Yesterday I was able to get the gals out of the house for 2 expat outings. After Masan being sick in bed all day Tuesday, and me being sick all day yesterday, I was starting to get a bit stir crazy. First, we went to the Overseas Women’s Club (OWC) coffee at The Leela Palace Hotel, which is what I think of when I think of Indian luxury. Lush gardens, decadent decor, plush seating. Love this place. If you’re in Bangalore, and you don’t want to stay at Hotel Otmar, definitely look into this staying at Leela. Or you can stay at our place and we will stay there.

When Dan and I came in February to look for housing I was supposed to check out the OWC coffee hour at Leela, however, with the timing of our flight it never worked out, which I was not so secretly glad about because it seemed very exclusive. And I was coming to India to see India and make friends with Indians, and OWC membership was only open to those holding non-Indian passports are able to attend. Flash forward to July and me not being as connected here yet as I was back home (it only took me 10 years to feel settled in NYC), and I was willing to give OWC coffee hour and membership a try.

For the first time since landing in Bangalore, I was not the minority at a gathering. Not only were there other white ladies in attendance, but there were other Americans, and even one other child who the girls hung out with. That was the first time I had met other Americans in Bangalore. We live in a community where the majority of people are native Indians (although most have spent at least a few years in the US or Europe) or European (mostly German since Bosch is nearby). I hear that there are some Americans in this neighborhood, but they are thus far as elusive as the common cobra.

The OWC ladies were very helpful and welcoming. There were a couple who really went out of their way to chat with the gals and I. Overall, the group was not as friendly as most of the Indians I have met thus far, but neither am I—culturally Indians are so warm and loving. However, I’m excited to join the OWC. It’s another community of people to be a part of–they have a listserv for members as well as various volunteer and social opportunities. As we career development folks tell our clients, you never know where a job is going to come from so you need to try all avenues. It’s like that, you never know where your Bangalore best friend is going to come from. Of course, at one point at the coffee hour Mia and I spent about a half hour talking to a native Indian mom and her baby who were at Leela for a wedding. Somehow it was just easier to chat with her, and maybe it was a way of dealing with the guilt I felt at being at something that excludes others.

Later in the day Mia and I went to a weekly expat play date for toddlers down the street. I left the big girls watching a movie with their 8 year old neighbor with the housekeeper (more developments on this end with her being rude to the driver and gossiping about us to our neighbor’s housekeeper) and cook in charge. We had been casually invited to this play date by 3 different moms with kids we had met in while walking around the neighborhood, but I felt rude just showing up at a stranger’s home so up until this point we hadn’t been. But this week a very helpful mom held my hand and basically brought me with her. Over the past 3 weeks I have often felt like the only white person in Adarsh Palms Retreat, but at yesterday’s play group everyone was white except for one woman and her 2 daughters who were from S. Korea (and the cook, babysitter and maid). (BTW, I mentioned to Lilly, the babysitter that I really needed one, and this morning at 9:30am there was a woman on my stoop telling me her sister babysits and could she bring her by on Monday. Some things are just so easy in this country! Dan’s colleague told us help would just show up, and that’s what happens). Almost all the kids were blonde, and the moms were from all over Europe. I was definitely the loudest and most talkative person there. I tried to tone it down and listen more than I spoke, but who knows how we were received. It was hard to read these moms. I brought chocolate cupcakes and a bottle of proseco when everyone else brought homemade muffins and bottles of water. And the wine was never opened! The introduction of wine at our weekly Brooklyn playgroup was my biggest contribution, so maybe I’ll carry that tradition on here in Bangalore.

At the play date there were about 10 other moms with kids ranging from 9 months to about 3 years. Everyone was very welcoming without the bending-over-backwards, in-your-face, US friendliness. Mia had a fun time playing with all the toys and other tots. The host’s house looked like a montessori school. I have never seen so many toys outside of a preschool ever. Mia lost her mind. The trampoline was her favorite, of course, but she also loved the slide, the swing, and the puppy named Milo. (That’s another thing about Bangalore—there are so many dogs around here. You can easily adopt any dog you see, and by ‘adopt’ I just mean take home with you).

As fun as the playgroup was, and as interesting as it was to meet so many other expats, I didn’t quite feel like I belonged. It was that first day of a new school feeling where all the cliques are already established. It was similar to how I felt when I hosted movie night for our Indian neighbors a few weeks ago. I was just trying to feel my way without knowing quite how things were done. Fortunately, the cook was there to make Indian food because I get the feeling that much of Indian life revolves around food and if the food is good, the event is a success. In fact, I think it has been much easier for me to feel at home with my Indian neighbors than the expats I have met. We will see what happens once I meet some American expats. I’m hoping that there’s a way to include expats and Indian moms all in one big group. Being in Bangalore has made me appreciate how inclusive NYC is in so many ways. I know it’s not perfect and racism is ever present, but equality is something that we strive for, and segregation isn’t just accepted as being okay. It’s not only apparent in groups of moms, but is also clearly demonstrated in how ‘the help’ is treated. The women who cleaned for us back home ate dinner with us, sat on our sofa, used our plates and bowls, while here ‘the help’ has their own plates and cups (we have these), sits on the floor to eat their lunch (not at our place), doesn’t use the inside bathrooms (not at our place), and are basically treated like they are less than, and acting mean and rude to them is almost expected. That’s one part of the culture I hope to not embrace wholeheartedly, although I am fully taking advantage of having inexpensive labor which brings up many uncomfortable feelings.

Next post will hopefully be about today’s trip to an Indian dentist…