I had some unsuccessful ventures into a few other stores, then I hit my new favorite place. My old favorite place was Fab India, this great little boutique with lots of simple cotton shirts, or kurtis. (like the kurtas, only shorter- so I can wear them like shirts.) New favorite place has a bunch of simply made clothing too, and it is all made by “women working to make themselves economically independent.” Clothing with a social message! Super! I better buy a lot so as to keep those poor women employed! I ended up buying 4 skirts, 2 shirts and a pair of pants. Stuff was on sale. If anyone wants anything, let me know. The large just about fit me, so they are about a 10. The medium shirts were about right for me, but close fitting. I could do a large. The ladies working there were really excited about the pile of clothes I walked out with. They nodded kindly when I pulled out a skirt to buy, and grinned when I pulled out three more. I think they are probably going to build a pit in the road out in front of the store in hopes of catching me again. They threw in a purse for free.
While I was in the store I started to feel a little silly as I kept putting things into my pile. I didn’t want to seem ostentatious or greedy. You know, fat American buying up all the stuff. . . . So I, (and I am a little embarrassed about this), I actually started pretending to be buying things for other people. Like, I held up a pair the pants and mimed that I was trying to imagine if they would fit someone else, when really I had seen the pants when I had first come in and had been plotting to buy them for myself for 20 minutes, thinking about what size would fit me, what color I wanted. When trying to decide on red or turquoise for the elephant skirt, I had a whole conversation with the sales lady about my friend and what she would like. Oh god. My imaginary friend. Because the skirt was for me! Me! Greedy Evelyn. I felt like such a fraud. And the sales women. They must have been thinking, “Mmm, that nice American lady with all the friends. What a nice lady, buying presents for all her friends. She has lots of friends. Funny that all her friends are the same size as her though. Oh well, I guess that is just what size Americans are.” I think I am going to go put on all my skirts.
But really, the salwar kameez I bought at a department store cost 1500 rps. Everything I bought from the socially conscious store cost 1200 rps.
The long straight skirts come in grey with blue, green, dark pink and yellow with brown. The funny skirts come in cow: green and red. elephant: bright turquiose, bright brown, and red. The pants were red, blue, yellow, and I think a few other colors. The shirts are simple kurtis, if you want one, give me a sense of what color and I will try to find something. I will go back and get more if anyone wants anything. I will go back just for the hell of it, probably. Just let me know.
Then, after having a snack at home, I went out to the fair.
There is this huge fair that happens in Bandra once a year. The Mt Mary Fair, out of the Mt Mary Cathedral and Scenic Lookout at the top of the hill that makes up half of Bandra.
I decided to walk up through the fair at the base of the hill (near my house) and go up the hill past the stalls and rides and see what the church looks like during the fair, then walk down the hill behind the church and come out along the shore. Where the road hits the shore is a cafe that will sell me a yummy vegan drink, (which, actually, I am drinking as I write this- so you know I made it to the cafe.)
I have been a little skeptical about this fair. The music starts around 3-4 and stops at around 9:30, and I can hear it blaring all the way at my house. I had been expecting loud, annoying Hindi film music from the fair, because that music is everywhere here. So I was looking forward to an irritating, though novel, experience. However, they choose to play classic American hits from the eighties and nineties mixed with random dance hits, which is an irritating experience that any American who has ever gone to a fair has had. A sample from last night: the “it was the summer of ’69” (whoever sang that) as a dance remix, that lovely lovely lumps song from last year, and “Eye of the Tiger.” Maybe the music people learned their craft in the US or something. Or maybe this is really just the same fair that travels around the US, and it turns out that it actually travels around the entire world, spreading it’s mediocrity. Or maybe there are international standards and procedures on what music you can play at fairs. Who knows.
Braving the music, I started walking through the fair. It was bloody awful. All the cheapest crap in India was there. It was like the guys who sell the junk on the tables outside the train station called all their friends, their friends’ friends, and their friends’ friends’ cousins and neighbors. I hadn’t realized how deep into the neighborhood the fair went. There were loud people aggressively selling terrible junk all the way along the road, all the way up to the church, plus there were a bunch of carnival rides set up in school yards and fields. (you know the kind. going too fast, with the rusty bolts and a drunk operator) About halfway up, stalls selling the assorted junk turned into stalls selling wax figures, candles and small bouquets that you could buy to bring into the church to give as an offering.
