Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Nollaig Shona agus

Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Daoibh!

Crashing an Arranged Marriage Meeting

A few weeks back, while I was in Kolkata, I had the chance to observe the first meeting between a future bride and groom. This is my story.

Sitting around the hotel lobby on a Sunday, I am positive I witnessed the awkward moment of a couple meeting for the first time for an arranged marriage. Both were young, she was pretty, he looked awkward, and they both looked nervous as hell. The bride's family had entered the lobby and sat directly behind me. I saw another family enter the front door and the fathers signaled to each other. The groom's (or do I call him the bachelor?) family strolled in, and included his parents, a brother or two and a grandmother. They made the introductions and
I tried to listen in without appearing obvious (I failed, the brides father clearly scowled at me).

As they walked off to have lunch together, the groom-to-be was walking about five steps in front of her. I thought to myself, if any of us had done that on a first date, we’d surely never have seen her again!

We in the west often scoff at the idea of an arranged marriage. Hell, I'm sure many of my friends and family would have loved to have married me off 20 years ago. I have to say, after meeting so many friends here, that the practice seems to work for most here. There are more and more "love" marriages, which also carry potential problems for the couple. Mixed marriages (religion, but rarely caste) are also more and more common.

I also learned a bit about dowry's - which are illegal now in India. With Hindu's, the bride's family gives "gifts" to the groom's family; with Muslim's, the groom's family gives gold to the bride's family; and Christians don't have to give anything. Not sure what you do if you're Jewish.

My favorite section of the newspaper here, besides the Society page, is the Matrimonials. These are classified ads placed by the families to advertise the son/daughter they are looking to marry off. They can be amusing to an outsider, but are filled with details to encourage prospective "alliances." Yes, alliance is used often. It shows that marriage here really is about the interests of two families, not just two people. I'll copy a few of my favorites onto another post.

And for those of you who joked about me coming home with an Indian wife, sorry to disappoint you. Although it might be funny to write my own ad and see if they'll publish it.

Death On A Goan Highway

WARNING: Don't read this if you expect a happy, jolly post. It isn't. This post is about something tragic that I had the misfortune of stumbling upon. So if you're squemish, please just close the window.

After that great Thanksgiving dinner I told you about, I hired a taxi to take me from Baga Beach to my hotel in Tanjim. My driver was a very nice young guy who quickly zipped us off towards my destination. The taxi's in Goa include these very tiny little vans (think clown van), as well as the usual SUV and Auto-rickshaws. Many other tourists simply rent scooters or mopeds and drive themselves. As we were flying along the roads, he was playing me some Hindi music that had quite a beat to it. We were talking about random things and I was trying to find a seat belt. There were none. So I was sitting low, kind of hoping he'd slow down, but also aware that the roads were empty.

An SUV taxi overtook and passed us. He was clearly in a bigger hurry than we were. He continued on the right (wrong) side to pass some cows who were out for a late night jog. My driver said it's common to kind of "draft" off the cows because they usually just run straight and it's safer. We cleared the cows too, and I thought to myself "Those are some damned fit cows!"

About two minutes later I heard a very short screech and a load bang. I couldn't tell if it was in front or behind me, but I did notice we were stopping VERY quickly and that the SUV was now stopped in front of us. As we swerved around it, I looked to my left and saw a scooter down in front of the SUV and two guys laying on the ground. I told my driver to stop so I could see if I could help in anyway. My first aid and CPR skills are a bit rusty, but I figured they were better than nothing.

I jumped out and ran back and saw the driver of the scooter on the ground. He was wearing sunglasses and had on his cell phone ear piece. His right arm was raised above his head and he was clearly dead. The SUV driver was out and screaming about how they had been on the wrong side of the road and he had no chance. The scooter passenger was moaning, but not moving. Their friends, who'd been in front of them on scooters, quickly showed up and were screaming, shocked at the site of their friends. I knew it was a bad situation that was only going to get worse.

I pushed my driver back towards the van and we left. He called the police on his mobile to report the accident (no one had called it in yet) and we headed to my hotel. He was visibly upset, and I could see him shaking. He started to pray and I put my hand on his shoulder and said nothing. He also said he was going to drive much slower, a point I was hardly going to argue over.

When all is said and done, two young professionals, enjoying a holiday with their buddies, lost their lives on that dark stretch of highway. My point? Stop taking life for granted and live it to its fullest.

Thanksgving in Goa

I found myself away from home yet again on Thanksgiving. This makes it three of the last six years I've managed to be in another country, instead of at home with friends and family. Sorry mom, I promise to be home next year.

I did manage to share Thanksgiving with friends, although we had to settle on grilled lobster instead of the standard turkey and stuffing. The funny part of that story is the friends, Jeff & Danielle, live relatively close to me. Probably no more than 3 or 4 miles. Yet we never manage to get together, so we had to do it here - 9,000 miles away from DC! After arriving 4 hours late (never fly Air Deccan if you're in a hurry), we dined on lobster and ice cold Kingfisher beer. Good times. I had a horrible experience on the way back to my hotel, but that'll wait for another post.

If you read my Kolkata post, you may recall how everyone responded when I told them I was going to visit that city. Well Goa also elicits a response from everyone - only this time it's a positive one. Eyes light up and smiles spread. If they've been to Goa, they just say how amazing it is. If they haven't been there, they say how amazing they've heard it is. Now, this being India, my expectations are low. I'd heard how wonderful Pondicherry was, and I thought it generally sucked. But Goa was something entirely different.

Goa was a Portuguese colony from the 1500s until 1961, so it's very different from the rest of India. For one, it's very Catholic. It's also very clean, has good roads and absolutely stunning beaches. It also has beef! Goa also happens to have the highest average income in the country, so it's fairly prosperous. That wealth is due to two major industries: Agriculture and Tourism.

Although India is home to some 700 million people who scrape out a living farming, Goan farms produce expensive commodities like fruits and spices. The tourism industry here is also booming, with some beautiful, world class resorts and tons of smaller, less expensive hotels right off the beach.

I stayed at the Marriott in Panjim. I tried to book a room at one of the Taj resorts, but they were all booked out for the weekend. The hotel is very nice, with vivid colors, comfortable rooms and a really crummy casino. I did not gamble a dime but did walk through to check it out. The sign at the door said "Blackjack" but all I saw were slot machines. I make a point of never gambling outside of Vegas, so I kept my streak alive.

On Saturday I wanted to go see the sites. I asked the hotel about car services and the woman said I could only hire a car for 8 hours minimum for the about 2800 INR ($62). I walked 1 foot outside of the hotel gate and hired a mini van for 900 INR ($20). The driver was very friendly and a good tour guide.

First stop on my tour was Old Goa. It was the capitol of Goa for sometime, before being abandoned in the early 1800s. It's still home to some grand old churches, and also is the home of the remains of St. Francis of Xavier. I dropped by his crypt to say hello, but he's only brought out for viewing once every ten years. I don't think that is enough to get me back here, but who knows.

If you are planning a trip to India, you'd be well advised to end it in Goa. It is the perfect place to recharge after the chaos that is India.

"You are Very White"

I am? No!

That comment was made to me in Kolkata by a drunk, middle aged Indian businessman who was gorging on the hotel buffet with his fat friend.

Giggling like little school girls, they were downing beer after beer and chain smoking. The skinnier (relative term here) one started to chat with me, asked me what I thought of India, etc. Then he made the "you're very white" comment! I just looked at him and said that my people had come from a place where people were, well, very WHITE and that I didn't tan very well. I always considered myself more of a pinkish color, but whatever. I was so tempted to say something along the lines of "You are very fat" or "You smell like you ate a nicotine bush," but I really didn't take his comment as offensive.

Just stupid.

Mother Teresa

Some people are selfless. Some are selfish. Most of us probably fall somewhere along the line between the two.

While I was in Kolkata, I had the chance to visit the Missionaries of Charity facility. It is where Mother Teresa lived, served and offered love to people who had nothing. Nothing. Not "I don't have an iPod/color tv/filet mignon." Nothing. Maybe a set of clothing. Maybe not. Maybe teeth. Maybe not. Maybe the ability to speak. Maybe not. Maybe the ability to read. Most likely not. You get my point.

