.  Large trucks abounded, carrying all sorts of items/food/people.  One huge truck was open in the back, stacked to the brim with onions, with five men sitting on top of the piles of onions, bopping along the way.  Needless to say, cows and all sorts of animals lined the roads.  It didn't help that we didn't know the area.  Google maps could only help so much (and navigating with Tyler's smartphone while we're driving on the motorcycle ranks on my list of favorite activities lower than cleaning the bathtub).

As is always the case in India, just when you think you're insanely lost, somehow you stumble upon what you're looking for.  We're grateful for our perseverance, for once we get inside, there's a giant spread of the most beautiful Mexican food we've seen in all our years in India: roasted chicken, black beans, spanish rice, corn salsa, guacamole, and three types of fresh salsas.  We dig in, then spend time giving feedback around taste, appearance, texture, smell, and overall recommendations.

Picante opens up in Gurgaon on Christmas Day.  Keep your eye out.  It's sure to be a hit! -- India's ready for it (and if not, there's a good chance that Tyler and I ourselves will keep it in business with all our visits there!)

Work Life Balance

I don't mean to brag, but I had quite possibly the most perfect, ordinary day.  Sure, it helps that it's Friday, but it's also much more than that.

I wake up early and head to Hindi class.  Afterwards, I walk about 5 minutes to the gym -- which, in India, is the rarest of rare delights.  Of all the things I miss from NY, walking from place to place is surprisingly up there on my list.

The gym is nice and empty, as folks are heading into the office.  I snag an elliptical with a TV and plug in my headphones (such an upgrade from our last gym, where I was just thrilled an elliptical would be working!)  Fresh from Hindi class, I tune into the government Hindi news channel, but find an inverse correlation to how hard I'd concentrate on the Hindi vs. my speed on the elliptical.

I decide to get more realistic.  Eureka!  I stumble upon quite possibly the best channel to learn Hindi and work out: a channel of karaoke Bollywood music!!  I turn it up and soak in the Bollywood dance moves, while mouthing the Hindi I'm reading down below.  The verb "karna" (to do) is amazingly flexible... you can stick any word in front of it and turn that word into a verb.  In one song, there are about 5 different uses for [x] "karna", like "party karta hai" and "world travel karta hai".  It's great.  You, too, can speak Hindi!

Afterwards, I head back to the Hindi class/school and study a bit on my own.  Then it's off to my first Indian cooking class!  I head to Nita Mehta's -- sort-of the Indian Rachael Ray.  She has books galore, and the class is essentially a classroom with a giant stovetop and kitchen, with cameras hovering over the pots, projecting to televisions around the room.  For a class of only eight of us, it feels like quite a production.  We learn all sorts of ways to cook paneer, essentially the Indian version of tofu -- in that it's high in protein, has absolutely no taste, but goes well with everything.

I look around the room, and my fellow students are either very young women (no doubt taking cooking classes to become more marriage marketable), or old matrons (one complaints that her husband doesn't like her cooking at all).  It's easy to say that the best part of the class comes at the end, when we get to eat all the paneer dishes she's been demonstrating.  I feel like I'm part of the studio live audience, and almost clap when the food starts getting passed around.

It's now 3pm, and time to start work.  I put in a few good hours working on a deliverable due to our funder next week; then get on the phone for a conference call.  It's an amazing mix of being super engaged and interested in my work, but not having it take over my life (quite possibly the first time this has happened!)  Working part-time certainly has its benefits!

As I close this, I'm about to finish watching a Bollywood DVD I started yesterday and have dinner with Tyler, before we head over to a Holiday "White" party at a bar/club nearby.  If this isn't amazing work/life balance, I'm not sure what is.  I'll have to remember to re-read this at some point when we've moved back to NYC, and remember that indeed, it is possible.

Inspired

Harvard's early action decisions go out today. One interesting reflection is how different my interviews have been in Long Island versus here in India. It's impossible not to feel like you're in a bubble in Long Island -- everybody on the same track, trying to get into the same schools, with very similar extracurricular activities.

I'm not sure if times have changed, or just my geography (or clearly both), but I've found my Harvard undergrad interviews here in India nothing short of inspiring. There's the high school senior living in a rural area, who drives two hours each way to take classes to improve his English. There's another, living in the outskirts of a jungle, who is so passionate about saving tigers that he invented a contraption to find traps that hunters have set. They have experiences that I can't imagine having had back when I was in high school. For instance, one American who has been living in India told me about giving left-over food away to a street child, whose mother then asked him to keep her daughter: "If you can feed her, you can keep her."

Whether or not they get into Harvard, these kids are among the most inspiring young people I've met. Next month, Harvard's President, Drew Gilpin Faust, will visit India, to "highlight the increasingly vital role of India and South Asia at Harvard." There's still a long way to go. Last year, Harvard only accepted four students from India, into a freshman undergraduate class of 1600.

I'm still in touch with my two interviewees who got into Harvard last year. Among the biggest culture shocks? Primal scream, which they experienced earlier this week, wherein undergrads streak around Harvard Yard butt-naked, in freezing weather, the night before exams start. I can only imagine what their mothers back in India must be thinking...

Morning Rituals

Our apartment has the singular distinction of having the worst working shower I've ever experienced.

I say "working shower" to clearly differentiate between the many non-working showers (e.g. using buckets or ducking under the low bathtub faucet) I've had during my four years in India. For Tyler's entire year living in Hyderabad, he would fill up a large bucket and bring this to his "shower" corner in his bathroom. Since his faucet did not have hot water, he would take (no joke) an electric hod rod and stick it in the bucket of water until the water warmed up.

