What if V.S. Naipaul would have blogged his travels, rather than set them down for future publication? I'm sure his writing was better for being in print.
But here I am in Hyderabad, readily connected to my account at Stanford. If I hadn't revealed my location, you would probably not have known it.
Hyderabad has all the hustle of a city on the go. The buses in front of your car on the road ask you to "Please honk" to announce your presence. Luxury items seem widely available, including Toblerone bars.
For those in the U.S. who fear the invasion of foreign goods and services, you should come to India, the land of Coca-Cola, Pizza Hut, and American hotels. Frito-Lay even produces local spicy snacks. It's hard to tell what is actually owned by local people, as much that is foreign has an indigenous face--either because it was originally produced by an Indian company that was acquired by foreigners, or by a foreign company locally managed by Indians.
Right now, the call to prayer is being announced in this diverse city, of young women who wear tattoos and hip t-shirts to women in burkhas.
People I know who were just on the east coast of Andhra Pradesh felt the tremors of the earthquake earlier today. They said they lasted some 2 minutes or so. As they drove from the hotel, which was on the Bay of Bengal, they found crowds of people who had moved to higher ground, fearing tidal waves.