Author: David Uncle

I saw a cultural difference on my first day. People aren’t afraid to stare at you. (Comes with being foreign-dressed white guy. You’re noticed.) But unlike the US, I could make eye-contact with someone a block away, smile, put my palms together (fingers up) and bob my head and they would smile and do the same.  An impulse of respect  which I found pleasant – even at fifty paces.

If you want to start up a jolly conversation with almost anyone, it’s easy – as long as they can speak English. If they can’t, it’s hard. Sometimes you’re treated like a movie star. Young people come up and ask if they can take a selfie with you. (There are worse things in life than having to feel like Johnny Depp for 15 seconds.) But by and large, if you look like you want to be left alone, you’ll be left alone.  

I’m not an unfriendly person but I’m not gregarious. I’m more an introvert who happens to like people. But just liking people goes a long way here. I arrived in India at the age of 65 and made more friends in my first year than I made in my last 20 years in America. Three of them are very close friends. Two of those consider me part of their family. The feeling is mutual. It’s like it says in “Three Cups of Tea”, by the time you’ve had a third cup of tea with someone, you’re a real chum. (I think that’s what it says. I should read that book sometime.)

It’s January 2021 and I am 69. (Probably older now, eh?) I live on my US Social Security checks and get cash through the State Bank of India ATMs. (Their fees per transaction are a flat $3.  You can take out up 10,000 rupees (about $140) up to four times a day. Which means you only have to visit the ATM once a month to get as much money as you’ll need – unless you’re that big spender guy the girls all go for. I’m not. 

Most nice restaurants will take your US credit card. And since the big demonetization emergency of 2017, now most store will, too. This is very handy as your bank gets the best conversion rates going.

Here are a few examples of the prices of things I like to buy.

– A liter of Thums Up (kind of like Coke)  –  45 rupees (about 60c).

– A liter of Coke (almost as good as Thums Up) – 60 rupees (about 80c). 

– A “big grab” bag of Uncle Chips (owned by Lays but better than Lays) – 20 rupees (about 30c). 

– Lunch in a nice restaurant – 350 rupees (about $5 – including tip).

– Dinner in that same restaurant – 600 rupees (about $8). It can run much higher if you booze it up. A couple glasses of wine could double that price.

– A loaf of freshly made bread from a bakery – 40 rupees (about 55c).

– A dozen organic eggs –  60-70 rupees (less than a dollar).

– A gallon of milk – 200 rupees (under $3).

– General cleaner like Mr. Clean (uncannily like it) – 65 rupees (less than a buck).

– A nice pair of slip-on NCS tennis shoes – 700 rupees (less than $10).

– A two-mile taxi ride – 100 rupees about $1.40 – which includes a tip. This depends on the driver’s willingness to be reasonable. They sometimes look at a foreigner and double or triple the usual fare. Uber tends to be the most affordable. Being pre-paid, it doesn’t know you’re a rich foreign guy. (Though if you set it up to go to your credit card, you might have to explain all the 80 and 90-cent charges to your bank. )   

– A small, furnished one-bedroom apartment in a nice area with a security guard is about 10,000 rupees a month ($140).

So as you can see, having a monthly social security check of $1000 (about 70,000 rupees) puts you solidly in the middle class.

Which means, about this time of year, you can actually BE Santa Claus to your new friends. (Remind me to tell you about them next time.) 

The flight from Minneapolis took 18 hours and we were all looking forward to a shower at the hotel. Our taxi driver seemed to think that this was a life and death issue and leapt straight into the fast lane laying on his horn all the way. A colorful sign on the back of a truck read, “PLEASE BLOW HORN”. Not necessary. Although all the cars are stick shifts, everyone manages to steer and shift while honking their horns non-stop.

Like the English, Indians drive on the left side of the road. Our driver also used the right side, the middle and the shoulder – anywhere there was a gap wide enough for his taxi plus, perhaps, the width a postcard. But what really made my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline is the way he would pull into the oncoming lane and drive full-speed at traffic coming full-speed in the opposite direction, then jerk back into our lane or off onto the shoulder at the last second. Time and again, we’d miss a head-on collision by inches.  The lady leading our group saw I had my hand over my eyes and said, “They all drive this way. You’ll get used to it.”                   

One last jerk and the car stopped. I peeked out of my fingers. We’d reached our hotel. The meter said 160 rupees – two and a half bucks. I gave him three.

In 2015, I decided to shutter my advertising business in Minneapolis and visit India.  A friend told me that a group of women were heading to Delhi for a conference in February and would appreciate having a man along.                                                                 

“Why?” I asked.   “To discourage mashers.”  he said.  I told him I felt I lacked any real masher discouraging skills. (I do have a black belt but it’s for holding up my pants.)                                                                                                                                                                        

“All you have to do is be a guy.” he said.  Well heck, even I could do that.  So off we went.