Come to think of it, my first year in Hyderabad was without hot water as well, although I was thankful to at least have a shower where I could stand upright (for most of the year). The funny thing is that you don't realize what you actually need in Hyderabad is a "cold" water faucet. My bedroom did not have air conditioner either (brutal in 110 degree weather in May and June!) Often I would just hop into the shower to cool down... but the pipes made the water feel just about as hot as the air, and just about as refreshing.

So compared with that, we're both grateful to have a working shower here in Delhi. The problem is that it just doesn't exactly "work" all that well. Sure, water comes out. But the first ten minutes of every shower is spent waiting for the hot water to come. Then once it does, it comes full force, and in random, powerful spurts. So then comes another 5-7 minutes of tweaking with the cold and scorching water -- it's never the same consistency each day. Often by the time I get the temperature just right so I can begin shampooing, the hot water runs out. Today, the temperature just kept getting hotter. Either way, I always end up getting out of the shower sooner than intended, either because the hot water has run out or it is scorching and can't compete with the cold water on full blast.

I read an article a while ago saying that one of the greatest predictors of daily happiness is your commute to work (with another being your relationship to your boss). Well, I've got the commute part covered. But I do think there's something about daily rituals and daily habits, and how the relative ease of these affects your daily happiness. In that way, the shower and I have some working things out to do.

But in the meantime, I suppose I should just enjoy it. I'm sure I'll think my shower back in NYC is just plain old boring after this.

The dangers of Hindi

So I'm sitting here at this trendy cafe, reading my "Chota Rajkumar" (The Little Prince). I've brought my trusty giant Hindi-English dictionary with me -- more because it's so heavy that it actually guilts me into doing my Hindi homework, having lugged it around everywhere.

Looking words up in Hindi takes me twice as long as it should, since, having mastered the actual letters, I've now forgotten what order these letters come in. So in looking up one word, I flip the pages front to back; and then back to front (repeating as necessary), until I finally come to the letter I'm looking for.

Within each letter, I go through roughly the same process. In particular, flags above and below the letters throw me off more, and I found myself spending literally about 10 minutes trying to look up "akarshak". Tyler's gone off to get his hair cut; his haircut is done and I've read about three sentences.

Frustrated and almost convinced it's just not in the dictionary, I point to the word and ask my waiter what it means.

He blushes.

Oh no.

"Maydam, it means 'attractive'," he says, blushing more and avoiding all eye contact. He smiles coyly.

Great, now the waiter thinks I'm flirting with him.

That'll show me to take the easy way out...

Historical Tour Fever

And on the subject of historical tours, I stumbled upon this in the Wall Street Journal: a tour of Imperial Delhi. Culturally, it's an exciting time to be living in Delhi. As the city celebrates its 100th anniversary as India's capital, it is also applying to be listed as a UNESCO heritage city.

Here's the tour that the Journal recommends:

1. Start from Coronation Park, the site of the 1911 Durbar, when King George V announced the capital would move to Delhi. The park, long neglected, is where the king’s statue was moved after Independence.

2. Hop on an autorickshaw to see where the British lived before New Delhi was completed. Head first to the Vice Chancellor’s Office at Delhi University, where the British Viceroy lived before Government House, now Rashtrapati Bhavan, was complete.

3. While you’re in the area, it’s worth visiting the Mutiny Memorial, built by the British to commemorate the British soldiers who died in the 1857 Indian Mutiny, an event also known as the first war of independence.

4. During the building of New Delhi, British administrators and their families lived in Civil Lines. The residential area is where many of the city’s earliest colonial houses can still be found. Among them is Maidens Hotel. Built at the turn of the century, this is where lead architect Edwin Lutyens lived during the building of the new city. When the capital was moved to Delhi, the city’s center shifted south.

5. Don’t miss St. James’ Church. Built in the 1830s, it is one of the oldest surviving British buildings in the city.

6. From Civil Lines, get on an auto-rickshaw and head south brushing past Old Delhi and down Vivekananda Road to reach one of New Delhi’s most famous landmarks: Connaught Place. From here, you can walk.

7. Few shops remain from the days Connaught Place was first completed. One of them is Wenger’s, a popular bakery and a good place to stop for a quick bite to eat.

8. From Connaught Place walk southward on Janpath, a tree-lined avenue where many colonial-era bungalows and buildings can still be seen. They include Western Court and The Imperial, a hotel completed in the 1930s. No Raj tour of Delhi is complete if you haven’t had tea at the Imperial.

9. Stroll to India Gate, a war memorial designed by Lutyens, and one of New Delhi’s most famous landmarks. There you’ll see a suspiciously empty gazebo: it used to house the statue of King George V before it was moved out of sight to Coronation Park.

10. From India Gate head to Rajpath. Formerly King’s Way, it is now independent India’s foremost ceremonial avenue. Rajpath leads to the government buildings on Raisina Hill, a vista that was central to Lutyens’s original design.

11. Walk uphill to Rashtrapathi Bhavan, or Government House, the jewel in the crown of New Delhi. This is the finest example of Lutyens’s architectural vision, inspired by European and Indian styles. Intended to house the British Viceroy and his administration, the monumental red and cream sandstone building is now the official residence of the President of India. (Note: Rashtrapathi Bhavan is not open to the public. Visits can be arranged in advance through the President’s Office)

12. Rashtrapathi Bhavan’s impressive Mughal Gardens, also designed by Lutyens, are open to the public in blooming season, between February and March.

