Wednesday:

Writing this in the Etihad Business Class Lounge (not feeling guilty any longer about the amenities after our experience on the Jet Airlines connecting flight. I’m taking my luxury where I can get it).

The weekend before we flew out to India we took the gals to Jackson Heights, Queens-AKA “little India” for some authentic Indian food. The bad news is that Jackson Heights Diner has gone way down hill, but the good news is that Masan found her perfect “Indian dress.” It was “sea green” and very “fancy.” Evie decided she wanted the same one, but in purple and pink. Dan and I agreed to find a kid-sized one in India to bring back home for them.

While we were in Bengaluru we asked our relocation specialist Kasturiikaa if she could take us to find a kid-sized sari. She took us to a beautiful store with high-end silk saris for children. Gorgeous, but way too simple for our gals who love sparkle. We drove around for a bit seeing similar stores with similar inventory, until she finally called her boyfriend to ask where his niece got her dresses, which turned out to be a local Indian market. Kasturiikaa was hesitant to take us, not because it was unsafe, but because expats or foreign tourists never go. She says that she herself would never shop there. But Dan and I were game and on a very serious mission to find sea green “fancy” Indian dresses, so we went to the market. Dan needed an ATM (about 50 percent of the cash machines we visited during our week-long stay were out of money), and Kasturiikaa insisted that our driver (lots of people have drivers because to drive in that town is a death wish) go with Dan-apparently she was really concerned about us.

While Dan was at the cash machine K (not her nickname but for purposes of blogging while using an iPhone it will be) and I headed to the shops-picture the small stores all over Chinatown in Manhattan. Not more than a block out of the car a homeless man asking for money touched me and K became very upset on my behalf. She can’t believe this man has touched me and that she’s taking clients to this market. Clearly she needs to hear my story of the homeless guy in my neighborhood who insists on hugs. 

At that point I noticed a gorgeous Hindu temple just sitting behind the market. Strangely, it’s not considered a famous temple or tourist spot, but it’s huge and gorgeous. From what I saw, there are large and small Hindu temples scattered all around Bengaluru-adjacent to malls, at traffic lights, behind shacks-reinforcing the spiritual in the mundane, which I think seems like a great idea.

    Back to the mission-the first couple of shops didn’t have dresses for kids, but by the third we were in luck. They had shelves up to the ceiling on every wall filled with boxes of dresses. Every style-from traditional looking dresses to tunics and leggings to what looked to me like pageant dresses. Surprisingly, they were of good quality with ornate detailing. Not the sort of thing you’d find at a Chinatown market. Perfect for Masan and Evie’s vision. But alas they didn’t have sea green. Every other color imaginable. We settled on hot pink and blue, which the girls have seen on Skype and approve of.