Manhole Cover Art

Cool, no?

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Baby wisdom: When hungry, stay close to food source

Little N has learnt, over the last week or so, to lean forward if someone holds up their hands and beckons her to come. The only exception is when I'm holding her and she's hungry. In that circumstance, there's no profit, obviously, in going away from the food source, namely me.

How much of this is instinct and how much learned behavior?

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Found a Mama Blog

Found this very good mama blog, The Mad Momma, via Desipundit. Some great posts in there and lovely writing - will have you nodding in agreement frequently, tearing up occasionally, laughing often. Good enough reasons to go visit.

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The Hindu: ISRO to send astronaut to space and bring "him" back (quotes are mine)

An article in today's The Hindu newspaper has the following to say about India's manned space mission prospects in the wake of the successful recovery of the space capsule from sea:

The accomplishment is a boost to the Indian Space Reaserach Organisation's (ISRO)'s plans to send an astronaut into space in 10 years from now and bring him back.

That statement was not only in the body of the news item, but was also its subheading.

Someone - either at the editorial staff at The Hindu, the story's reporter, T.S. Subramanian, or at ISRO - has decided that whoever that astronaut is going to be, at least 10 years from now, it will be a male.

From a couple of other news sources it appears that ISRO's statements were gender neutral.

The same story on Gulf News's website:

"This mission is a stepping stone to design and build our very own reusable spacecraft, and eventually carry out manned missions into space, too," A. Subramaniam, head of the team that designed the capsule said.

DNA made a mention of future "manned missions" as well, while the Hindustan Times said:

The success also takes the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) a step closer to its goal of putting an Indian in space some years from now.

Perhaps The Hindu's reporter took the ISRO officials' use of the term "manned" literally.

One of my friends mentioned yesterday that India lived in a few different centuries at once, some parts in the 21st century, some in the 16th (meaning the cities have advanced facilities while certain rural areas remain untouched by any sort of development).

My response was that it's not just parts of India that are living in different centuries than the rest, it is the people themselves that live in a few different centuries at once in terms of their attitudes - some of their attitudes and ideas are certifiably space age, but at the same time they are unable or unwilling to countenance women not being confined to certain roles in society.

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Equating an American accent with television

My husband was watching a snippet of an American show on his computer. I brought in little N from another room and she immediately looked at the television.

All of seven months old, she has figured out that if she hears an American accent, it is probably emanating from the television.

As they say, kids these days...

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A Mother Dangles Her Child Over a Railing - Is This Responsible Parenting?

Deepti recounts a horrific incident at a mall in Bangalore where a mother dangled her child over the railing so the child could grab a tassle,

We were on our way down the escalator when we saw the mother dip the kid out once, twice and then by the third time the kid nearly grabbed the tassel and we had our hearts in our mouths. If you want to imagine the scene, think of the 'Michael Jackson fiasco' at close range.

Deepti and her husband exchange strong words with the parents of the child and come to near fisticuffs.

One would expect a mother to be always thinking of things that can go wrong. Parenting two active children has meant a constant flurry of keeping sharp pencils away and walking with the child on the 'safe' side of the road, besides a constant 'what-if' mode of risk assessment. The fear of heights is an atavistic instinct, and 'safe hands' do not make a reckless act any more tolerable.

And those who stood by and watched the circus were no less. It all happened in a crowded mall with lots of witnesses but we were the only ones who objected. A child could have died but no one seemed to care.

Enough to send chills down your spine.

There are many things that you shake your head at: two-wheelers with three kids, sometimes fast asleep in the back with their arms around the rider, ten kids jammed into an autorickshaw meant for three people, small kids riding in the front seats of cars, parents not knowing where their kids have gone off to play, kids running on the streets unsupervised, kids in the park not with their parents, but with their ayahs (and not because the parents are otherwise meaningfully occupied, mind you) ...

But you look at all this and no matter how much you rationalize, you get the sinking feeling sometimes that kids are in these situations not because their parents have no alternative, but because their parents have not spared a thought for the well-being and safety of their kids. If a family can afford only a bike, fine, but then can't they have an adult ride in the back to hold the child at least? Can't they postpone the journey until someone can? Is it too much to ask that the parents know where their kids are at a given point in time? Was it too much for the parents of little Sridevi to anticipate that at that hour in the morning, dogs would be roaming around and she would have trouble navigating the streets? It is not as if it was the first time that the dogs had attacked pedestrians in that area.

