Getting there...someway or another

Finding your way around the suburbs of New Delhi can be a little tricky. There are addresses, but they're not addresses like the ones I've had in Australia or England. Those addresses were tangible. They had numbers and street names, and those street names were marked on signs at the start of the street. Well, not all Indian streets have names, and those that do rarely have signs to tell you what their names are. In India, directions are done by landmarks. Our home address lists the apartment number, the name of the condominium complex and the developer's subdivision. If we want to give someone directions to our place we tell them these, and mention we're off Golf Course Road, near the Genpact Red Lights. The Genpact Red Lights are the traffic signals next to the Genpact building on the corner. You could say turn at the intersection of Golf Course Road and St Thomas Marg, as that is really the name of the street we live on, as I discovered by reading the Eicher map, a comprehensive map of the Delhi area. But this wouldn't help an Indian because they don't use maps, they prefer to get as close to the right area using all the landmarks given in the address, and then stop and ask. Yes, even the men! So the Eicher map puts all the landmarks on the map, so between the foreigner in the back and the Indian driver up front, you've got a hope of getting there.

The kids have been off school the last week for Diwali and Thalia went to visit one of her friends. The friend gave a typical Indian address -a temple, the road linking two villages, the name of a farm. There were many farms marked on the Eicher map, but not this one. After driving past the temple on the correct road, looking for the farm but failing to find it, Raju turned the car around and drove back to the temple, parking opposite it. He got out and asked directions. Next to the temple were some big black gates with a guard posted at them. There was no mention of the farm next to the gate, but it turned out that was where we were meant to go. It must be true, a man on the side of the road said so. The guard let us past, noting our registration number. We drove down this well maintained (so rather un-Indian) road and arrived at another set of gates with another guard. This was our destination. So while Thalia's friend's directions were accurate, it might have made our job easier if she had mentioned she lived in the Residence of the Ambassador to Rwanda in them!