Do They Know It's Fake-mas At All?

I have tried getting into the Christmas spirit.  I spent hours on our Holiday newsletter and Christmas Card.  I listened to my Christmas music compilation over and over, from The Ramones to Bing Crosby and even Wizzard and Mud for the 70's Glam Rock fans.  I even bought a 4ft fake tree (made in Madras).  But it hasn't hit me yet.  It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit when it's 80 degrees outside and the only Santa you might see here is a skinny fellow dressed in a red crushed velvet suit.  Not that I like Santa, but you get the drift.  And the drift.  There IS no snow drift here.  I miss waking up in Manhattan to 3ft of snow excitedly thinking that I can't get to work, but knowing that NYC transit is so efficient that there's no excuse. Unless you are commuting from Canada.  I even miss the time we spent seven hours delayed on the tarmac at JFK on Christmas Day - without a drink or even a bit of tinsel to raise the festivities.  Our Fake-mas Day, it's been decided, will be spent at Olive Beach, our favourite mediterranean restaurant, where we will dine al fresco on a buffet of unlimited turkey, ham, and eggnog (I'm told).  It's $50 per head, expensive here, but a bargain in the west, and am determined to drink every cent in alcohol.  And then some.  But I miss Starbucks Eggnog, and the surly assistant who once told me that he couldn't make it 'extra hot' as the egg would cook... I doubt that the Egg in Nog is really Egg, just fake egg.  I even bought some DVD's to watch in my blissful stupor that evening; of course, they're fake, from the fake DVD store, but where else can you get movies that have only only JUST been released in the cinema?  I've done all my shopping:  a mad dash round Marks and Spencers in Leeds for the UK family; an extravagant couple of hours in Terminal 4 Duty Free for Tom; and hours online at Amazon and the like for the US tribe.  Not quite Fifth Avenue and Regent Street!  I actually miss spending hours ramming Christmas cards and cash into envelopes to pay Christmas tips to the garage attendants (all 24 of them, most of whom we didn't know), hairdresser, dry cleaner, building superintendent, garbage men, mailmen, etc., etc.  I actually do it here too but it's an exercise that I completed just a month ago as most of our staff and 'service workers' are Hindu and celebrate Diwali, not Christmas.  Until Christmas comes, then suddenly, it's amazing how many Christians come out of the woodwork!  There's much debate here over 'how much is enough' and I play by the 'one month's salary at Diwali' and 'half a month's salary at Christmas.'  I figure that buys me enough good Karma with the Christians AND Hindus for the rest of the year.  So the driver, the maid, the flower lady, the ironing guy, the apartment staff, and our 'stylists' will all benefit.  We even donated enough to buy Christmas gifts for 10 people at the NGO I teach at.  That made me feel the Christmas spirit.  For a minute.  So, as I struggle with the tree tonight and string up the Christmas cards - all four of them - I will continue desperately to get into the mood.  But know that there is nothing more I miss than a rerun of The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show, a real Christmas Pudding, some Crackers, and, of course, being with our family to eat, drink, and be merry - and then fall asleep in front of the TV!

Shop til you Pop

So, in the 'real world' shopping is one of my favourite things; I can spend 8 hours in ONE store (Nordstrom) and still not feel I've seen everything. I can go out for lunch and shell out $500 on a suit when I all I wanted was a sandwich. I'm good at it. But that was before... before Bangalore. Here, my shopping is confined to one or two stores: Anokhi, which is great for casual khurta, pj's, and the odd shirt for hubby; Cinnamon, an upscale store with clothes, accessories, and nick-nacks; and Grasshopper, the restaurant/boutique which is always great for a $100 bag purchase after you've had a few drinks, or a $300 jacket if you've had a few more drinks. The excitement of shopping in Bangalore is really confined to one place: supermarkets. And moreover, finding that great western item you'd forgotten existed and that costs you probably 10 times that of its western price. Today I revisited the imaginatively titled 'Supermarket' which is, in fact, no more than a small corner store in a very dodgy looking 'mall' on Brigade Road. The joy of 'Supermarket' is its ability to sucker you in to spending not just $20 on superfluous items, but nearer $80 on such items, which will fill less than two carrier bag loads. I give you some examples to today's splurge and you'll see what I mean: one can of Pledge furniture polish $7 - it's unheard of in India, so I can't wait to show the maid what to do with it; $4.50 for a box of Oxo stock cubes - saves me carrying them from England, although they weigh virtually nothing; $7 for a can of Pam cooking spray - there is no equivalent here, unless you want to add clarified butter to everything; a bottle of chocolate milk - my favourite hangover cure, a bargain at $4; and today's favourite, the last remaining three bottles of Starbucks coffee drinks - $11 for the lot - with a very short shelf life. My friend asked recently, "so, do you travel abroad and fill up your suitcases with this stuff?" Yes, came the reply. They do the dirty work, so you don't have to. But at the prices they charge, maybe I could just buy a round trip ticket home?