Body rock ya'll (i.e. getting down in Bangalore)
After a great week in Goa with my father and pursuing leads there, I have a workshop set up for the end of March with Malou. I then hopped a Kingfisher Air flight to Bangalore. Kingfisher is India's major beer label, and the only drinkable one I've come across so far. It's light years ahead of GodfatherX10,000 which made me want to shave my taste buds off. The flight attendants are ridiculously good looking, they serve great food, and when the plane hits turbulence a video message comes on of a woman with a most soothing thai-massage like voice saying to relax and remain calm. Yes, indeed.
I landed in Bangalore, and checked out the pre-paid taxi rates... What? Rs 330 to the HSR layout where I'd be staying? Crazy! I walked past them and was immediately jumped by tenacious taxi drivers with "discount rate cards." I shrugged them off and continued across a parking barrier, and sidled up to a bar where I said the 6 magic words that fill my every day with joy in India. "One large iced Cafe Latte, Please!"
I inquired with the business suits around also improving their outlook on life with a steaming mug in hand, about taxi rates, and was pointed to the Government Metered Taxi Rank. Where they actually use the meter! Sweet. I downed my drink, hopped in the back of an auto-rickshaw and we Lawn-mowered ourselves into traffic.
Today was Shivaratree (sp?) Birth day of Shiva, and the temples were in full bloom... literally, every available space was covered in flowers, and Shivas devotees in colorful saris and shawls lined the streets, and busted out my camera faster than you could say 'om' ten times really fast, and snapped away. The rick driver caught wind of this and started slowing down for me, but after passing the temple his idea of what I might want to photograph seemed to diverge from mine, and he began a tour of all the new construction in the area. "This is Google's India Office.. . quick take snap, and over here look boss! Plane is landing, click click!"
I politely point my camera in the general direction his finger is pointing and he puts us onward into traffic.
I met Biju, my host form Couchsurfing.com when he came back from work in the evening. In the meantime his parents had been taking care of me with food, drink, and polite conversation. Biju took it upon his self to show me the nightlife, "and we better hurry, as Bangalore has a 11:30 dance ordinance!"
We walked into a club, payed more than western rates for entrance and immediately blew our eardrums out passing the first speaker. Rounding on the bar, the dance floor was across the room, and Biju and I made for it... only to be blocked by three large black suited bouncers. "Couples only!" they said. I said "What?" "Couples only, no Indians, club rules." Then they invited us to sit down on some white couches and drink their overpriced beer and watch the party from 10 meters away. My blood was boiling as I sat and watched the comings and goings... An Indian man would walk up to them, get turned away, a lady would slip right through, a couple walk in without incident, two Foreign men walk in without question and I hop and make for the bouncer. "Look man, I am a professional dancer, I want my friend and I to go have a party!"
He replies, "we don't care, you can go by yourself, but no indians without a date."
I counter with reason, "then why did we just pay your overpriced entry to sit over here and do nothing with ourselves?" He returns with his god-given sourface. And say, "check this out!" and proceed to impress him with a some head wiggles and by moon walking backwards into a speaker. "What are you doing?" he demands. "Showing you my moves!" "You and your friend can't go in!" "ok."
I walk back to Biju and sit down, trying to think of a better approach, when Biju points out the club owner. Before he can stop me, I hop up and interrupt his conversation with another bouncer. I thrust my Lindy Hop India business card in his hands and he looks at it with a penlight. I say, "Hey man, we paid your ridiculous entrance, and they wont let my friend and I onto the floor. I am offended." He says, "these are our rules, I hope you understand, and leaves me standing there.
Not to be deterred, I go around to the 4 other single indian men who had been refused entry. I get them all together in a huddle and start expounding on how dumb this rule is. They all agree and start screaming , "yeah those assholes!" and as suddenly we are shaking hands and laughing at the club rules... We walk four abreast up to the bouncers, and start pounding out our best and worst moves. we're blocking the way in and out for as long as we can jumping up and down and getting our 300 rupees worth. Pretty soon we've got two more dancing with us, the bouncers shrug, unamused, couples and foreigners weave through us to the dance, and we celebrate the fools we are making of ourselves. Now that was worth going for.
