A number of countries in the world, whether for administrative efficiency or otherwise, excise a part of the country that is the "capital district" - the US has District of Columbia (Washington DC), Australia has the Australian Capital Territory (Canberra), and India has the National Capital Territory of Delhi (New Delhi).
Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delhi#Civic_administration) tells us that, within the within the National Capital Territory of Delhi (NCT) lies the Delhi metropolitan area. The NCT has three local municipal corporations - Municipal Corporation of Delhi, the New Delhi Municipal Council and the Delhi Cantonment Board, with the capital of India, New Delhi, falling under the administration of the New Delhi Municipal Council. New Delhi was laid out to the south of the Old City which was constructed by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. However, New Delhi overlays the site of seven ancient cities. Delhi also has four major satellite cities which lie variously inside and outside of the National Capital Territory of Delhi - Gurgaon and Faridabad (in the state of Haryana) and Noida and Ghaziabad (in Uttar Pradesh).
Forgive the geography lesson, dear reader, but all this is by way of preface to the next lesson I was to learn about India and her multivariate way of operation.
I had left Singapore on the SQ flight looking forward with anticipation to returning to India, not as a neophyte foreigner, but as a seasoned traveller who would sail smoothly from the plane through the airport to the pre-paid taxi and on to Ghaziabad to the ISDSI conference digs. Hubris? Reasonable, experienced-based expectation? Whichever it was, I was to discover that there continues to be much to learn about India and her ways.
Having completed customs formalities and collected my luggage in reasonable time (a first!), I was confident that my expectations would be fulfilled (Why do you build me up, buttercup baby just to let me down, should have been the song going through my head).
As I came out of customs though, things looked different (or was that just my imagination?). Anyway, in addition to the prepaid taxi sign at the end of the hall (pointing out into the street on the right hand side) there were a series of counters promoting taxis of different varieties. A voice kept saying, just go outside and follow the same routine as last time, but I'm good at ignoring sensible advice and so I fronted the inside counters (and here the earlier geography lesson takes on its signficance).
The first counter I attended was labelled as the "Delhi City Police Taxi", where I was assured by the friendly faces that there were "no prepaid taxis outside sir, only here". Notwithstanding that I had been outside on my last trip only several weeks earlier, I would not have been surprised if if the outdoor service had been closed and shifted (this too, I thought, is part of the new and improved IGI airport service we had been waiting for). I certainly wasn't surprised when the upshot of our conversation was, "Oh no sir, our taxis are within New Delhi city only sir. You will need to see the man over there", pointing to the next counter. I quickly ascertained from the next counter that his taxis were only for the Delhi NCT and I needed to speak to the man attending the counter beside him.
Under the sign of "Radio Taxi" (which, it happens didn't have any radios in them, except perhaps for the purpose of listening to the latest Bollywood hits), resided a rather diffident character on a mobile phone to whoever, who was not going to be interrupted by anything as lowly as a commercial transaction. Ok, this time, right place, but the price! Stifling my outrage at the sum (INR780 all of about $AUD22 for a 40 km ride), I paid and proceeded to the appointed location to find the allotted taxi number not there. Returning to our diffident chappie, his response is to change the taxi number, but at this point I decided I wanted my money back and I would check the veracity of the Delhi Police taxi representatives' claim about the absence of prepaid taxis on the other side.
Aha! The Prepaid Taxi service is alive and well and living in its same spot as last time - I'm back on track! But I need to go to the second window because I want to go interstate. The man at the second counter, who was on my side of the counter, with no board listing of prices as for the Delhi NCT counter, told me in what was "compound fracture" version of broken English that the fare was INR950 "because we are a cooperative, with state taxes and other burdens good sir". I don't want the gora price, says I, tell me what the local price is. But the man would not be dissuaded.
I was getting nowhere making myself understood in very difficult circumstances. Deciding that the price was part of the "white man's burden" (how easily the extra $AUD5 had produced a sense of umbrage - I must have learned something about the value of a rupee, remembering my experience at the Delhi domestic terminal?) and failing to make any headway on reducing the figure, I returned dejectedly to the Radio Taxi man and we completed the transaction once again.
Oh well, thinks me, out to the taxi and then it's Ghaziabad ... but wait, ... there's more! Ghaziabad? - OK, but IMT? Harpur Road? Raj Nagpur? (I had forgotten that taxi drivers actually knowing where to go is an optional extra here). The guy with my driver knew where to go, but he wasn't my driver (ain't that always the way?). Still, with the benefit of India's own special brand of GPS (a combination of a series of frantic phone calls to friends and family and the good old "stop and ask the locals") we managed to get to IMT with a minimum of fuss and with me having learned another lesson about the Indian "system".
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Time after Time
Happy New Year dear reader!
I had thought to use this blog to explore how to end and begin a year and, indeed, that is how it unfolded, as I flew from Sydney to Singapore on my way to Delhi for the ISDSI conference, overnighting here in Singapore for New Year's Eve on the way through.
