On the move, again.

I had my first taste of Chennai night life on Wednesday night. Hamsa had a small going away party. We went to a hole-in-the-wall Bengali restaurant for dinner, where we were informed (afterwards) that we were eating all wrong. It was my first time to eat a thali (rice and assorted sauces and things to go with it) with my hands, so I was slow and messy. A little bit like a toddler learning to eat again! We were informed after the meal that we’d gone about eating it all wrong. Oh well, I'll have plenty of time to practice.

Afterwards, we went dancing at bar in a hotel near my office. It was salsa night, and we had a great time dancing with some of the guys there and drinking Kingfisher (a famous Indian beer). I’m terrible at following in couples dancing, but my partner was very, very patient. Just before midnight, the lights promptly went on (closing time for bars in Chennai), and Hamsa’s friend drove me home. A very wholesome night out.




Trying to follow his lead... badly


Dance-off between a local salsa instructor and Chennai's own Sock Hat


The Shot Drinker - for the Chennai division of Team Sweet

I arrived home at midnight, and the housecleaner (who sleeps on our floor in the living room) let me in. [We only have one front door key for the six of us; I’m working on changing that situation. If I lock the door from the outside, then anyone in the house is locked in – which seems like a fire hazard, no?] So I went about getting ready for bed. While I was washing my face, I heard some screams outside and then I heard voices in the living room. I thought everyone was asleep, so I went to see what was going on. Apparently, those screams had come from my housemate, in her room opposite the hall. She woke up to find that a man was underneath her bed. She started screaming – and he started screaming, too – as he unlocked her bedroom door and let himself out of the apartment. Zarasp called the logistics coordinator from our office (who has been managing the housing arrangements) and he came over to find out what was going on, as did the caretaker, and the building owner. I stayed up until 3:30 am explaining what had happened, at which point I was exhausted and needed to get to bed.

Aside from the obviously unsettling incident itself, its frustrating to be in a new place and have no idea how best to handle a situation like this. In Uganda for example, I'm not sure that I would file a police report about this, knowing that it might create a lot of trouble for the housecleaner (and maybe jail while being interrogated), potentially far out of proportion to what had actually occurred. I have no idea how these things work here yet, and whether calling the police is "the right thing to do". That's a weird thought for someone who grew up in a place where you would automatically call the police.

Our host organization promptly moved us, so now I'm staying within walking distance of the office as opposed to a 30 minute autorickshaw ride, and am sharing with 7 housemates. Triple rooms all around - like being back in college, eh?