Nothing highlights the economic disparity of the city/country like playing golf at a private club in Bombay. Ok, so I didn't actually play golf through a slum. In fact, I did the complete opposite as the course was a pristine green, and was only bordered by a slum dwelling.
In true sporting fashion, the course is a full 18 without any tricks such as two holes that play into the same green. Yet, as one can imagine, it's no small feet weaving that much open space into an obscenely overcrowded city. So to make amends, it's a par 65, but fully equipped with an old British style club house where gin and tonics are cheaper than street chai, and there are more caddies than actual players on the course.
Honestly though, I couldn't complain. The fairways and greens weren't what I'd actually deem pristine, but with a jaded perspective of seeing swarms of people, rusty cars, and ugly concrete constructions deemed "apartments" on a daily basis, it was a welcome (albeit mildly expensive) change of pace.
So I show up for the early tee time, 7:00 am, which is what I was told we were scheduled for. Having just met the member (British colonial rules are still largely at play for India high society) the night before, I couldn't say much when in fact we teed off a good hour and a half after I was told. The Indian sense of time can really only be described as nonexistent. If I've learned anything here, it's patience.
Eventually we step up to the first tee, and low and behold it seems as if the entire service staff plus half the club is out to watch my first drive. Not only did the four of us in the group have a caddy (it's mandatory of course), but the sprinkler guy, his useless assistant, the practice green ball collector, and the four of five guys serving breakfast at the snack house all stood around to gape at the white boy swinging away. In fact, we had one other foreigner in our group, but it's beside the point. Also, since the tee-times were so delayed there were about 2 or 3 other groups in waiting so they are all sizing me up trying to guess how the foreigner can really play. A lot of the members are "big time" hauncho's in finance or some Indian conglomerate so they flash the latest gear and clothes to compensate for hitting the ball as if they were actually wearing a dress (the joke stands despite being sexist in nature).
So of course I crush it. Straight. Long. Tap in for par.
Needless to say, that's not how the entire round went. The heat, my mild hangover, and lack of sleep caught up to me pretty quickly after the next several holes. I found myself crossing some tiny little shanty road that ends up at a random petrol pump sitting in between a couple holes. I have to assume its fuel for the surrounding slums because I was being chased by skinny little men trying to sell me golf balls they've found around the course or probably in their slum house. With that in mind, I step up to the tee box of our first par 5 (shortest one I've ever seen), that dog legs to the left as it has to jut around an outcropping slum that is only slightly protected by a stone wall. Without the intention of doing so I smash my drive threw a few trees, over some slum houses, and though to the other side. It's almost too easy of a metaphor for the country; having my golf ball crashing through some desperately poor people's homes as I nonchalantly strut around the course more concerned I might lose a stroke if I can't find it than the livelihood of those around me.
Unfortunately, that's the reality, and I kept going to salvage a bogey.
When you make the turn to the back nine it's common practice to sit down for a small meal, some chai, and take a load off. In fact, you really have no option as everyone does it so your group is already backed up for at least 15 min. This is where my round started to unravel, as I was a bit full and getting only more tired especially in the heat.
After all was said and done, I ended up shooting 80, which was a bit unsatisfying due to the short distance of the course and starting off so well. I must say that of all the different things I've experienced and seen here, a golf course in Mumbai might be the biggest anomaly that exists. So of course I'll be back to take on the challenge this weekend, and I'm hoping for a bit better round.
On a separate note, I've reached the proverbial back 9 of my time in India. It's been six months with six more ahead of me. I know my perspective is currently skewed because of my current surroundings, so I'm am going to refrain as much as possible from ranting again on the overwhelming challenges of living and working in this country. I think I knew all along that I would reach a point where the difficulties were overwhelming, and it's partially why I decided to make the jump to "mysterious" India. One of the toughest things to admit is that your elders (specifically parents) turn out to be right in saying that several years down the road you'll appreciate the opportunity, and not regret the decision. I don't mean to say I regret being here, just pointing out the fact that the lemon turns out to be a bit more sour when you bite into it.