At the top of the hill, about 200 meters from the church, the flow of people clogged and stopped. Policemen started roping off the crowd into groups. Then every few minutes the police would let a group through to line up at one or the other of the church’s entrances. There were 2 lines to get into at the various entrances- offerings or no offerings. I got into the no offerings line because: 1- I had no offering. 2- It was moving way faster.
So the crowd and I got shuffled down a long walkway, through a metal detector, and under a bunch of large signs warning the faithful to beware of pickpockets and to watch their children. I was wary of pickpockets so I watched the children.
All this was way more than I was expecting. There are a lot of Catholics here.
In the church, the offerings people were filtering through the shrine area up at the front of the church, putting their flowers and candles all over the huge golden calf.
Ok, not really a golden calf. (reference- when Moses came down, broke tablets, was pissed that his people had created a big image to worship. Graven images, etc) It really felt like idol worship though. What was actually there was a huge heart of roses and the usual image of Mary with babe in a shell, a big colorful version of the plaster thing that is on the neighborhood weird Catholic lady’s front lawn.
The people from the slow line were laying down their offerings individually up at the shrine, which was why that line was taking so long. The people in the non offerings line who had offerings were allowed to toss their offerings into large plastic crates that, I guess, served as intermediaries between these less pious pilgrims and Mary. Volunteers shooed away those who wanted to stand and pray, trying to move the warm crush of people along. So I went with the crowd to the exit. The whole production made me feel very foreign.
On the other side of the church, all the way down the hill behind the church to the shore was more wax stuff, more crap. I bought a few bead necklaces for 10rps each. I can’t seem to get the hang of bargaining. I paid whatever the sales man told me the stuff cost, a cardinal sin over here. I just couldn’t make myself bargain. I mean really, 25 cents each. I also bought a knit scarf. The sales man assured me that he sells these scarves down in Colaba (the downtown tourist district) for 110-120 rps, so he was giving me a very good deal at 60 rps. So wow, that was really nice of him. :) Either way, I hate bargaining so I paid the 60 for the scarf. I do believe his claim that he sells down in Colaba though, his English was a lot better than I would have expected.
Favorite piece of crap for sale at the fair- Glow in the dark rosary beads.
Honorable Mention- Life size effigies of the baby Jesus, presumably to burn as an offering to Mary. I wonder if she appreciates that, people burning little versions of her baby. These Catholics are such pagans.
*
Something that people talk about here is “quality of people.” My neighbors warned me about the fair by telling me about the Low Quality People who showed up to it. And the other day a principal was quoted in the paper as saying that his school was going downhill and needed “students from better families.” Now, we have the same ideas in the US, but we don’t have the same terms. For example, the only equivalent term that I can think of for Low Quality People is “white trash.” And a principal would never allow himorherself to get quoted in the paper as having said “We need fewer white trash students.” This idea of “types of people” seems to be a more acceptable concept here. Again though, I think we do have the same idea in the US, we just can’t talk about it the same way. Much as I may not like to admit it, it isn’t as though I don’t know what my neighbors mean when they say Low Quality People. Maybe I will start wearing a VIP pin around, in case anyone is wondering where I stand.
While I was in the store I started to feel a little silly as I kept putting things into my pile. I didn’t want to seem ostentatious or greedy. You know, fat American buying up all the stuff. . . . So I, (and I am a little embarrassed about this), I actually started pretending to be buying things for other people. Like, I held up a pair the pants and mimed that I was trying to imagine if they would fit someone else, when really I had seen the pants when I had first come in and had been plotting to buy them for myself for 20 minutes, thinking about what size would fit me, what color I wanted. When trying to decide on red or turquoise for the elephant skirt, I had a whole conversation with the sales lady about my friend and what she would like. Oh god. My imaginary friend. Because the skirt was for me! Me! Greedy Evelyn. I felt like such a fraud. And the sales women. They must have been thinking, “Mmm, that nice American lady with all the friends. What a nice lady, buying presents for all her friends. She has lots of friends. Funny that all her friends are the same size as her though. Oh well, I guess that is just what size Americans are.” I think I am going to go put on all my skirts.
But really, the salwar kameez I bought at a department store cost 1500 rps. Everything I bought from the socially conscious store cost 1200 rps.
