We have been in Bangalore about 3 weeks at this point, so the shock and awe is beginning to wear off and now the daily grind and reality of living here has started to sink in. I love this neighborhood and our villa, but going to the pool or the in-community play space can’t be all that we see of this city and country. Although that’s pretty much all the girls want to do, but diving in is good for all of us, even if it takes us out of our comfort zone.

In the spirit of trying new things, having adventures to prevent stagnation, and check off our to-do-while-in-in-Bangalore checklist, on Sunday we went to church at St. Mary’s Basilica in the city center, which is one of the oldest churches in the city, and the only one in Karnataka to be called a Basilica. This church with a neon cross at the alter was way over capacity with patrons flooding the streets and in overflow chapels on either side of the main sanctuary. People meandered in and out of the buildings and were talking throughout the mass, similarly to the Indian weddings I have attended. I liked the casualness. I wasn’t worried about the girls’ manners or behavior disturbing anyone. Again, the gals were a hit—they met other Indian kids, had their pictures taken a dozen times, danced around, and said some prayers. Mia had a great time giving hugs and kisses to Indian babies, although she didn’t like it when some of the bolder folks picked her up. I was the only one who actually disturbed anyone—apparently a churchgoer had such an issue with my knee-length, baggy shift dress being way too short that he complained angrily to his wife and gestured so aggressively that Dan caught on to what he was saying even though he doesn’t know Kaanada.

After church we walked around the neighborhood, which sounds simple, but was actually pretty challenging. Imagine Chinatown, NYC where everyone is selling something in small stalls, but Bangalore’s scene was much, much dirtier and more crowded, with the smell of burnt rubber and fried food permeating the air already bursting with unfiltered exhaust fumes from busses, auto rickshaws, cars and mopeds. And the sidewalks were so cracked and narrow that they were non-existent. Even the small umbrella stroller was useless, and each step was a leap of faith that we wouldn’t be mowed down by a moped. At either side of the entrance to the stalls were heaps of trash, puddles of brown, flies diving and swarming, and people everywhere selling lots of dusty merchandise. I was oblivious to what was being sold because I kept my head down and trudged along, clutching Evie’s hand on one side and Masan’s on the other, while Dan carried Mia. My senses were overwhelmed, to say the least, and I got into speed walking, winter-in-NYC-mode to try to outrun my immediate environment. Evie and Masan kept complaining loudly about how badly it smelled, and kept asking to go home, and although I shushed them because they were being rude, I felt their pain. But we made it to Russell Market, which seemed like a haven in the storm after our 5 block walk from the church. Russell Market is a local indoor produce, flower, and meat market, which was in reality, only ever so slightly cleaner than the walk we had just taken. The produce was beautiful and exotic, and a man selling toys tried to sell me a dirty blow up punching doll for 250 rupees. I wanted to buy flowers and dragon fruit and veggies and the largest kidney beans I had ever seen, but alas, Dan didn’t have change, and pulling out 1000 rupees and trying to get change would have been tricky. We have noticed that if a store doesn’t have change, it never works in the customer’s favor: The shopkeeper keeps the money with a shrug.