To see poverty in the way that it's thrown in front of you here can be a shock. I sat in front of her tomb and read the inscription "Love one another as I have loved you" and thought, wow, here lies the remains of someone who will likely become a saint, who lived in a room smaller than most of our closets.

Not to be overly preachy, but I would hope that more people would be thankful for what they have, and not upset over what they don't have. If you need a lesson in this, come visit the sisters who run this place.

One last thing. As I've visited temples around India, I've usually been confronted with the demand to pay for everything. Check your shoes? Money. Enter the temple? Money. I was ready to start handing out notes as soon as I walked in the door here. But you know what? Not one single request. Not a sign, not a hand thrust in my face, nada. It was refreshing. Of course I made a donation as I left, and I'm sure they end up collecting far more from people because they don't ask.

Oh! Calcutta!

Since I've never seen the movie or Broadway show "Oh! Calcutta!" I'd always assumed it was in some how connected with the city and/or India. Turns out I was wrong.

Also finally learned what the "Black Hole of Calcutta" was. You'll have to go look it up, as it's way too long to describe here. Only thing you need to know: it's not here anymore.

I spent this past weekend in this former British colonial capitol. When I told people where I was going, they all, I mean all, looked at me like I was some kind of a freak. “Kalkota? Do you know anyone there?” or “Kolkata? It is the dirtiest city in India.” I insisted that my goal was to see as much of India as I could, and that Kolkata was on the list.

I arrived a little late – hey, it’s India – and headed to my hotel. The airport is located in Dum Dum. Great name huh? Dates back to the fact the British invented the “dum dum” bullet here or something. I noticed the huge numbers of cows as soon as we left the driveway of the airport. I’ve seen cows all over India, but they were everywhere here. I later found out that the area around the airport, although developing quickly, is mostly comprised of agricultural villages.

We drove thru Salt Lake City on the way. Yes, they have a SLC here too. It is home to many software and tech companies, and there were lots of people on bikes. However, I didn’t see any Mormons and the only temples were Hindu. When I told my driver we too had a Salt Lake City, he seemed surprised.
I took a blitz tour with my driver of the sites of the city. Victoria Memorial, some bridges, the Ghats, lunch at a hotel, a very ill conceived walk thru the New Market where I was joined by my very own “coolie” who insisted that I need not buy anything, but I had to look. Only problem is if you make any eye contact with a shop owner, it’s nearly impossible to get away from their grip. So throwing manners aside, I simply ignored everyone, including the man who tried to use the age-old “I know you” line. I said “You do? What’s my name?” Much like my friend in Phuket who I threw off with my “I’m from India” line, this poor sap just looked at me and smirked. Phew, dodged another store full of crap I will never put in my house, but some of you may get as Christmas gifts!

After I escaped the market, my little helper, Afjal (Badge #64), insisted that I put his name and id number into my cell phone, in the event I come back to shop. I did just that, and now I’m putting Afjal's name out on the web for the entire world to see. So if any of you ever find yourself in Kolkata and in need of a dose of shopping, please look out for Afjal. And to steal a line from Dave Chappelle, “Afjal, your famous, biotch!”

One aspect of Kolkata that just punches you in the face is the poverty. I had one woman, holding a small baby, follow me through the entire market saying “I’m poor, no husband, baby food.” She wouldn’t take the “no, sorry” from me and kept following until she finally realized I wasn’t going to give her anything. It’s not that I didn’t feel bad, it’s just that as soon as you give anything to anyone here, there will be 50 more right behind them. I did give a donation at the Missionaries of Charity though, so stop muttering those anti-Republican, heartless bastard comments about me. I'm a big believer in charitable causes, I just know I can only do so much when confronted by such a big need.

The area around the New Market is the ground zero of the tourist trade. And it’s also one of the last cities in the world with human pulled rickshaws. There are about 18,000 of them employed around the city, most earning less than 50 INR a day. Most of the pullers I saw were barefoot, and walking around barefoot here is a dangerous proposition. I tried to get a good picture of one, but this is all you’ll get.

Last comment – for some reason, as we drove down Sudder Street, some insane man decided I’d offended him. I hadn’t done anything, was merely looking out the window of my car. He had long, scraggly hair, and I swear I saw him in Berkeley about 15 years ago. He just started screaming “F you! F you!” and staring insanely at me. I did what came instinctively to me – I smiled and flipped him off.

A few more pictures for you. Random heard of goats walking around the market area. And a picture of some men bathing at the Hooghly Ghats.

Chilly Powder And Other Stuff To Leave At Home

I took another side trip this weekend up to Kolkata. I got to the airport a little too early and had loads of time to read the paper and people watch. I noticed a very large digital scrolling sign above the Indian Airlines x-ray machine that was listing the things allowed/not allowed on planes. It was pretty funny. I would have taken a picture, but it's illegal to take photos inside of some Indian airports. I didn't want to test the system to see if Hyderabad was one of them.

I wrote this down exactly as it appeared:

Welcomes. Indian airlines limited x-ray scanning of registered baggage.
Banned items – Guns/revolvers/pistols of any types and replicas items these ammunition/bullets of any kinds, knives of any size or type except kripan with 6 inch blade and 3 inch handle, brass knuckles/explosives of any type/disabling chemicals or gases/large heavy tools (wrenches/pliers/crow bar/axes/ice pick/power drill/saws/fire extinguishers/box cutters/screw drivers/darts/bows and arrows/mace/martial arts devices/pool cues/hockey sticks, baseball bats, golf clubs, cricket bats, ski poles, gas lighters, cork screws, razor blades, straight razors, scissors exceeding 5 inch lengths, chilly powder, household cutlery, knitting needles.

Permitted items – passengers are permitted to carry cash. Jewelry/Gold. Valuable documents etc in their handbaggage only. Permitted items in the handbag: walking sticks, umbrellas (folding type). Feeding bottles. Shaving kits excluding razor blades and straight razors. Medicine required during flight like asthma inhaler etc. Laptop. Cell phones one piece of cabin baggage.

Oh, I better go retrieve the bag I just checked! I left 2 gold bars, my passport and 50,000 rupees in it!

I was surprised to see the ban on baseball bats, as no one I’ve met here knows anything about the sport. And I find it very amusing that a religious dagger (kripan) is ok to bring aboard, as are 4 inch scissors. Getting stabbed by 4 inch blades feels so much less deadly than those 5 inch bastards.

And they made me check my contact lense solution! Watch out, I might spray you with some saline if you piss me off!

Good to see common sense is dead over here too.

Public Peeing

One of the first things you'll notice around India, is that some men will simply take a piss wherever they are. Driving down the road on my first day here, I looked out the window and saw a guy pissing on a wall. Painted on the wall was a painted sign that said "No Urinanting" in English and Telagu. He apparently only read French.

I was beginning to think no one cared, until I picked up today's paper. On page 5 was a story detailing how the Municipal Corporation of Hyderabad had conducted a series of inspections and slapped 150 people with fines for urinating in public. The best (worst?) part is they simply went to areas with public restrooms and nabbed people who were too lazy to walk inside. The fines were Rs 50 (a little over a dollar) or Rs 15 for those unable to pay the full amount. The funniest part of the article has got to be the accompanying picture showing an inspector standing behind a man pissing on a wall and pointing at him. I'm sure the man was startled and turned around and pissed on the inspectors leg.

The Elections: An Indian Perspective

The way the Indian press has covered the mid-term elections in the US, you'd think Bush was President of India. The headline shown here is just one of many that blanketed the various newspapers across India following our elections.

The average Indian businessman/student is much more aware of our poltics than many of our own countrymen. They may not understand it well, but they're paying attention. And for some reason they all think the Democrats are more friendly towards India Inc. than the Republicans. I don't think they understand the protectionist wing of the Democratic Party.