The long straight skirts come in grey with blue, green, dark pink and yellow with brown. The funny skirts come in cow: green and red. elephant: bright turquiose, bright brown, and red. The pants were red, blue, yellow, and I think a few other colors. The shirts are simple kurtis, if you want one, give me a sense of what color and I will try to find something. I will go back and get more if anyone wants anything. I will go back just for the hell of it, probably. Just let me know.
Then, after having a snack at home, I went out to the fair.
There is this huge fair that happens in Bandra once a year. The Mt Mary Fair, out of the Mt Mary Cathedral and Scenic Lookout at the top of the hill that makes up half of Bandra.
I decided to walk up through the fair at the base of the hill (near my house) and go up the hill past the stalls and rides and see what the church looks like during the fair, then walk down the hill behind the church and come out along the shore. Where the road hits the shore is a cafe that will sell me a yummy vegan drink, (which, actually, I am drinking as I write this- so you know I made it to the cafe.)
I have been a little skeptical about this fair. The music starts around 3-4 and stops at around 9:30, and I can hear it blaring all the way at my house. I had been expecting loud, annoying Hindi film music from the fair, because that music is everywhere here. So I was looking forward to an irritating, though novel, experience. However, they choose to play classic American hits from the eighties and nineties mixed with random dance hits, which is an irritating experience that any American who has ever gone to a fair has had. A sample from last night: the “it was the summer of ’69” (whoever sang that) as a dance remix, that lovely lovely lumps song from last year, and “Eye of the Tiger.” Maybe the music people learned their craft in the US or something. Or maybe this is really just the same fair that travels around the US, and it turns out that it actually travels around the entire world, spreading it’s mediocrity. Or maybe there are international standards and procedures on what music you can play at fairs. Who knows.
Braving the music, I started walking through the fair. It was bloody awful. All the cheapest crap in India was there. It was like the guys who sell the junk on the tables outside the train station called all their friends, their friends’ friends, and their friends’ friends’ cousins and neighbors. I hadn’t realized how deep into the neighborhood the fair went. There were loud people aggressively selling terrible junk all the way along the road, all the way up to the church, plus there were a bunch of carnival rides set up in school yards and fields. (you know the kind. going too fast, with the rusty bolts and a drunk operator) About halfway up, stalls selling the assorted junk turned into stalls selling wax figures, candles and small bouquets that you could buy to bring into the church to give as an offering.
At the top of the hill, about 200 meters from the church, the flow of people clogged and stopped. Policemen started roping off the crowd into groups. Then every few minutes the police would let a group through to line up at one or the other of the church’s entrances. There were 2 lines to get into at the various entrances- offerings or no offerings. I got into the no offerings line because: 1- I had no offering. 2- It was moving way faster.
So the crowd and I got shuffled down a long walkway, through a metal detector, and under a bunch of large signs warning the faithful to beware of pickpockets and to watch their children. I was wary of pickpockets so I watched the children.
All this was way more than I was expecting. There are a lot of Catholics here.
In the church, the offerings people were filtering through the shrine area up at the front of the church, putting their flowers and candles all over the huge golden calf.
Ok, not really a golden calf. (reference- when Moses came down, broke tablets, was pissed that his people had created a big image to worship. Graven images, etc) It really felt like idol worship though. What was actually there was a huge heart of roses and the usual image of Mary with babe in a shell, a big colorful version of the plaster thing that is on the neighborhood weird Catholic lady’s front lawn.
The people from the slow line were laying down their offerings individually up at the shrine, which was why that line was taking so long. The people in the non offerings line who had offerings were allowed to toss their offerings into large plastic crates that, I guess, served as intermediaries between these less pious pilgrims and Mary. Volunteers shooed away those who wanted to stand and pray, trying to move the warm crush of people along. So I went with the crowd to the exit. The whole production made me feel very foreign.
On the other side of the church, all the way down the hill behind the church to the shore was more wax stuff, more crap. I bought a few bead necklaces for 10rps each. I can’t seem to get the hang of bargaining. I paid whatever the sales man told me the stuff cost, a cardinal sin over here. I just couldn’t make myself bargain. I mean really, 25 cents each. I also bought a knit scarf. The sales man assured me that he sells these scarves down in Colaba (the downtown tourist district) for 110-120 rps, so he was giving me a very good deal at 60 rps. So wow, that was really nice of him. :) Either way, I hate bargaining so I paid the 60 for the scarf. I do believe his claim that he sells down in Colaba though, his English was a lot better than I would have expected.
