Wir Feiern Gern - Bangalore

It could be that I am showing my age, but I found myself this weekend wondering whether I would prefer to be at a Christmas bazaar, in chilly church hall in Manchester rather than eating under the stars at a muti-media event at a country resort in the tropics. The multi-media event was Mrs Reivers staff party/event - impressively staged with catwalk, laser show, models, dancers, rock band, and various video presentations - and A VERY LOUD Sound system. The entertainment at my previous place of work related to such events was largely around the protracted and subtle office trench warfare that would take place over several months over deciding the location of the Christmas do. The Indian event did highlight to me that I probably need to take a crash course on the history of Bollywood to further embed myself in the local cultural context and to ensure that I can maintain my dancing at the right level of 'embarassing dad' cringe-worthiness, but I was somewhat unsure where the magician with the assistant who danced near naked with hula hoops (the non-edible sort, it wasn't that kinky!) fitted into the local tradition - maybe just a bad attack of the David Blaines (painful, irritating and difficult to forget) by the organisers. It is always good to meet a range of new people when you arrive anywhere, unfortunately due to the decibel level I am now known at Steve to several people - maybe I should work on an alter ego. Steve Reiver - he's a gentle sort of guy, in touch with his feminine side, great with kids and animals, cordon bleu cook (trained in Paris) and dresses so well - mmm may need to keep working on that one a bit. Ultimately in any new place I feel there is very little value in trying to go too native - I quickly learnt that no-one can be more German than the Germans. I am slowly, very slowly experimenting with local dress, but the mirror keep sort of saying back 'you look like a complete twassock' and 'that Sari is just not your colour darling' - the curly toed slippers however continue to call so temptingly - tie me to the mast quickly my brave lads. I suspect I will never even remotely understand the Indians and likewise they me (come to think of it it is not just the Indians who don't understand me?) - it is literally a billion to one shot. I guess I will just settle down to anticipating a life full- with hopeful happy mistunderstandings - there should be a word for that - the Germans would have one - misverstandnishoffnungsfreude perhaps. I could start by working on the oberlippenbard to fit in better, but my kids told me I looked kinda pervy/Freddie Mercury in his AIDs phase when I tried this before - so perhaps not.

Better just stick to being a confused Border Reiver in Bangalore - still no sheep in sight!? Oh and the Christmas bazaar in South Manchester was I hear filled with drama and intrigue beyond the imagination of any event organiser with a surfeit of lasers - but of that perhaps another time - the unpacking in the new house awaits and I must see how many other essential retained life treasures Mrs Reiver had transported half way across the world 'just in case'.