The Vagaries of Indian Travel

I knew the day before Indian Independence Day was probably not a good day to go anywhere when they decided to close our whole office an hour and a half early because of traffic caused by extra border checks. Then, to top it off, the monsoon rain that has been noticeably missing from Delhi skies decided to arrive with a vengance. By the time we left the office at 4pm, the water was lapping over the curbs and creeping toward the lobby of our building. Only the fearless squeegee boys beating it back prevented our building from becoming like a canal home in Venice.

Austin and I made a run for the cab, hoping that Devindar would be able to pull it up to the curb, but no dice. Wearing sandals, and with Mom's warnings about leptospirosis fresh in my head, I very quickly realized that I had no choice but to shuck off my shoes and wade through it all to the car. Once we were safely ensconced in the cab, it took us more than 45 minutes to creep our way around the corner and one exit down the freeway to Essel Towers. We had already decided that to get to the airport for our 8:40pm flight to Hyderabad, we should leave the house at 5:40 - that's right, three hours in advance, when the airport is maybe a 20 minute drive away. By the time we had packed up, grabbed a snack and reassembled at the curb, the water in Essel itself was more than a foot deep. We surfed Lake Essel successfully and wormed our way into the solid jam of traffic outside on MG road.

All in all, it took us more than two hours just to reach the offramp for Indira Ghandi International. As we're sitting at a standstill with exactly one hour until our flight and 3 km of standing traffic in front of us, Devindar suggested that we make a run for it, so that's what we did. Devindar hoisted my wheelie on his back, Austin and I grabbed our backpacks and bags, and we hoofed our way through mud puddles and traffic, about two thirds of the way to the airport, before hailing an incoming cab and chumming a ride the rest of the way. And...we made it! Devindar is, as always, my personal hero. Poor guy, it's his birthday and he's puddle-jumping with my overstuffed suitcase on his back, and all with a smile on his face. Austin and I washed our feet in the bathrooms and were 'Flying the Good times' in no time at all.

With what we thought was the biggest hurdle behind us, we settled into Hyderabad for Thursday night and Friday, and got ready to go to Hampi for the weekend. Mari and Lindsay, two colleagues coming in for a conference, joined us for a Chinese dinner before we headed out to catch our overnight train for Hampi. But au contrare, mon frer... it was not to be. We get to the train station and, 'so sorry, but your train car is not here and all trains to Hampi have been canceled.' Apparently, as we found out later, the river in Hampi has flooded, so the railroad siding is impassable, our hotel is closed....you get the picture. Thankfully, we figured this all out after unsuccessfully trying to jump on an overnight bus and before hiring a car to drive us to Hampi. This is the second time that my travel plans in India have been a total wipeout, and I'm over being shocked by it. Here's hoping that next weekend's trip to Pondicherry goes more smoothly. I think India is deepening my faith in serendipity. Yeah Hampi would have been nice to see, but swamped Hampi and a cramped overnight train - not so great. Instead, I'm off to have a 200 rupee massage, courtesy of my employer, get my toes done, and have some blouses made at the local tailor. Tomorrow, it will be sleep in, gym it and have a champagne brunch. Can I complain - I mean really?

'There, But For The Grace of God...'

A fire broke out on an overnight train traveling from Hyderabad through the state of Andhra Pradesh this past weekend. Two colleagues from our Hyderabad office are missing and feared to be dead. The speed and brutality with which life can be snuffed out here are breathtaking. I thank God for my country with its hundreds of seemingly-fussy laws intended to protect consumer safety. Anyone of us may die tomorrow and accidents happen everywhere, but I feel relatively assured that when my days end, it shall not be in trying to pry the steel bars from the windows of a burning train car.

Please take a moment to wish Hari, Roshni and their families well. In a country that believes so deeply in karma, any good wishes can only help. I sincerely hope that we'll see their safe return, but failing that, I hope that they are together and at peace.

My Name's 'High' and Yours is 'Maintenance'

This past weekend, Heather and I headed out to Shimla, which lies in Himachal Pradesh on the slopes of the Himalyas. Shimla is what's known as a 'hill station' and was the favorite summer get-away during the British Raj. It has been known as the 'Queen of Hill Stations' and is much-favored for it's cool, crisp weather and British architecture. There are several ways to reach Shimla, of which an express train from Delhi and a connecting toy train from Kalka is probably the best. However, with only a two-day junket as a possibility, we ended up deciding to drive up on Friday night after work. And so the adventure begins....