Do any of you remember seeing much press on the last Indian elections? I doubt it. Our newspapers seem to only pay scant attention to world politics - even to an emerging ally and stable democracy. That's why I subscribe to the Economist. At least they give in depth coverage to real news. And if you aren't paying attention, the Prime Minister of India Dr. Manmohan Singh.

And since you all know my political leanings, I do want to point out something that seems to be missing from the international coverage: The Dem's didn't blowout anyone. Yes, the House is theirs and they did surprise me and take the Senate. Was it because they offered a vision for anything? No. Was it because many of us were fed up with Iraq and the general sleaze of Washington? Yes. Are there many of my kind of Republicans left? Sadly, no.

And I won't bore you with the sixth year averages for a sitting president, but even with his low approval ratings, Bush still, some how, managed to suffer a little less than his predecessors.

And aren't you glad we got about a 5 minute break before the press started talking about whether the D's could keep their majority in 2008? Or who would prevail in the presidential bloodbath?

Good god, go on a freaking vacation Wolf Blitzer!

Mom Always Said Don't Play Ball in the House..

Or to light fireworks off indoors!

So I was at an early Thanksgiving dinner hosted by someone from my firm. Nice group of people, lovely house, lots of good food and plenty of libations.

Everything was great. Until the not-so-smart guy showed up. He's actually very smart, but apparently not in possession of much common sense. He was showing off what appeared to be large firecrackers, and proclaiming he was going to light them off during the party. I said something like "Be careful, you can't trust the quality control of an Indian fireworks factory." He just laughed and said "Sure, sure. I know."

So about five minutes later, as I was having a nice conversation with a fellow Angeleno about the merits of Tommy's chili cheeseburgers, the room exploded in a bright light and very LOUD bang. Greg Brady had lit a firecracker with the intent to throw it out the open door. Unfortunately for all of us, the fuse burned really fast and it exploded in his hand. It also managed to burn three other people and cause some hearing loss, at least temporarily, in a few of us.

The reaction was swift and angry. Two guys, who didn't know the culprit, ripped into him. One was yelling about suing him (and I was trying to convince Mr. Litigation to relax) and getting him fired. The other called him all sorts of names and and was acting like a silly school girl. The whole scene was absurd.

After my hearing returned and I'd check on the burn victims, we all returned to good conversation and some Indian margaritas. Mr. Firecracker was hiding out in the corner and belatedly apologizing to everyone.

Moral of the story? Don't invite morons to your party - either the one who blows up stuff, or the ones who react like hysterical schoolgirls.

And did I mention the prior Friday was Safety Day at our office here?

Do You Speak Any Indian?

During my last trip here, I was watching some television show called "The Great Indian Wedding" (yes, I was watching it because a) it was in English and b) I was tired of watching the same loop of news on CNN International) when the ignorance of my fellow Americans jumped out at me. The show focuses on some obscenely rich Indian and their wedding festivities. This particular episode featured a wealthy Sikh who lived in Delhi and New York, and was supposedly an actor. He invited all of his 1,000 friends to the 7 day party. One friend was an older American socialite who proclaimed at the end of the ceremony: "It was beautiful, I just wish I spoke Indian so I could have understood what they were saying." Duh!

The second moment occurred back in DC, when I was asked the "Do you speak Indian?" question at a bar. The person asking assumed everyone spoke Indian and wasn't aware that there is no such language. Double duh!!

So the purpose of this lesson is to educate the six of you reading it about the complexities of language here in India.

First off, not everyone speaks Hindi or English. As a matter of fact, only a minority of Indians speak Hindi. 337 million to be specific, out of a population of about 1.1 billion. Did you know more Indians speak English than Hindi? 350 million can speak English (keep in mind bilingual/multilingual skills are far better here than in the US). The way I figure, the largest English speaking country isn't the US - it's India.

There are many "official" languages here. Many of the boundaries of Indian states were actually layed out because of language. The list is long: Hindi (337 million), Telugu (80 million), Tamil (74 million), Bengali (70 million), Marathi (60 million), Urdu (43 million), Gujarati (41 million), Kannada (44 million), Malayalam (30 million), Oriya (28 million), Maithili (25 million), Punjabi (23 million), Bhojpuri (23 million), Assamese (13 million), Gondi (2.1 Million), Sindhi (2.1 Million), Konkani (1.7 Million), Meitei (1.2 Million), Nepali (1 Million), Kashmiri (0.5 million), and Sanskrit (<0.1 million). I didn't even know anyone spoke Sanskirt anymore.

Other significant languages found here include: Angika (0.7 million), Kokborok (1.3 million), Wagdi, Halbi, Marwari (12 million), Chhattisgarhi (11 million), Magahi (11 million), Awadhi (0.5 million), Tulu (2 million), Kodava, Dogri, Persian, French, Portuguese, Bodo, Santhali, Sikkimese, Dzongkha, and Dakkhini aka Deccani (11 million).

Is your head spinning? Mine is.

Another Name Bites the Dust

Greetings. I'm back in India after a brief stay back in the States. Can't you just feel my excitement?

The trip over was uneventful, with the exception of the clutz sitting across from me on the Frankfurt to Hyderabad flight. Not once, but twice, he managed to trip over the guy sitting across from him and send glasses and papers all over the floor. He either was wearing clown shoes or was drunk. Either way he woke me up both times. Moron.

Ok, so some of you may be familiar with the city name changes that have taken place here in India over the last ten years. In an effort to shed the last remnants of colonialism (and drum up political support for local politicos looking for a wedge issue), Bombay became Mumbai, Calcutta became Kolkuta, and Madras became Chennai (side note, has anyone seen my Chennai shorts?).
The name changers struck again yesterday. This time their target was Bangalore. Yes, perhaps you've heard of it? It's the center of the IT job boom that has pulled the Indian economy roaring into the 21st century. So it's a billion dollar brand name. The new name? Bengalooru! Loosely translated, it means "City of cooked beans" in the local Kannada language. Pretty catchy, huh?

My guess is the name will only be used in official circles and by localists intent on preserving whatever it is they're preserving. The rest of us will still call it Bangalore or maybe I'll just call it Beanbai.

I'm Back!

Ok, so I've been absent from this spot for a bit. I was busy seeing new parts of Italy and then trying to get some work done at my house before heading back to India.

I'm planning on writing about the Italy trip, so check back here often because you never know when I'll actually write something witty.

Here are some random stories:

After coming home on 9/11, I quickly turned around and flew back to Europe. I get onto my flight to Frankfurt and quickly discover that my seat has no working audio, video or overhead light. I've come to expect this of United, since they seem to be postponing their inevitable demise. I made a point of telling the flight attendant, who summoned the purser. What the hell is a purser anyway? Just reminds me of Gopher from the Love Boat. She was nice and said it'd had been reported but clearly not fixed. She offered to move an employee who was flying in Business, but I said no need. I was going to sleep and never listened to the music they offered. Mainly because it usually sucks. United did surprise me by sending me a $400 travel voucher for my inconvenience. Nice effort, but maybe you should spend the $$$ on fixing up your planes.

I lost my boarding passes (with the paper tickets attached) in the Rome airport and had to pay 100 euros to get it reissued. I think I've only had paper tickets two times in the last ten years, so I wasn't concerned about sticking the boarding passes in my rear pocket. Of course they fell out and we couldn't find them. I made sure to stick the tickets in my front pocket after that.

I then had a nun, a nun!, cut in front of me in the security line. What was I supposed to do? I ended up helping her load her bag into the xray machine. She said "God bless you" and I thought to myself "Sister, if you only knew..."

The connection in Frankfurt was supposed to be more than enough to accommodate the flight to DC. Of course Lufthansa kept us sitting on the plane in Rome for an hour without explanation. When we landed in Frankfurt, it was a mad sprint to the terminal, two security checks, and our plane. I was shocked that United was holding for us, but there were.

When I got home, I met friends at one of our local watering holes. As I left that night, the valet said "Last time you were here you tipped me in rupees. Rupees don't help me here." I asked him how much I'd given him and he said "500 rupees." Now that is about $11, so I told him I overtipped! I did offer to trade him some US dollars next time I stop by. He still didn't seem all that happy, but I wasn't going to tip him twice in the same night and still not get my rupees back.

