So, once I got to the mall and cooled off in the delightfully frigid A/C, I started exploring the place with my stated mission of finding women's soccer shoes. (Spoiler Alert: I did, ultimately find some cleats--but they were so expensive I decided to try playing a game first in my old jogging sneakers before committing to the purchase of specialty shoes).
The Saket mall is basically a combination of every American 14-year-old girl's favorite stores--showcasing the trendy stylings of such fashion behemoths as Forever 21 and Claires--and highish-end Indian stores. (I say highish end, but not highest end, you understand. The highest end Indian fashions can be found on this amazing alley not too far from my house, and in the temples to bling that line the highways in another part of Delhi. More on that in another post).
In addition to the windows presenting colorful saris or kurtas, there were a few delightful and/or absurd features that made this mall quintessentially Indian.
For example, the mall seemed to employ a staff astrologer.
Also, and this was my favorite, the mall broadcasts the name and amount of the high spender of the week. This is hilarious, tawdry and entirely in line with everything I have been lead to believe about the culture of conspicuous consumption amongst (some) wealthy Indians.
(By the way, in case you're wondering, 36,164 rupees is about U$D 600).
And then there was the food court, chock full of American favorites like McDonalds and Subway and Indian chains. I decided to get myself a Tikka Paneer Kathik roll at Tikka Town because it looked delicious. And then the games began!
First, I stood on line (well, that's a bit generous, more like I stood on the outer edges off this crowded mass of people that would every so often inhale someone to the front register before burping them out again). When I finally made it to the register, the harried cashier informed me Tikka Town doesn't accept cash. In fact, the only way to buy a meal in the entire food court is to first buy a prepaid food court card. So off I trotted to the food court card dispenser. I had noted the amount of the roll I wanted to purchase (110 rupees) and so, once I stood "on line" at the card dispenser I craftily put $120 rupees on the card--you know, in case there was tax.
Once more to Tikka Town where I muscled my way to the register. She took my order and swiped my card, but alas! The amount, with tax, was 128 rupees. I was 8 rupees short so, back I went, sheepishly, to the card dispenser.
With 10 more rupees put on the card I placed my face into its "determined grimace" setting, sharpened my elbows, and marched back over to Tikka Town. But . . . again denied!Woe is me! I had neglected to realize that there was a 15 rupee safety deposit made on each food court card purchased, so I was still 13 rupees short!
Rinse, wash, repeat.
The fourth time I made my way Tikka Town I was an old hand and was finally able to place and pay for my order. And finally, finally, the delicious-looking, mouth-watering smelling paneer tikka roll was mine to savour!
But, what a letdown--it was totally disgusting. Let the word ring out from this place and time worldwide--fast food is disgusting everywhere.
The Saket mall is basically a combination of every American 14-year-old girl's favorite stores--showcasing the trendy stylings of such fashion behemoths as Forever 21 and Claires--and highish-end Indian stores. (I say highish end, but not highest end, you understand. The highest end Indian fashions can be found on this amazing alley not too far from my house, and in the temples to bling that line the highways in another part of Delhi. More on that in another post).
In addition to the windows presenting colorful saris or kurtas, there were a few delightful and/or absurd features that made this mall quintessentially Indian.
For example, the mall seemed to employ a staff astrologer.
Also, and this was my favorite, the mall broadcasts the name and amount of the high spender of the week. This is hilarious, tawdry and entirely in line with everything I have been lead to believe about the culture of conspicuous consumption amongst (some) wealthy Indians.
And then there was the food court, chock full of American favorites like McDonalds and Subway and Indian chains. I decided to get myself a Tikka Paneer Kathik roll at Tikka Town because it looked delicious. And then the games began!
First, I stood on line (well, that's a bit generous, more like I stood on the outer edges off this crowded mass of people that would every so often inhale someone to the front register before burping them out again). When I finally made it to the register, the harried cashier informed me Tikka Town doesn't accept cash. In fact, the only way to buy a meal in the entire food court is to first buy a prepaid food court card. So off I trotted to the food court card dispenser. I had noted the amount of the roll I wanted to purchase (110 rupees) and so, once I stood "on line" at the card dispenser I craftily put $120 rupees on the card--you know, in case there was tax.
Once more to Tikka Town where I muscled my way to the register. She took my order and swiped my card, but alas! The amount, with tax, was 128 rupees. I was 8 rupees short so, back I went, sheepishly, to the card dispenser.
With 10 more rupees put on the card I placed my face into its "determined grimace" setting, sharpened my elbows, and marched back over to Tikka Town. But . . . again denied!Woe is me! I had neglected to realize that there was a 15 rupee safety deposit made on each food court card purchased, so I was still 13 rupees short!
Rinse, wash, repeat.
The fourth time I made my way Tikka Town I was an old hand and was finally able to place and pay for my order. And finally, finally, the delicious-looking, mouth-watering smelling paneer tikka roll was mine to savour!
But, what a letdown--it was totally disgusting. Let the word ring out from this place and time worldwide--fast food is disgusting everywhere.
Loving your blog. Loving your determination. And, buy the cleats! Then you can leave them for the next expat who takes your room and is into soccer and not into mall-shopping.
ReplyDeleteMeh, who wants to wear someone's old smelly cleats?
ReplyDelete