Resigned to a quiet night at the hotel for New Year's Eve, I'd contacted my good friend Richard Ng to see if we might meet today for coffee and a "catch up" before I headed off to Delhi, but he wouldn't hear of it. Instead, he invited me to his home to join his family for their New Year party celebrations, and was good to his word, picking me up at the hotel about 20 minutes after I had checked in (the M Singapore). What a thoroughly enjoyable evening! Welcomed by Richard, Miriam and the whole family, we ate barbequed sea food, duck, steak and a veritable cornucopia of yummies, as Richard worked hard to ensure that I left Singapore heavier than when I arrived (which I suspect, dear reader, I will be doing). My special thanks to Richard and Miriam for a great way to end the year - with the warmth and comfort of being surrounded by "family" and friends, and, at 9.10pm Singapore time, I was able to ring Kerry at work in Sydney and wish her a happy New Year, so, while we were separated geographically and in time, there was still some sense of seeing in the New Year together.
I had also had the pleasure of meeting Richard's friends Bernd and Doris Grammer - Bernd works with Richard at GE and Doris is VP-AP for Bosch. We shared great conversation about a broad range of topics, including whether there was "too much" democracy in India vis a vis China and Singapore (and whether the same was true of Germany as its seeks to incorporate/reconcile East and West, especially in light of the imminent entry of Poland and other Eastern European countries into the EU). Bernd and Doris planned to go to Mt Faber (pronounced Farber in the German tradition) for the New Year's countdown and fireworks and, given its proximity to the hotel (and the fact that Bernd and Doris were great company anyway), I happily agreed to join them. At once we would enjoy a view of the fireworks in good company, and relieve Richard of the burden of getting me back to the hotel at some stage in the early morning.
However, the best laid plans of mice and men are oft tae gang awry, as Robert Burns once wrote. We tried a number of different ways to get to the top of Mt Faber, one leading to a dead end and the other to police with flashing batons turning us away. In the absence of "Plan B", we finished up back at the M, hoping to find a vantage point there from which we could watch the fireworks. Again, no luck - the helpful staff pointed us in the direction of a taxi to another hotel which would provide the view we sought, but it was just on midnight by this stage and the 7 minute drive would just about take care of any chance of viewing a moment of the fireworks.
We were just about to part company, thinking "well that's that", when I suggested a coffee before we went our separate ways. Bernd was ready to head off, but Doris was up for coffee, so we proceeded to the hotel cafe, which had just closed! While we were cursing our luck yet again, the great guys at the cafe, who were getting ready to go on to party upstairs, invited us to join them in a drink - and what a drink it was! About an hour later, after chats and laughs with the cafe manager and his colleagues, we'd managed to demolish just over a bottle of Mumm champagne and to toast a great, albeit unexpected, beginning to 2008.
So there you have it, dear reader, an end to one year that was characterised by a mix of great family fun, on the one hand, and the disappointment missing the fireworks on the other, and a beginning to the new year that was a totally unscripted, but wonderfully upbeat experience. At this point, Doris, Bernd and I parted company looking forward to the rest of what 2008 will bring with great relish.
I had thought to use this blog to explore how to end and begin a year and, indeed, that is how it unfolded, as I flew from Sydney to Singapore on my way to Delhi for the ISDSI conference, overnighting here in Singapore for New Year's Eve on the way through.
Resigned to a quiet night at the hotel for New Year's Eve, I'd contacted my good friend Richard Ng to see if we might meet today for coffee and a "catch up" before I headed off to Delhi, but he wouldn't hear of it. Instead, he invited me to his home to join his family for their New Year party celebrations, and was good to his word, picking me up at the hotel about 20 minutes after I had checked in (the M Singapore). What a thoroughly enjoyable evening! Welcomed by Richard, Miriam and the whole family, we ate barbequed sea food, duck, steak and a veritable cornucopia of yummies, as Richard worked hard to ensure that I left Singapore heavier than when I arrived (which I suspect, dear reader, I will be doing). My special thanks to Richard and Miriam for a great way to end the year - with the warmth and comfort of being surrounded by "family" and friends, and, at 9.10pm Singapore time, I was able to ring Kerry at work in Sydney and wish her a happy New Year, so, while we were separated geographically and in time, there was still some sense of seeing in the New Year together.
I had also had the pleasure of meeting Richard's friends Bernd and Doris Grammer - Bernd works with Richard at GE and Doris is VP-AP for Bosch. We shared great conversation about a broad range of topics, including whether there was "too much" democracy in India vis a vis China and Singapore (and whether the same was true of Germany as its seeks to incorporate/reconcile East and West, especially in light of the imminent entry of Poland and other Eastern European countries into the EU). Bernd and Doris planned to go to Mt Faber (pronounced Farber in the German tradition) for the New Year's countdown and fireworks and, given its proximity to the hotel (and the fact that Bernd and Doris were great company anyway), I happily agreed to join them. At once we would enjoy a view of the fireworks in good company, and relieve Richard of the burden of getting me back to the hotel at some stage in the early morning.