13. Flanking Rashtrapathi Bhavan are the more conventional, but still impressive, secretariat buildings. They were designed by Herbert Baker, New Delhi’s other lead architect. Known as North Block and South Block, they now house government offices, including that of the Prime Minister.

14. Parliament House, designed by Baker and Lutyens, is a short walk away. Originally built as Council House, it now houses India’s two chambers of parliament – the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha – are located there.

15. Finally, head further south to Teen Murti Bhavan. Originally built for the Commander-in-Chief of the British Indian Army, it then became the residence of Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of Independent India. It was built by Robert Tor Russel, one of New Delhi’s unsung architects. Now a museum, Teen Murti Bhavan is open to the public. Some of the rooms have been left intact from the time Nehru lived there.

A Walk in the Park

One of the added benefits of Tyler going to Columbia is that it has spurred me to become re-engaged with the alumni community. It really is quite incredible getting emails each week of various alumni events happening all over the world.

This past weekend, I organized a heritage walking tour for CBS alumni of one of our favorite places in Delhi: Lodi Gardens. In many ways, it's become our equivalent of Central Park. It's one of the few places in Delhi that has become a true oasis for us, and we love spending our Sunday mornings just walking around there. It's incredible just strolling around amidst Indo-Islamic architectural works from the 15th century.

The weather was just about perfect (cool, crisp, and sunny), and it was fun meeting recent and older alumni, learning about the various things they're now doing in India.

Led by a history professor working with the Indian National Trust for Art & Cultural Heritage (INTACH), we learned about the history of the gardens. Turns out my favorite structure is not Lodi at all, but rather the tomb of Mohammed Shah, the last of the Sayyid dynasty rulers and built in 1444.

Nearby structures were from the Lodi period (interestingly, rulers of different dynasties chose to be buried in the same place, due to proximity with Nizzamudin and the tomb of a Sufi saint -- deemed to be incredibly holy). We walked to the Sheesh Gumbad (meaning, "glazed dome"), with remnants of its beautiful blue mosaic work still seen on parts of the structure. Opposite this tomb is a mosque, as well as a structure whose history no one seems to know; the best educated guess is that it was used as a gate.

After the Lodi dynasties, villages grew around the monuments (which is quite difficult to imagine today, but the same could also be said about Central Park). The British created the gardens in 1936, naming it Lady Wellington Park (after the wife of the Governor-General of India). After Partition, refugees flocked to Delhi, many of them setting up settlements in the park itself. In the 1950s, the Indian government took the park over, and it became Lodi Gardens.

A few pictures of our morning:

All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

It's been a busy few weeks of traveling. I'm not complaining; a good chunk of this was our recent long weekend in Sri Lanka. But I'm also really excited just to stay put for a little while.

Last week, I was up at 4am for a day trip to Bangalore. What made that morning surprisingly fun was that Tyler also had a 6:30am flight - this time to Chennai. It was a bit of a stressful evening before, since he found out about his trip about 12 hours before actually boarding the flight.

Although we were incredibly tired, I had to laugh at the situation. "Love is taking a cab together to the airport at 4:15 in the morning." We had breakfast together at the airport, then went our separate ways. It's a funny day and age when romance is having your husband walk you to your departure gate.

When we were enjoying a leisurely lunch in Sri Lanka, we scarily both recognized the King Fisher theme song playing the background. You know you travel a bit too much when...

This week, our travel schedules were a bit off: I went to Hyderabad Wednesday and Thursday, and Tyler was off to Coimbature and Bangalore Thursday and Friday. He came back Friday evening (which also happened to be our five month anniversary).

As we headed out to dinner, he instinctively reached for his suitcase, about to bring it along.

We both had to laugh, and be grateful for the start of a weekend just chillin' at home in Delhi.

In search of the perfect sari

You wouldn't think it would be so difficult to buy a beautiful sari in India. My first experience was for the second Indian wedding I attended (I went to my first wedding two days after arriving in India -- I wore the most colorful garments I packed, but coming from NYC, that ain't sayin' much).

I dragged my friend Apoorva shopping with me. We found a beautiful silk sage green sari, with maroon/violet trimmings. To me, it felt a bit like curtain shopping -- tons of fabric, folded up on hangers to peruse. I must say, it was entirely liberating to be freed of looking for a size that fits. All saris, no matter who is wearing them, is the same length fabric. The only thing that must be measured is the sari blouse, or choli. These are always tailored to fit.

Sari in hand, I head up to my colleague's wedding in Calcutta. I have no idea how to tie a sari, but I figure there would be more than enough people at the hotel to help me. One hour before the wedding is to start, I make my way downstairs to find a woman who could help. Somehow, everyone at the hotel is a man; there are no women working there, and I can't find a grandmotherly guest to help! So here I am, going down the streets of Calcutta, half-dressed in a sari (wearing my jeans underneath), and looking for someone to help me get dressed! Down the street, an old woman has pity on me and ties me up.

A good hour later, I finally head to the wedding (good thing weddings here never start on time). If nothing else, I'm just proud to be wearing a sari!... until I get there, and find that everyone is wearing Western clothing. More than that, they're all wearing... jeans.

