one week in

About two days ago a mental switch finally happened. Perhaps my cycles re-harmonized after the jet lag or it was some other form of pattern recognition. The everyday patterns and rhythms of daily life and the street started make sense. I remember it hitting me on the bus during our daily ride home. The sun was bright and the traffic was its usually mess of honking and congestion, physical and respiratory. Perhaps the light added an exceptionally clarity to things. Things that made no sense are starting to have meaning and order.

Today is moving day. For the last week, I've been staying with Zack at his rented apartment near Nandidurga Road. He rents the place from one of the faculty, but he'll be moving closer to CEMA (the house/building where our program is located). In a month's time, we'll probably be leasing an apartment close to the school and CEMA along with Yashas. The three of us have been rapidly laying the groundwork for the new program, syllabi, advising policies, content and schedule, etc, etc. I'll be moving to one of the school's guesthouses for the next few weeks until we move in near campus.

The temporary place is nice and it's located in Malashawareem, primarily a neighborhood occupied by Brahaman (the teacher/spiritual/cultural caste). The biggest consequence of this that I can identify so far is that the resturants and food options there are almost exclusively vegetarian. It's likely that I'll be sharing the space with visitors that show up over the next month. For example, I think there is a woman from Nokia/Finland there currently.

Registration (as a foreigner) has been a decathlon of bureaucracy. I had my first taste when I went to obtain my VISA in Chicago...an all day affair. My uncle Kevin made a good point though. In the case of crisis, these ways of operating can still manage a ton of people and make sure that the necessary processes happen, eventually. In Chicago, I was struck by how few decisions were left to the individual teller I was in contact with. Instead, anytime a visa (other that "tourist" I assume) was required, it had to be cleared by a single manager. I suppose it's one way to ensure consistency.

Foreigner registration here consists of filling out lots of forms that ask questions about your blood type, among other things. These are all in quadruplicate (?) of course. You have to get verification that you are staying where you say you are. You have to have an Indian citizen sponsor you. In fact they have to attest to being your friend and promise to buy you things during your stay. A bond has to be purchased to guarantee your passage home and this then has to be notarized for anywhere between 40 and 4000 rupees ($1-100), depending on the notary's mood. All of this then has to be taken to the Bangalore police commissioner's office and if anything is out of order, then you have to return the next day...as we found out.

The coolest thing about the police commissioner's building (a 150 year relic of the British colonial era) is the bats. While we were waiting I noticed a very large bird with pointed wings. This turned out to be a bat the size of a small long-haired chihuahua with a wingspan the size of a broomstick. The bats hang like chrysalises from the ends of branches in these very large canopy trees. That afternoon, a monsoon cloudburst opened up the skies with heavy rain, and I just watched the bats swaying like hammocks in the wind.