India's landscape is a wonder all on its own. When I woke up during my flight from Frankfurt to Banglore, I was surprised to see the mountains floured with snow. The palm trees blossom and willow accordingly to the brisk of the breeze. The palaces glow in the night demanding attention by all who look. With beauty comes a price. The cities are bombarded with people rushing in piled buses, on motor bikes with 3-4 Indians, and more. The taxis are loud motorized like bikes on three wheels without rollable windows, seatbelts, or doors. Drivers honk at anyone or anything on the road or that happen to stumble upon their path to alert them of the danger of who lurks behind them. Not to forget, every driver whips inches from whatever vehicle of transportation you choose to use; whether you are walking, biking, driving a full-size SUV, you should pay attention. Drivers veer as close to pedestrians as possible. Billboards are so massive in size that staring could cause an accident. Indians get as close as possible to you without wonder of spacial proximity. The air is smoggier than Los Angeles. Being from Minnesota where clean water, ventihilation is readily available, I am expecting my world to be rocked. As a visitor, I definitely feel my bubble of comfort will be challenged throughout my journey here.
The Ginger Mysore Hotel is a diamond in the rough. Driving through Mysore and looking out of my window I saw cows relaxing on the side of the street and many more wandering. Buildings looked as if they were built in the 19th century and then blown up by cannons during a war and vines sprouted along the remains of the cinderblocks. Gated communities have glass shards aligned the top of the cinderblock gating to prevent trespassing with a guard in a uniform. The 'sidewalks' are molten rock like rectangular blocks which cover irrigated ditches smelling of all types of dung, urine, and water running through them.
The hotel's hosts were very hospitable to our needs. They allowed us to set our belongings in the meeting room; who knows if it was going to be used or not. room overlooks a convenient oil changing service shop called SERVO. Beyond the service shop are palm trees draping the scenery, two military like trucks with tarp wrapped over the truck beds, a police station, and a main road leading to our hotel.
Last night we had dinner at the Lilith Mahal Palace in Mysore. Our host Amit accomodated our group with overwhelming hospitality. There was plenty of food ranging from garlic spaghetti pasta to fire curry with vegetables. As everyone rushed to sit with their ready made buddy to a table, I was escorted to a round table with only professors. To express how underprepared I was doesn't even explain how uncomfortable I felt. My mind was running 900m sprints trying to come up with random questions which would be of interest to these trying Indian professors. There was one MBA professor who gawked at me as if I were pointless and lackluster. I wished I would have stayed in the bathroom for the entire time. The tour helped my understanding of the history of India and power hierarchy.
Indians are far more hospitable than expected. Amit, our host, was holding the keys to the rooms in the palace. By curiousity, I asked to see them and then if I could have a skeleton key because I collect them. Amit, being as accomodating as possible, said he would look into obtaining a key or fob for me. I didn't think to much of it because of Varma's Being Indian book. Varma emphasized on how subserviant Indians can be if they are challenged with a request or question that they will automatically agree or follow their superior's motion. By the end of the dinner, Amit approached me with an envelope with the palace's gold plated fob. How awesome is that; the Holiday Inn could never beat that.
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