Thursday, December 9 to Friday, December 10, 2010

I arrived in London after a 9 hour flight, I am very tired and wish I could have slept, unfortunately now I have to stay awake until I get to India so I can reset my internal clock.

I’m in Heathrow Airport, and surrounded by Brits. British people have such weird features and mannerisms. They all have these permanent facial expressions that make them seem bored and displeased with everything, it’s pretty funny. Also everything they say sounds hilarious.

I am sort of hungry but since I haven’t slept in so long it’s not a normal hunger, just a sort of burning in my stomach that is annoying but doesn’t give me any desire for food. I am just eating granola bars because real food sounds gross. Anup and his family are all eating veggie burgers and fries.

I had to wait in a ridiculously pointless line in Heathrow airport. Say what you will about American airports, but God bless American efficiency and hospitality. I had to wait to check my bags since the British Airways website would not allow me to do online check-in for ANY of my flights to India (the site just said “error”, and the phone line was no help). There was about a 75 person line waiting to check in for multiple flights. We were all waiting in the line designated for economy class. Next to us, there were 3 lanes open for business and first class customers, but there was nobody checking in. In our 75 person line, there was a single clerk helping us, then she just got up unexpectedly and walked away, apparently it was her tea break time. Meanwhile all these poor people need to get to their flights, and so rather than having the other 3 clerks assist all of us, they ignored us and continued to help the small trickle of first class customers, and just sat there idly when there was nobody to help. Finally myself and few others started making it known this was unacceptable, yet there was no manager to be found. I could see a guy who looked like a manager in a room inside the booth area, but I wasn’t about to hop the desk to get him. Not that I haven’t done more brash things in the past, but I wasn’t about to get arrested in London on my way to India. I’ve seen enough British crime movies to not want to go to British prison. Finally the other clerks decided to help us and so I made my flight.

When we were taking the train to our terminal in Heathrow so we could board the plane to Mumbai, there was young British boy and his Dad standing next to us. The kid was probably tired and didn’t feel like traveling anymore. Imagine this in a British accent and it’s much funnier. The boy said “Daddy, I don’t want to go on the plane.” The Dad says to the boy “Son, buck up. Do you want to be a man, or do you want to be a mouse?”

After we had boarded the next plane to head to Mumbai, I met a guy named Dave, who was traveling to Mumbai to visit his wife’s family. Dave is white and British, and his wife is Indian and she is from India. His body almost had the look of someone with cerebral palsy, his arms and hands were very twisted and he did not full use of them. I’m not sure what started the conversation, but he began telling me the story of his motorcycle crash 30 years ago. Dave was on a motorcycle and hit a jeep at 80 mph. His bike was cut in half, and another biker who was riding alongside him also hit the jeep and was killed. Dave spent 12 days in a coma, then the next 3 weeks in and out of consciousness. When he woke up he could not walk or talk, and doctors said he would never walk again. He spent over 2 years in a full body cast, and then taught himself to walk and talk again. Then he got married and now has 2 kids. He has permanent brain damage due to the accident, and is strangely aware of it. He talked about how he used to be a chemist and loved math and was extremely smart, but now he looks at the same things and feels dumb because it makes no sense. He said he often feels very stupid. His shoulder is permanently dislocated and juts forward out of his chest, it cannot be set back in to place due to the permanent bone damage he suffered. I asked him if it hurts and he said “The pain is murder, I cope by smoking a lot of dope.” Dave is probably the most resilient person I have ever met, he talked about how he watched other people in rehabilitation just give up when things got hard, they never got better or just died. He said from the beginning he promised himself he would not have that attitude. Great story.

The flight to Mumbai from London was obviously mostly Indian people. Indian people from India as a whole, in my opinion, are poorly organized and less self aware than Americans (excluding Anup's family of course!). They arrived late to board the plane (a trend that would continue for every flight in India), had too much carry-on luggage to fit in their own bins (they did not read the rules for carry-on), and then they started moving other people’s luggage to make room for theirs, which caused a scene with the flight attendants. When I was checking my bags for the flight from Houston to London, it was a very clearly stated policy that you could carry only 2 bags free on British airways. Yet all the Indian people I saw checking their bags had 3 or 4 bags a person, then became outraged when they were told they would be charged for the extra bags. Then the families start arguing with the clerks and with each other, holding everyone else up.

No sleep on this flight either. Now that I had been awake for almost 2 days straight, I thought I would just collapse from exhaustion, but I didn’t, I just kept going. This flight was really packed and cramped, like all things Indian. I couldn’t really read since it was dark outside and people were getting upset when I put my light on. Traveling to India is extremely tough on the body and mind, I do not know how people older than I can manage. I guess old people sleep a lot.