However, the best laid plans of mice and men are oft tae gang awry, as Robert Burns once wrote. We tried a number of different ways to get to the top of Mt Faber, one leading to a dead end and the other to police with flashing batons turning us away. In the absence of "Plan B", we finished up back at the M, hoping to find a vantage point there from which we could watch the fireworks. Again, no luck - the helpful staff pointed us in the direction of a taxi to another hotel which would provide the view we sought, but it was just on midnight by this stage and the 7 minute drive would just about take care of any chance of viewing a moment of the fireworks.
We were just about to part company, thinking "well that's that", when I suggested a coffee before we went our separate ways. Bernd was ready to head off, but Doris was up for coffee, so we proceeded to the hotel cafe, which had just closed! While we were cursing our luck yet again, the great guys at the cafe, who were getting ready to go on to party upstairs, invited us to join them in a drink - and what a drink it was! About an hour later, after chats and laughs with the cafe manager and his colleagues, we'd managed to demolish just over a bottle of Mumm champagne and to toast a great, albeit unexpected, beginning to 2008.
So there you have it, dear reader, an end to one year that was characterised by a mix of great family fun, on the one hand, and the disappointment missing the fireworks on the other, and a beginning to the new year that was a totally unscripted, but wonderfully upbeat experience. At this point, Doris, Bernd and I parted company looking forward to the rest of what 2008 will bring with great relish.
Friday, December 28, 2007
it's been a long time, now I'm coming back home (Wait)
The last week has seen me in the bosom of my family, dear reader, although the time has flown by so quickly, I really do wonder where it's gone. Just before I left Kochi and in the time just after I arrived in Sydney, I had had communications with the good folks I can now call my erstwhile employers and we agreed that we could call my assignment with KiBS successfully completed.
I had been involved with the School for six months - four of them in India as you have been reading - and found it a rich learning experience, but I don't know working on one continent while my family is living on another very well. Having been back in Sydney briefly in early December, and notwithstanding the experiences of St Vinnies and so on, I realised how much I had missed Kerry, Fiona, and yes, even Luke! Returning to Kochi via Delhi reinforced what the next six months would be like and I decided that, in the best interests of everyone, it was time to say au revoir to India for the time being.
That being said, I think I can look back over the last six months with some pride. The idea of "successfully completing my assignment in India" is borne out by my having established and gained FIBAA (Austrian government) accreditation for the School's MBA program (the program will be taught in conjunction with the Management Centre Innsbruck, of the University of Applied Sciences in Innsbruck); my having mapped out the teaching program for the inaugural intake of students in September, 2008; my having developed and produced the School's 2008 prospectus; and my having had key inputs into the design of the KiBS teaching facilities.
I look forward to fresh, new challenges in 2008. In the meantime, this week is a time for some reflection (and a juxtaposing of some of the photos that I've taken over my time in Kochi and surrounds to look at where we were and where we got to across professional and domestic fronts. It's also a time for me to deal with an unwanted addition to my Christmas chores.
Unfortunately, Santa brought me one thing extra that I hadn’t anticipated – a “fried” hard disk, that wasn’t fully backed up. I’m in the embarrassing situation of having to confess to my friends, colleagues and wider professional network that I’ve lost all my emails for the past 5 months (just as well I keep my contacts backed up on a different system).
In the circumstances, I've had to ask them if they can check whether we have any outstanding email correspondence, and they’re expecting an answer from me on a particular matter. I find myself having to work through any outstanding matters methodically but at some pace in order to clear the decks for 2008.
Please don’t feel embarrassed about having a chuckle at my expense, dear reader – I’ve already done that (if somewhat hysterically). Anyway, I suppose it does allow me to enter 2008 with something of a clean slate.
I had been involved with the School for six months - four of them in India as you have been reading - and found it a rich learning experience, but I don't know working on one continent while my family is living on another very well. Having been back in Sydney briefly in early December, and notwithstanding the experiences of St Vinnies and so on, I realised how much I had missed Kerry, Fiona, and yes, even Luke! Returning to Kochi via Delhi reinforced what the next six months would be like and I decided that, in the best interests of everyone, it was time to say au revoir to India for the time being.
That being said, I think I can look back over the last six months with some pride. The idea of "successfully completing my assignment in India" is borne out by my having established and gained FIBAA (Austrian government) accreditation for the School's MBA program (the program will be taught in conjunction with the Management Centre Innsbruck, of the University of Applied Sciences in Innsbruck); my having mapped out the teaching program for the inaugural intake of students in September, 2008; my having developed and produced the School's 2008 prospectus; and my having had key inputs into the design of the KiBS teaching facilities.
I look forward to fresh, new challenges in 2008. In the meantime, this week is a time for some reflection (and a juxtaposing of some of the photos that I've taken over my time in Kochi and surrounds to look at where we were and where we got to across professional and domestic fronts. It's also a time for me to deal with an unwanted addition to my Christmas chores.