The drive up from Delhi was fairly uneventful until we reached the Himalyan foothills and started the climb up to Shimla. Though we had the usual Indian road trip fun along the way: a bike-full of Indian stud-muffins blowing us kisses, the Indian Oil restroom in Kalka with the most prolific and vibrantly-colored collection of bugs I have ever seen (I'm to a point now where I see this as a plus in a bathroom, as long as none of them crawl on me), and near-death experiences every 3 to 5 kms. Once we left Kalka and paid our HP states taxes, the road increased its pitch to a stunning degree. I have to say that, in general, HP made me feel right at home - winding roads a-la Highway 17, blue-green conifers with mist hanging amongst their branches, roadside stands with piles of crisp apples, and wonder-of-wonders - true blue skies with puffy white clouds. On our way up, the majority of the journey was in pitch darkness. We passed the time singing along to my iPod's 'Music to Drive Home By' playlist. You have to love Devindar - he speaks only some English, but that didn't stop him from contributing back-up vocals to 'Black Horse and the Cherry Tree.' That always makes me smile. The road was super-duper winding, which for me was absorbed and buffered by the velvety blackness around us. Devindar, however, was not so lucky. Poor guy got carsick. Twice. I've told him I think this might be a bit of a liability for someone in his profession, but he assures me that, as a flatlander, he is rarely bothered by this. I've prescribed ginger candies and no more long road trips with 'Meather' - we'll see if that cures him.

We rolled into the Oberoi Cecil in Shimla at about 1 am, only to find that, despite being 30% occupied, they'd given us the 'best' room, without a view and hovering only two floors over the road. Ugh. The room itself, in true Oberoi fashion, was very nice, so I made one attempt at an upgrade with the guy who showed us to our room, and once rebuffed, settled down to brush my teeth and use the facilities. Heather prowled around the room, miffed at the poor service and inflexibility of an Oberoi staff and eventually decided to object for sport. Admittedly, they showed a chink in their armor when the night manager called me, post valet piss-off, and asked if we needed anything, could she 'send the chef to our room,' etc. Knowing her adversary was back on her heels a bit, Heather went in for the kill - 'We expect a better room...,' 'I'm sure that you can do better,...' --- Needless to say, due to my fearless companion's indomitable spirit, we were quickly ensconced in a top-floor room with a view out over the valley. That's us - 'High' and 'Maintenance.'

The next day, we made good use of that room and slept in until about 10 am, before rolling downstairs for a very nice buffet breakfast. The dining room at 'The Obs,' as Heather calls it, looks directly into the tree tops, so we ate our breakfast surrounded by mists and lovely filtered light. And they had warm croissants with strawberry jam. Life just doesn't get much better than that. After breakfast, we got cleaned up and rolled out to meet Devindar. Our initial objective was Mall Rd. for shopping and sightseeing, but Devindar suggested that we go to the HP state museum that was just up the hill from where we were staying. We scaled a small mountain to get there and discovered a small but charming bungalow of artifacts, paintings and coins. On the way back down, we encountered the kind of cluster... you can only find in India. A delivery truck had tried to pass a parked car without enough space, and now about 10 people were conferring on how best to rectify the situation. Since the entire road was blocked, we climbed over the railing and goose-stepped along the edge until we could get back on solid ground. Ahhh, India.

Post-museum, we debated a wide variety of options and finally settled on driving to Kulfri, which is apparently a skiing spot during the winters. In typical fashion, insert several traffic jams, one or two wrong turns, and much debate before we arrive at our location. Kulfri turned out to be an absolute mill of people and ponies. Absent snow, Kulfri is apparently where folks go to traipse into the wilderness on horseback. By the time we got to this point, Heather was having no part of a pony ride, or a Yak ride, which seemed the more-appealing option to me. On a side note, real yaks - gorgeous. You've never seen such a silky mop of hair on an animal. I wish I could have gotten pictures, but in the interest of domestic tranquility, we went on our merry way. On our way back to Shimla, we attempted to get into the Oberoi's Wildflower Hall for a drink and snacks and were somewhat politely and very soundly rebuffed. Let me take a minute here to say that, I don't care how ritzy a hotel is or how posh their usual clientèle, I have NO respect for an institution in the hospitality industry that doesn't actually exude any welcome whatsoever. If their reception of us is any indication, I would never, ever spend money at Wildflower Hall, and I would think twice before choosing an Oberoi again - the saving grace being Ms. Priyanka Singh's late-night room upgrade and gracious care of us at The Cecil. Take a Taj hotel any day.

