I Don't Know How To Be A Madam

When you move around like we do, you learn to adapt. In Bern, we learned to say "Gruezi" instead of the High German "guten Morgen." At dinner parties in Tel Aviv, we didn't bat an eye when someone asked questions of a more personal nature. The point is this lifestyle has an expectation of abiding by the old "When in Rome..." approach to fitting into new cultures. So we had already prepared ourselves when we arrived in the hustling/bustling city of Hyderabad. We knew the traffic, on the wrong side of the road from what we are used to, would be sometimes overwhelming and chaotic. We understood that the head bob prevalent when you spoke to someone here was more of an acknowledgement of your question or answer, although it is interchangeable with yes, no and thank you in many cases.

I guess what I did not understand was that I would be a Madam.

I consider myself to be a fairly personable person. I'm friendly, I'm a Midwesterner after all. As such, we don't hold with a lot of pretense there. Was a rule, we are approachable, affable, and when faced with surprise additional guests, we abide by the philosophy of "what's one more?" Certainly our stint in Switzerland had been a little more formal and I became used to being referred to as Frau Travis, versus the more familiar Deidre, but it usually didn't take very long for the privileges of friendship and familiarity to settle in and my identity was restored to my first name among my friends and acquaintances. That is excepting all of our Marine Guards - for whom I am and I imagine will forever be "Ma'am," but I'm married to a Texan so it just made me chuckle. But about the fourth or fifth time that I introduced myself to various people who came to the apartment to help us settle in, I noticed that despite my introducing myself with my first name I continued to be addressed as Madam.

I'm not sure I know how to be a Madam.

This point was driven home for me the other day when I went to the grocery store with our housekeeper, Savari. Having been cooped up in the house for several days, an issue compounded by the fact that we did not yet have a car, I decided an outing was in order. Despite our previous encounter with one of the local cab companies and their dubious phone app, we made our way to the front gate and I summoned a cab. I could already tell that Sarvari was suspicious of the entire process. Several minutes passed and the first of 4 telephone calls came - the driver, despite having access to the app which is supposed to pinpoint our location via GPS, could not begin to figure out where we were. When I answered the phone a rapid fire stream of Telegu issued forth from the phone, I did what any rational person in my position would do and handed my mobile phone to Sarvari. She answered and then something amazing happened, her entire countenance changed. Gone was the quiet and solicitous woman I had come to know and admire and in her place was an officious and frankly disgruntled commanding officer. Though I understood not a single word, her tone was clear, she thought the cab driver was an idiot and she was not impressed with his ability to do his job. Several of these calls occurred and each time the Sarvari I knew would re-appear as she patiently returned my phone to my hand. In no small part due to the very specific instructions issued by Sarvari, the cab eventually appeared. She opened my door and ushered me in and once settled turned her full attention to the driver. I sat quietly in the back of the cab as I heard a rather heated exchange between her and the driver. I heard the driver say something referring to me. Immediately Sarvari turned to me in the back seat and asked "Did madam give the cab directions to where we were?" I answered that no I had not, but explained that the app received our location based on satellites. Apparently my answer was a satisfactory as she nodded and returned to giving the driver a piece of her mind. Just when I thought things would settle down in the front seat, I realized that he was completely ignoring the instructions that his navigation system was giving for how to get to the store, Sarvari noticed too. A tongue lashing ensued and he had the good sense to cower.

Once we finally reached our destination, it was clear that Sarvari was quite unimpressed with our driver and once we had paid, she removed me and our shopping bags with the practice of a seasoned mother of many children. I followed her into the elevator. I quickly discovered that being a Madam also extended to not pushing elevator buttons or driving a grocery cart. We made all of our selections and headed to the check out and I paid for our purchases. I was, however, not allowed to carry anything except the soup pan that I had just bought. Back down in the basement of the building, I asked Sarvari if I should summon another cab, her response was quick and to the point "No, madam, we will take a tuktuk." Like a shot she was up the ramp to the street after giving me instructions to stay put. I did as I was instructed but did not have to wait long as moments later she returned, gathered the shopping and me and trundled us up the ramp to the street and into a waiting tuktuk.


Now I am a stalwart traveler, but even I will tell you that tuktuks...in crazy Indian city traffic are not for the faint of heart. Riding in one is roughly like riding in a very large riding lawn mower that has an extended cab that has been dropped into the middle of a demolition derby...possibly with goats, camels and a few hundred pedestrians for good measure - get the idea?

Despite the death defying traffic, we made it home safely. The tuktuk driver was very friendly and I paid the fare. I was once again I was relegated to carrying the soup pot. Sarvari was very pleased that I enjoyed the ride, and while it was a bit alarming, I did enjoy it. When I told a fellow American about our shopping adventure, she said "aren't you an adventurist," and while I'm still not sure about being a Madam, I'm always up for an adventure