Sure, it is inconvenient and sometimes impractical to be there for your kids all the time, and I'll agree that it's stifling. Unfortunately, however, that is what parents sign up for when they have kids. Parenting is nothing if it's not relentless. As Deepti so eloquently rants,

Just because one can get society's stamp of marriage, get fucked and then produce does not make people parents.

I can't help but feel that life comes cheap and there is an apathy when it comes to protecting and nurturing these little lives. There is less of nurturing and more of a sense of ownership over the children. And as Deepti's experience proved, lack of parenting skills knows no educational or financial barrier.

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Love Amid Cables and Cameras

My strongest memory of my maternal grandmother is of her making kaai obbattus in her small, dark kitchen at her home on 5th main in Mysore's Saraswathipuram. Avva was generally very good with her hands. In addition to making all the snacks for all the festivals herself (including Kadubus, chaklis and kodubales), she groomed a beautiful and well-kept garden with two tall coconut trees, a Sampige flower tree, lots of rose bushes, daria and other flower plants, a papaya tree, a bountiful karbevu tree (curry leaves) and assorted vegetables.

The time not spent in the kitchen or the garden was taken up in crafting lovely garlands from strands of cotton and cotton balls, sequins, and foil paper of a myriad colors - gold, red, blue, green, silver. These garlands were in great demand during the Gowri and Ganesha festival. When not in use, Avva would carefully wrap them and put them away until the next festival came around.

She continued her craft activities when my grandfather retired and they moved to Bangalore to be closer to their children. One day, she received an offer to appear on Doordarshan to demonstrate her skill with the cotton garlands. She was ticked pink and she promptly accepted.

A few days later, a Doordharshan crew descended on their house - complete with cameras, sound equipment, lights, microphones and cables. The program's host, a young girl, smartly dressed in a starched cotton saree, took Avva aside to prep her, and they both sat down to talk to get comfortable with each other, while the producer busied himself with the lights and camera placement.

It didn't take long before half the neighborhood had found comfortable perches around the living room where the equipment was being set up. Soon it was time to start recording. The producer gave the host some last minute instructions, found a chair to sit in, and the host and Avva went before the cameras and the lights came on.

The host looked at the producer for her cue. He nodded and she turned to my grandmother. Avva looked back with a smile on her face and waited for the host to say her first few words, the cameras or the people crowding around not fazing her one bit. If she was expecting the host to reciprocate her smile, it wasn't coming. The girl was busy freaking out. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but there was no sound. She cleared her throat and tried again, but to no avail. She looked helplessly at the producer.

I don't remember him yelling, "Cut!" but it must have been some equivalent, because the next thing I remember is the producer taking the host out to the driveway to have a quiet chat with her. He looked intently into her face and said some things and she nodded a few times. Then they came back in.

This time around, the voice came out, but it came out all shaky and high-pitched. Avva, ever the smooth operator, pretended nothing was out of the ordinary and responded to the question. After about 10 minutes of the high-pitched queries delivered in a trembling voice, the producer and the host were back on the driveway. By this time, the host was sweating bullets. Avva thoughtfully arranged for a glass of water before they returned.

The cameras came back on and the orchestra of the host's problems kept building. Shaky hands made an appearance this time around. Because both the people in front of the camera had to point frequently to what was being shown to the audience, this proved to be rather irksome. The producer continued recording. He probably believed that if they kept going, the host would loosen up and shed her anxiety.

He believed wrong.

Things went from bad to worse and before long, they were out on the driveway again. We wondered what the problem was. She was not a newbie, she'd hosted a few of these shows before. Was it the people crowding around?

This particular break was a tad longer than the others and Avva seized the opportunity to stretch her legs. She walked over to us and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "They are in love."

"What?"

"They are in love. That's why she's nervous."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The camera guy just told me."

Seemed like a weird explanation for the host's affliction to me, but perhaps it was tough to be under the lights and work within 10 feet of the guy everyone knew you were in love with.

Moving To Bangalore as an Expat: Questions and Concerns

Over the past few months I've received many e-mails from people planning to or thinking about moving to Bangalore from other countries. Most of them have the same questions and concerns. So here is a list of the most frequently asked questions and my responses. I hope that this information is useful to you, but I request that you verify the information and visit the places I've mentioned (such as schools and hospitals) and assess them yourself before arriving at a decision about them.

