I returned early this morning to my flat in the Deccan Gymkhana area of Pune, Maharashtra. I will live here for about one week before taking the Mysore Express train to Mysore, Karnataka. The same 'bai', or maidservant, Devashalabai will work for me cooking food, cleaning clothes, and making her best effort to keep the flat somewhat clean. It's kind of hopeless at this point, though--the place is so dirty, but it's familiar, and it's in a beautiful location. Devashalabai, whose name means "abode of the gods," was excited to see me and I am excited to be seeing her again. The flat is large for one person.
The bureaucratic process of registering as an alien is underway; I hope my travels to Mysore will not be delayed due to the complicated process of police registration, but chances are they will because that's just the way things roll here in India. I have plenty of work that needs to be done, and now I have a very comfortable place to do it. Tomorrow, I'll be able to pick up a country-wide, mobile broadband connection so I can make more regular blog updates from my laptop wherever I am!
I have been greatly helped by my friend, Jon, who has given me contacts of a potential host family in Mysore; the family apparently has a wonderfully nice home to share, but their rent seems a bit steep to me at 12,500 rupees. It's possible I could find someone to share the place with, as I also learned there will be two American scholars of Art History in Mysore whom I plan to meet. Mysore is known for sandalwood and its yoga schools that attract a fair international crowd of yogis. Perhaps I, too, might one day become one through instruction offered by a flatmate at a flat rate.
After I complete this blog entry, I'll do some shopping for vegetables and pohe, a flattened, dehydrated rice flake that I enjoy preparing for breakfast. I'll invest in some doodh, "milk," and possibly some flour and rice for Shalabai to prepare meals for me. Baingan bartha is top on the list...
I've been returning to old stores and restaurants I once frequented, and enjoy the responses I receive. Today I returned to a tailor whom I asked to hem some pants for me: As I walked into the shop he said "You're late," and he pulled my khaki pants out from the cupboard they'd been hanging in for about five months. Thankfully he still had them, because I was down to one pair of pants after my taxi driver sped off immediately after dropping me at a hotel upon my arrival in Pune. In the car was a free bag of my jeans and some t-shirts. Luckily, that was all. For a first loss of a trip, it's not bad. And now I have a handsome pair of khakis to boot!