Favorite piece of crap for sale at the fair- Glow in the dark rosary beads.
Honorable Mention- Life size effigies of the baby Jesus, presumably to burn as an offering to Mary. I wonder if she appreciates that, people burning little versions of her baby. These Catholics are such pagans.
*
Something that people talk about here is “quality of people.” My neighbors warned me about the fair by telling me about the Low Quality People who showed up to it. And the other day a principal was quoted in the paper as saying that his school was going downhill and needed “students from better families.” Now, we have the same ideas in the US, but we don’t have the same terms. For example, the only equivalent term that I can think of for Low Quality People is “white trash.” And a principal would never allow himorherself to get quoted in the paper as having said “We need fewer white trash students.” This idea of “types of people” seems to be a more acceptable concept here. Again though, I think we do have the same idea in the US, we just can’t talk about it the same way. Much as I may not like to admit it, it isn’t as though I don’t know what my neighbors mean when they say Low Quality People. Maybe I will start wearing a VIP pin around, in case anyone is wondering where I stand.
6 comments:
Don't let Kenneth read this about the clothes. He is still trying to figure out where to store the Thai pants.
The clothes looked pretty cool. I can see a great opportunity for "Eveyln's Eastern Boutique". Everything made by women working to make themselves economically independent. With a good writeup in the "Seattle Weekly" and the equivalent in Portland and SF...you'd tap into the double barrel of clothes fetish and social guilt. WOW! You could reshape the west coast woman's wardrobe. Of course you'd have to take charge of making sure the clothing was way too cute and comfortable and conspicuously donate a share of the profits to the Grameen Bank. So you see, you're just a decision away from making yourself a few million bucks only lightly kissed by cynical greed. What would Ayn Rand do?
Evelyn, I can't believe you thought it necessary to explain the golden calf reference. We may be drooling heathens, but most of us have some acquaintance with the relevant reference texts. It would be interesting to see how India does Catholic. Lots of statuary and smokey incense to be sure. And what does an "indulgence" cost these days?
As for the people "quality" issue...I believe the caste system has been done away with in the legal sense, but not the cultural sense with both ends of the scale complicit in this continuing social inequality. I hope it's changing. It would be interesting if you could wrangle your way into some high caste Brahmin household as well as one of the Dalits.
Please keep writing.
p.
So Evelyn, cant you find anything in basic grey? Mom
PS: love the colors!
I'm heading to Ikea tomorrow to buy a bigger dresser and a wardrobe. Or maybe I'll just call a realtor.
so, yesterday I found this great organization called "World of Good" (worldofgood.com)...they sell hand-made items from artisan coops around the world...kind of like Kiva, but instead of loaning to businesses, you buy their goods...all with a social mission, focus on women and sustainability, etc, etc. Plus, they're totally the type of handicrafts I am drawn to buy when I travel... at prices that are quite reasonable considering they are sold in the US. anyway, if you haven't heard of them you should definitely check it out.
speaking of bargaining, I would really encourage you to bargain. not b/c I think it is fun per se, and not b/c I think Americans should be obnoxious and fight to save that last $1, but b/c it is culturally expected, and there is a economic argument for keeping prices relevant to the products sold. perhaps this is not as true in India, but in places like Cuba where salaries are more fixed for example, taxi drivers and hotel workers who get tipped by Americans often earn more than Doctors, thereby shifting the value of education. I don't know enough about how much these practices affect economics globally, and would like to read more on the topic, but until then my general rule of thumb is to stick to whatever is culturally appropriate.
oh, and keep those religious references coming! some of us are true pagans and have no idea why people stand in long lines to throw flowers on a cow :)
i think my problem with bargaining is that i dont know what is appropriate, i have no reference. he says 60. do i say 20? or 50? The prices vary so much from person to person. and i am willing to pay a little bit of a white tax. like, 13 rps for a bracelet instead of the 10 everyone else is being asked for. i think i need to go shopping with some indians to see what is right. b/c you can't just say 50%, sometimes that is way too high, sometimes way too low. i need a universal translator, not for language but for prices.
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