If you have further questions or have information about any of the topics mentioned here, please feel free to leave a comment. Thank you.

1. SCHOOLS - THE BIG DOOZIE:

By far, the issue that expats-to-be are worried about the most is schools. Here are my three articles on it and here's my post on our experiences with Greenwood High. Please take time to read the comments.

Some general information about schools in Bangalore that are not covered in those articles:

• School year (term dates): International schools start in August and end in June (with Christmas, Thanksgiving, Spring and Diwali breaks). Indian schools start in June and end in March (with Diwali, Dussera and Christmas breaks).
• Uniforms: Most schools mandate uniforms from first grade onwards.
• School timings: Preschoolers and kindergartners attend school from 9:00 am to 12:30 pm (there may be exceptions), from first grade onwards school starts at 9:00 am and ends at 3:30 pm.
• Lunches: Most of the international schools provide lunches to the kids, at others you will have to pack lunch.
• Transportation: Most schools have transportation, but there is no requirement that you must use school-provided transportation. You can arrange your own.
• Languages: Unless your child has a foreign passport, s/he must learn an Indian language. If the child has a foreign passport, then French (not aware of other language choices) is an option.
• Terminology: Children attend "nursery" from 3 years to 4 years, LKG (lower kindergarten) from 4 to 5 and UKG (upper kindergarten) from 5 to 6 years old. Nursery and LKG are what we call "pre-school" in the US, and UKG is plain old Kindergarten. At 6, everyone goes to first grade (some schools call it first standard).
  

2. HAVING A BABY IN BANGALORE - HOSPITALS, PRE-NATAL CLASSES:

Here are some notes about the childbirth experience in Bangalore and about the growing prevalence of C-Sections in India and abroad. Prenatal classes were not easily accessible here when I was preparing to have my second child, but I've received a couple of comments to this post with information about newly opened classes.

I should let you know that I had a very good experience with my obstetrician and gynecologist when I had my daughter and with my children's current paediatrician.

3. BABY NECESSITIES (BABY FOOD, DIAPERS, FORMULA, BABY FURNITURE, ETC.):

There is nothing that you need to specially pack for your baby (unless he or she has very specific, unique dietary or other needs). Diapers (Huggies, Pampers), Gerber's baby food jars, juices and cereal boxes are available here as are cereals made by Heinz (which I haven't noticed in the US, but is prevalent in Australia). Cereals made in India are also available, but you should know that they all contain added sugar.

You will also find Enfamil's baby formula in some of the stores. There's a shop called the Baby Shop on Ulsoor Road (behind Taj Residency - contact info at the bottom of this post) that stocks mostly American and European baby products (including baby furniture such as cribs, high chairs, car seats and strollers). There's also a store called Mothercare which mostly sells British products and expensive as hell, but you're most likely to find the things you want if you prefer to stick to the imported products.

Of course, the best option, especially if you are planning to stay here for a year or two, is to get yourself and your baby used to the Indian food, including the brands of baby food that are manufactured here (Nestle). That way you will not have to keep going to the one or two shops that sell imported goods and you will not face the problem of those stores suddenly running out of the one thing that your baby has gotten used to.

Stores suddenly running out of certain products is an oft-occurring problem here.

For older children who have not been exposed to Indian cuisine at all, there are all sorts of pastas (and the sauces, olive oils, etc.), cereals, cheeses, etc. available.

4. TRAFFIC AND POLLUTION:

Yes, there is traffic and plenty of it, and yes, there is pollution, but not much.

The best way to deal with the traffic is to find a home that is close to your place of work and your kids' school. Eliminating a long commute should be the key. No matter where you decide to live, there will always be markets, grocery shops, restaurants etc. So the main factor dictating the location will be the workplace and schools.

With respect to pollution, one of the things I've noticed is that the children cough the first few months until they get used to the stuff in the air and then they settle down. Doctors recommend that you boil filtered water the first few weeks (or longer).

5. SHOPPING:

Here's a detailed post on that topic.

6. HOUSING:

The real estate market (both for buying and renting) is a little bit nuts right now in Bangalore. Houses are being built like crazy and they are all sold out even before they dig the first clump of mud to lay the foundation.

As you can imagine, rents are going through the roof and there are certain localities, such as the Whitefield area near ITPL (where are all the big Bangalore-based IT companies are) that are getting expensive by the minute. Of course, the real estate agents are having a field day in this scenario.

