What I'm now sure of...

Being in a new environment gives a certain space for reflection and discovery. After almost two weeks in Delhi and I am now sure of :

1) my deep appreciation of the lady or gentleman who invented toilet paper;
2) I want to buy a 4x4 with good suspension;
3) why Western society is losing its "brain work" to outsourced contracts in India;
4) that 30°C can actually feel cool

Toilet paper - don't leave home without it

Toilet paper. In the Western world we take it for granted; we look at the fine points such as whether it's three ply or four ply or two ply; whether it's scented or unscented; new or recycled. But I can assure you, all of these are moot points when you are faced with a bathroom in an Indian civil service building and a desperate need for Imodium.

Let's just say that I was doing pretty well for the first week or so since arriving in Delhi. But last weekend I became a little more adventurous: I went out to a popular and well reputed restaurant in the Defense Colony market; and, I also started drinking water not out of a bottle but processed through a reverse osmosis machine. Whether it was the restaurant, the machine, or just that I ran out of luck, the infamous "Delhi belly" came on in full form.

That would not have been so bad, in principle, had it not been for the fact that I had a meeting in a ministry office and no more than 15 minutes into the meeting I had to excuse myself. While being escorted to the bathroom I received a somewhat apologetical somewhat informational brief to newcomers -- that the standards of the facilities were indeed subpar.

Now, I don't know about you, but subpar means one ply toilet paper. Subpar means it smells bad. Subpar means means it's dirty. Subpar means it has the dreaded North African/French toilets (i.e. the white porcelain whole in the ground with no seat -- I still not sure how you use one of these especially when you have a business suit on). Subpar is like the outhouse I used during a camping trip in New Mexico. But subpar has nothing to do with what I discovered this morning.

To my surprise, the bathroom was clean, there were sinks with soap. There were urinals on one side and stalls on the other. I went to one of the stalls and open the door and found the toilet, a brush, and a smallish bucket sitting on the floor with a small spigot just above it. What I didn't find was toilet paper. I exited from the stall and went into the one adjacent. Same arrangement, North African toilet though; no TP. So, I went back into the original stall. I need not elaborate further.

I now know why certain cultures only eat with their left hands.

No Person Should Urinate Here (but they do)

"No person should urinate here". These are the words plastered on a segment of wall leading to the Defense Colony market. Normally, I would've found that kind of kitsch. But at 48°C, urine takes on a different form. It becomes pungent (I do believe it's the first time I've used that word) it becomes noticeable -- very noticeable.

It's the second day of high temperatures and the effects of the heat seemed to be giving me a headache and a good dose of lethargy, so I've decided to try to stay at home most of the day.

Unfortunately, the cable company hasn't changed my subscription yet, so I'm still limited to Star Movies and HBO, CNN or some 10-20 local channels in Hindi, Punjabi or Tamil.

48°C

48°C. That was the temperature today in New Delhi. And the record temperature for the year it was.

I don't think I've ever been in 48°C -- at least not in the recent past. There was that time when, one summer's day, and I was about nine years old that the family drove through Las Vegas. I think it was the time when my father and I spent the early hours of the morning going from casino to casino searching for my grandmother. The sun was just coming out when we spotted her coming out of a gambling hall, packed her in the car and headed back to the motel. Later that morning when we left the motel and loaded in the car to continue our travels, I recall being the temperature displayed on a sign - 115°F. But that was a long time ago. And, there is virtually no humidity in the desert.

Anyway, today it's 48°C and I have one room with one air-conditioner; the second bedroom, living room, kitchen and hallway have no cooling and only windows for ventilation. I closed the doors to the various rooms and am only cooling the bedroom. Unfortunately, the bedroom opens to a hallway which then opens to a kitchen which is only separated by a screen door and which has an exhaust fan leading outside. So any attempt to air-condition beyond the bedroom automatically becomes a bit of a battle to see if the air-conditioner can overcome the incessant infiltration of the heat from the outside.

48°C changes your perception of things. For instance, I set the air-conditioner for 30°C -- a temperature which would be considered unthinkably warm for for someone having lived in Switzerland for some 14 years. However, believe it or not, when walking in from 48°C into a 30°C room, it feels absolutely glacial.

Another surprise is that moving around in 48°C is not such a bad idea. For instance, just a little bit before noon time I decided to head out and go to the market. I had to visit the cable company, the Internet company, buy some groceries and the like. What I noticed is that as long as you're moving, 48°C is not too bad. The problem is is when you stop. And the problem is perspiration. You see, at 48°C if you're moving, you are perspiring. But it's evaporating fast enough that the perspiration is cooling you off. But when you stop, much of that evaporation ceases. So the moral of the story is keep moving or find in air-conditioned venue and have a beer.