Thoroughly disgruntled by now, we headed back to Shimla to attempt Mall Rd. On the way there, we stopped at the Radisson, which a colleague at work had told me was famous for their trout, which is caught in local streams. Again, no room at the inn - they're all booked for dinner. But, huzzah! Their bar is open. And, their super-friendly and accommodating staff go the extra mile to whip us up a couple of trout dinners. So, along about 5:30pm on a Saturday night in Shimla, Heather and I ponied up to a basket of fries, two cocktails, and the best trout I have ever had. Replete and much happier, we shared a warm brownie and brightened our outlook on the day considerably.

Mall Rd. was chaos. The incline to get to the summit is steep enough that there is a paid lift that you take to get up there. Once at the top, there's a nice overlook, with a big Christian church. There were tons of Indians on holiday, complete with cotton candy, looky-lous, and drunken boys. But, on the whole, mostly harmless fun. Heather and I picked up some nice shawls and a few woolen caps that are typical of HP. I must pause here to admit that I have a reputation in India that has grown to somewhat terrifying degrees. We were walking along Mall Rd., and this guy that looks somewhat familiar approaches Devindar and says that he knows me. I do a double-take and realize that it's the cousin of my shawl guy at Dilli Haat, Mansoor. Super small world. And of course. we go to his stall and buy a couple of things. Now, if this were the first time this had happened, I wouldn't be so sheepish, but it's not. Last time I was at Dilli Haat, I was helping one of our visitors negotiate for some traditional paintings only to realize that the guy was the same vendor that Shannon, Lauren and I met in Udaipur. And he recognized me! Good gawd. 'She Who Shops A Lot' for sure.

Tuckered out from our long day bumming around Shimla (I know, we're hopeless wusses), Heather and I headed home and went early to bed. Our Sunday was pretty great, to a point at least. We got up, went to the gym, swam in the lovely Oberoi indoor pool, and then headed back for more lovely breakfast, which we then topped off with massages. Mmm, mmm, good. Relaxed, replete, and smelling pretty good, we packed up our things and headed back to Delhi with Devindar, and proceeded to re-knot most of the muscles that had been unwound during the massage. Let's just say that HP's winding roads are better cloaked in darkness. The up-close-and-personal viewpoint that we got on the way downhill in bright daylight didn't do much for our charming natures. Even I, with unshakable faith in Devindar, was a little spooked by the process of wending our way around all of those curves. It goes something like this: every third car is a large Punjabi truck, and we simply can't wait behind one of those, can we? So, as you approach the hairpin turn, you honk, pull alongside the truck, and then drive directly in front of it at the apex of the curve. Needless to say, if anyone is coming the other way and doesn't harken to the honking, you're toast. With each iteration of this process, Heather is increasingly displeased. I am holding on for dear life and enjoying the fresh air. Mostly. But, you can't fault the results. After watching Devindar (and all the other cars and buses on the road) repeat this process over 100 times, we sailed unscathed into Kalka and were back on flat land. The rest of our trip was fairly uneventful. We stopped for dinner at Gulshan dhaba, which is a super-famous roadside stand/restaurant, and had dal makhni, naan, and palak paneer. Heather got put off of her food by the super-chauvanist stare fest emanating our way from the table behind us, so our visit was short and to the point. We were quickly back in the saddle again and headed for the NCR (National Capitol Region), and another destination crossed off of my list. Shimla is like a little bit of northern CA hidden away in India. If I get homesick, you might just find me making the climb again to get a crisp apple and feel the cool fog curl itself around me.

Jaipur Road Trip

In June, right before coming home for 4th of July and our management conference, I went to Jaipur for the third time with Austin, Mollie, Louise, and Cindy who was visiting from Mountain View. After driving down from Gurgaon on a Friday night, we landed, softly, at Le Meridien Jaipur. I swear their web site outright lies and says they're in downtown Jaipur, which is not the case. However, thanks to Austin's Starwood membership, we were quickly ensconced in two of the plushest suites I've seen in India. Since we had Devindar with us, being outside of town wasn't too big of a deal either, so it all worked out in the end.

