So long, India

After 5 days in the land of Incredible India it was finally time to punch out, as the world tour was on its downhill slide and a couple of days of work and relaxation awaited me in Singapore.

The first contrast between India and Singapore (besides 50% less humidity and 95% less smell) was noted when I arrived at the Singapore airport and saw that they actually used armed soldiers for security, as opposed to the bovine-type guards which India employed. Gradually, more pleasant differences were noted as I made my way to a taxi and drove to the hotel. It was hard to believe that in a short 4 hour flight I had gone from one of the filthiest countries in the world to the cleanest. Amazing. No more raiding bottles of water from the concierge to stock in my room. No more closing my eyes and mouth while taking a shower and no longer would I have to search for something to eat that wasn’t made with curry.

The morning after my arrival in Singapore I visited the front desk for a recommendation on what to see or do during the limited time I had that day. Immediately the concierge recommended that I visit either Little India or Little China.

I bet you can guess which one I chose.

Gandhi, geckos and gas turbine engines

Imagine having your entire body wrapped in a wool blanket that has been soaked in 200 degree water. This is the feeling that one experiences when walking of off the plane in Calcutta in mid July. This comparison cannot begin to adequately describe the level of humidity and heat that this city is subject to. As we waited for our driver to pick us up outside of the airport I longed to lie down on a hot asphalt street in Phoenix if it meant trading for this one hundred degree curried fish head soup I was suddenly swimming in.

For selfish entertainment reasons, Calcutta proved to be the most interesting stop of this India tour, as we traveled to the Indian Airlines engine shop for a meeting. After all I had seen so far on this trip, why would I be surprised when we came to a stop at a building in what appeared to be the middle of a jungle, to find out that we had arrived at the Indian Airlines engine repair facility? I found myself with a huge grin on my face and couldn’t figure out why. “In some strange way, this was going to be different”, I thought to myself.

I can honestly say that I have never been in a conference room where a large portrait of Gandhi hung on the wall, flanked on both sides by cut-away posters of gas turbine engines, in an almost trinity-like fashion. It was at that moment that I figured I should probably re-think my priorities in life.

During several of my presentations at meetings and conferences throughout this trip I had been distracted by people having side conversations, asking off-the-wall questions and even a man snoring so loud in the front row of one of the meetings that he had to be shaken awake. But nothing compared to being caught off guard by giant geckos crawling on the walls of this conference room. Hey, at least they were awake, quiet and didn’t ask dumb questions.

I think my oatmeal has curry in it

The most notable differences between Mumbai and Delhi are the smell and the method of airport security which Delhi chooses to ward off would-be terrorists. Seeing a bull lying lazily on guard outside of the domestic arrival terminal as we arrived at the Delhi airport actually put my mind at ease.

As with Mumbai, the ride from the airport to the hotel proved to be the paramount of excitement during my short stay in Delhi, as work seemed to get in the way of a business trip once again and I did not leave the hotel. I’m certain by this point you are remarking that I have not seen much of India since arriving 4 days prior. With this, I should note that there is nothing within walking distance of the hotels in which I had stayed so far in India. In these parts of the country one does not just simply exit the hotel lobby and take a stroll down the street to find a curios shop or a quaint place to eat during a few spare moments. Although, I guess I could have walked across the road to visit with the locals and perhaps take a tour of their homes, which consisted of used plywood attached to other pieces of whatever they could find. I noticed that the more “well to do” in the area obviously chose upgrades when building their abodes, as they used sturdy sections of corrugated sheet metal as roofs. Not surprisingly, blue tarps seemed to be all the rage with the majority of residents.

Imagine a large dump truck hauling trash, colliding with a freight train hauling everything from livestock to humans. The aftermath is what could be compared to this neighborhood, only the humans and livestock survived. Ty Pennington could show up here and set up hibachi grills. I guarantee you that when the tour bus pulled away there would be tears.