The frustrating thing about this flight is that had I been able to check in online like I wanted, I would have gotten the emergency row seat I wanted. I’m 6’4”, so a normal seat is not suited for me. My legs are cramped and I have to put my knees to the sides of the seat, which in turn upsets the people next to me. Most frustrating of all is that the people who were in the emergency row were toddlers! On the previous flight I was next to Anup, this flight I’m alone. Anup’s aunt Shefali randomly got bumped to first class, so she traveled in luxury. Anup told me when we were talking on this flight that last flight he had seen 2 open first class seats, but had forgotten to say anything. Dangit Anup.

I watched Robin Hood, the new one with Russell Crowe. What a stupid movie. 2 thumbs down Crowe.

Rachel bought me a subscription to National Geographic for Christmas, so she gave me the first issue early so I could read it on the plane. I was expecting the light, leisurely read that National Geographic usually is. Instead, the main article was about women in Afghanistan who are being brutalized as they try to gain even the tiniest bit of independence for themselves. One woman had her nose cut off for trying to leave her abusive husband. The main photo was a picture of 2 women driving in a car together, and next to them is a car full of men who are all leaned out the window glaring at them with menacing looks. As if I needed a reminder what stupid, insecure men are a capable of doing.

British Airways food is mostly awful. Whatever the main dish is, is usually ok to eat, the side dishes though are disgusting. Whatever, free alcohol. I had one glass of wine.

I’m not sure if it’s because they are used to tiny, cramped spaces, but Indians are the first to fall asleep on the plane. Some are sleeping sitting straight up, no pillow, no eye covers. I am impressed.

Just arrived in Mumbai. I knew I was in India when I stepped off the plane and was overwhelmed by the humidity and the fact that everything smells like spice, everywhere. Indian food really does just seep into your very being, and you emit the spice and so everything you touch or come near smells like spice. There was also the faint smell of armpit, which is also common in India. I was prepared for this so it was no issue.

We had to get on a bus to get to the domestic portion of the Mumbai airport, so we could take our flight from Mumbai to Vadodara. We had to wait in line for the bus which only came every 15 minutes or so. We had a very short window of time to make the flight, and we were delayed because security stopped us from getting on the bus, in order to put people with wheelchairs on the bus first. The problem with that is that there is no limit to how many they can put in front of you. They put so many old people in wheelchairs on the bus ahead of us, plus all of their massive luggage, that when our turn to get on came (and we were at the front of the line) we didn’t even move. They filled the entire bus up with handicapped people. So we were delayed another 15 minutes.

Lopa, bus ride to airport

Me

Anup and his Mom, Nita

Our domestic flight was with Jet Airways. By the time we reached the check-in desk, our flight was leaving and the Jet Airways staff said there was nothing they could do for us. They also refused to give us a new flight because they said they aren’t responsible for British Airways delaying us for their flight. We tried to explain that it was the airport that had delayed us and that our flight was on time. Still they ignored us. It was my first experience with Indian service for the ordinary person. You feel like you don’t matter at all.

A small group of people from our flight from London were taking the same flight as us, and they arrived to the check in area to see that they were in the same condition as us. At this point it was about 7:30 AM, and the next Jet Airways flight to Vadodara was at 7 PM. We decided we would book that flight, then leave the airport and spend the day at the house of one of Anup’s relatives in Mumbai. Then we would take the flight at 7 PM.

Now comes my first experience with reality of supply and demand pricing in India. When we tried to book the 7 PM flight to Vadodara, we were told that the price would be 9000 rupees, which is equal to about $200! That was an outrageous price for a flight in India, considering the average salary of an Indian person, and also in comparison with the price of the rest of my domestic flights. Then we came to find out that after we had missed our flight, the airline had learned that quite a few people were going to need this flight, so they tripled the original price of the flight so they could take advantage of our need. There are regulations in the United States to prevent this sort of thing, but not here.

Rather than pay that ridiculous price, Anup’s dad (Atul), came up with another plan. We were going to fly to Ahmedabad, a city nearby to Vadodara, and then take a car to our destination. It originally seemed that we would have to wait until 7 PM for that flight as well, there was a 9 AM flight leaving shortly but we were told it was full. But Atul did not give up and he somehow got us on the 9 AM flight. Another thing I quickly learned was that many times what you are told in this country is said out of convenience of the person saying it, rather than it being truthful. You have to push for the truth here, and push hard for what you really want.