Unfortunately, Santa brought me one thing extra that I hadn’t anticipated – a “fried” hard disk, that wasn’t fully backed up. I’m in the embarrassing situation of having to confess to my friends, colleagues and wider professional network that I’ve lost all my emails for the past 5 months (just as well I keep my contacts backed up on a different system).
In the circumstances, I've had to ask them if they can check whether we have any outstanding email correspondence, and they’re expecting an answer from me on a particular matter. I find myself having to work through any outstanding matters methodically but at some pace in order to clear the decks for 2008.
Please don’t feel embarrassed about having a chuckle at my expense, dear reader – I’ve already done that (if somewhat hysterically). Anyway, I suppose it does allow me to enter 2008 with something of a clean slate.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Trains and boats and planes - postscript
You can't take anything for granted in India, eh dear reader?
A couple of points as a postscript to my T 'n' b 'n' p blog.
First, you'll be utterly unsurprised to know that the landing in Delhi was delayed and the subsequent flight to Singpaore didn't take off for an hour after schedule (this is not such a bad thing as it's one less hour to spend sitting round Changi waiting for the Sydney connection).
What I hadn't appreciated is that the Indira Gandhi International Airport (IGI) domestic terminal in Delhi is 12 kilometres from the International terminal and there is no form of transport between the two except for the taxi service. This was again a "telling" experience as I landed outside to discover there is indeed no shuttle and taxi is the only option. The "friendly" tout outside the terminal said he could get me to IGI international for INR700, noting that the charge inside was INR750 and he could save me INR50. I knew that was outrageously overpriced and offered INR400, to which he turned up his nose. I proceeded back inside the domestic terminal and purchased a prepaid taxi voucher for INR140! This included payment for transport of two bags.
I don't resile from any of my comments about JAA's anal approach to its reservations system but I do offer a big bouquet to the cabin staff on SQ408 from Delhi to Singaporte - they were great! I even made a point of advising the Cabin Services Manager - I hope I get some of those folks again on another Singapore Airlines flight.
Off to find coffee and croissant now as I get closer to Sydney and home.
A couple of points as a postscript to my T 'n' b 'n' p blog.
First, you'll be utterly unsurprised to know that the landing in Delhi was delayed and the subsequent flight to Singpaore didn't take off for an hour after schedule (this is not such a bad thing as it's one less hour to spend sitting round Changi waiting for the Sydney connection).
What I hadn't appreciated is that the Indira Gandhi International Airport (IGI) domestic terminal in Delhi is 12 kilometres from the International terminal and there is no form of transport between the two except for the taxi service. This was again a "telling" experience as I landed outside to discover there is indeed no shuttle and taxi is the only option. The "friendly" tout outside the terminal said he could get me to IGI international for INR700, noting that the charge inside was INR750 and he could save me INR50. I knew that was outrageously overpriced and offered INR400, to which he turned up his nose. I proceeded back inside the domestic terminal and purchased a prepaid taxi voucher for INR140! This included payment for transport of two bags.
I don't resile from any of my comments about JAA's anal approach to its reservations system but I do offer a big bouquet to the cabin staff on SQ408 from Delhi to Singaporte - they were great! I even made a point of advising the Cabin Services Manager - I hope I get some of those folks again on another Singapore Airlines flight.
Off to find coffee and croissant now as I get closer to Sydney and home.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Trains and Boats and Planes
Dear reader, the title of the blog has nothing to do with the first two modes of transportation and all to do with the last - I just didn't want to waste the song title (see yesterday's blog for explanation).
The purpose of this blog is to warn you against having anything to do with Singapore Airlines if your itinerary is subject to change or in any way out of the ordinary!
Some time ago, I had booked my flight home to Sydney for Christmas to depart from Delhi (I had anticipated being there for a series of promotional sessions on behalf of KiBS following the APROS conference, but events overtook these plans and I finished up in Patna and then Kochi instead). For the last week or more, my travel agent in Sydney has been struggling manfully to try and get my itinerary changed from Delhi-Singapore to Kochi-Singapore so that I can take a much later, more direct flight to Singapore and reduce the elapsed travelling time by about 9 hours. But would Singapore Airlines (SA) make that change? Nooooo. As far as SA was concerned it had to reticket the whole itinerary and not just the India-Singapore section, and had to wait for a cancellation before being able to re-ticket the Singapore-Sydney section.
Yes, dear reader, you've already spotted the fatal flaw in SA's position haven't you - I would be that cancellation (coz I'm already on the plane!) and they could simply issue the new tickets! But no again folks, that's too logical. So each day I would play Julius II to Ian's (my travel agent's) Michaelangelo Bonarotti, asking (eventually pleading) "When will it be at an end" and hearing "When it is finished" in reply. I had got to the stage yesterday afternoon (remember there's a 5 and 1/2 hour time difference between Kochi and Sydney to take into account as well) when I decided with one of Ian's offsiders that the opening was looking highly unlikely and so I proceeded to confirm my Kochi-Delhi flight and check-in on the Singapore flight from Delhi (you have to do that so that you don't get crap seats like the ones I got on the way to Delhi from Sydney earlier this month because the SA computers wouldn't play nice with me).