A New Name & A Big Vacation

I've had great fun writing about my India trip, so I've decided to just turn this blog into my travel blog. I will provide updates from the road as I travel the globe (and the US). So we'll just call this blog "Travel Rant" and see where it goes.

I left India on 9/11 and flew home via Frankfurt. After getting felt up by security, I made it to the United Red Carpet Club, where I was promptly told I couldn't use the showers. Apparently during my six week trip, they'd changed the rules. Now only passengers coming from the US were allowed to use them. I explained to them I'd just flown in from the other direction on a code share flight, but they said "sorry." I told them to stick it (I really did) and said that Lufthansa let their passengers use the showers.

So the rep comes in about 10 minutes later and says "Mr. Fox, if you'd like to go back and use Lufthansa's lounge, you can." I glared at her and said "Go away. I'm not walking 1/2 mile and subjecting myself to security again for that." She scurried away and they avoided me the rest of the time. You wonder why United is in trouble? Let's see, I paid for a code share flight that apparently got me no benefits. Next time I'll just fly Lufthansa the whole way and avoid United.

I am now off to Italy for two weeks of wine and food. See you in Sicily!

Ciao.

My Last Side Trip

Repeat after me: Mamallaparum. Say it! Say it! I couldn't pronounce it until I got there. People kept asking me where I was going and I said "Mamalamamnotgonnaworkhereanymore." I'm sure you're now asking yourself "Where?"

Like this pic? I did. More about it later.

I was joined on this trip by two co-workers/friends from the US. I had arranged everything for the jaunt, and assured them it was going to be fine. It didn't start out that way. We arrived at the airport in Hyderabad to catch our flight to Chennai (aka Madras), where we'd get picked up and driven to our little beachfront resort. Only problem was our flight had been cancelled. Air Deccan, the worst airline in India, is notorious for being late or simply not flying at all. They told me they'd called me, but the only thing I had were v-mails with dead silence. I told the agent that perhaps they could hire staff who were able to speak, that way we'd have known. We were able to rebook on another airline and arrived about 30 minutes late. Only problem was our driver had left. He'd shown up at the airport and discovered our flight was cancelled. I suppose they didn't expect us to show up on another airline, but we did. After finding our driver 30 minutes later, we headed out of Chennai.

A little on Chennai. Mmmm, that's it. Nothing to write about. It's hot and humid and from what I saw, not worth much of your time. Oh, and no one was wearing Madras shirts or shorts. Freaking ripoff.

On the way south to Mamalaporno, we had been told to stop at the Alligator Farm. Our driver knew exactly where it was - hell, I could have found it since it was on the only road south. After paying a nominal entry fee of 20 rupees each, we walked around and admired the huge variety of Gators and Crocs they'd assembled. As usual, we were the only non-Indians there, so I kept smiling and waving at people when they stared at me. I felt like a celebrity. That picture above was hilarious, because I'm sure many of the "prisoners" in the farm would love to eat the Indians who visit there. We saw one family of very fat people sitting on a huge gator whose mouth had been taped shut. I was hoping he'd break free and then drag their fat asses into the water. Unfortunately they just sat there smiling away as their equally fat friends took pictures. Steve Irwin clearly had never visited this place.

After failing to see any human sacrifices, we hopped back in our car to head to the hotel. As I started to open my door, a woman appeared from out of the blue and started gesturing to me to give her money. I also noticed she had a monkey on a string with her. The monkey didn't look very happy and I was again imagined what this monkey would do to her if he was ever let off of that rope. I offered to buy the monkey from her but she refused. Instead I gave her a few rupees for her time, and because I feared the monkey would end up biting me.

The resort was small but very nice. It's called the Ideal Resort and is located right on the beach. They had my name on a sign in the lobby along with "Lufthansa Crew" and some other random people. The fact that the Lufthansa crew who fly into Chennai stay all the way down here only reinforced my impression that Chennai is a wasteland.

We ventured into town that evening for dinner. The restaurant had been totally destroyed by the tsunami and there was a red spot about 9 feet above our heads marking the high water mark from that storm. I don't know how many people realize that India was also heavily damaged but sustained far fewer deaths. Most of the villagers here had been out to sea fishing and returned home to find their town fairly intact.

The next day we took a day trip to Pondicherry. I'll write a separate entry for that trip.

Sunday we visited the Shore Temple. It was build about 700 AD and has managed to survive even though it is located about 50 feet from the ocean. It's an impressive temple.

Phuket

After Singapore I hopped a Silk Air flight to Phuket, Thailand for a short weekend.

The hotel I picked (merely on the fact I'd earn Starwood points) turned out to be very nice, but was also hosting a Southeast Asia/Asia Pacific regional meeting focused on security issues. So the hotel was full of Asian parliamentarians. Now that is a party!

The hotel had a private beach, which allowed me to walk on the sand without having to fend off people selling random things. I also asked a bartender about damage caused by the tsunami, because it appeared as if nothing had happened there. He pointed to the bottom of the 2nd floor rooms and said "Water was up there" and then explained how the poolside bars and restaurants were all new. At that point, I was glad my room was behind the pool and up a few floors.

The highlight of the weekend (mainly because I overslept and had no other options) was an afternoon trip to visit some elephants and see how the Karan people (from Northern Thailand) live. After a ride up a mountain on the back of an elephant - I think my elephant's name was Gigi and she was 35 years old - we hopped off in a little village. They sold baskets of fruit for people to feed the elephants, who all clearly loved the treats. We then watched some elephants paint, play soccer, dance, etc. The rest of the day included "learning" how to cook Thai food (I'll stick with Old Siam), tap a rubber tree, train monkeys to pick coconuts, etc. All in all it was pretty cool.

Saturday night I decided to venture into the Patong Beach area. Another brilliant idea! I had visions of finding some fresh lobster and drinking a cheap beer (at least cheaper than the hotel). Instead I found a street crowded with Aussie and British tourists, hawkers trying to sell everything you could imagine, scores of dodgey restraurants and pubs, and about 100 tuk-tuk drivers offering to take me to "best massage in the world." I pointed out to the watch salesmen that I already had one. Told the tuk-tuk drivers I'd take a pass on the offer of a ride. Took a pass on that lobster dinner, mainly because the smell from the fish display was so strong I knew it would lead to a dose of Cipro. Basically just walked up and down the stretch for about 15 minutes and escaped into a pub.

One humorous story was my encounter with a tout from a suit shop. If you haven't been to Hong Kong or Bangkok, you might not appreciate this. Picture in your mind a street crammed full of "best quality" tailor shops. In front of each one are 2-10 guys whose job it is to drag tourists into the shop where they can be sold "custom" suits and shirts. The prices are dirt cheap and the quality is usually a step below Wal-Mart. The guy approached me with the usual line "Hello boss" (or the equally popular "Hello mate") "where you from?" I immediately asked him "Where are you from?" And he said Nepal. I said "Great, I'm from India." He was clearly not expecting that answer from me, so he pressed on "So you speak Hindi?" and I snapped back "No, they speak Telagu where I live. Do you speak any Telagu?" Of course I speak neither, but he didn't know. I then told him if he could guess where my shoes were from, I'd buy a shirt from his store. He had no idea and didn't even guess. I think he was still too confused by my original answer. As I walked away, without a new shirt, I could hear him telling his friends "That guy said he was Indian..."

Moral of this entire story? If you go to Phuket, stick to the hotels and avoid Patong Beach. Unless of course you're in the market for a hooker and a cheap suit.

Escape from Chaos

After five weeks of navigating the food, traffic and hustle in India, I found myself ready for a break. And ready for a steak! So off I flew to Singapore for a quick stopover on my way to Thailand.

After an overnight flight (only 4 hours) from Hyderabad on Singapore Airways, you find yourself at Changi International Airport. This really is a high end shopping mall posing as an airport. And Singapore Air is really a top notch carrier. Their economy service is better than most domestic first class service I've had in the U.S. They still give you a hot towel that is actually made of cloth and serve free French wine.

