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.