The best bet for you to locate a good home for your stay would be to tap into your firm's relocation service resources. They can usually guide you to a competent relocation service.

7. HOSPITALS IN BANGALORE:

Here's a map of Bangalore that shows the location of some of the hospitals. There are newer hospitals now, such as Wockhardt and Apollo on Bannerghatta Road. Here are the names of some of the hospitals:

Bangalore Hospital
Sagar Apollo Hospital, Jayanagar
Vittal Mallya Hospital
Manipal Hospital
Wockhardt Hospital
Apollo Hospital, Bannerghatta Road
St. Philomena's Hospital
St. Martha's Hospital
M.S. Ramaiah Hospital
National Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences
Kidwai Institute of Oncology

Apart from these, there are many, many more smaller nursing homes and hospitals all over the city.

8. RINA MEHTA'S Bangalore Mum's Guide:

From what I hear, this book has not been available at the book shops for a while now. I would try contacting the publisher (Navneet) directly or try purchasing it online.

All in all, moving to Bangalore and living here has been a wonderful experience. Your kids will love the weather and Bollywood music, you will love the exposure they will get to an entirely different and vibrant culture (if you're not originally from India and you've never been to India before) or you will love the fact that they are getting a good look at their roots (if you are from India originally).

Of course, all this is in addition to the huge strides you will make in your career after having a couple of years of work experience in India, no?

And most importantly, where else can you live and learn to shake your head (sideways for "no", up and down for "yes" and vigorously in all directions if you agree heartily with someone) like the Hawaiin Luau dolls?

Good luck with the move.

Update 1: The Baby Shop:

The Baby Shop
7/1 Ulsoor Road (behind the Taj Residency), Bangalore - 42
Ph: 080-25596104 or 080-25596105

Update 2: Documents to carry before you move:

1. If you have children that will be enrolled in school here, you will need their birth certificates and letters from the previous school regarding the work done there.

2. If you plan to have a baby in India and you are a US citizen and would like your newborn child to be a US citizen, then you will need the following documents to obtain the baby's US birth certificate and passport (which you can do through the US consulates in India):

• all of your hospital records (if you were already pregnant before you got here) along with the ultrasound scans;
• your marriage certificate or, if divorced, the divorce decree;
• proof of US citizenship;
• proof of residence in the US.

The above list is for you to plan to bring before you move so that you don't scramble for them after you've already moved here. There are other requirements (such as the baby's birth certificate) that you can only obtain in India.

Here's a post on how to go about getting the US birth certificate and passport.

[Will keep updating this post as and when new info comes up or new topics occur to me.]

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Update (June 16, 2010): After School Care in Bangalore - http://blogpourri.blogspot.com/2010/06/after-school-care-in-bangalore.html

X-pat Files

Thank you to Venkat for so kindly retiring his blog's tag line (he moved back to the US from Belgium) and offering it for use on my blog. As you can see, I've accepted the offer.

If you've never visited Venkat's blog, do stop by and find out, among other things, why you should no longer use the phrase, "Unless you've been living in a cave all these years ..."

I've been telling everyone I know about it and yes, I do attribute it to the proper source. Most of the time.

To the person in Australia who googled for ...

... anagram of swine that's a body part&spell and landed in my blog, here's the answer: sinew


Update: OK, I've had three more identical queries from Australia and one from New Zealand so far. Something's going on Down Under. The question is, what?

Book Review: Not On The Level, Michael V. Maddaloni

About two-thirds of the way into Not On The Level, one of the characters explodes in frustration,

Another example of our tax dollars hard at work. The fucking U.S. attorney wanted the publicity, so he spent about a million bucks trying this case twice. The guy's not on the level and neither is the whole fucking U.S. attorney's office.

These eloquent words illustrate the central message of Michael Maddaloni's second book - institutions function within the framework of rules which individuals seek to bend for personal profit at the expense of the larger good.

Not On The Level is an engrossing coming of age story of a first-generation Italian American who goes on to build a successful career in the US Secret Service and subsequently in the private sector. The story begins at the beginning, as it were, in Philadelphia, with the birth of Joe De Falco, whose father has just died in less than admirable circumstances in World War II. Joe grows up in an extended family with his mother, sister, grand-parents, aunts and uncles.