First thing I noticed about Singapore was I picked the first day it'd rained in weeks. Second thing was how clean it was. The taxi had a working, digital meter and a friendly driver. The roads weren't filled with potholes and cars actually stopped at red lights. I was shocked.

I walked around town and visited the famous Raffles Hotel, home of the Singapore Sling aka Fruit Suicide. You can drink 2-3 of these and not realize you've just consumed a bottle of booze. Very dangerous. They also let you throw peanut shells on the floor, which in Singapore is a big deal. You might get a heavy fine (or caned) if you littered outside, so I think locals drop by here just to throw a little caution to the wind. The bar also hosts a number of birds who just fly around and eat the crumbs off the floor. Not a bad life for those birds.

Singapore is a former British colony that became independent about 40 years ago. The population is very diverse, with big populations of Chinese, Arab, Indian and expats from the west. Two sites worth a look are Arab Street and Little India. Arab Street because it is cleaner than any part of the Middle East, and Little India because it's more orderly than any part of India. If you haven't figured it out yet, Singaporeans like order.

I capped the day off with a visit to Morton's. Yes, the chain has found its way here and serve the exact same menu. Exactly the same the exception of the prices. And it is not cheaper here. Gorged on steaks and salad (first one in five weeks) and had a hilarious, if deceitful server. She explained to us that bankers were crappy tippers and that they didn't charge a service fee (a built in tip). So when the bill came - and this was after the GM gave us free glasses of port - I didn't even look at the details. Gave her what I thought was a generous tip and left. Only later did I look at the details: Service Charge S$46! So she managed to get me for a total tip of over S$110.

Apparently bankers are bad tippers, but American consultants are just stupid.

Hitler Update...

After my worldwide protest movement (yeah right), the moron restauranteur in Navi Mumbai has caved into pressure and announcement he was renaming it. He seriously said "I didn't mean to offend, I thought it was a good name" and then proceeded to take a massive bong hit and stick his head back into his arse.

Also have an ugly American story to go with this. There was a woman in the hotel who I will simply call "Idiot" for her rant on the swastika. She was explaining to me and two others about how offended she was at seeing the "swastikas" displayed in temples here in India. One of the other guys, a French dude from Sonoma, kept trying to explain to her that Hitler swiped a symbol that had been in use for thousands of years and represents good luck. She was either just stupid, drunk or stupid drunk and kept saying "I don't care, it just offends me" and then would proceed with some more inane comments. She then compared Bush to Hitler and I promptly had the bar cut her off and toss her. Ok, I didn't. But she was a good example of why you just don't get bombed and rant in bars because you'll look like a fool.

Ganesha and the Ganapati Festival

My travels to India have coincided with two major events - Independence Day and now the Ganapati Festival. Since the festival started yesterday, I thought I'd give you some info on the festival and on Ganesha.

First, let's talk about Ganesha. Shree Ganesha, or Ganapati as he is also known, is one of the most well-known and venerated representations of God (Brahman) to the Hindu faith. He is the first born son of Shiva and Parvati. You'll have to look them up to get a better understanding of the relationship.

As you can see, Ganesha is depicted as a big bellied, one tusked elephant and is often either sitting atop a mouse or accompanied by one. Ganesha is a much beloved and frequently invoked divinity, since he is the Lord of Good Fortune who provides prosperity and fortune and also the Destroyer of Obstacles of a material or spiritual order (for more info consult Wikipedia). I've noticed several of my friends have a Ganesha sitting on the dashboard of their cars.

The festival started yesterday and will culminate on September 6th with the immersion of countless Ganesha statues into bodies of water all over India. The statue pictured above is the largest in Hyderabad. We were told "It's crowded and crazy, don't go" by the hotel staff, but I was joined by two fellow Americans who were determined to see it. So we hopped in an auto and cruised over to the area. It was packed. And we were the only three non-Indians in the crowd, so were greeted with smiles and a few odd stares of curiosity. After wading into the masses, we stopped to pay our respects to the statue, took some pictures and headed down a side street.

Now you might be asking about that immersion thing. There has been much discussion about the idea of putting tons of statues into already polluted waters and they've tried to address the problem. All of the statues have to be degradable. I don't say bio-degradable because clearly the paints and lacquer they use aren't good for any fish who might be living in the lake or ocean. On the 6th, the road around the Hussein Sagar will be packed with people watching the cranes lift the Ganesha statues and submerge them into the water. I've already been warned that I shouldn't go due to the crowds. So I'll just watch it on one of the 11 news stations I can choose from.

Ok, back to my story. After the visit to the statues we stopped in front of a small temple. We could see the lights and hear the music from inside. Out of the blue, an older gentleman appeared on the street and said "Please come in. This is a JainTemple and you are welcome." So off went the shoes and we joined the devotees in song and clapping. Well we clapped and listened, but did not attempt to sing. It was a fun experience.

After finding an auto driver willing to take us back to our hotel, we decided to head back. At that very moment, the skies opened up with torrential rains. Now the hotel has a strict rule about letting autos (rickshaws) past the front gate. They're simply not allowed. But given the rain, we told him to just ignore the rule and that we'd pay any fine the hotel tried to hit him with. The security guard at the gate tried to stop us, but when he saw it was three stupid Americans, he waved us in. As we rolled up to the front door, right behind a very nice Mercedes, the hotel staff took one look and just laughed.

Good times.

I Really Should Listen to My Own Advice

I always preach about the importance of agreeing on prices when you travel BEFORE you hire a guide or take a cab. Well, for some reason I decided my advice was bunk and I was going to just wing it for a day in Mumbai. Bad idea.

Started off with the cab ride. Hotel cars are expensive, so I opted for a regular taxi. I'd been told it was about 100-150 rupees to get to the Gateway of India, where I planned to catch a boat to Elephanta Island. When we got there, he said it was 250 rupees. I disagreed and he said "I'm hotel taxi, more expensive." I pointed out the obvious similarity between his black and yellow taxi and the other cabs parked around us. I asked him what the difference was and he replied "I have card" and he handed over a laminated price sheet. The sheet had two columns, one for non a/c and one for a/c. The price for a/c was indeed listed at 250 rupees, however his car didn't have a/c. I finally just paid him 200 rupees and told him no need to wait for me, as I was never getting in his car again. My guess is that he may still be waiting.

Buying the boat ticket was easier. 120 r's for an express boat, 80 r's for the slower one. Only problem - there were no "express" boats. I paid the 10 rupee roof surcharge and climbed up top. I was then visited by a series of vendors trying to sell me postcards, water (even though I already had a huge bottle in my hand), necklaces, chips of some kind, and again necklaces. Thank god the boat finally left port. After a painfully slow cruise, I finally reached the island. And the real fun began.

I was immediately greeted by a guide who walked me up the long flight of steps up to the temple. He had grown up on the island and lived there with his wife and two sons. He told me about the tourist season being later in the year, and how they all relied on that time to earn enough money for the rest of the year. At that point, I should have stopped and asked his price. I didn't. I was in a hurry though, as I had a flight to catch at 6:20 p.m. He showed me the temples (quite interesting) and walked me to the top of the hill to see the old WWII cannon the British had installed as defense against whomever tried to attack. Saw some monkeys, a bull, and some women with milk jugs on their heads who tried to take a picture with me (50 rupees). After the tour we headed back to the dock to grab a beer and wait for the next boat back to Mumbai.

The restaurant was clearly owned by one of his buddies. The menu said beers were 90 rupees for a big bottle, so I figured I was going to be buying him a beer and the cost was reasonable. Also ordered some chicken dish (60 rupees) and he ordered some peanuts. After he chugged his beer he ordered another. And then another. Then I got the bill. 610 rupees! I asked him why it was so high and he said "Oh that includes tax and tip." Right. Sure it does. Tipping isn't a very common thing here, and I can guarantee I was just being charged the ripoff price.