Although, I must admit that the statement is true. We (and I use this in the context of not just myself but many of the friends I've made since arriving here) harp on the hardships and inconceivable nature of living in the most crowded and one of the most inefficiently run cities in the world. (I've never been to sub-Saharan Africa, but can imagine many similarities just not as overly populated.) It's a challenge to view life in a different perspective as on a day-to-day basis one has to contend with endless traffic, nearly being run over every time you cross the street, putrid odors that rise from piles of trash everyone pretends not to notice (me included), and being stared at mindlessly from the average man on the street. It's not a look of fascination or contempt that comes your way, but rather one completely lacking expression or emotion. The perfect description to describe much of India; indifference.
It is this notion that has taken so long to come to grips with. My Western perspective forces me to challenge the status quo and assess a situation to identify ways for improvement. What will it take to take care of the homeless, provide for the slum dwellers, improve the roads? I can't fathom the reasons people cling to this city that is missing so much from what I deem infrastructure and proper living standards. I've slowly realized that it is more a clash of ideology or mind set. The Western fruit of development is squeezed into the packed streets; advertisements flood through the many twists and turns, taking a path through all the disorganization. It seems to choke the true Indian nature which is apathetic to this type of change.
Initially my sense was to abhor that viewpoint, but I understand now that it's just different. Change is slow because people here want it that way. It is what I might consider clinging to ideals of the past; remnants of the memories before all the complications of a modernizing lifestyle. An Indian perspective may be more in tune with the idea of a simpler life. It's why family and small social interactions are so important here. People slow down on the weekends because they feel that's how life should be enjoyed; not by downing Powerbars and protein shakes to complete a 4 hour bike ride starting at 4 am to get back in time for a quick swim before checking the Blackberry while simultaneously watching 3 football games on T.V...... all on a Saturday.
Ok, so that's a bit extreme, but we all know people close to that reality. In summary, I've come to terms with the fact that I don't have the Indian mentality. Sure we all want to lead a more "complete" life, but the definition varies for everyone and the whole cultural difference thing really came to fruition for me here. From my viewpoint, this will inevitably put India on the back burner in terms of economic standing in the future. I don't see the opportunity or mindset to sustain any real growth. The question remains: is this a bad thing? Again, it depends on who you ask.
In true sporting fashion, the course is a full 18 without any tricks such as two holes that play into the same green. Yet, as one can imagine, it's no small feet weaving that much open space into an obscenely overcrowded city. So to make amends, it's a par 65, but fully equipped with an old British style club house where gin and tonics are cheaper than street chai, and there are more caddies than actual players on the course.
Honestly though, I couldn't complain. The fairways and greens weren't what I'd actually deem pristine, but with a jaded perspective of seeing swarms of people, rusty cars, and ugly concrete constructions deemed "apartments" on a daily basis, it was a welcome (albeit mildly expensive) change of pace.
So I show up for the early tee time, 7:00 am, which is what I was told we were scheduled for. Having just met the member (British colonial rules are still largely at play for India high society) the night before, I couldn't say much when in fact we teed off a good hour and a half after I was told. The Indian sense of time can really only be described as nonexistent. If I've learned anything here, it's patience.
Eventually we step up to the first tee, and low and behold it seems as if the entire service staff plus half the club is out to watch my first drive. Not only did the four of us in the group have a caddy (it's mandatory of course), but the sprinkler guy, his useless assistant, the practice green ball collector, and the four of five guys serving breakfast at the snack house all stood around to gape at the white boy swinging away. In fact, we had one other foreigner in our group, but it's beside the point. Also, since the tee-times were so delayed there were about 2 or 3 other groups in waiting so they are all sizing me up trying to guess how the foreigner can really play. A lot of the members are "big time" hauncho's in finance or some Indian conglomerate so they flash the latest gear and clothes to compensate for hitting the ball as if they were actually wearing a dress (the joke stands despite being sexist in nature).
So of course I crush it. Straight. Long. Tap in for par.
