Shopping: The Universal Language (Bangalore 3)

Sunday, our first semi-official day of the school portion of the trip, was devoted to the age old pastime of shopping. Emboldened by a lavish western-style breakfast at the hotel, 5 of us set out for FabIndia, the gap-like purveyor of modern, inexpensive Indian fashions. Given our desire to experience the “real” Bangalore before moving into our air-conditioned luxury bus for the meeting portion of the trip, we decided to autorickshaw it.

Autorickshaws, for those who haven't had the pleasure, are similar to the pedicabs that have taken over US cities, but are instead powered by a nasty smelling contraption, not an eager young entrepreneur. They have bright yellow awnings and space for three to squeeze in the back, with an open railing on one side. Middle seats are advised – let the others wedge you in.

These claptrap vehicles were not allowed up to our hotel's grand entrance, so we went wandering out to the dirt street, where we shared the road with the inevitable cows and kiosks. Once negotiations for transport were complete – we overpaid (I hate taxi haggling) we were off to the races. Or as off to the races as you can be when the driver stops every 10 feet to ask other drivers where he is going. At one point, we involved a friendly pedestrian to call the store and get directions. Not quite Google maps.

Once we got there, however, the hassle was totally worth it. FabIndia itself is two houses a few doors apart, overflowing with cotton and silk goods in every color. Ascending the stairs was like stepping into colorful clothing candyland. Piling our arms high with tunics, kurtas and selwar kameez in every color, we proceeded to try on every item in the store between the five of us. 2 hours later, finally sated, we got out of there at a decent price. I love some things about India.

After our orgy of consumerism, we decided to walk a few blocks to an Indo-Chinese local restaurant someone had found. Walking down the dirt street, I was struck by the similarity to Nairobi (a sentiment shared by the other Africa hand on the trip). It had the same feel of localness and bootstrapping that I remember from the walk between our Westlands office and the Kenyan cafeteria where we would often have lunch. The buildings had the air of slight disrepair that I associate with hot weather and the rainy season. And it came complete with the fun of haggling with autorickshaw drivers for the ride home – some things really are common in all emerging cities!