Fast forward a few years later. I had a sari made for my wedding this past summer, which was, surprisingly, a delightful experience. I would go to my sari-maker's house in Lodi Colony, and sit and have chai while we discussed various sari styles. Remembering how long it took to tie my sari last time, we worked together to design a "fake" sari, or more affectionally known as a "half-sari". Essentially, rather than one giant piece of cloth that wraps up, a half-sari consists of a skirt connected with a long piece of cloth that you drape around your back and across your shoulder. As a sari-maker for the past forty years, it absolutely killed my sari-maker to do this "shortcut." Instead, she kept trying to show me how to tie a sari. After watching me a few times though, and with the prospect of my sari falling off in the middle of my wedding, she finally succumbed.

We chose the colors and the materials...and a few months later, it was completed. Gorgeous in many ways, but also a bit off. The color wasn't quite right, the decorations a bit too much. Needless to say, I loved it for my wedding, but in returning to Delhi, I was excited to have another one made that wasn't so... pink.

About a month ago, I came back to Shilu, my sari-maker, and together we designed another sari. Midnight blue, this time. I pictured myself wearing it to black-tie weddings in the US and other formal affairs. Not wanting it to be too gaudy, we chose silver instead of gold trims. Since Shilu's son is getting married this month, she said she would make it "extra special" so I could wear it to the wedding.

Between a crazy day of meetings today, I stopped by Shilu's to pick it up. It was a special treat between the mania of my day, and I arrived with excited anticipation to pick it up.

"It's perfect!!" -- Shilu beamed. "I made it extra special for the wedding!" Excited, I walked over to her living room to take a look and try it on.

And then I stopped in my tracks.

Midnight blue, yes. And silver, yes, as well. If by silver, you mean big silver stars all over the blue background. "It's not so bad, it's not so bad," I kept telling myself. I put on a smile and tried it on.

Looking at the mirror, there was no denying it. I looked like an American flag. All that was missing was a cape of red. I looked over to Shilu, who was beaming, and forced a smile.

Next time, I'll have to be careful of what "extra special" means.

Don Berwick

Don Berwick has been in the news quite a bit these last few weeks. For months, Republicans have been blasting Berwick's approach to health reform, which, like Obama's, promotes centralizing health care delivery and using government programs to affect change. Republican senators have therefore refused to confirm Berwick, who has been serving in a recess appointment as Administrator of the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS). He has recently announced that he is resigning effective December 2nd, one month earlier than expected.

I read each article with personal interest, as Don is the founder of IHI, the think tank / healthcare consulting firm that I'm currently working for. Until he stepped down to head Medicare and Medicaid, Berwick served as CEO of IHI. I came to know Don through the work that IHI did with LifeSpring, helping us improve clinical quality and reduce our c-section rates. At each meeting, I found myself learning so much just by studying what questions he asks, and how exactly he asks them. It's funny thinking of someone as your mentor after only a few meetings, but that's how I started to think of him (and thus the move to IHI seemed only natural).

There was a good article by Rosemary Gibson in yesterday's Huffington Post which, though it makes me sad about America's health care system, makes me proud to be working with IHI internationally:

Americans could not have a better champion for good medical care. I know this for a fact. I led quality and safety initiatives at the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation for sixteen years and had the privilege of working with Dr. Berwick and his smart, dedicated colleagues at the Boston-based Institute for Healthcare Improvement.

They worked tirelessly to bring the science of improvement to hospitals, doctors' offices and other health care facilities. In case you haven't noticed, they have been extreme laggards in implementing the most rudimentary process improvements that safety critical industries such as aviation and nuclear power deploy routinely to reduce the potential for harm.

Here is one of many examples of how Dr. Berwick helped save lives. A preventable cause of hospital death is called 'failure to rescue'. It occurs when a patient's condition deteriorates and doctors and nurses miss the fact that the patient is in trouble.

With Dr. Berwick's leadership, the Institute for Healthcare Improvement identified a possible solution and taught doctors and nurses in hospitals around the country how to implement it. Called rapid response teams, many doctors and nurses who put these teams in place reported that mortality at their hospitals dropped.

Dr. Berwick and his team made this and many other life-saving improvements possible. Without a doubt, many Americans are alive today because of the work he taught, inspired and led.

For full article, click here.

Jammin'

Now this is the Delhi I've been wanting to infiltrate... When I met one of Tyler's colleagues last year, he said that Delhi was so incredible due to its cultural scene. Try as we might, we never quite succeeded in finding something that met our expectations in this arena.

That all changed last night, when we checked out the Amarras Desert Music Festival at Siri Fort Auditorium. The event didn't bode well when we first arrived. The auditorium was about one-quarter filled (45 minutes after the show had started), energy level was low, and we saw some sleeping heads in the audience. Granted, the Rajasthani music was beautiful -- but felt more apropos in a lounge with a drink in your hand, talking to some friends.

We nearly left early, but am really glad we stuck around. After the requisite break (in India, even 90-minute long movies have breaks in the middle), Vieux Farka Toure from Mali took to the stage. Called the "African Jimi Hendrix," he was not only incredible with the guitar, but has a soulfully deep voice, and an amazing stage presence and charisma. By the third song, about half the audience was dancing in the aisles.

Perhaps the best part of the evening was towards the end, when Vieux Farka Toure invited the other musicians to come jam with him on stage. First came Madou Diabate (also from Mali), who is a 71st generation (!) kora player - which is 21-stringed instrument from West Africa, that sounds somewhat of a cross between a harp and a delta blues guitar. They played an up-beat West African song with lots of hand-clapping and dancing. Then they invited the Rajasthani musicians from the Thar: Lakha Khan, Nihal Khan, and Mangey Khan. By that point, Tyler and I were up as close as we could get to the stage, dancing away. Oh what a night!

Links to Vieux Farka Toure's songs: here and here (with Dave Matthews Band).