I had resigned myself to the extended travel itinerary until I saw my emails this morning (I have been without 'out of office' email connection for the last 24 hours because Tata Indicom insisted on evaluating our claim for a replacement USB modem and I didn't get back online until last night at 9.00pm, only to find the Tata PCMCIA we purchased while we wait a week for the replacement Tata USB modem that the folks at Tata finally decided was warranted). Ian had written to say that it had all been sorted finally - someone else had dropped out, and I could get the Kochi-Singapore connection. All I needed to to was to pop down to the SA office in Kochi and get them to reissue the ticket.
This brings me to the following excerpt of an email that I've not long sent to Ian in Sydney, bless his cotton socks:
"Dear Ian,
Thanks for your emails regarding your success in changing the booking - well done! What the folks at JAA (Just Another Airline, my new name for SA) neglected to tell you is that today in Kochi is a public holiday (for a secular state, the Indians do very well in grabbing every possible opportunity to claim the religious holidays (this one's a Muslim holiday) as their own). Accordingly, the JAA and Silk (JAAOA - Just Another Airline's Other Airline) offices here in Kochi are closed and I am unable to pop down to the offices and get things fixed."
So today will be another day "lost in India" as I head out to Kochi International Airport for a 2.10pm flight that takes me north to Delhi via Hyderabad, arriving at 5.30pm, so that I can wait for the 9.00pm flight to Singapore, arriving at 4.55am, so that I can wait for the 9,40am flight from Singapore to Sydney, arriving at 8.15pm, then home to the bosom of my family.
What I added to my email to Ian, and I share now with you gentle reader, are the following wishes:
I trust that you experience the peace and joy of this Christmas season, and that 2008 brings you everything that you would wish for yourself.
The purpose of this blog is to warn you against having anything to do with Singapore Airlines if your itinerary is subject to change or in any way out of the ordinary!
Some time ago, I had booked my flight home to Sydney for Christmas to depart from Delhi (I had anticipated being there for a series of promotional sessions on behalf of KiBS following the APROS conference, but events overtook these plans and I finished up in Patna and then Kochi instead). For the last week or more, my travel agent in Sydney has been struggling manfully to try and get my itinerary changed from Delhi-Singapore to Kochi-Singapore so that I can take a much later, more direct flight to Singapore and reduce the elapsed travelling time by about 9 hours. But would Singapore Airlines (SA) make that change? Nooooo. As far as SA was concerned it had to reticket the whole itinerary and not just the India-Singapore section, and had to wait for a cancellation before being able to re-ticket the Singapore-Sydney section.
Yes, dear reader, you've already spotted the fatal flaw in SA's position haven't you - I would be that cancellation (coz I'm already on the plane!) and they could simply issue the new tickets! But no again folks, that's too logical. So each day I would play Julius II to Ian's (my travel agent's) Michaelangelo Bonarotti, asking (eventually pleading) "When will it be at an end" and hearing "When it is finished" in reply. I had got to the stage yesterday afternoon (remember there's a 5 and 1/2 hour time difference between Kochi and Sydney to take into account as well) when I decided with one of Ian's offsiders that the opening was looking highly unlikely and so I proceeded to confirm my Kochi-Delhi flight and check-in on the Singapore flight from Delhi (you have to do that so that you don't get crap seats like the ones I got on the way to Delhi from Sydney earlier this month because the SA computers wouldn't play nice with me).
I had resigned myself to the extended travel itinerary until I saw my emails this morning (I have been without 'out of office' email connection for the last 24 hours because Tata Indicom insisted on evaluating our claim for a replacement USB modem and I didn't get back online until last night at 9.00pm, only to find the Tata PCMCIA we purchased while we wait a week for the replacement Tata USB modem that the folks at Tata finally decided was warranted). Ian had written to say that it had all been sorted finally - someone else had dropped out, and I could get the Kochi-Singapore connection. All I needed to to was to pop down to the SA office in Kochi and get them to reissue the ticket.
This brings me to the following excerpt of an email that I've not long sent to Ian in Sydney, bless his cotton socks:
"Dear Ian,
Thanks for your emails regarding your success in changing the booking - well done! What the folks at JAA (Just Another Airline, my new name for SA) neglected to tell you is that today in Kochi is a public holiday (for a secular state, the Indians do very well in grabbing every possible opportunity to claim the religious holidays (this one's a Muslim holiday) as their own). Accordingly, the JAA and Silk (JAAOA - Just Another Airline's Other Airline) offices here in Kochi are closed and I am unable to pop down to the offices and get things fixed."