This is the point where he also said his fee was 1500 rupees for the tour. 1500? Say it ain't so Babu. I said no way, and we bickered over the price. He came down to 1100 rupees and I thought I should just cut my losses and run. Big problem though: after I'd just paid his overpriced beer tab, I was sitting there with only 550 rupees left. I told him if I'd know that I wouldn't have bought his damn beers and probably would have just walked the temples by myself. I don't think he quite understood me when I told him I only had that much cash, because he insisted he could take US money. And I forgot to mention he'd paid my entrance fee to the temple (250 rupees). He mentioned I could use a credit card, so we walked to the end of the pier. Then he asked for his money, and I reminded him again that I only had about 550 rupees and that he'd said I could pay with a credit card. He said "Oh, we have to walk back up there for that" and pointed to the top of the 126 steps we'd come down about 20 minutes prior.

This is where my Irish temper blew up. I yelled at him and said something to the tune of "I told you that I didn't have any cash. Why did we just walk all the way over here?!?" Off we went back up the hill to a store that had a credit card machine. The owner tried to call to get authorization but the line never picked up. Clearly seeing the smoke coming out of my ears, the guide finally caved and said he'd take what cash I had. But now I'd missed my boat and had to wait for the next one, which happened to be the same slow one that I'd come over on.

We finally docked at about 4:30 in the midst of a torrential downpour. I saw a taxi and asked him if he could take me to the ITC Grand Sheraton. He said "Yes, ITC" and we drove off. Remember, I have no money and my flight leaves in an hour and half. Taxi man starts to make a turn where I know he isn't supposed to, so I told him he was going the wrong way. He listened but still had no clue where he was going. I knew I was in serious trouble at this point: Me giving directions to an Indian cabbie.

After driving me around in the middle of a very crummy part of town and stopping four times to ask for directions, we finally made it to the hotel. It was now 5:40. I ran into to check out and get him some money. He tried to tell me it was 300 rupees for the ride and I said "You got me lost, I'm going to miss my plane and I'm not paying for the extra kilometers you racked up because you didn't know where you were going." The hotel staff intervened on my behalf and told me to pay him 100 rupees. I felt bad, so I gave him 200. He wasn't happy, but whatever.

Oh, and I missed my flight and had to stay another night in Mumbai. Lovely.

Hitler: The Restaurant?

Ok, you know the old Mel Brooks movie The Producers? Spoof musical on Hitler with the classic song "Springtime for Hitler and Germany." Well apparently some enterprising moron in Mumbai thought it was a good idea to name his new restaurant "Hitler's Cross" and decorate it with swastikas and pictures of Hitler. Nice. Only problem is he isn't saying it's a joke or a spoof. He's serious!

I swear to god the guy was quoted in the local paper saying "Hitler conquered Europe, and we're going to conquer your taste buds." Yeah, Hitler killed people. Lot's of innocent people. Maybe he's just warning people that you'll get so sick from his food that you might die?

What a great idea! Let's name a happy, lively restaurant after him! How about "Pol Pot's Cambodian Kitchen" or "Stalin's Russian Tea House" as a few other ideas slick? You could branch out and corner the market for obscenely stupid restaurant names.

And the freaking mayor of Navi Mumbai (New Mumbai) came to the opening! As did some Bollywood star who was quoted as saying "I've not read much about the man, but I find the use of his name amusing" Huh? Amusing? Clearly you've not read a book written in the last 60 years. Another example of why film or music stars, regardless of where they're from, are complete morons. And I don't think Hitler was including the people of the Indian sub-continent in his definition of a master race.

As a matter of fact, Hitler and his buddies were equal opportunity murderers. They killed Jews, Ukrainians, Russians (Civilians & POWs), Poles, Yugoslavians, Gypsys, Spaniards, Czechs, Americans, Brits, Nepalese, Greeks, the disabled, Jehovah's Witnesses, Boys & Girl Scouts (huh?), Priests, and even other Nazis who disagreed at times. I'm sure there were Indians in there too.

Can you imagine doing something like this in the west? Hell no. The tiny Jewish population of Mumbai is up in arms. Any rational, sane person in the country should share their outrage. Imagine if someone opened a bar that either mocked or insulted Nehru or Gandhi? The owner would be dead and the place torched in minutes.

My point? Everyone should be greatly annoyed with this guy. I need to go find a local Girl Scout troop to help me protest.

You say Mumbai, I say Bombay...

Ok, it is now known as Mumbai but some of the locals I met still call it by its colonial name of Bombay. Either way, I just spent the weekend in this huge, chaotic and cosmopolitan city.

Started off fine. Flight was only 45 minutes late and my car was waiting for me. As we left the airport, I quickly realized the stark contrasts I was about to encounter. As you depart the domestic airport (they have two airports separated by 6-7 kms) you drive through what is supposedly the largest slum in Asia. It was packed and there were school kids in uniforms walking home, commerce of every kind taking place on the streets and an unimaginable collection of garbage everywhere.

The hotel I had picked was beautiful but in the worst location possible for my meeting and for being close to the tourist spots. This distance from tourist spots will be featured in its own post - I can't wait to share that experience with you. The ITC Sheraton Grand Central was just that: grand in luxury and central in location (central Mumbai that is). I checked in and realized I was running a bit late for my meeting. I hired a hotel car and realized I had to go back past the airport and then some. I was late. I can't tell you the name of where I was, but it was nice. All new buildings with Greek-inspired architecture, smooth roads and swanky shops. I also saw my first non-scrawny dog here. Of course as soon as we left the meeting and headed back, we were right in the middle of another rutted road.

On Saturday I headed out for the Gateway to India monument and some siteseeing. The cab driver ended up being my tour guide for the next four hours and showed me around the southern part of the city. Much of the area is made up of colonial era British architecture and most of those buildings could use a good power washing. I wanted to call up the tourist board and tell them they had architectural gems just sitting there, waiting to be exploited.

The Gateway to India monument was built in the early 1900s in honor of the King's visit to Bombay. It's now a prominent symbol of the city and a gathering spot for locals, beggars and tourists. Saying "No" will get you nowhere here - just ignore anyone who is talking to you and go about your business.

Across the street from the Gateway is the famous and elegant Taj Palace Hotel. Built by Indian industrialist JN Tata in 1903, this places screams "money!" and has room prices that most of us couldn't afford. The story is he built the hotel after being snubbed by a European hotel for being a "native." Tata is now one of the biggest India companies and has their fingers in everything. I'm sure the ancestors of that European hotel owner now operate a chip shoppe in some backwater English village. I strolled through the hotel and had an overpriced beer in the bar. With security tailing me, I quickly left the premises and headed to less costly environs.

Next up was the University of Mumbai campus (pictured at top of this page). Built in the 1850s, it could have been plucked from England and dropped here. I was pleased to see some major renovation taking place on the Convocation Hall and no one seemed to mind it when I rolled through the Library on a book cart.

The rest of the tour consisted of Marine Drive, Chowpatty Beach, Mani Bhavan (where Ghandi stayed while in town), the Jain temple and the Hanging Gardens. Also drove by the Haji Ali Mosque and got some pics from afar.

My plans to go out with friends of friends were quickly dashed after I met a crazy American I will call Okie and his German friend "Sideshow Klaus" in the hotel. We ended up staying at the hotel and closing down the bar (which is easy since they close at 11:30).

Next up: Why I should listen to my own advice, Indian style.

Independence Day!

I love holidays. Time to hang out with friends and family, grill a steak, drink some good wine/cold beer, and just relax. So when I found out I was going to be here for August 15th (Indian Independence Day), visions of a day spent at the pool sipping a Kingfisher flashed before my eyes.

Oh was I disappointed.

Turns out we did get the day off, as the offices are all closed. (Sidebar: If you open your office, you run the risk of the police dropping in and giving you a citation) . So I had that going for me, which was nice.

The real disappointment was that Independence Day is also a dry day. Yes, dry. No beer. No wine. No Listerine. Nothing. And of course I couldn't grill anything for fear of burning down the hotel and that little detail about no beef. So I opted for a lamb pizza and a bottle of water. Woohoo!