The first few chapters describe, in some detail, Joe's Catholic upbringing at home and at school. Much of the narrative is given over to documenting the rules and traditions that govern life at home, school and church. Under the veneer of order, normalcy and regularity that elders, teachers and priests dictate, Joe encounters aspects of people's character that don't quite live up to the standards imposed by these institutions - a school official who's a pedophile, a sextant who steals from the church, a boy scout official who molests children, a grand-father who carries on an affair with his second cousin, and an uncle whose actions, while achieving their objectives (well, most of the time), are not exactly illustrations of moral, upstanding behavior.

Ever the bloke with the clever ideas, Uncle Sal is the purveyor of all things street smart. He encourages Joe to play with non-Catholics against the wishes of his mother (Joe's grand-mother) "because there were a lot more of them in the world than there were Catholics, and most of them were decent people"; he tells Joe to mumble pig Latin under his breath if he forgot the Latin responses on his very first day as altar boy; he coaches Joe to learn the answers to the questions on the exams from previous years (rather than preparing from scratch) because the teachers always reused old test papers.

Following high school, Joe decides to join the Marine Corps (when one of Uncle Sal's plans to help Joe make a quick buck and pay for college backfires). One would expect that the Marine Corps, given all the good, clean values it stands for, would be devoid of the kinds of ethical conflicts that are prevalent in, say, politics, but no. Drill Instructors at the Marine Corps, under pressure to perform and focused on their own career advancement, resort to cheating to improve their success rates.

The story is not much different in the US Secret Service where Joe begins a long career, in the US Attorney's Office with whom Joe works closely on his cases, or at the multi-national pharmaceutical company that he later joins as vice-president of security. If the stories of the underhanded, shady goings-on at all these institutions come as a surprise to the reader, then it serves to drive home the author's point - things are not what they seem or how they should be; things are not on the level.

There are a couple of different varieties of conflict that are at play in the story. At one level is the conflict between the interests of the individual and the institution; at another level, it is the tussle between Joe's two paternal uncles, Sal and Tony (an upstanding citizen who strives to keep Joe on the straight and narrow), for influence over the direction in which Joe's life is heading.

The book is most attractive for the endearing portrayal of a large, bustling Italian family and for the fascinating behind-the-scenes look at the Marine Corps and the US Secret Service. Having worked in both the Marine Corps and the Secret Service, Mr. Maddaloni succeeds in painting a realistic, absorbing picture of daily life in these institutions.

Perhaps for the same reason, however, the narrative reads, on occasion, like a report of some activity the author was involved in some time ago. This drawback is magnified because the story is told in first person. Apart from this and a couple of irksome errors (when Sal is referred to as Tony, the protagonist's other uncle, in a few instances), Not On The Level makes for a pleasurable read. This is served, in large part, by well crafted conversations, be it between family members or in the work place, and the warmth and sense of humor with which Mr. Maddaloni sketches his plot and characters.

If you're even the slightest bit curious as to what goes into the making of those people in the dark shades you see hovering around the President, Not On The Level is for you.

Out of Babes' Mouths IV

The other day Big N expounded on the importance of relationships with friends and family. After a lengthy monologue during which I nodded and said uh huh a few times in agreement, he concluded with, "but familyship is more important than friendship."

Out of Babes' Mouths I to III.

Entrepreneurship: Alive and Kicking in Bangalore

India may be known to the business world as the land of the Tatas, the Birlas, the Narayan Murthys and the IITs and IIMs, but the first thing that hits you when you land in India and you drive out of the airport to your hotel or home is the number of shops lining the streets - big departmental stores, tiny shops selling paan, biscuits, chocolates and juices, roadside stalls selling savories and snacks, makeshift stalls for clothes or just men and women squatting on the pavement selling anything from flowers to toys to books.




A paan seller




Dry fruits and fresh fruits on a slow Sunday afternoon

I wouldn't be surprised if the number of entrepreneurs per thousand in India is the largest in the world, though I sometimes wonder how any of these businesses make any money at all. Some of these are just tiny businesses with just a table and a row of huge glass jars with some chocolates in them in the front room of a house (of course, that business may not be the enterprise sustaining the families).