So today will be another day "lost in India" as I head out to Kochi International Airport for a 2.10pm flight that takes me north to Delhi via Hyderabad, arriving at 5.30pm, so that I can wait for the 9.00pm flight to Singapore, arriving at 4.55am, so that I can wait for the 9,40am flight from Singapore to Sydney, arriving at 8.15pm, then home to the bosom of my family.
What I added to my email to Ian, and I share now with you gentle reader, are the following wishes:
I trust that you experience the peace and joy of this Christmas season, and that 2008 brings you everything that you would wish for yourself.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Ride, Ride My Rickshaw (with apologies to the Moody Blues)
I was going to call this blog "Trains and Boats and Planes" after the Billy J Kramer hit of the 60s, or "Trains, Planes and Automobiles" after the John Candy movie of the same name, dear reader, to cover a variety of topics (or is that a multitude of sins?). Anyway, after nearly being "cleaned up" on three separate occasions by two different trucks and a bus just now, while travelling in an autorickshaw back to the School from my visit to the bank , however, I think the Moody Blues variation is much more apropos. I'll get to that part of the story a little later.
As you might recall, my trip from Patna to Kochi, via Delhi and Bangalore, was something of an elongated one. At one point, having exhausted my reading materials, I was moved to even read the ads appearing on the "flight map" page of the TV (one neat thing about the landing at Bangalore was that the whole thing could be viewed on the screen via a camera in the nose of the plane - fascinating for one such as me not bothered by the flying experience, but a whole new way of being scared witless by those so disposed). If I had any doubt that India is a "man's" country, that doubt was dispelled by one of Kingfisher's ads for its own services:
"Fly Kingfisher this season of good times", it said, "Because the queen of your heart deserves to feel like a king". Apart from the deep-seated gender issues that such a cross over might generate, since when did a queen need to feel like a king to be better off? No, dear reader, this is not just me being pedantic, or even politically correct. I see this as a statement reflecting the "real" understanding of the place of men and women in India, at least among the ad team that came up with this brilliant line as they sought to appeal to the typical fliers who would be viewing the ad. Or is it just me?
The last paragraph covers the "planes" part of the original titles and there are no trains or boats to speak of (very fortunately for me in regard to the trains as far as Subho is concerned), but there are things to say about the auto(mobiles) and to share a story about one person who has a special place in my experience of India - Jayaraj, the auto-rickshaw driver, who picks me up each morning to take me to the office and sometimes drives me back to the apartment at night.
This photo shows us standing beside Jayaraj's auto this morning just outside the Suryakanthi Apartments that have been my home for these past months, just before we headed to the KiBS offices. Jayaraj is very proud of his auto and treats it with as much parental as proprietorial concern, and why wouldn't he? He is on the road every morning at 5.15am and so has been driving around for about 4 hours before he picks me up at 9.00am. After dropping me off, he heads out to another fare or two before he is required at the bicycle shop at 10.00am, where he stays until 8.00pm at night. It is at 8.00pm that he comes to pick me up on the return journey to the apartment and the beginning of another 3 hour stint in the auto before he arrives at home. This is his routine, day in day out, as he seeks to provide for his family and to repay the loan for the new apartment that he is in the process of purchasing.
A sense of the "parental" concern for his auto is given by his answer to my enquiry about sub-leasing the auto during the day while he is at the bike shop, and so maximising the return on that investment: "No, maybe damage". He has had the auto for about 11 months now and in all that time on Kochi's crazy roads, he has had only one minor bingle which produced a broken indicator light and a bend in one of the panel joints (about which he was most distressed as he recounted the story). He couldn't face the thought of any damage to his auto, especially if it was the result of someone else driving.
Along the way, Jayaraj has proved to be the most reliable thing about India - unless there is a "block" (traffic jam") he is punctual to a fault (sometimes even being early and catching me just out of the shower in a demonstration of my own tardiness), he is careful on the road and a pleasant conversationalist to boot. From time to time he passes his friends in the auto business and there is always a friendly wave and a smile to punctuate the encounter.
This stands in stark contrast to the two auto rickshaw rides that Raju and I had on our way to and from the State Bank of India Broadway branch, where the driving was "variable" to say the least and it looked like everyone on the road had already enjoyed too much Christmas "cheer". The trip to the bank was mainly sedate, with the "spurts" restricted to sliding into defined openings in the congestion, but on the way back, it became a real ducking and weaving contest as we and the other traffic, large and small, played the familiar game of "chicken", as we wandered on both sides of the road to get ahead (or eventually to lose one?). At one stage, I thought we were going to be the vehicle in the "auto knocks down pedestrian" as our auto brushed a lady crossing near MG Road (in fairness to the driver, she was doing the "you can't hit me coz I'm not looking at you" approach to crossing, and then she was complaining to the folks who had already crossed about the behaviour of the auto driver!). And hence, dear reader, the shift to the "Ride, Ride My Rickshaw" title.