Needless to say, that's not how the entire round went. The heat, my mild hangover, and lack of sleep caught up to me pretty quickly after the next several holes. I found myself crossing some tiny little shanty road that ends up at a random petrol pump sitting in between a couple holes. I have to assume its fuel for the surrounding slums because I was being chased by skinny little men trying to sell me golf balls they've found around the course or probably in their slum house. With that in mind, I step up to the tee box of our first par 5 (shortest one I've ever seen), that dog legs to the left as it has to jut around an outcropping slum that is only slightly protected by a stone wall. Without the intention of doing so I smash my drive threw a few trees, over some slum houses, and though to the other side. It's almost too easy of a metaphor for the country; having my golf ball crashing through some desperately poor people's homes as I nonchalantly strut around the course more concerned I might lose a stroke if I can't find it than the livelihood of those around me.
Unfortunately, that's the reality, and I kept going to salvage a bogey.
When you make the turn to the back nine it's common practice to sit down for a small meal, some chai, and take a load off. In fact, you really have no option as everyone does it so your group is already backed up for at least 15 min. This is where my round started to unravel, as I was a bit full and getting only more tired especially in the heat.
After all was said and done, I ended up shooting 80, which was a bit unsatisfying due to the short distance of the course and starting off so well. I must say that of all the different things I've experienced and seen here, a golf course in Mumbai might be the biggest anomaly that exists. So of course I'll be back to take on the challenge this weekend, and I'm hoping for a bit better round.
On a separate note, I've reached the proverbial back 9 of my time in India. It's been six months with six more ahead of me. I know my perspective is currently skewed because of my current surroundings, so I'm am going to refrain as much as possible from ranting again on the overwhelming challenges of living and working in this country. I think I knew all along that I would reach a point where the difficulties were overwhelming, and it's partially why I decided to make the jump to "mysterious" India. One of the toughest things to admit is that your elders (specifically parents) turn out to be right in saying that several years down the road you'll appreciate the opportunity, and not regret the decision. I don't mean to say I regret being here, just pointing out the fact that the lemon turns out to be a bit more sour when you bite into it.
Although, I must admit that the statement is true. We (and I use this in the context of not just myself but many of the friends I've made since arriving here) harp on the hardships and inconceivable nature of living in the most crowded and one of the most inefficiently run cities in the world. (I've never been to sub-Saharan Africa, but can imagine many similarities just not as overly populated.) It's a challenge to view life in a different perspective as on a day-to-day basis one has to contend with endless traffic, nearly being run over every time you cross the street, putrid odors that rise from piles of trash everyone pretends not to notice (me included), and being stared at mindlessly from the average man on the street. It's not a look of fascination or contempt that comes your way, but rather one completely lacking expression or emotion. The perfect description to describe much of India; indifference.
It is this notion that has taken so long to come to grips with. My Western perspective forces me to challenge the status quo and assess a situation to identify ways for improvement. What will it take to take care of the homeless, provide for the slum dwellers, improve the roads? I can't fathom the reasons people cling to this city that is missing so much from what I deem infrastructure and proper living standards. I've slowly realized that it is more a clash of ideology or mind set. The Western fruit of development is squeezed into the packed streets; advertisements flood through the many twists and turns, taking a path through all the disorganization. It seems to choke the true Indian nature which is apathetic to this type of change.
Initially my sense was to abhor that viewpoint, but I understand now that it's just different. Change is slow because people here want it that way. It is what I might consider clinging to ideals of the past; remnants of the memories before all the complications of a modernizing lifestyle. An Indian perspective may be more in tune with the idea of a simpler life. It's why family and small social interactions are so important here. People slow down on the weekends because they feel that's how life should be enjoyed; not by downing Powerbars and protein shakes to complete a 4 hour bike ride starting at 4 am to get back in time for a quick swim before checking the Blackberry while simultaneously watching 3 football games on T.V...... all on a Saturday.
Ok, so that's a bit extreme, but we all know people close to that reality. In summary, I've come to terms with the fact that I don't have the Indian mentality. Sure we all want to lead a more "complete" life, but the definition varies for everyone and the whole cultural difference thing really came to fruition for me here. From my viewpoint, this will inevitably put India on the back burner in terms of economic standing in the future. I don't see the opportunity or mindset to sustain any real growth. The question remains: is this a bad thing? Again, it depends on who you ask.