A chaat stand




A peanut seller finds some shade

Of all the different examples of small business enterprises I've seen, the one that fills me with the most satisfaction is the food stalls operated out of tempos or out of the backs of Maruti vans. Because the vehicles are mobile, they are able to operate out of a small strip of pavement. These vehicles arrive at the designated spot (usually near construction sites of which there are untold numbers in Bangalore right now) with huge vats of smabhar, rice, curries and raagi (millet) balls, throw open the doors and set out the dishes. They also bring with them plates, glasses and jugs of water. There's usually a woman behind the vats serving laborers their breakfast, lunch or dinner.

It's thrilling to see this in operation. The food stall operators make brisk business and the laborers get home cooked meals, the kind they like, probably at even lower prices than the Darshinis.

Another small business enterprise that has gained popularity in Bangalore is the mobile beautician. With every little nail clipper, eyebrow tweezer and cotton ball squared away into their one big bag, the women zip around town in their two-wheelers and snip hair, clip nails, pluck hair, scrub away dead skin, massage tired muscles, moisturize, peel, wax, thread - in short, a provide a plethora of services - all in the comfort of their patrons' homes.

And from all accounts, the mobile beauticians make a roaring business. Building her client list mostly from word of mouth, M, one such beautician I know, works from 6 am up to 9 pm, seven days a week! And on many days she still does not have time to break for luch. At one point in her business, she got so busy that she enlisted her cousin as an assistant and it is a sight to see the both of them zipping through the community on their scooter, or one or the other of them walking briskly to make her next appointment, cell phones hanging around their necks.

With a 10th grade education in which English was part of the curriculum, M does a marvellous job of communicating with her various clients (most of whom don't know Kannada). She has a business card and a rate card and no Blackberry. It is a mystery how she remembers where she has to be at the appointed hour, but she does - she's never missed an appointment and more likely than not, it'll be her calling me to remind me.

Her drive and work ethic are nothing short of amazing, and her level of service exists in a rarefied world. When it comes to deciding whether to head over to a salon or pick up the phone to call M, the choice is clear.

And the day might not be far behind when that Blackberry makes an appearance.

Falling On The Tummy Is Serious Business

Little n turned 6 months nearly two weeks ago. She's progressed phenomenally from the mostly inert infant she was when we got home from the hospital. Initially she slept for a solid 23 hours a day. Eating and sleeping were her only two activities. She would sleep through diaper changes, loud noises, dress changes, hot summer days and cool nights with nary a whimper, sometimes even while feeding!

After Big N, who used to wake up every two hours on the dot, even at night, I wasn't sure if I should be thankful for Little n's habits or, frankly, be worried.

Now, six months later, she still sleeps through the night (hallelujah!), but is awake most of the day. She's also into putting her body into various positions - on her back, on her tummy, on her side, with head wedged against the side of the crib. She also does a really funny backstroke kind of a move on any flat surface that propels her backward at a fast clip.

The process that led to her falling on her tummy is rather intriguing. She first started out lifting her right leg and throwing it over the left, the rest of her body still hanging back. It took her a couple of weeks to figure out that the top part of her body needed to move too. After days of promptly flinging her right leg over the minute she was laid on her back, she finally fell over on to her tummy, but now her left hand was stuck underneath her chest. After a further few days she figured out how to pull her hand out.

The amazing thing is that none of this is learned, obviously. Each time she tried to turn to her side it was as if something beyond her control compelled her to do it. The same is the case with flipping on to back from her tummy which she mastered a few days ago. Now it's a constant flip-flop - on to her tummy, then promptly on to her back.

There is a fair amount of frustration involved. During the time she did not know how to get off her tummy, her neck got tired from keeping her head up and she'd let her head fall forward on the mattress, rest for a few minutes and then lift her head again. Even this got tiring after a few minutes and not knowing how to move from her position, she would start whimpering and looking around for someone to help her out. But none of this prevented her from promptly getting on her tummy the minute I turned her on to her back, her demeanor approximating that of someone working seriously on an important task intent on accomplishing it.

Now that she is able to get on her back by herself the next item on her agenda is to figure out how to move forward while on her tummy. For the present she's stuck in reverse gear.

Weblog Awards 2006: Desicritics in the Top 10!

Desicritics has been nominated for the Weblog 2006 Best Asian Blog Award.

Voting is underway now and will go on until December 15th. Voting is restricted to one vote per computer in a 24-hour cycle. So if you've visted Desicritics and you like what you see, please vote. And if you haven't visited Desicritics at all, now is a good time as any to do so. Mosey on over, mate!