As you might recall, my trip from Patna to Kochi, via Delhi and Bangalore, was something of an elongated one. At one point, having exhausted my reading materials, I was moved to even read the ads appearing on the "flight map" page of the TV (one neat thing about the landing at Bangalore was that the whole thing could be viewed on the screen via a camera in the nose of the plane - fascinating for one such as me not bothered by the flying experience, but a whole new way of being scared witless by those so disposed). If I had any doubt that India is a "man's" country, that doubt was dispelled by one of Kingfisher's ads for its own services:
"Fly Kingfisher this season of good times", it said, "Because the queen of your heart deserves to feel like a king". Apart from the deep-seated gender issues that such a cross over might generate, since when did a queen need to feel like a king to be better off? No, dear reader, this is not just me being pedantic, or even politically correct. I see this as a statement reflecting the "real" understanding of the place of men and women in India, at least among the ad team that came up with this brilliant line as they sought to appeal to the typical fliers who would be viewing the ad. Or is it just me?
The last paragraph covers the "planes" part of the original titles and there are no trains or boats to speak of (very fortunately for me in regard to the trains as far as Subho is concerned), but there are things to say about the auto(mobiles) and to share a story about one person who has a special place in my experience of India - Jayaraj, the auto-rickshaw driver, who picks me up each morning to take me to the office and sometimes drives me back to the apartment at night.
This photo shows us standing beside Jayaraj's auto this morning just outside the Suryakanthi Apartments that have been my home for these past months, just before we headed to the KiBS offices. Jayaraj is very proud of his auto and treats it with as much parental as proprietorial concern, and why wouldn't he? He is on the road every morning at 5.15am and so has been driving around for about 4 hours before he picks me up at 9.00am. After dropping me off, he heads out to another fare or two before he is required at the bicycle shop at 10.00am, where he stays until 8.00pm at night. It is at 8.00pm that he comes to pick me up on the return journey to the apartment and the beginning of another 3 hour stint in the auto before he arrives at home. This is his routine, day in day out, as he seeks to provide for his family and to repay the loan for the new apartment that he is in the process of purchasing.A sense of the "parental" concern for his auto is given by his answer to my enquiry about sub-leasing the auto during the day while he is at the bike shop, and so maximising the return on that investment: "No, maybe damage". He has had the auto for about 11 months now and in all that time on Kochi's crazy roads, he has had only one minor bingle which produced a broken indicator light and a bend in one of the panel joints (about which he was most distressed as he recounted the story). He couldn't face the thought of any damage to his auto, especially if it was the result of someone else driving.
Along the way, Jayaraj has proved to be the most reliable thing about India - unless there is a "block" (traffic jam") he is punctual to a fault (sometimes even being early and catching me just out of the shower in a demonstration of my own tardiness), he is careful on the road and a pleasant conversationalist to boot. From time to time he passes his friends in the auto business and there is always a friendly wave and a smile to punctuate the encounter.
This stands in stark contrast to the two auto rickshaw rides that Raju and I had on our way to and from the State Bank of India Broadway branch, where the driving was "variable" to say the least and it looked like everyone on the road had already enjoyed too much Christmas "cheer". The trip to the bank was mainly sedate, with the "spurts" restricted to sliding into defined openings in the congestion, but on the way back, it became a real ducking and weaving contest as we and the other traffic, large and small, played the familiar game of "chicken", as we wandered on both sides of the road to get ahead (or eventually to lose one?). At one stage, I thought we were going to be the vehicle in the "auto knocks down pedestrian" as our auto brushed a lady crossing near MG Road (in fairness to the driver, she was doing the "you can't hit me coz I'm not looking at you" approach to crossing, and then she was complaining to the folks who had already crossed about the behaviour of the auto driver!). And hence, dear reader, the shift to the "Ride, Ride My Rickshaw" title.
Monday, December 17, 2007
No lazy Sunday afternoon for me
Every day in India is a rich experience, and yesterday afternoon after I had signed off on my “purple is a fruit” blog was no exception. Ajith had kindly organised me on the Kingfishers flights via e-ticket (which, of course, is supposed be paperless, but you can’t get into an Indian airport terminal without a “ticket”. You might remember, dear reader, my experience in Mumbai back in August when Jay and I had to fight to get me into the international terminal to leave India because I didn’t have a “ticket”; just a piece of paper with the details on it, but it kind of defeats the purpose of the “e”, doesn’t it?)
Anyway, at my request, Ajith had sent an email to the Centaur so that the “ticket” could be printed out and I could get into the terminal. He had not accounted for the woman who had taken his call the night before to confirm that the email had been received and that a copy of the contents would be printed out and passed to me not bothering to actually print out the email. When I came to check out then, and asked for my email …. Ta da! … nothing had been done. The circus began then when the banquet manager led me down a corridor to a room where the “secret computing business” took place and proceeded to try and log in to a Gmail account with a vsnl.com domain email address. All the while the bell “boy” (a nice guy of about 50 years) was haranguing me about the need to get to the airport.