The day is a big deal here, as it marks the founding of modern India and the exit of British colonial rule. Prior to Independence, India was really a collection of 130+ separate kingdoms. So forging a national identity to tie the very diverse population together has been important. I'll give you more about that diversity in a future post.

For those of you thinking "No way he let a simple law get in his way of having a drink," I capped off the wild day with a card game in my room chased down with two overpriced bottles of wine we'd bought from the bar the night before. Thank god for planning - and being tipped off by a very smart bar manager who knew an easy sale when he saw one.

I wonder if I'll be able to find turkey here on Thanksgiving?

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna...

Remember those orange robed, bald headed guys who used to hang out in Westwood Village chanting? Turns out they have a huge temple in Bangalore. Iskon Temple is operated by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, better known in the US as the Hare Krishnas.

The temple is relatively new and is quite impressive. We joined the huge throngs of Krishna devotees (I saw maybe two other tourists besides me) in the line while waiting for it to open. Like many aspects of queuing here, it's apparently acceptable to just walk right in front of everyone and cut the line. So you have to be comfortable with people touching you and be just as ready to push them back. Also take great care to protect your wallet.

We had to check our shoes and cameras at the gate, and proceeded bare foot across a long footbridge. Once you get into the temple you proceed through a number of shrines and immediately hear the murmur of people chanting "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna..." over and over again. I think someone told me they have to say the mantra 180 times a day in order to reach a certain spiritual level. Don't quote me on that, I'm sure you can learn more on their website.

These guys also know how to make a buck. As you exit the main shrine you proceed through a book stall, into a shopping gallery, past exhibits advertising the many good things the Society is doing in the region (ex. free meals for people who live near the temple), a cinema (sorry, it's not an IMAX yet), more shopping stalls, an open air food bazaar, a spot where they give away some sort of warm, sweet rice dessert to all visitors, then a spot where they hand out free copies of the Krishna mantra, and finally a sit-down restaurant. I was impressed.

I never did see anyone in an orange robe. And no one tried to give me a "free" flower either. What a bummer!

Bangalore: The Garden City

Even with the terror warnings, I had travel plans to keep. This weekend: Bangalore.

I decided to catch a Saturday morning flight instead of trying to make it to the airport on Friday evening. Did I mention the traffic sucks here? After all of the warnings, I found the domestic terminal to be a piece of cake. Breezed through check-in and security without a hitch. As I should have expected, the flight was delayed. No reason, just delayed. I flew Jet Airways, a private Indian airline with a large domestic route and a practice of charging foreigners fares three times higher than they charge locals. Imagine if United tried that? "Sir, you're clearly not from around here. Your fare today will be $263. Oh, Mr. Fox, you Irish devil, your fare is only $87." Hello, ACLU? Or is that the ICLU?

Thanks to Jen D., I'd been able to connect with her good friend Jessica, a new resident (and newlywed) of Bangalore. She and her husband Kishore picked me up at the hotel and took me to lunch, a driving tour of the city and then to a night spot for dinner and drinks. Made for a great day. NOTE: Jen and Peter, I'm on strict orders to convince you to come visit. I will even insure (policy value is 100 rupees) your food safety (disclaimer: offer valid only if you starve yourself during the trip). Seriously, you must visit them.

First thing I noticed about Bangalore was there was greenery. In Hyderabad the only green you'll see is on a plate or on a woman's sari. Grass? Nope. Trees? Occasionally. But in Bangalore there were old trees, grass medians, flower boxes hanging from lightposts, and large parks with wide lawns. And no potholes! The roads were also less chaotic than Hyderabad.

Bangalore is the original "Silicon Valley" of India and is the home of many US and European (and Indian) software companies. It is also is a big military city, so things just seem more orderly. Smart shops, great pubs, good food, auto's with meters, nice hotels, and a mini version of Windsor Castle.
This picture was taken while a security guard with a rifle was trying to yell at me to not take a picture. I told my driver to ignore him and drive very fast away from the insane man yelling. Lucky for me, I was paying the driver and he was more than happy to speed away. This is Bangalore Castle, the former home of the last rulers of this state. It was built in the late 1800s and remained in their family until recently. I was unclear if they still own it - Lonely Planet says they do, my driver said the government owned it. All I know is the guy with the rifle was pissed and was last heard yelling "50 rupees for a picture!!"

We visited two temples - one pictured at the top of this post and one you'll read about in a later post. Only thing you should know is that I walked barefoot down the street and was thanking myself for the tetanus shot I had six years ago. The bottom of my feet are now brown and I don't think they'll fade anytime soon. There was a little boy in front of the above temple asking for money. I had nothing small enough to share, but Jessica gave him a 5 rupee note. His reaction was classic - he smiled and danced around as if he'd won the lotto. He ran quickly to his mother to give her the money and then came back for an encoure.

We ended the day on the top floor of a rather tall building on MG Road. It was a very swanky pub with the usual beautiful people (and me) sipping cocktails and admiring the view. Nice way to end the day. Big thanks to Jessica and Kishore.

One last thing: Why does every single driver try to take me to an art studio or craft store? I had to tell the last driver to just forget his tip if he tried to stop at one more store. He happily obliged. But you'll all be getting a carved elephant for Christmas.

Terror Threat in India

Just a quick note to address the recent bombing threats announced by the US Embassy here in India. Keep in mind that India has been living with real life terrorism since 1947. As of now, I have yet to hear one single Indian say a word about concerns or fear or panic regarding the announcement. And I have yet to see one word of the threat in the Indian press or tv. They had been planning for possible problems in the run up to Independence Day (Tuesday, 15th of August). So given that India is very sensitive to the topic, and I see no panic, I will be staying the course.

But thank you to those of you who've e-mailed me - I'm good and appreciate the messages. Now if someone from my family actually e-mailed me...

Religion in India

We all know India as a primarily Hindu nation. Did you know India also has the second largest Muslim population in the world? They also have Christians (mostly Catholic), Sikhs, Jains, Buddhists, Jews, Parsis' and a smattering of other faiths. So even though it is a Hindu nation, the Prime Minister is a Sikh and all of the other religions are represented at all levels of government within the country. Pretty diverse huh?

By the numbers there are 855m Hindus, 178m Muslims, 25m Christians, 20m Sikhs, 8m Buddhists, 4.5m Jains, and 8m in the smaller groups.

I was very familiar with all of these faiths except for Jainism. Jainism teaches that every human is responsible for his/her actions and all living beings have an eternal soul or jīva. It insists that we live, think and act respectfully and honor the spiritual nature of all life. They are the original vegans and practice non-violence. Although small in numbers, they've had major influence on India. Gandhi adopted his non-violence approach from them. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. adopted it from Gandhi, and thus Jainism had a major impact on the U.S. civil rights movement. I bet you didn't know that?

In Hyderabad it is very common to see Muslim women in the full head to toe black outfit with only their eyes showing walking next to a Hindu woman in a sari. For men, you see some Muslim men dressed in traditional clothing and some (very few) Hindu men wearing the male equivalent of a sari. If you work for a large Indian or MNC office, women are allowed to wear the traditional sari but men are required to wear "modern" clothing. A bit of a double standard, but no one seems to mind.

The hotel bar manager happens to be a Catholic. He asked me if Catholics in the U.S. practiced the same rituals and had the same beliefs. He seemed genuinely surprised when I told him yes and recited a few examples. That bit of Catholic knowledge got me a free beer!

Thank you to Father McGovern, wherever you are. I did actually learn something in CCD after all.

Mr. President

Mr. President of Tajikistan that is.

Turns out Hyderabad is a popular spot for foreign political and business leaders to visit. Bill Clinton visited here when he was president, and George W. was here earlier this year. Bill Gates and Michael Dell have passed through - and employ thousands in Hyderabad. So why not the president of Tajikistan?

Tajik President Emomali Rahmonov was in town for a visit and happened to stay at my hotel. I didn't get to meet him, but I did meet a good number of his fierce looking security detail when my elevator door opened on the floor where he was staying. They stared, I stared. They snarled, I waved and smirked. I quickly closed the elevator door and fled to my room.

