This is John with another update. Last week was my first time being duty officer. I was on duty for a week, and I will have to do it again every 6 months. One of my responsibilities was to check every part of the consulate and lock up at the end of the work day. Embassies never close and have Marines that guard the facilities 24/7. Since Chennai is only a consulate, we don't have a Marine Guard Force. We have locally contracted guards who guard the outside of the building but don't have clearance to enter the secure areas of the consulate. So, in Chennai, an officer with a security clearance has to open and lock up the consulate each day.
More importantly, the duty officer is on call 24/7 in case an American citizen needs assistance. Every U.S. embassy and consulate has a phone number that can be called anytime in case of emergency (by the way, if you are going to travel overseas, it would be a good idea to get the phone number from the website of the U.S. embassy/consulate in the area you will be visiting and have it with you in case you need it).
So what kind of calls do we get? Last Sunday evening, I got a call from a distraught daughter in the U.S. who thought her father was lying dead in a street somewhere. Her father, a 61-year-old Indian American who has lots of family and friends in Chennai and travels back and forth often, arrived in Chennai the previous Saturday morning and promptly disappeared. He didn't go to the family-owned apartment he always stays at. He didn't go to any of his usual places. He didn't call any of his family or friends. And, he didn't carry a cell phone, so his family had no way to call him. There wasn't much I could do that night, so I told the distraught daughter what we could do for her and that it would have to wait until the morning. That didn't stop her from calling several times throughout the night for "updates." I understand she was worried and was always polite, but it would have been nice to get some sleep. I went into the consulate the next morning, a holiday, by the way, looked up the missing father's information in our database to verify his information, and started the search. We called friends, family, police, and hospitals. Nothing. Then, we got a break. One of our local Indian employees in the consular section has a contact in Indian Immigration that called her back. The missing father left a phone number with the Indian officials when he went through customs. We called that number, and the father answered. Turns out he was fine. He said he had changed his plans, and it hadn't occurred to him to tell anyone. We suspect there was something else going on that he didn't want to tell his family about, but we don't need to go there. We asked him to please call his family, which he did, and it was a happy ending for all (at least as long as the family never finds out about, well, never mind).
Among my other interesting calls was a guy who called frantically just as his daughter-in-law's parents were leaving his house. He and his son are American citizens. His son married an Indian, and the Indian wife's family showed up at the father's house saying his son had destroyed their daughter's life and demanded money for compensation. They threatened to sue and turn him over to the police on trumped up charges if he doesn't comply. Yikes. We recommended lawyers for him and told him we'd watch his case if it comes to that. Memo to self: don't let the kids marry someone with crazy parents.
So what kind of calls do we get? Last Sunday evening, I got a call from a distraught daughter in the U.S. who thought her father was lying dead in a street somewhere. Her father, a 61-year-old Indian American who has lots of family and friends in Chennai and travels back and forth often, arrived in Chennai the previous Saturday morning and promptly disappeared. He didn't go to the family-owned apartment he always stays at. He didn't go to any of his usual places. He didn't call any of his family or friends. And, he didn't carry a cell phone, so his family had no way to call him. There wasn't much I could do that night, so I told the distraught daughter what we could do for her and that it would have to wait until the morning. That didn't stop her from calling several times throughout the night for "updates." I understand she was worried and was always polite, but it would have been nice to get some sleep. I went into the consulate the next morning, a holiday, by the way, looked up the missing father's information in our database to verify his information, and started the search. We called friends, family, police, and hospitals. Nothing. Then, we got a break. One of our local Indian employees in the consular section has a contact in Indian Immigration that called her back. The missing father left a phone number with the Indian officials when he went through customs. We called that number, and the father answered. Turns out he was fine. He said he had changed his plans, and it hadn't occurred to him to tell anyone. We suspect there was something else going on that he didn't want to tell his family about, but we don't need to go there. We asked him to please call his family, which he did, and it was a happy ending for all (at least as long as the family never finds out about, well, never mind).
Among my other interesting calls was a guy who called frantically just as his daughter-in-law's parents were leaving his house. He and his son are American citizens. His son married an Indian, and the Indian wife's family showed up at the father's house saying his son had destroyed their daughter's life and demanded money for compensation. They threatened to sue and turn him over to the police on trumped up charges if he doesn't comply. Yikes. We recommended lawyers for him and told him we'd watch his case if it comes to that. Memo to self: don't let the kids marry someone with crazy parents.
On to the driving report. I finally got my Indian drivers license and started driving. Our driver is off on Sundays, so I started driving to church and back. My first time out, here's what went well. Driving on the wrong side of the road was easier than I thought it would be. Our car is a stick shift, and it took a few shifts to get used to the transmission, but not too bad. Here's what did not go so well: everything else. There are just so many people and vehicles everywhere. Pedestrians, bicycles, motorcycles, auto rickshaws, cars, trucks, weaving in and out all over the place. Maybe that's why getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road was so easy. The side is optional anyway. There is no "if I just stay in my lane on the correct side of the road I'll be fine." It's more like a video game of dodge the obstacles as they come flying at you. We only almost ran over two pedestrians and only almost crashed into one car. I would say that is quite a non-smashing success. Amy, who was screaming and grabbing the ceiling of the car the whole time, might disagree, but I am happy to say that it gets better each time we go out. Here is to hoping for an accident-free 2 years in Chennai.
Finally, to the Dakotas. Last Friday night, Amy and I attended a networking dinner sponsored by the Indo-American Chamber of Commerce. To our great surprise, we met an Indian American now living in Chennai who used to live in North Dakota. He started businesses in Valley City and Fargo (North Dakota) and in Pierre (South Dakota). How's that for proof that the world is getting smaller every day? Pictured below are me, the fellow North Dakotan Dr. J.M Franklin, and his friend, K. Anantharaman.
I laughed right out loud at your description of driving!
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