On the basis it was clear the banquet manager had no clue, I simply gave up and walked out, hoping that I would be able to do something at the airport before we passed into the terminal. I was assuming I would be at the right terminal sooner rather than later but this too was a misapprehension. Kingfisher flies out of terminal 1A at Delhi but the taxi driver took me to 1B, insisting that I was in the right place and then looking askance when I refused to give him a tip for the bags I had. It was just as well I hadn’t tipped him because that would have added salt to the wound of his deliberately taking me to the wrong terminal!
I had noticed the road signs and was surprised when we ended up at 1B – on the other hand, I’ve also learned not to take much notice of signs here so I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d arrived at the right place. It was only after I’d walked for 15 minutes over to Terminal 1A, past heavy traffic flowing into and out of Terminal 1A, I realised that he’d dropped me off at 1B because he didn’t want to negotiate the 1A traffic! Insult was added to injury while the Kingfisher front counter lass gently berated me for being late (as if I had chosen to be so) then encouraged me to “rush” into the terminal to get checked in (at least she gave me my “ticket”, duly presented to the CISF officer at the door). Inside I was given another chiding for my tardiness, along with my boarding passes in crappy seats for Delhi-Bangalore then Bangalore-Kochi – at least I was getting closer to my objective. Well at least in terms of distance – we were delayed on the ground by ¾ of an hour before took off and so the 1 hour turnaround at Bangalore had now been reduced to 15 minutes.
With a sense of the most simple solution (forgetting the 300 OHS regulations that would have been broken if we’d been in Australia, the US or the UK), when we got to Bangalore we were “de-planed” and kept waiting on the tarmac while our bags were unloaded and the 10 or so of us who were making the Kochi connecting flight were shuffled across the tarmac to the waiting turboprop that was going to take us to Kochi (again an hour late, given “the late arrival of an incoming aircraft”). The ever reliable Ajith was there to pick me up and take me, via a masala dosa at the Dawarka restaurant, back to the apartment, where I unpacked bags, packed the washing machine and packed myself off to bed. So there it is, another adventure filled day here in India, and no lazy Sunday afternoon for this little black duck.
Anyway, at my request, Ajith had sent an email to the Centaur so that the “ticket” could be printed out and I could get into the terminal. He had not accounted for the woman who had taken his call the night before to confirm that the email had been received and that a copy of the contents would be printed out and passed to me not bothering to actually print out the email. When I came to check out then, and asked for my email …. Ta da! … nothing had been done. The circus began then when the banquet manager led me down a corridor to a room where the “secret computing business” took place and proceeded to try and log in to a Gmail account with a vsnl.com domain email address. All the while the bell “boy” (a nice guy of about 50 years) was haranguing me about the need to get to the airport.
On the basis it was clear the banquet manager had no clue, I simply gave up and walked out, hoping that I would be able to do something at the airport before we passed into the terminal. I was assuming I would be at the right terminal sooner rather than later but this too was a misapprehension. Kingfisher flies out of terminal 1A at Delhi but the taxi driver took me to 1B, insisting that I was in the right place and then looking askance when I refused to give him a tip for the bags I had. It was just as well I hadn’t tipped him because that would have added salt to the wound of his deliberately taking me to the wrong terminal!
I had noticed the road signs and was surprised when we ended up at 1B – on the other hand, I’ve also learned not to take much notice of signs here so I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d arrived at the right place. It was only after I’d walked for 15 minutes over to Terminal 1A, past heavy traffic flowing into and out of Terminal 1A, I realised that he’d dropped me off at 1B because he didn’t want to negotiate the 1A traffic! Insult was added to injury while the Kingfisher front counter lass gently berated me for being late (as if I had chosen to be so) then encouraged me to “rush” into the terminal to get checked in (at least she gave me my “ticket”, duly presented to the CISF officer at the door). Inside I was given another chiding for my tardiness, along with my boarding passes in crappy seats for Delhi-Bangalore then Bangalore-Kochi – at least I was getting closer to my objective. Well at least in terms of distance – we were delayed on the ground by ¾ of an hour before took off and so the 1 hour turnaround at Bangalore had now been reduced to 15 minutes.
With a sense of the most simple solution (forgetting the 300 OHS regulations that would have been broken if we’d been in Australia, the US or the UK), when we got to Bangalore we were “de-planed” and kept waiting on the tarmac while our bags were unloaded and the 10 or so of us who were making the Kochi connecting flight were shuffled across the tarmac to the waiting turboprop that was going to take us to Kochi (again an hour late, given “the late arrival of an incoming aircraft”). The ever reliable Ajith was there to pick me up and take me, via a masala dosa at the Dawarka restaurant, back to the apartment, where I unpacked bags, packed the washing machine and packed myself off to bed. So there it is, another adventure filled day here in India, and no lazy Sunday afternoon for this little black duck.
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