Lost luggage and the 7 Wonders

Hope that you never lose your luggage at the Mumbai airport. Better yet, hope that you never have to go to Mumbai. If they can’t spell the word luggage correctly, they probably can’t keep track of it either, especially when the lost luggage building doubles as a scrap iron collection facility, which this one apparently did. Thankfully my "laggage" stayed with me.

So it’s just my luck that the Taj Mahal was voted as one of the 7 Wonders of the World the day I arrived in India. During the sixteen hours of combined flight time to India, all I looked forward to was having the best of Bollywood television at my disposal and what do I get? Every channel broadcasting the official announcement of the Taj as a Wonder, over and over and over - all day, every day.

Unfortunately, with all of the goings-on of the 2 days of conferences in the Mumbai hotel facility, I was kept inside of the compound, with my only view of the outside world coming from my hotel room window. This vantage point also provided a scenic look at all of the residents (and their livestock) who lived underneath the nearby freeway.

Not surprisingly, the most exciting event of the 2 days in Mumbai was the ride back to the airport for my flight to Delhi. The difference between my ride from the airport and my ride to the airport was day and night. Literally. But the advantage of travel in India during the day is that you get to actually see the cars, wagons, livestock, dump trucks, motorcycles and rickshaws jammed 8-wide at the stoplight, all waiting to fight for the 2 lanes on the other side of the intersection, once the light turns green. That is if the cross traffic decides to stop when their light turns red. Apparently, stopping at a red light, along with obeying any other traffic law in India, is optional. Again, the only requirement is that you blow your horn while you're violating the law. I really didn't know whether to laugh or to be scared for my life. I soon realized that being scared to death can actually be quite funny.

I haven't seen the entire world, but I think they should vote the whole of India as one of the 7 Wonders.

Seventeen inches of rain in one day?

Our 1AM approach into Mumbai airport found us at number 13 in line for landing, according to our German pilot friend. That was just what I wanted to hear after a nine hour flight sitting within close proximity to someone having gas that could only be compared to that of a Bolivian sulfur mine. Needless to say, our arrival was a bit delayed. We started a descent from 12,000 feet at around 500 feet per 20 minutes, or so I estimated, while circling the city at least eight times. Why are there 13 airplanes landing in Mumbai at one o’ clock in the morning?

As I walked down the jetway and through the terminal, my nostrils were blindsided by a different scent every 100 feet or so - everything from the smell of what I thought to be incense, to the stench of something actually quite indescribable, really. I also quickly learned to walk upwind of certain locals.

After waiting in a mile-long line through customs I finally got my bag and headed out to the street, hoping to find a ride to the hotel. As I passed through the exit doors I was abruptly met with the balmy 110% humidity, of which only a third-world country, having just had 17 inches of rainfall in a single day, could produce. Whoa. It’s no wonder they breed mosquitoes with customized Dengue fever DNA around this place. I also couldn’t help but notice at least 500 taxi and shuttle drivers in a mob standing on the sidewalk, leaving barely enough room to walk. Many of them were holding signs with people’s names on them. Presumably the names of persons they were to pick up. After finding a friendly man holding a sign that read “Mr. Rusty”, I made my way through a sea of cars to the vehicle that would be my E-ticket ride through the city and to the hotel. Complete vehicular chaos is the best way to describe a ride in this city. I quickly realized that anything goes while driving here, as long as you honk your horn while you’re doing it. No one told me to pack a helmet on this trip! I did notice while driving through the city that a person could do quite well here selling blue tarps, as most “dwellings” used them in place of a roof due to all of the rain. But then I remembered that when I applied for my Visa I signed a paper stating that I would not stay in the country and start a business. Oh well.

India News: Public beatings, monsoon sickness and bottled rainwater. Great.

