The next leg of our journey is underway. After spending a week in the richly radiant state of Kerala, we head to Bengaluru, commonly referred to as Bangalore, the progressively modern IT capital in India. A quick flight lands us in a newly constructed airport of impeccable cleanliness, with contemporary architecture of brushed silver columns set against tainted teal windows. I am suddenly bombarded with the freshness and wealth of the city. This is not the India I have been exposed to thus far; rather, it is a metropolis of construction cranes and paved roads. An hour drive to the hotel allows me to observe living conditions. The slum dwellings and broken shacks are replaced by gray, rigid, stout buildings known as campuses, where the offices of huge IT giants outsource much of their work. Harsh and overpowering, I shrink in their presence. Bangalore also has a slew of lavish hotels, large and luxurious, painted white with gardens of flowering colors. I recognize chains of retailers and fast food joints, ranging from Addidas to Pizza Hut. Hoards of men dressed in finely pressed starched shirts and stripped ties overflow the streets and restaurants. However, the most prevalent, blaringly obvious aspect of this strange place is the traffic. Not the changing lanes into oncoming traffic like I experienced in Kerala. This kind of traffic I know all to well from spending a decade living in the Big Apple. Modern city traffic with the accompanying smog, horns and grumpiness. Accidents and scuffles are common occurrences. People have less patience and seem angrier. It feels crowded in a suffocating manner, with too many people and cars, an army of rickshaws filling in any tiny space, surrounded by buildings and billboards and stores. I am reminded of the madness of urban dwelling.
Bangalore is known as a shopping extravaganza, resulting from the disposal income of the young IT community. After Sebastian and I check into our centrally located and very cheap hotel ($40 a night!), we head out to Commercial Street. This entire section of town is lined with tiny stores, little alcoves filled with multitudes of items embedded among larger, better known shops. Everything from shoes to jewelry, fabrics to spiritual statues are bought and sold. I am overwhelmed by the variety, the chaotic energy, the pressuring of salespersons to make a purchase. We peruse through several bangles stores until I find Yassi, a pro at creating the most beautiful sets of bracelets I have seen since I arrived over two weeks ago. We spend well over an hour in his shop, as I meticulously select special colors and sizes, with beads and jewels and glitter, for all my favorite girls back home. In awe, I watch Yassi move with fierce quickness, artistic grace and compelling confidence as he creates set after set, one prettier than the next. Poor Sebastian sits patiently in the corner, quietly observing and smirking, for his knows I am thoroughly enjoying this moment.
We continue walking, weaving in and out of different shops that grab our attention. We master the art of haggling, bargaining for golden trinkets and embroided fabrics. It proves to be a thrilling rush of a game, insulting the seller with a ridiculously low offer and walking away when he adamantly refuses. Without fail, every single time, we are chased and begged to return, agreeing to our suggested price. I purchase an immense amount of decorations for my home and gifts for friends and family for what I consider to be pennies! Compared to New York prices, it is a steal! I learn that the best case scenario is to earn in dollars and spend in rupees.
Both days, although exhausted from shopping in the unyielding heat, we decide to experience the nightlife, another known aspect of Bangalore. It is the first opportunity I have all trip to get dressed up, to exercise my city girl style. Women do not wears stilettos here so I reluctantly wear flats, a major fashion no-no back home. We meet up with Carthik, a friend Sebastian made and has kept in contact with since the last time he visited two years ago, a mid-20’s native with boyish charm and an innocent smile. He and his girlfriend Tanushree, also a native and working professional, know the most happening places to party. On Friday, they suggest a local club, Hint, where most of the young work force frequent after a long week. The club is extremely dark with loud, thumping music. We pay ten dollars at the door for unlimited food and drink. Stunned, we begin to take full advantage of this absurd deal. Hint also has an outdoor balcony section overlooking the small city. Although not very many buildings, it still offers the appeal of a lit up skyline. Not fans of club music, we suck it up and join the dancing crowd. I feel like I am sixteen again, dancing free and open, careless as Sebastian twirls me around the dance floor. We are giggling and smiling, savoring the boundless freedom.
On Saturday, we attend a more upscale spot called Athena at the Leela Palace, an extraordinarily magnificent hotel oozing affluence. It is a sexy lounge, as though it came straight out of Manhattan, complete with dim lighting set against a futuristic spaceship décor. Drinks are expensive, the music is pumping, the crowd is intoxicated and letting loose. Again, we tear up the floor, dancing wildly feeling like young teenagers in love. For the few minutes the DJ played hip-hop, we unleash our New York gansta-roots. Having an abundant amount of experience, it is obvious these people know how to party, despite their outdated music. I realize that though the location may change, human beings around the world enjoy the same things, are moved by the same beats, feel the same emotions.
A bit hung-over and exhausted from back to back nights of partying, we head to Goa, the laid back hippie beach community. I am thankful to spend the weekend in Bangalore, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh. Although I appreciate buying, boozing and bumping to the beat, I ache to return to the quiet, simpler life away from buildings and swarms of bodies, cars and technology. I grasp how city living is not conducive for spiritual growth with its countless distractions and superficial pleasures. I want nature, God, the slower pace. I am ready to go the other extreme.
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