Malcolm Gladwell is one of my favorite writers. I am now listening to his newest book, Outliers, and I am simply getting goosebumps from the revelations and the implications of what it is he’s saying. His ideas always go back to the thought that small changes can make huge differences, and he explores the concept in the most fascinating ways. I am just blown away by how he can think of finding these angles of and sides to occurrences that are so ordinary and yet so extraordinary at the same time.

Outliers starts with a description of a small village in Italy that basically moved itself and became a small town in Pennsylvania. The amazing thing about this little town is that “these people die of old age; that’s it”. A doctor came to visit the town and discovered that the town people had a very low rate of heart attacks, suicide, depression or anything similar. He began a search to discover the reasons how come these people are so healthy. What he found was astonishing and gives me goose bumps also as I am writing about it . They were not eating healthier, exercising more or harder or meditating an hour a day. I’ll let Gladwell explain the findings himself :o)

I often listen to books while I work. I download them from www.audile.com, it’s the best way to keep up with books when you don’t have time to actually sit and read them - like while you’re driving or crocheting :o) If you do end up signing up please tell Audible that you heard about it from me and give them my user name, kerenpeled. I might get an extra credit and you will get karmic kudos :o) So thank you in advance.

Keren

As the world focuses in on the horrific events of the last week in Mumbai, I wanted to take a few minutes and discuss the wonders and magnificence of India as I experienced it earlier this year.

India is the country of extremes. Beautiful and ugly, spiritual and materialistic, kind and cruel, clean and dirty all the the same time. As a western woman traveling there I often felt like I was on a different planet, and then not :o)

Delhi

We arrived in the Delhi airport on Thursday night after a very long flight from NY. The flight was OK and the food excellent. The Air India planes are far from the state of the art planes we see in the west. They still have those large screens where they play one movie at a time, rather than the individual screens that give the passengers hundreds of options. But who cares – the food was good and I got to finish reading the book I brought with me (Mommy Millionaire by Kim Lavine– all entrepreneurial women should run, not walk, to get a copy and read it immediately) and get (a little) sleep.

We had a driver waiting for us from the hotel. I knew that the Radisson was going to send a shuttle, but I thought it would be like those hotel shuttles at JFK. The ones you try to find and wait in the freezing cold for god-knows-how-long, until they do you a favor and pick you up with another 10 poor fellows that just got off the flight and are dying to get to bed. Not here. Our very own driver was waiting for us with a sign looking for Mr. Andrew Chew. Fantastic. We were very grateful.

The driver was a young man all dressed in white and a hat. Right off we were surprised that people drive here on the right – like in England. We really didn’t know that. Given that we had about a week to plan this trip, cultural research was not on the top of the list.  Unlike England though, there seemed to be very little order to the chaos. Seemed that traffic rules are only a suggestion. Lanes and traffic lights exist but people don’t necessarily follow them. We start noticing that any truck bigger than a sedan has a sign on the back “HORN PLEASE”. That cracked us up and we asked the driver what’s that about. He says that if you honk your horn you’re safe and if not then not so much :o) The truck drivers can’t see you if you’re behind them or next to them. In India, honking your horn is a friendly reminder “I’m here”. Well, a lot of people “are here” and horns go off constantly.

Sitting in our lovely hotel suite on the Sixth floor of the Radisson overlooking New Delhi. The smog was so thick that you can only see so far. We were in Noida, which is an upscale suburb of Delhi. This is where all the High Tech companies are at and that is why we’re here. There’s a mall at walking distance with a McDonalds and Pizza Hut. I haven’t yet figured out if those fast food restaurants are considered cool and hip or just something for fat Americans. I think that they are considered hip because young and educated people here seem to like the US and the Western world very much.

The Indians were not approving of Andrew and I holding hands, even though we are married. We tried to avoid doing that at first, but the idea of losing each other in the middle of Delhi is much more frightening than a few mean looks.

I notice that people that come in contact with us (waiters, drivers etc. ) speak to Andrew (”Are you Happy, Sir?”) and never speak to me, sometimes even answering my questions to him rather then me. I understand it but I am certainly not used to it. I speak directly to them and remind them that I expect an answer. The people are just so nice that it’s hard to get mad at them. However, I am sure that a Western woman would reach a “critical mass” with this attitude, I was just hoping three weeks is not long enough for that.

Seeing all the children on the street I briefly engaged myself in a fantasy about adopting a child here and taking them home with me, giving them all the opportunities that I have. Reality sinks in like a punch to the stomach when I realize that I have no financial or emotional bandwidth for such a venture. I’m not Madonna. I give a child a few Rupees to get some food and another one comes immediately asking for more.

This place made me feel as though I hit a Jackpot this lifetime. I am so grateful for all that I have.

Keren