Hey, Mr. Vijay
I finally have a driver. Admittedly, this sounds much fancier than it is. Vijay is the Nan Kempner of the New Woodlands Hotel, always calling out "Hello!" to the KYM and Colgate University students who make the hotel their home during their stay. Everyone is his friend, and he has the pictures to prove it. Inside his rickshaw glove compartment, he keeps photos of his passengers, and has stories about them all.
Vijay drove me to class on Monday and interviewed me the whole way there. We covered "Where are you from?" and "How long is yoga?" as well as how many people are in my family, how I like India, and whether or not I drink. Vijay seemed sad to hear that the answer, for now at least, is no; I think he and the Colgate students go out and get wasted on Saturday nights. Somehow I think missing this is okay.
Tuesday Vijay drove me to and from class, which was superconvenient. Part of his schtick is trying to convince me to go to a store or restaurant that likely gives him a kickback ("Rebecca, you like the beach?") but he is happy to explain just about anything about Indian life.
At least once during each journey, Vijay asks me if I'd like to drive. He claims that "Indian people will be amazed when they see white girl driving rickshaw. They will cheer!" While this is tempting, navigating the chaotic Chennai traffic is not at the top of my to-do list.
The real reason I keep getting in Vijay's rickshaw is because when I told him my age, he said, "You are not 22?" Also, he has a teapot-shaped Hello Kitty clock that makes me smile.
Vijay drove me to class on Monday and interviewed me the whole way there. We covered "Where are you from?" and "How long is yoga?" as well as how many people are in my family, how I like India, and whether or not I drink. Vijay seemed sad to hear that the answer, for now at least, is no; I think he and the Colgate students go out and get wasted on Saturday nights. Somehow I think missing this is okay.
Tuesday Vijay drove me to and from class, which was superconvenient. Part of his schtick is trying to convince me to go to a store or restaurant that likely gives him a kickback ("Rebecca, you like the beach?") but he is happy to explain just about anything about Indian life.
At least once during each journey, Vijay asks me if I'd like to drive. He claims that "Indian people will be amazed when they see white girl driving rickshaw. They will cheer!" While this is tempting, navigating the chaotic Chennai traffic is not at the top of my to-do list.
The real reason I keep getting in Vijay's rickshaw is because when I told him my age, he said, "You are not 22?" Also, he has a teapot-shaped Hello Kitty clock that makes me smile.
posted by Rebecca at 1:52 AM
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