Day 3 - Flight Leg III: Frankfurt, Germany to Mumbai, India – 7 July, 2007

With this flight leg I’m beginning to recognize the early stages of “cattle car” passenger loading (accompanied by a slight scent of cattle) that I fear awaits me to a greater degree along the trip ahead. Southwest Airlines has nothing on a 747 full of ill-scented folk

Reading the local newspaper during my flight, I note that Mumbai keeps a detailed record of monsoon-related illnesses and shares it with wary travelers such as myself. According to The Times of India newspaper, hospital admissions due to Malaria are at a total of 54 for the month, with 19 on Wednesday alone. On a more positive note, admissions due to Dengue fever are much lower. I can only hope that the pills I’m taking to prevent Malaria aren’t placebos, as part of some evil study group.

In other news, twenty-two year old Pooja Chauhan shocked the conservative city of Mumbai by traipsing around busy streets wearing only “inner-wear” to protest against her husband’s harassment for dowry. “The situation was so bad that later even my neighbors began beating me for no reason”, said Chauhan. I wonder if they let tourists join in on the beatings too. I’ll have to remember to check with the front desk at the hotel.

I’m not sure which is more disturbing to me, the fact that the shareholder of over 60% of Indian bottled water facilities stated in a news article that “One does not require much equipment to make bottled water”, or the announcement that just came from our pilot informing us that we are presently flying over Iran. So far I’ve seen no signs of surface-to-air missile contrails. Perhaps they think we’re Canadians. Everyone likes Canadians. Although the thought of taking Malaria placebos with bottled Indian rainwater now seems to overshadow the fear of missile attacks. Slightly.

How does one break a tooth eating melon, anyway?

Day 1 into 2 - Flight Leg II: San Francisco, California to Frankfurt, Germany – 5 July, 2007

A canceled flight, a four hour trip delay, scary German flight attendants and a broken tooth makes Rusty a happy traveler. Speaking of pain, I should mention the guy next to me who talked non-stop the entire trip; a computer programmer from San Francisco who was in the business of repairing cargo ships all over the world. Yes, you read that right. Stranger still was the fact that he seemed to know more about APUs than I do. I asked him if he would like to take my place at the India conferences (by the way, I believe those were the only words I spoke in the seemingly one-sided conversation during the flight). He politely declined before going into a diatribe of how nasty the country of India is. Should I be concerned that whenever I tell someone that I’m headed to India they get a look on their face like I just told them I’m on my way to the doctor to discuss the results of a malignant cancer biopsy? Such looks of sympathy is not a positive indicator as to what lies ahead.

I arrived in Frankfurt and noticed that everyone there speaks German.

Trusting the Captain's judgment and experience is critical to a successful flight

Day 1 - Flight Leg I: Phoenix, Arizona to San Francisco, California – 5 July, 2007

Other than the fact that my first flight was canceled, I had to fly backwards to go forward and I arrived at my destination 4 hours later than planned, the first leg on this pseudo world-tour could be considered an uneventful success. The only noteworthy excitement of the flight was that I was part of a group of rogue passengers who were scolded by an over-zealous male flight attendant for getting out of our seats while the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign was illuminated. We were accused, via public address, of “not trusting the captain’s judgment and experience”. Summon the Air Marshall! By the tone and flare of his voice he might as well have accused me of wearing a belt that didn’t match the color of my shoes; public humiliation with a touch of “3 snaps-up” pizazz. You go, girl!

Shall we begin?

For those of you unaware of the purpose of this blog, I was turned on to a suggestion by a co-worker to document my 12-day business journey around the world, which takes me to stops in California, Germany, India, Singapore and Tokyo. While I like to think of it as a way for friends and family to commiserate in my ordeal, I also view it as a journal entry which may or may not help dissuade me to accept this assignment the next time it comes around. It is also a great way for those who care to know where to collect my body, based on the location of my final post, should I, along the journey, reach my “Sad Demise”, as the Indians like to say.

Please note that the content of this “Travelblog" is in no way associated with the company which employs me and is responsible for the location of my whereabouts during this trip. Therefore, any references to general topics which could offend certain individuals and may include remarks regarding specific races, religions, smelly persons and just general nonsense, are of my own opinion and are not associated with the company that broke the proverbial champagne bottle on the bow to begin this journey.