How many does it really take?

Americans strive for efficiency. We invented the cotton gin, the telegraph, the assembly line, and rolled toilet paper. Americans favor precision. We like post cards, Cliff's Notes, headlines scrolling at the bottom of our TV screens, and, gulp, Twitter. We like our goods to be cheap and our information to come quickly.

India does not seem to share our love affair with streamline. In a country whose population figures run ten digits, tasks are completed differently than in places with fewer people to employ. There is someone to do the shopping, someone to do the cooking, someone to do the sweeping inside, and someone to do the sweeping outside. There is one person to wash the laundry while his neighbor will iron it. My short time on the sub-continent has elicited from me three distinct responses to this colossal change: confusion, irritation, and amusement.


Confusion: How many does it take to load luggage into a car?

I confess that Matt and I have much to learn when it comes to packing. While we have both traveled extensively, packing for a trip can hardly prepare one for packing to move. Yes, four suitcases should do it. That is more than enough room, too much, maybe. Incorrect. Baggage handlers marked three of our four checked suitcases as "heavy"; "heavy" doesn't quite do the weight justice.

The staff of The Claridges Hotel in Delhi made a team sport out of loading the car with our bags. Four of them stood around surveying the scene. There was the man who opens the car door, the man who opens the hotel door, the guard, and the driver. They discuss which bag should go in first. Where should it go? Ok, we'll put two in the trunk. Now we'll put one in the front seat. Wait, turn it on its side. No, not like that, like this. Hmph. Well, let's try this. They all have ideas about how it should go. When all was finally crammed into the small car, I was dumbfounded at how it took so many people to accomplish that one end. Couldn't have one person done all of that in less time? Perhaps, but that is not how things are done in India.


Irritation: How many counters does one have to visit to check in to a flight?

Matt and I were eager to catch our flight from Delhi to -at long last- settle in to our first home together. We each took a luggage cart, piling them with our bags. A younger man with Down's Syndrome hijacked Matt's looking for a tip. He lead us to what looked to be the correct place. In the U.S., and Western Europe for that matter, one checks in inside the main terminal. Not in Delhi. The guards stopped us, requesting to see our tickets. We confusedly explained that we booked e-tickets and still needed to pick them up. He pointed to a separate building.

So we lethargically pushed our bags to the appointed hall to collect our "tickets". After standing in line and presenting our passports, the ticketing agent handed us print-outs of our itinerary. This is what we had to get? Are these our boarding passes?

No. There was another counter inside the terminal where we would leave our bags and get our boarding passes. Seriously? My irritation was minor but I certainly felt it. Why would we have to get two different pieces of paper that said the same thing? Ugh. What a waste of time! This seems ridiculous to me. C'mon India, let's cut time and cost by doing all of that at the same counter! But...that's not the way things are done. At that moment I could not see any reason behind it.


Amusement: How many people does it take to open the front door?

After waking up at 6am, the useful side of jet lag, I decided to join Matt for his first morning at the consulate. I was so excited to meet all of our new colleagues that I paid no attention while locking the front door to our apartment. Mistake.

I spent the next six hours introducing myself to new people and saying hello to those we knew from DC. I toured the consulate and got a better feel for the American community. A group of us braved the streets to go out to lunch where we had decent approximations of Mexican and Chinese cuisine. At this point I was quite content to head back home to start unpacking. Matt's sponsor called for his driver to take me home; it is strange to be chauffeured everywhere, but it is also necessary.

When the driver dropped me off in front of our apartment I smiled, said hello to the guard, and headed upstairs. Unaware of my imminent difficulty, I shoved the key into the top lock of our door.

One turn to the left. Click. I then focused my attention on the bottom lock. One turn to the right. Click. The door is still closed. Another turn to the right. Click. Still closed. Pushing on the door was not going to work so I tried my hand at another turn of the key. Nothing! So it went for about fifteen minutes.

When the heat and tired frustration finally sunk in, I ventured outside and down the driveway to enlist the help of our guard, Brashant. He sat draped over his plastic chair with two friends chatting at his feet. With the most pitiful face I could muster I held up my key and explained that I was having trouble opening my front door. Brashant hopped to his feet and followed me up to our apartment. Another fifteen minutes passed and we were no closer to getting me inside. Accepting his own failure, Brashant asked me to wait a few minutes. He soon reappeared with his two friends from the street: one with his flared jeans and Jheri curl and the other with his Caterpillar-like mustache and pot belly.

The three of them formed a semi-circle around the door, grasping for a turn at the locks. Together, then individually, then together again they tried any number of combinations to open my door. Not one of them was correct. I could do nothing but smile and laugh with them, men smaller than I. They were so kind and quite determined to help "madam" inside. In the end they called the building manager who took some time but eventually performed magic on that puzzle of a door.

How many does it take to open the front door? Sometimes just one, but sometimes more than that. India is already teaching such lessons. Living in a big city in the U.S., people don't concern themselves with the problems of others. Not here. Life is still lived on the community level. There are many people and they make them selves indispensable to one another. And for them, it works.

How many does it really take? I used to think I knew, but now I am not so sure.

-Abbie