We all know about motorcades. DC is famous for them. Want to know the difference between a DC motorcade and Hyderabad motorcade? It's easy to quickly close streets in DC and its not easy here. Instead they shut the entire route down for an hour or so. In a city that already suffers from massive gridlock, you can imagine how much fun that can be. But since this is India, it really didn't faze anyone (except me) that it took an hour to go 2 kms.

Thank you Mr. President!

An Afternoon Drive Thru Hyderabad

After my autorickshaw adventure, I decided I should probably consult a local before venturing out again on Sunday. Lucky for me, I have an old work friend from Hyderabad who offered to take me to brunch and show me around town. This was a much more pleasant experience.

After a nice brunch at Fusion 9, a popular spot among the local elite and expat community, we drove off into the old city, where Anoop pointed out various buildings and gave me the history of the city. Hyderabad has attracted a huge influx of people from all over India, but Anoop is a native. As a native, he's proud of the city's history and made sure I saw at least a few of the old buildings which dot the older part of the city. We drove around the Charminar (pictured above) and around the markets that surround it. It was crowded but apparently is worse on other days. They've talked of making the area a pedestrian zone, but its unlikely that will happen. It is in this neighborhood I saw what is fairly common in India: a posse of cows just walking down the street, oblivious to traffic. I'd seen a cow and calf earlier in the day, but they weren't free range cows. I can only imagine how many people crash cars and two wheelers trying to avoid the bovines.

Also visited one of the former palaces of the last ruler of Hyderabad. This region was ruled by a series of kings called the Nizams. Nizam VII ruled the area until Indian Independence in 1947 and he was responsible for many building projects throughout the city and region. At one time he was one of the richest men in the entire world - they say in current dollars, richer than the Sultan of Brunei (and that guy is loaded). He was forced off the throne by the Indian Army (he wanted to join Pakistan or stay independent) and lived the rest of his life in Hyderabad.

Here is the former palace. It's now a museum named after Nizam the VII. From the outside it looks like it's going to fall down. Part of it houses the museum, the rest is a college. Apparently the Nizam's granddaughter still lives on the property but is a recluse. No pics of the inside because they want to charge me 50 rupees PER picture. No thanks! We were also the only visitors there, so I'm sure my money would have helped a bit.

Nizam VII had invested heavily in infrastructure and education - the infrastructure which still supplies Hyderabad with water, and the education system which is driving the current economic growth. I'm sure he'd be proud of the current economic boom ripping through his former kingdom.

Monsoons, Autorickshaws and Fares

I'm sure you've all heard about the monsoons that pop up around this part of the world. The word "monsoon" is used to label the season in which the wind blows from the southwest in India and adjacent areas that is characterized by very heavy rainfall, and specifically the rainfall that is associated with this wind. A better way to describe it is "raining cats & dogs." I thought I'd dodged the monsoon season, but last week we were pummeled by a series of storms. The storms killed at least 80 people in the state and destroyed many villages. It caused substantial damage in Hyderabad as well. The overall amount of rain wasn't huge (5 inches), its that it fell quickly and the drainage is non-existent. It did cause my 20 minute commute to the hotel to turn into an hour, but I can't complain. I could have been one of those guys riding by me on scooters.

Exploring Hyderabad is not as simple as just walking out of the hotel and strolling the avenues. For one thing, there are very few sidewalks. If there were any, those appear to have been ripped up to make way for road widening projects. So walking is kind of "at your own peril" kind of propositions. As one who values life, I have decided to walk on streets only in cases of dire emergency.

With the desire to see some of the sites, I decided I didn't want to pay the hotel car to drive me around. So I walked out and hopped into an autorickshaw - not something many would suggest a tourist do. I had him drive me up to Golkonda Fort, an ancient fortress perched on a hilltop. The drive was like a triple E ticket at Disneyland. I had no idea if this chap was going to just drive around for an hour and dump me somewhere (I could have taken him!) or just running up his tab. I learned a valuable lesson - always settle on a price before you actually drive off. He got me there safely and waited for me to tour the fort (it was an impressive, but full of trash). Also experience the concept of differential pricing. There are always two prices in India - one for locals, and one for tourists. The tourist price isn't just aimed at those of us with fair skin. They also apply it to Indians from abroad. In this case, fort admission was 5 rupees for locals, and 100 rupees for me. We then toured around the huge, man made lake Hussein Sagar (constructed in the 1500's). The lake also features a huge statue of Buddha. This region used to be a Buddhist intellectual center, but there are few, if any Buddhists still here.

Now back to that price for the ride. When we got back to the hotel he said "600 rupees" and I just smiled. I'd been informed that the roundtrip would cost me no more than 50 rupees. He also said "tip, tip" as if the 600 rupees weren't enough. Now he had been a decent tour guide and tried to name the places we'd passed, plus he hadn't gotten me injured or killed. I ended up giving him 450 rupees and told him he could drive me to the Charminar on Sunday. More on that later.

May I have an IPA?

If you ask that question in India, the answer will be "No, sorry." Why? Because they don't brew it here. Indians have beer - lots of it, just no India Pale Ale's.

Here is a history lesson for you (only because someone asked about this topic). The brewing business was started here by, who else, the Brits. During colonial/occupation times, British subjects set-up the first breweries in order to keep the British expats and soldiers drunk and happy. The IPA was actually invented/created in London and then shipped to India. The strong, highly hopped ale was designed to survive the five month voyage to India (thanks Wikipedia for this history lesson).

Anyhow, the Brits built breweries all over India and ran them until Independence. Now it's a market dominated by one company: United Breweries Limited. They make Kingfisher and a number of other brews. Supposedly the second largest brewer in the world. And I must say, its pretty good beer...

Now you know Suzzle.

Random Observations

I have quickly realized I took a few things for granted at home, not the least was my access to inexpensive wine. I remembered on my last trip here that the wine was pricey, but not until last night did I realize the magnitude of this issue. As I waited for a former work colleague to join me in the hotel bar, I scanned the wine list. Out jumped what has to be the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen: 2005 Corbett Canyon Cab - 2500 rupees. Kids, that translates to about $55. This is the same wine you can buy at Safeway for $6 a bottle or at the Embassy Suites in Lubbock, TX for $18 (I swear, I looked it up).

Next problem: coffee. I tried in vane to order a plain old cup of black coffee this morning. The poor woman looked at me like I'd ordered crack pancakes for breakfast. Me: "Can I have a large coffee?" Her: "Cappucino?" Me: "No, coffee, black, tall." Her: "Cappucino?" Me: "Sure, sounds great!" Good part of the exchange was it only cost me 50 cents for the fresh cup of what I will now call "coffee" but really is a tall cappucino.

For those of you who expressed fear that I was going to be spending time here, rest assured. I promise I will never try to cross the street unless atop an elephant or in a car, nor will I ever try to drive a car. Besides the fact they drive on the wrong side of the road (thanks Queen Victoria!), they also adhere to a very bizarre ritual of not using signals or lanes and using their horns as a method of communicating. They also think nothing of cutting each other off at high speeds and passing in between lanes. Explains why they have about 85,000 road fatalities a year here. I might start wearing a helmet in the car just to be safe.

The Journey

Ah, the joys of travel!

The trip started off well - I not only had a car service show up on time, I had two car services show up within ten minutes of each other. Nothing like a brawl over a $125 fare!

The actual travel time to India is about 24 hours. Hour to the airport, two hours to check-in, eight hour flight to Frankfurt, another four hour layover, eight hours to Hyderabad, an hour to get your luggage, and then five minutes to the hotel. Makes for a long day.

For the record, I'm staying in Hyderabad - a large city located in south central India. It's the home to many U.S. and Indian high tech and professional services firms. It has all the amenities of home - insane traffic, erratic drivers, a Pizza Hut, an Irish pub, and a Baskin-Robbins. We don't even have one of those in DC yet! Hotel is quite nice - the Indians have the service thing down.

Keep visiting for my updates. I'm here for six weeks and will hopefully have some fun stories and side trips to share. As always, you can reach me on e-mail.