This weekend, I went to Bangalore to meet my friend Marriaine. It was my first time visiting, and while Marriaine kept commenting about how much it looked like Cambodia (read "developing"), I kept rapturously declaring how clean and convenient it was. It really is much cleaner than Chennai. Chennai's dirt has its own charm, honestly. I don't mind it, but it was interesting to see how another city keeps things fresh.
Enough about the cleanliness. What I really want to talk about are the roads. Bangalore looks, at first glance, to be a confusing mishmash of streets, the same as any other Indian city. But signs, oh, Bangalore has signs. There are signs on every street that are legible and clear. The streets are more or less in a grid. You tell someone an address, and it may be possible to find that place without many stops to ask men loitering at tea stalls if you're hot or cold.
Chennai is a different story altogether. I don't claim to be any sort of expert on Indian urban planning, so I can't comment on how unique a case it is. But, Chennai is monstrous to navigate. Even people who've lived here all their lives have a tough time. I didn't know the name of the street I live on for at least two months after I moved in. Now, I know the street name, but it doesn't help me to tell anyone. It's not written anywhere, and even if it were, it's not a notable enough street to be widely known.
For example, I'll get into an auto rickshaw to ride home. First, I'll try saying the name of my street. "Bheemana Garden Road." Nope, no comprehension. What about the slightly easier to understand cross street? "Bawa Road." Nope. Ok, how about the street that runs perpendicular, but is three blocks east? "CP Ramaswamy Road?" Success! the guy knows it. Ok, so now how do I explain where on that road he should turn. I live near the Abhiramapuram traffic police station. A wise man once told me that everyone in Chennai knows exactly where police stations are. I'm not quite sure what that means, and maybe I can ponder it later. Back to the matter at hand. I mention that police station, but actually, Abhiramapuram itself is across CP Ramaswamy from where I live. Meaning, if the driver doesn't hear or understand when I say "police station," I'm doomed to have him turn the wrong way (often despite my protestations).
If this hassle and grand confusion occur when I know well where I'm headed, imagine the shenanigans that go on when I'm not quite sure. For this reason, it's almost impossible to go anyplace that you haven't already been before. Catch 22, you say? Indeed. I know it's petty and whiny considering that I have a car, two feet, a good head on my shoulders, and many friends who employ drivers for just this reason, but I feel severely limited in my mobility here in Chennai. I can't just hop into a rickshaw or my car and try to find someplace new. For the first few months of living here, I felt completely helpless. I'm used to feeling like a giant baby in foreign cultures. When I was living in China, I would frequently joke about how my poor Mandarin sounded like a giant baby's (a la the Maury Povitch show). But this baby always had legs! Even if I sounded like an idiot, or got somewhat lost, at least I could ask someone where I was. Here, it feels like even the people who are there don't know where they are.
Ponder that!
Enough about the cleanliness. What I really want to talk about are the roads. Bangalore looks, at first glance, to be a confusing mishmash of streets, the same as any other Indian city. But signs, oh, Bangalore has signs. There are signs on every street that are legible and clear. The streets are more or less in a grid. You tell someone an address, and it may be possible to find that place without many stops to ask men loitering at tea stalls if you're hot or cold.
Chennai is a different story altogether. I don't claim to be any sort of expert on Indian urban planning, so I can't comment on how unique a case it is. But, Chennai is monstrous to navigate. Even people who've lived here all their lives have a tough time. I didn't know the name of the street I live on for at least two months after I moved in. Now, I know the street name, but it doesn't help me to tell anyone. It's not written anywhere, and even if it were, it's not a notable enough street to be widely known.
For example, I'll get into an auto rickshaw to ride home. First, I'll try saying the name of my street. "Bheemana Garden Road." Nope, no comprehension. What about the slightly easier to understand cross street? "Bawa Road." Nope. Ok, how about the street that runs perpendicular, but is three blocks east? "CP Ramaswamy Road?" Success! the guy knows it. Ok, so now how do I explain where on that road he should turn. I live near the Abhiramapuram traffic police station. A wise man once told me that everyone in Chennai knows exactly where police stations are. I'm not quite sure what that means, and maybe I can ponder it later. Back to the matter at hand. I mention that police station, but actually, Abhiramapuram itself is across CP Ramaswamy from where I live. Meaning, if the driver doesn't hear or understand when I say "police station," I'm doomed to have him turn the wrong way (often despite my protestations).
If this hassle and grand confusion occur when I know well where I'm headed, imagine the shenanigans that go on when I'm not quite sure. For this reason, it's almost impossible to go anyplace that you haven't already been before. Catch 22, you say? Indeed. I know it's petty and whiny considering that I have a car, two feet, a good head on my shoulders, and many friends who employ drivers for just this reason, but I feel severely limited in my mobility here in Chennai. I can't just hop into a rickshaw or my car and try to find someplace new. For the first few months of living here, I felt completely helpless. I'm used to feeling like a giant baby in foreign cultures. When I was living in China, I would frequently joke about how my poor Mandarin sounded like a giant baby's (a la the Maury Povitch show). But this baby always had legs! Even if I sounded like an idiot, or got somewhat lost, at least I could ask someone where I was. Here, it feels like even the people who are there don't know where they are.
Ponder that!
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