The Peace Dividend

This weekend, we're heading to the Amarras Desert Music Festival. I can't wait!! Held at the Siri Fort Auditorium, it's being billed as a musical journey "from Tibuktu to Jodhpur via Delhi." The concept is essentially: what happens when you take the American Jimi Hendrix, and have him jam with India's star traditional and sitar players? The concert will be comprised of blues and folk from the Sahara and traditional music of the Manganiyars from the Thar Desert. I can't quite remember the last time we went to anything written about in the NYT, but here you go: link to article (granted, it's a blog, and granted, it's NYT India, but still!)

And not only that, but we'll be going to a play on Saturday that Tyler's buddy is in, and seeing Tin Tin in 3D tonight! Tyler talked about a peace dividend after he took his GMATs and he found himself with tons of extra time. That ain't nothin' on this!!

A growing love affair with Delhi

It is difficult to put into words just how gorgeous Delhi is today. Considering I'm usually bashing the weather here (too hot or too cold), noise (I'm coming to grips that my hearing has, indeed, actually worsened these last four years), or pollution (my face collects a layer of grey every time I ride Tyler's motorcycle), this statement on Delhi's beauty is huge.

But it's true. 81 degrees outside, blue skies, lazy wind. One of those days you just want to be outside.

Went to a rural healthcare roundtable discussion this morning. Found myself sitting next to the president of Fortis Healthcare - really interesting hearing their foray into rural health, and the resulting tweaking of their business model. Always at these conferences, more questions come up for me than are resolved... the primary one always being a version of: How the heck will we make a dent in India's enormous healthcare challenges? One roundtable participant described the current system as though you were building a house, and invited ten architects to come and just start building their dream house. There's no coordination, collaboration, quality standards, or way to legally enforce any semblance of evidence-based guidelines. Still, I have hope, or what are we all doing here?

It was too gorgeous of a day not to just walk, after the roundtable concluded. And I'm so grateful I did! Who would've known I would stumble across the cultural side of Delhi I never knew existed? Just next door was the Alliance Francaise, which I learned not only offers french lessons, but shows french films each week. The Belgian Film Festival is currently in full swing at Lodi Estate this week, and next week there's a soul / blues concert at Magique Amphitheater at the Garden of Five Senses at Said-Ul-Ajaib (how awesome is that name?)

Then I stumbled onto INTACH, a little further down the road, which focuses on cultural and architectural preservation of historical sites around Delhi. Really cool organization, which I just recently learned does historical and architectural walking tours every Sunday of places like Lodi Gardens and excavations at Purana Qila, which is the inner citadel of Dinapanah - a city founded by the second Mughal Emperor in 1533. Turns out they have an incredible crafts store from various tribes across India, and also do public lectures (the next one, this Tuesday, is on Old Delhi and its traditions).

And that's the funny thing about Delhi! It's like this whole other layer exists, for people who are patient enough to find it. It's the complete opposite of New York, where everything is in your face, advertised on billboards and subways. Here, nothing is advertised. When I went to INTACH, there were no fliers of upcoming walks or talks. Instead, I had to sit down with my notebook as she told me the times of each tour.

No doubt about it, Delhi makes you work for her love.

True Thanks

This Thanksgiving, I'm learning to give thanks not only to everything that's good in my life, but perhaps more importantly, to also give thanks to everything that's "bad" in my life as well - or at least what I'm not as happy with: whether it's external frustrations with India, or internal impatience with myself.

Buddhists refer to four noble truths. Essentially, these were the primary teachings of the Buddha, after he reached Enlightenment. What really resonates with me about Buddhism is just how logical everything is. Through the four truths, everything is laid out in clear, user-friendly form.

The first "truth" is that life is suffering. It's significant that he doesn't start off with this idea that life is all happy and honky-dory -- but rather, that true suffering does indeed exist.

The second noble truth is that this suffering is based on attachments. This attachment may be to monetary rewards or to beauty or to one's own self-perception... even an attachment to meditation itself. I met someone who quit their job on Wall Street to come here to India and seek "enlightenment" -- not realizing that their quest or "addiction" for enlightenment is actually the same as their quest for promotions and more money... only dressed differently. During my yoga and meditation sessions, I've met quite a few of these "guru chasers" -- going from one retreat to another, still on an external quest on a purely internal journey.

The third noble truth is that "nirvana" (or an end to suffering) is possible by letting go of attachments. For me, this was the most difficult to bridge intellectually and emotionally. Intellectually, sure, it makes sense. Emotionally, however, it felt like letting go would somehow make me less "human" -- less swept in the highs of joy and the lows of despair, and instead being a flat line. Vipasanna (the 10 day silent meditation) teaches you to notice everything, and react to nothing (a lesson I could still use, when I jump to my blackberry at every slightest beep). Equanimity above all. Hard enough to do in an ashram, nearly impossible in modern society.

When listening to a Buddhist teacher today, however, something clicked. Equanimity does not actually mean indifference, although perhaps there is a fine line. Indifference is based on fear, while equanimity means loving and accepting all. Similarly, there is a fine line between love and attachment, and between compassion and pity.

The fourth noble truth is that the path towards this nirvana can be reached through a series of steps that the Buddha calls the "Eightfold Path." What this path essentially means is cultivating what Buddhists call "a compassionate heart" and gradually letting go of addictions (whether to a person, idea, or substance). There's a quote from a teacher I particular like that defines "compassion": "letting the world tickle your heart and discovering that everything is connected with it."