On Saturday morning, we rolled out of bed around nine, had our breakfast and headed for Amer. I had been there before, in February, with Heba, Heather, and Pallavi, but this time we were more at our leisure with the whole weekend in front of us. I discovered that there was a fort that we'd completely missed the first time - Naigargh Fort, which was beautiful. Amer Palace and Jaigargh Fort were beautiful, as they were the first time. Austin, Mollie and Louise insisted on going up on the battlements at Jaigargh Fort and copying the pose that I used in my photo for our web site at work. It looks pretty funny now that it's uploaded, especially because Austin reports to me and his picture and mine show up on the same pages. After puttering around Amer most of the day with our guide, Ragu, we made the obligatory stop at one of the tourist markets that is wildly overpriced. We made a quick trip of it, but it was cool to see them making the Jaipuri woodblock prints, and hand knotting silk and wool carpets. We made a quick pit stop at Le Meridien and then headed for downtown Jaipur to do some shopping at the main bazaar. I was on a mission to get a Rajasthani tie-dye saree, and although Mollie and I waded through a sea of beautiful silk, I didn't quite find the right one, at the right price. I did get some lovely hand-worked silver earrings, which Devindar was sure weren't real, but I have which I have on good authority ARE real - I'll let you all be the judge when I get home. Anyway, few people have the shopping stamina that I have, so we were fairly quickly on our way to Choki Dhani for dinner. Choki Dhani was a bit nuts. I guess the good news is that it was mostly Indians in this mock Rajasthani village, but with the liberal interpretation of standing in line, the somewhat muddy grounds, and the sheer number of people, it was pretty chaotic. The few other Westerners that were there were escorted around looking waif-like. After having a traditional meal, which we ate entirely with our hands, we went to get mendhi done. By this time we were hot and fairly well tuckered out, so we headed back to the hotel and crashed for the night.

On Sunday, we decided to see downtown Jaipur. Since I had been to the City Palace before, Devindar dropped me off to do some shopping while the other folks headed off to sightsee. I bought a bunch of Rajasthani parasols for the Montgomery girls and me. It was great fun picking them out from the bundles and bundles in the shop. At one point, I had a whole room full of vibrant parasols spread out at my feet. So fun. Devindar helped me negotiate, so I got a good deal too - what a team! After our shoppping, we picked up the other four and headed to the Gaitore Cenotaphs to do our last bit of siteseeing. The cenotaphs are where Jaipur's rulers were cremated in the last two centuries. The site itself is set outside of the city on the way to Amer. All of the structures are elaborately carved out of white marble and quite beautiful. The overall effect is pristine, but Devindar and Ragu told us that it's traditional for Hindus to bathe after going to such a place, literally to wash the death and bad karma from their bodies. From my perspective, it seems a lovely and quiet place of remembrance. After Gaitore, we set off for Niro's to have a late lunch and gird our loins for the trip back to Delhi.

And then the real adventure began....

So, after dinner, we drove through Jaipur to drop Mollie off at the airport so that she can fly to Hyderabad and then we headed back towards Amer to catch the Jaipur-Delhi highway. We got about 10 minutes away from the airport before Mollie finally reaches Devindar on his phone (Austin's was on silent - nice) and tells us that her flight has been canceled. We do a 180 and pick her up to bring her back to Delhi with us. We're on the road again and then outside of Amer, I suddenly hear a very quiet "oh shit" from Devindar, and the car rolls to a stop. Austin, ever the intrepid photographer, caught them moment on video:

Luckily, Devindar was able to call in a favor from our guide, Ragu, and he showed up within a half hour in a Jeep, and proceeded to tow us by wiring the bumpers of the two cars together. If it sounds flimsy, it was. All of us, save Devindar, hopped into the Jeep, and watched Devindar do the cab-driver equivalent of the 'walk of shame,' steering and breaking the Innova as it was being towed. Now, I'm not sure exactly why this was a better option than having Ragu bring a container of gas, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose. Whooeee, did we give Devindar a lot of crap - all the way home and then some. But the fun wasn't over, no sireee Bob. We got back on the road again, only to find ourselves at the back of a huge traffic jam as we neared the boarder. Devindar assessed the line of trucks and cars as a minimum 45 minute or more wait and, as we approached a break in the median, threw on his hazards and pulled onto the wrong side of the freeway. As I was sitting in the front passenger seat, I got a birdseye view of the action and very quickly began to see my life flash before me in the headlights of the oncoming cars. The crazy thing it, this apparently didn't phase oncoming traffic at all. They did honk at us, but generally, everyone stayed well out of our way for the 1-2 kilometers we traveled until we could pull back in line ahead of the jam. I sincerely hope that Devindar never, ever does that again, but I can't fault the effectiveness of the methodology. This one goes down in the books as the road trip to end all road trips. I think I'm ok for a while without another dose.