Pune First Impressions

I was pleasantly surprised by what greeted us in Pune. It has a very green feel to it with far more trees and shade than I had anticipated. Compared to Mumbai, it presents as far more spread out and neat, but there is no logic to the layout of the streets so it is very difficult to find your bearings. In both cities I expected to be overwhelmed by the smells and chaos but so far I haven’t been; I feel like I’ve been here before.

Pune reminds Chris and I very much of the Philippines – the climate, the streets, the constant noise and beat, the curious stares, the over familiarity between men. But in place of the multitude of statues of Catholic saints in varying poses of gruesome martyrdom dotted all over the Philippines, in India there are little shrines and statues of Indian Gods captured at far more peaceful moments.

Pune apparently has a large ex-pat community, but much like in the Philippines, you do not see them – except around the Osho where the odd hippie in a purple robe has nicked out of Club Meditation (or the’Cashram’ as it is known here) for a cheap latte. Consequently we are a source of interest and comment wherever we go. Sebastian is particularly admired with his juicy white flesh and chubby limbs (it may be his resemblance to Buddha). In cafes and restaurants where Chris knows the staff, Seb is often taken off to meet the other waiters and half the patrons – he enjoys this experience in the morning but by late afternoon, Seb is pretty much over being deified. The 3 older children have learned some basic words such as Namasca (hello) and Dunyawad (thank you – Chris and Cam remembered this word initially because it reminded them of a typical Derby Day i.e. “Done your wad”). The locals get a real kick out of the children thanking them in this way, which of course makes the kids even keener to speak the local tongue.

In terms of attire, the men tend to wear shirts and long pants with very little variation on this theme, except perhaps that the younger men have a more western dress sense. You may see the occasional older man in more traditional dress and no one dresses more ‘Indian’ than the young western male tourists who take authentic ethnic dressing to the extreme (kind of like Patrick Tehan circa early 90s). The women are a different story. It is Saris all round with the odd Salwar Kameez (Tunic over pants with floaty shawl) gracing the younger, wealthier ladies. The women look lovely in their gorgeous fabrics and hues. The roads are awash with vibrant color as women stream past in rickshaws and on bikes trailing a rainbow of shawls and dupattas behind them.

I have seen a few younger women in western clothes, especially at night in the restaurants and in the modern shopping malls and they have been dressed in tight pants and shoe-string tops. However, I do not feel at all comfortable showing my shoulders or any part of my legs (any flash of white female flesh receives stares of absolute astonishment, possibly even horror). The issue of baring shoulders is particularly bizarre especially when you consider how much stomach is exposed in Saris and that the Sari undershirt was relatively recently introduced by the ladies of the British Raj seeking to raise levels of modesty among the local women (presumably to keep the gentlemen of the British Raj in check). In any event, it seems the more cotton you wear, the cooler you feel so I am more than happy to cover up.

There are no cabs in Pune, only auto rickshaws and buses (Chris particularly enjoys the Pune municipal transport acronym ‘PMT’, as mature as ever) for public use with many of the locals getting about on bikes and little ‘indicas’ (think Suzuki hatchback). The auto rickshaws are everywhere and have proven to be a very convenient and inexpensive way to get about. A rickshaw is basically a 2 stroke 3 wheeler motorbike with a covered bench seat attached. The six of us fit very cozily onto the bench seat and there is even room for our bags and hats on a little bench behind. I nurse Seb, Paddy sits in the middle with Eliza in front of him and Chris has Charlie on his lap. We can travel from our apartment to most parts of town (about 5kms) for under $1. Excellent. The ride is noisy and dusty and people are constantly beeping their horns but Seb falls asleep more often than not and when he is awake, he is all smiles. The rest of us love these rides with the breeze rushing through and the action right in our faces, the drivers are always friendly and let us practice new phrases with them. Other motorists peer in and wave or stop for a chat. Tonight two very cool young men on a motorcycle en route to a funky destination whistled at Seb and said “Hey good looking baby!” Two young bucks coochi-cooing a baby is lovely (can you imagine it happening in Chapel Street?), except I wish they would keep there eyes on the road. The way people drive is absolutely chaotic and apparently without any due care or diligence; the fact that no one ever crashes is amazing. But what keep me completely agog are the families that ride on the motorcycles. You can sometimes see a mother and father and up to 3 children all perched on a motorcycle, happily weaving between unpredictable trucks and swerving buses without a care in the world, or a helmet for that matter either.

We are currently living in town in a 3 bedroom apartment that is part of a large group of apartments called “Hermes”. It is very nice with granite floors and bench tops in the kitchen. The children have their own bathroom and we have an ensuite. The living area is large and basically like a standard modern open plan extension with kitchen overlooking meals area and family room. The living area leads out onto a very large paved balcony and we have great views (we are on the top floor). There is a swimming pool, playground and a games room in the complex and the children very quickly made friends with some of the other residents. The kids all meet at the pool in the afternoon and play pool tiggy (our kids are very proud of the fact they introduced this game to the others). At around 7pm, Paddy plays soccer below our balcony with his ‘best friends’ and Eliza and Charlie tend to scooter around if one of us is free to go down with them. Charlie is outraged that we let Paddy play downstairs unaccompanied but there is a big difference in age between 8 years and 5.5 years. The bedrooms and the living area all have air conditioning (all our appliances are LG so they must be made here. Having never owned a new appliance Chris and I are quite chuffed with the huge TV with cable including coverage of all AFL games, the sparkling fridge and even the nifty clothes washer). A lovely lady called Ooma comes 5 mornings a week to clean while we head out for a coffee. When we return, the apartment is immaculate (I am in heaven). A nice young man knocks on our door each morning and takes away any clothes to be ironed. He returns with them beautifully pressed and I pay him the equivalent 5 cents a piece. Unfortunately, all this may be short lived because we are due to move out to the construction, sorry, ‘school’ site around June 10 (The school story is a whole other blog post). While ultimately, this will be a terrific thing, at the moment we would all rather stay put, at least until things are further progressed at the school.

During the day it is very hot here. I haven’t seen a weather forecast but I imagine it must reach low to mid forties most days. But it is a different type of heat to the white, searing heat of Melbourne on a 40 degree day. It is somehow softer and more bearable. Having said that, the middle of the day is strictly a siesta zone and you don’t see many people out and about. Washing dries in less than an hour, so that is handy. We drink loads of water and I spend most of my time boiling and re-boiling, then cooling and bottling water (that is one thing I will not have to do at the site because the water there is UV filtered). Unfortunately, the power is shut down here at least twice each day for a couple of hours at a time and for most of the day on Thursday and we then get a taste of Pune without respite from the heat. Needless to say, I count down the minutes until the power clicks back on. The evenings are divine. Once the sun starts getting lower in the sky at about five, the atmosphere morphs into a balmy sweetness with a gentle breeze drifting up out of nowhere. Suddenly, there are people everywhere and the streets have a very festive feel as everyone makes the most of the best part of the day in an amazing part of the world.