While I thought that Eat, Pray, Love was a pretty awful book and an even worse movie, I did really enjoy reading about the meditation the old Indonesian Medicine Man in Bali had her do each night: Sit and smile -- ensuring that not only your lips are smiling, but your whole body, right down to your kidneys and liver.

In other words, the essence of Buddhism is learning to love what is. In Buddhists' minds, suffering comes from wishing something is other than what is. Thus, the key to happiness is to love all the "bad", as well as the "good" -- realizing that it's only our own internal frameworks that assign good vs. bad.

I'm not quite sure I'm there yet -- loving all the frustrations here in India, just as much as I love the magic of being here. But this Thanksgiving, at least I can be grateful for them and learn to accept what is.

Giving Thanks

A lot to be thankful for this year: a wonderful husband, loving parents and in-laws, a job that enables me to travel the world learning about various healthcare models, continued adventures in India...

And now... a definitive answer to: "When are you moving back to NYC?" Tyler got into Columbia Business School! Woohoo!! I have to hand it to Columbia on impeccable timing: calling the evening before I arrived home (a day earlier than expected), so we could celebrate all weekend and have even more to be thankful for on Thanksgiving.

This year, we've gone all out. Last year, we celebrated Thanksgiving with the closest thing we could find to a turkey: Peking Duck at the Sheraton. That became our celebration dinner last Saturday night. Then Sunday, our friends had us over to their gorgeous house at the American Embassy for an early Thanksgiving feast.

The chef d'oeuvre? Without a doubt, the giant turkey smuggled into India from friends visiting from DC (It's illegal in India to bring in meat, poultry, etc). I must say, I was duly impressed: a two week vacation to India bringing their nine month old daughter and a giant turkey, from Whole Foods no less (not to mention fresh cranberries for sauce and a cake).

Four couples, seven children, ranging in age from 6 months to 6 years. When going around the table saying our gratitudes, it was touching that many of the kids said, "I'm grateful for living in India."

Tomorrow, we've invited a group of friends to the Living Room, a restaurant in the artsy (for India) neighborhood of Hauz Khas. Can't wait for another serving of stuffing!

On the subject of gratitude, I was shocked to learn in Hindi class yesterday that Indians don't really have an expression for, "I'm grateful for...". "May kritgya oo" may be the closest thing, but it is rarely used. I joked to Tyler that Indians don't send thank you cards after weddings (which perhaps is good considering a "small" wedding is 800+ guests!), and he reminded me that Indians rarely say thank you when you hand them a gift at all.

My Hindi teacher shed more light on this phenomenon yesterday, explaining that Indians don't thank others for actions or gifts because they see the gift as a gift from God -- working through mere humans. In other words, why should I thank my neighbor for bringing over food, when it's really God bringing me gifts through my neighbor. Interesting thought model to ponder...

Relatedly, Indians rarely use the future tense, instead using the subjunctive -- which, as we learned from 10th grade English, is used when the future is not known. My Hindi teacher recommended that I watch how often I use the future tense ("I will go to a movie tonight") and instead use the subjunctive ("I may go to a movie tonight") -- as using the future too much sounds presumptive and arrogant. Hmm... definitely gives insight to my frustrations when colleagues would say that a document "may" be ready in a few hours...

A last word on gratitude. I just read an article about research done by Dr. Robert A. Emmons, who found that individuals who wrote down what they were thankful for on a weekly basis were 25% happier, more optimistic about the future, felt better about their lives, and exercised 1.5 hours more per week than those who didn't record their gratitude. One of the best "rituals" that Tyler and I received advice about was from our pre-cana teacher in NYC, who suggested thanking your partner every night before bed, for the various things they had done during the day. We've been doing our "gratitudes" nearly every night for the past six months now, and I highly recommend it.

After all, giving thanks shouldn't just happen once a year.

Change of plans

Be careful what you wish for!

Our friends are hosting Thanksgiving at their house at the American Embassy on Sunday, and I was hoping to get back early to help Tyler shop for wine and bread (harder than it seems in Delhi). I was getting mentally ready for my flight back to India through Addis tomorrow, after a full day of meetings today.

Well, less than three hours later, here I am at the airport in Accra! I was printing out some documents for meetings today, when the receptionist asked what the date was. "The 17th," I replied. "No, it's the 18th" - another woman replied.

"That's impossible," I thought. After all, I should know because my flight leaves on the 18th! Double-checking my ticket, I nearly had a panic attack when I discovered that actually, my flight leaves in three hours!!

I of course didn't think this was a big deal, as my travel agent assured me I could change tickets anytime without a penalty. What I didn't anticipate, however, was that there would be no available seats on tomorrow's flight. Or Sunday's. Or Monday's. The earliest I could leave is Tuesday, unless I pay $2500+ to get on a Virgin flight tomorrow through London.

It's a good thing that I've gotten accustomed living out of my suitcase, because I ran up to my room in a flurry, and somehow managed to pack in five minutes.

Murphy's Law though. As I try to check out, it takes three women to add up all my bills, and the credit card machine doesn't work. I rush to the cab and realize midway to the airport that I still have my hotel key. The driver drops me off at arrivals, and I need to walk fifteen minutes to departures, all my bags overflowing. I must have looked like a cartoon.

But as I sit here near the gate, I'm just thankful that everything has worked out. I'm just sad to be missing my meetings, as well as drinks with a friend I had met during my last trip here, who drove five hours down to meet me and even brought a wedding present! That's the thing with Ghanaians. You meet them once, and they're friends for life.

