:mattLandia:

I'm halfway through my stay in India. Thus far, my days have been pretty uneventful. Each morning, I get up and meet my driver for my commute to the client's new gleaming campus on the far side of town. The commute takes about 45 minutes in rush hour traffic. I spend most of that time, staring out the window, soaking up the imagery of ageless Indian culture clashing with the trappings of our technocentric century. The sights flash by: motorcycle, autorickshaw, women carrying jugs of water on heads, dust, sugar cane stands, etc..

A word on how a US rush hour differs from a Bangalore rush hour. Here, rush hour is simply as if every person who has ever owned a piece of machinery powered by some sort of refined fuel has been dropped haphazzardly into a maze of dust choked asphalt raceways. The sheer volume is unreal, not to mention the lackadaisical manner in which two lanes are made to accomodate 6 or 7 vehicles across. It's perfectly routine to play chicken with an oncoming vehicle until the last second just before Ranga (my driver) deftly glides to the left, missing a life ending collision. I get two full hours of this a day!

I haven't done any real sightseeing yet, but I'll get to that on Friday afternoon and Saturday before heading home.

Impression of the day: Indian women, with their espresso complexions, beautiful white teeth, long black hair, and wrapped in deliciously colored saris are easily the most visually engaging people I have ever encountered. It's as if they are blessed with an elegance and grace unkknown to the rest of us. When confronted with such natural beauty I am left feeling like I've just realized that I am the bull in the china shop.