1 bedroom, oven, sea view

Now that I have signed away several thousand dollars, the next 8 months of my life, and my first born son, I am officially the renter of a new apartment. My purple left thumb is proof; my fingerprint was required upon the signing of the lease.

On Saturday, after searching for a new place for 6 weeks, I signed a lease for a little "bachelorette" pad in Bandra, north of Bombay. It is one of the few apartments I've seen here that has an oven, a real oven, in which you can bake things. Most places just have a few gas burners that sit on top of the counter. The oven caught my eye, and although you can't find all-purpose flour here, I somehow envisioned myself baking chocolate chip cookies and watching Sex and the City with girlfriends and was sold. The sea view came in a close second, and I am looking forward to watching the ocean rush each morning, after a night of eating baked goods.

The search has been quite an epic process, partly because I am a single woman, which is frowned upon by many housing societies here (egads, she might be a swinger!), and mostly because I own a dog.

"What kind of dog is it?" my broker asked. "Alsatian, Labrador, Golden Retriever?" he wondered, hopefully. We are now judging dogs, apparently.

She's an Indian dog, I said proudly. The broker was deflated. This would not help my case.

I'm a foreigner, which scores high points with landlords, because they think we're "cleaner" (not my words...his). But Uma, the pup, made it so that I did not have the pick of the litter when it came to housing.

Many apartment buildings and sections of neighborhoods are run by housing societies here. Often, the societies are organized around religion or caste, and some are stricter than others about who and what they allow. My current society could care less about most things. Everyone keeps to themselves, and although my neighbors think I'm a swinger because I'm single (for the record, I don't even know what a swinger is, but in Indian parlance, it is not a good thing), they don't bother me.

The first place I found was in a Muslim housing society, and although they were willing to take me, they were not willing to house my dog. The second moderately suitable place I found was in a Roman Catholic society. "So, they don't mind that I have a dog?" I asked the building manager. "No, no. This is a Roman Catholic society, so as long as you are Roman Catholic, you can bring a dog." I didn't have the heart to tell him that not only am I not Roman Catholic, I am not Catholic, and if put to the test, wouldn't pass as a baptized Christian.

The last place, before I signed my lease, was in a Muslim slum, and they were happy to have me, and my dog, if I would walk down a dark alley filled with rats and questionable loafers (the male kind, not the shoes). I thought I could make do, but, alas, my friend who screened the place for me did not think it was a good choice.

So, a place by the sea, with an oven, who will accept my Indian dog (as long as she does not bite the furniture) is where you can find me.