Facts about Ghana

Reading "The Report: Ghana 2011" on my way to breakfast and learned two interesting facts:

(1) A recent Forbes poll voted Ghana the 11th friendliest nation in the world and the friendliest in Africa (I haven't seen the poll, but can bet that Thailand and the Philippines were high up there as well).

(2) The Ghanaian handshake consists of "a limp grip of the hand followed by a snap of the forefingers and thumb." Good to know! When I was in Rwanda, I found out quite awkwardly that the standard shake for women is a handshake and three kisses on alternating cheeks (while still gripping the hand). For men, it's a handshake followed by a head butt. One of countless times I'm glad I'm a woman.

Happy Sunday

The great thing about jetlag is how much it allows you to get done before breakfast! I woke up, did some yoga, chatted with Siobhan, and worked on a presentation, all before 8:30am. Granted, I went to bed at 8pm, but that's another story!

It's a beautiful day in Accra! Of course, I think it has to be, when the hotel you're staying in is on "Mango Tree Avenue."

This morning, a large league of soccer players jogged past by hotel, singing in tandem. They were joined by a drummer in the rear keeping pace. Looking out my window, I saw dozens of children running out of their house, each carrying something made of tin, and banging along with the drummer. The kids were dancing and cheering, and it was impossible not to smile at the scene below. The cutest are the little girls, in their colorful dresses (mostly pink), and incredibly short hair -- cut just like the boys.

I landed in Ghana yesterday, and the first thing that struck me driving from the airport was the massively different color palate from Bangkok. Whereas Bangkok was grey (so much steel!!), Accra's palate is much more earth brown -- punctuated with the brightest purple, green, and red paint on the buildings! Accra, as a city, is so much more flat than Bangkok. I hadn't realized until I noticed the dichotomy, just how tall Bangkok is -- tall buildings all around the city, a whole network of elevated highways... whereas Accra is so much flatter: a few stories most, in the neighborhood I'm in. I couldn't help but stare at the sprawling slum near the airport as we passed it, which seemed to have grown even bigger since the last time I was here last February.

The other huge change has been much more heightened security at the airport. Now, rather than just breezing through immigration, they handprint each and every finger for each passenger! (talk about a bottleneck reaching baggage claim). That's four separate sets of prints (right 4 fingers and right thumb; same on the left). When I asked them about it, they blamed "my government" for forcing increased security measures on them. Interesting. Even getting a sim card was much harder (although not nearly as hard as in India!). There is now a registration and database, which they needed to enter my passport into, matching it with the sim card I purchased!

What hasn't changed, though, is the colorful atmosphere of the city, the extremely friendly sellers of fruit on the streets -- buckets of bananas and fruits atop their heads, blue skies, and music playing everywhere - the soundtrack of the city.

Can't wait to take a walk this morning; it's a gorgeously sunny day outside!

En Route...

Hello Dubai my old friend, I've come to talk with you again.

You know you're traveling a lot when you get a sentimental feeling about going to the Dubai airport. Or maybe it's just the Coldstones there?

A few vignettes from my last day in Bangkok:

(1) I now have a new favorite Thai sign. It used to be the good ole' "No dogs or durian fruit allowed" sign in all the hotels (including the one I just stayed in). This time, I've fallen in love with a sign attached to our van. It shows about 10 pictures with a big "X" through it, telling passengers that smoking, eating, drinking, and standing are all forbidden. The only activity that's allowed? KARAOKE!! Only in Asia...

(2) As I get into my cab to go to the airport, my Bangkok taxi driver asks whether I'm from China. "No," I tell him, "I'm from New York." ... "Oh!!" - he exclaims, finally understanding. "You're from Chinatown!!" I start to correct him, but find it's easier to just smile and nod.

(3) I'm in line at immigration, behind a family with two toddlers -- one boy, who is running around, with his parents in chase; and one girl, standing quietly and inspecting her passport. She sees the immigration official stamping passports up ahead. Her eyes light up, like she's just gotten the best idea in the world. She takes out her sticker book, and proceeds to fill her entire passport with stickers!! Once her mom returns from chasing her brother, she holds up her passport proudly, showing all the new borders she's crossed. The mom does not seem as amused, but I think it's adorable! (or maybe just bemused that I didn't come up with that idea myself when I was 6!)

Learnings

A few pictures of my trip to Bangkok -- here we are yesterday at the National Health Office (a gorgeous campus with four helicopters parked nearby).

Thailand is doing incredible work in the area of universal health care, especially their use of tiered-accreditation to improve quality across hospitals. What impressed me was not just how much they're doing within the Thai system, but also how they're sharing learnings to other countries as well. Delegates from India and Nepal have come to see their system, and they are looking to set up an Academy for Universal Health Insurance, with participants from neighboring countries (e.g. they already have an MOU with Korea), where countries can learn from each other about implementing national health insurance programs.

Linking this with India, the challenge, of course, is that India is not "one" country, especially regarding health care systems -- but rather 28 states (at last count), many large enough to be countries themselves. In a country where over 80% of healthcare expenses are paid out-of-pocket, it is difficult to have any sort of coordinated national response. That's where hospitals like LifeSpring and Aravind can play a role, in terms of keeping prices affordable for low-income families.

I've found it very intellectually stimulating to compare and contrast the various countries' healthcare systems, and looking forward to being in Ghana next week!

Perseverance

In an earlier post, I talked about a group of policymakers we met with, who braved the floods and took a boat to keep their meeting with us... all the while, apologizing that they were 30 minutes late and wearing shorts - instead of their usual business formal attire!