I landed in Bangalore, and checked out the pre-paid taxi rates... What? Rs 330 to the HSR layout where I'd be staying? Crazy! I walked past them and was immediately jumped by tenacious taxi drivers with "discount rate cards." I shrugged them off and continued across a parking barrier, and sidled up to a bar where I said the 6 magic words that fill my every day with joy in India. "One large iced Cafe Latte, Please!"
I inquired with the business suits around also improving their outlook on life with a steaming mug in hand, about taxi rates, and was pointed to the Government Metered Taxi Rank. Where they actually use the meter! Sweet. I downed my drink, hopped in the back of an auto-rickshaw and we Lawn-mowered ourselves into traffic.
Today was Shivaratree (sp?) Birth day of Shiva, and the temples were in full bloom... literally, every available space was covered in flowers, and Shivas devotees in colorful saris and shawls lined the streets, and busted out my camera faster than you could say 'om' ten times really fast, and snapped away. The rick driver caught wind of this and started slowing down for me, but after passing the temple his idea of what I might want to photograph seemed to diverge from mine, and he began a tour of all the new construction in the area. "This is Google's India Office.. . quick take snap, and over here look boss! Plane is landing, click click!"
I politely point my camera in the general direction his finger is pointing and he puts us onward into traffic.
I met Biju, my host form Couchsurfing.com when he came back from work in the evening. In the meantime his parents had been taking care of me with food, drink, and polite conversation. Biju took it upon his self to show me the nightlife, "and we better hurry, as Bangalore has a 11:30 dance ordinance!"
We walked into a club, payed more than western rates for entrance and immediately blew our eardrums out passing the first speaker. Rounding on the bar, the dance floor was across the room, and Biju and I made for it... only to be blocked by three large black suited bouncers. "Couples only!" they said. I said "What?" "Couples only, no Indians, club rules." Then they invited us to sit down on some white couches and drink their overpriced beer and watch the party from 10 meters away. My blood was boiling as I sat and watched the comings and goings... An Indian man would walk up to them, get turned away, a lady would slip right through, a couple walk in without incident, two Foreign men walk in without question and I hop and make for the bouncer. "Look man, I am a professional dancer, I want my friend and I to go have a party!"
He replies, "we don't care, you can go by yourself, but no indians without a date."
I counter with reason, "then why did we just pay your overpriced entry to sit over here and do nothing with ourselves?" He returns with his god-given sourface. And say, "check this out!" and proceed to impress him with a some head wiggles and by moon walking backwards into a speaker. "What are you doing?" he demands. "Showing you my moves!" "You and your friend can't go in!" "ok."
I walk back to Biju and sit down, trying to think of a better approach, when Biju points out the club owner. Before he can stop me, I hop up and interrupt his conversation with another bouncer. I thrust my Lindy Hop India business card in his hands and he looks at it with a penlight. I say, "Hey man, we paid your ridiculous entrance, and they wont let my friend and I onto the floor. I am offended." He says, "these are our rules, I hope you understand, and leaves me standing there.
Not to be deterred, I go around to the 4 other single indian men who had been refused entry. I get them all together in a huddle and start expounding on how dumb this rule is. They all agree and start screaming , "yeah those assholes!" and as suddenly we are shaking hands and laughing at the club rules... We walk four abreast up to the bouncers, and start pounding out our best and worst moves. we're blocking the way in and out for as long as we can jumping up and down and getting our 300 rupees worth. Pretty soon we've got two more dancing with us, the bouncers shrug, unamused, couples and foreigners weave through us to the dance, and we celebrate the fools we are making of ourselves. Now that was worth going for.
posted by Tim Collins at
1:39 AM
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