Here are photos from their journey this past Wednesday to meet us:

The perseverance of the Thais that I've met is astounding. I'm used to New Yorkers complaining about the snow storms or Hyderabadis staying at home at any talk of another Telangana strike (which has been an almost daily occurrence for about two years now!) But here are people we have never met, who wade through water (literally) to keep their meeting with us. And then when we meet, they laugh at their experience -- wearing sun hats to keep out the rays, but always armed with a massive beach-sized umbrella (which can serve both as a tool to keep one dry, but also as a measuring stick to test out how deep the waters are before stepping).

Within the organization we met with, half of their staff (nearly 400) had already evacuated their homes from the floods, and are staying with relatives or in hotels. (In fact, many of the Thais staying at my hotel now are staying here due to the floods) The stadium a few blocks away is also filled with evacuees.

The government has imported canned food, bottled water, and eggs from Malaysia. The Thais I've met are confident that this situation will only make them stronger.

Yesterday was Loy Katrong Day, a festival to pay hommage to the goddess of rivers and waterways - which seems both appropriate and ironic. The usual tradition is to float thousands of katrongs (candles atop floating lotus leaves) in the river -- although this year, the government has urged Thais not to do this, for fear of blocking drainages or setting fires in homes (that's how high the rivers are!).

Instead, I watched fireworks going off outside my hotel window. Hopefully, things only get better from here.

Ode to Thai Food

I've been eating the most incredible food. As soon as I arrived yesterday (well, after getting internet in order -- gotta have priorities!), I went to dinner with one of my colleagues on the broader Joint Learning Network project.

To call the dish pad see ew would be doing it a disservice, since it was likely the best noodle dish I've had in recent history. Broad flat rice noodles, stir fried in soy sauce and served with delicious greens like spinach, asparagus, and spring onions, topped with chicken and shrimp.

My favorite were all the accompaniments that come with it -- limes on the side, along with one small dish of red chilis, another of vinegar, another of fish oil, and a last one of sugar (okay, I wasn't a big fan of the last two). But what I love about Thai food done well is that, similar to Vietnamese food, it's all about balancing all the various tastes to create an even richer experience. Hence, the sweet, sour, salty, and bitter.

Tonight's dinner was at a nearby noodle restaurant. Walking along the highway, we passed a long row of street food vendors, which I had to say, smelled absolutely incredible. There was lots of mixing going on in woks, fried animal parts hanging, and spices galore. If not for my peanut allergy and abismal Thai (I think I've finally got "thank you", but I can't be sure) -- I may have been tempted to try. My colleague, Derek, certainly was -- until Kalipso reminded him that the city barely has clean water due to the floods, so probably wasn't the best idea.

At the restaurant, I ordered green noodles (yes, you read that correctly), topped with crispy fried duck, shrimp wontons, and again -- a whole array of spices to choose from. The mushroom soup was comfort food, and the dim sum was delicious. And my banana shake was like a dessert!

Easy verdict: I'd have no trouble gaining weight here!

Bangkok Lessons

24 hours into my five day trip to Bangkok. I'm here meeting with colleagues from the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE International) to learn more about the Thai health system and their initiatives to increase access to health. It's quite impressive, actually; whereas out-of-pocket pay for healthcare in India is somewhere between 80-90%, in Thailand, it's less than 20%. Now the focus is on improving the quality of care.

Needless to say, what has struck me most was the view from the plane flying into Bangkok. Hundreds of miles of flooded fields; incredible that the floods were so visible from up in the air. One of my colleagues from the UK said she even saw the old airport flooded, with water halfway covering the planes themselves.

Suvarnabhumi Airport (BKK), where I landed, was completely dry. This fact was reinforced by the thousands of cars I saw just parked at the airport itself, and lining the highway in refuge from the flooding. Coming from India, I was shocked that the four-lane highway actually had a shoulder lane, enabling cars to park along the elevated highway for miles. Quite a sight.

All talk at lunch today centered around the floods. As we sat eating outside, helicopters appeared overhead, bringing evacuees to the hospitals in the capital.

Interestingly, a Japanese-Thai businessman noted that these floods hit the Japanese economy much harder than the tsunami in Japan itself, as many Japanese factories across automative and computer industries were in Thailand, and particularly in Ayuthaya.

I was completely heart-broken to hear that most of the elephants in Ayuthaya (the ancient capital of Thailand and one of the worst hit by the floods) had died. Clearly this is a very American thing to say (hence, the famous quote that what Darfur needed was more dying puppies, to garner American attention), but I'm just stating truth. I have such happy recollections of riding a beautiful elephant through the ancient ruins and around the temples.

Yet despite the devastation that the floods have wrought, all the Thais I've spoken to are in such incredible spirits, laughing and making jokes about the situation (like fearing for crocodiles lurking outside.. and how expensive our lunch is because of the huge price hike in bottled water).

One of our meetings was with a delegation of policymakers, who literally took a makeshift boat to cross the flooded areas and make it to our meeting... Then they apologized that they were thirty minutes late and all wearing backpacks with extra clothes and provisions!

I spoke to one woman whose house was completely flooded, yet she was smiling and laughing during our entire conversation. "There's nothing we can do! So you just have to smile." When I spoke to the director of another organization of the floods reaching his house, he too, just smiled. "I'm just grateful," he said. "Other parts of the country are so much worse. We have nothing to complain about."

It's a humbling experience, speaking to people whose possessions have been washed away, who speak of this with smiles, laughter, and gratefulness. Seems like a good lesson for all of us.