Since we had about an hour or so before our flight, we decided to eat some food in the Mumbai airport. This was my first time eating in India, and so now I had to be extremely careful since one mistake with food can put you out of commission for days here. The food was pricey but good, and after a few hours of no sickness, I had successfully eaten my first Indian meal without effect.

While I was waiting for my food I had to use the restroom, my first experience in an Indian restroom, which I had read horror stories about and had been mentally preparing myself for as well. When I walked in, I saw 3 stalls, and every single one of them was full. Nobody seems to be in any kind of hurry to get their business done, a common theme I would later discover. After a few minutes of silence from behind the stalls, I heard of bunch of rushing water, like a hose, then the sound of a toilet flushing. Then the person walked out of the stall. You can imagine my curiosity as to what could have possibly been going on in there. When I finally got inside the stall myself, I looked to my left and there was an actual hose coming out of the wall. On the ground there was a drain, and near the drain a pile of wet toilet paper. The toilet seat was covered with droplets of water. I found myself slightly disgusted but also thankful because I heard of much, much worse before arriving here. Apparently the custom in more civilized places like Mumbai is to wipe yourself, spray yourself down with the hose, then wipe again. Not my cup of tea. Also I discovered that Indians use sinks for things that American’s usually do not. For example I saw multiple people walk into the restroom, blow their nose into their hands, and then wash their hands in the sink. Basically the public sink was there tissue.

As gross as Indian bathrooms can be, I had no choice but to make multiple visits there before my flight. After almost 48 hours of no sleep + an entirely different type of cuisine = frequent bathroom visits.

Atul explained to me how the work ethic in Indian is very different from the United States. He said that in India, all of your effort is spent getting the job, due to the large number of people competing against you. However once you have the job, there is no incentive to work hard. This is true for 2 reasons. First, Indian companies almost never fire their employees, you have to try very hard to get yourself fired. Second, a strong work ethic is not rewarded in the workplace as it is in the US. If you work twice as hard as your coworkers and then look for a reward, your boss will just tell you that you are doing your job and your coworkers will say that you are a suck up. So you give up and fall in line, then the rest of your coworkers see that you make the same amount of money whether you work hard or not, so they give up as well, and so on and so on.

The exchange rate at the airport is 42 rupees per dollar.

You can make calls from India to the U.S. on phones marked “STD”, which have varying rates depending on who owns the booth. Many places such as gas stations or shops have STD phones, and they set their own rates. Phone calls from the STD booth at the airport in Mumbai cost 12 rupees per minute, or about 27 cents per minute. Compare that to Anup’s cell phone which costs $3 per minute. I called Rachel and called home to let everyone know I was ok. Really great to hear their voices.

I have discovered that lines do not exist in India. Anytime a line becomes necessary, rather than lining up single file and waiting their turn, everyone rushes to the focal point and pushes past each other, making the simples of tasks take at least twice as long as they should. Also, if you happen to be in the front of the masses, or if some kind of authority figure enforces a line, if you happen to look away for just a second, someone will cut you in line. They won’t even think twice or feel bad, almost like they are special and you don’t matter one bit, which in truth to them, you don’t. They like to try this number on you “I just have a small question” or “I’m in a hurry, I have a meeting to get to.” Lies.

After boarding the domestic flight to Vadodara, I looked around and found myself completely surrounded by Indians and Arabs. My white skin stuck out like a sore thumb.

Our flight just touched down in Ahmedabad. That landing scared the crap out of me, the pilot dropped the plane like a brick onto the tarmac. So much for back wheels first, front wheels second, the guy just shut the engines off a couple feet off the ground it seemed like.

Ahmedabad airport

We took a 2 hour car ride to Vadodara, my first experience on the streets of India. India is so incredibly dusty, dirty, and chaotic, there are just no words to describe it with justice. There are no lanes, and the few places where lanes have been introduced, they are ignored as if they didn’t exist at all. Honking is used for a completely different purpose here in India than we use it in the west. If Americans honk, they are upset, probably at the person directly in front of them. Indians honk to alert other nearby drivers of their presence or their intentions. Since nobody uses lanes, if you want to pass someone and insure that they aren’t going to hit you or to make sure they give you adequate room to pass, you honk. You honk when you come to an intersection so people don’t pull out in front of you (there are no stop lights or stop signs either). 

Indians drive on the left, modeled after the British, however Indians also drive on BOTH sides of the road if necessary. That means if there is traffic going their direction, they will simply change to the other side of the road and drive against traffic on the shoulder. And it isn’t even against the law, although if it was it wouldn’t matter. It is a terrifying thing to drive on Indian streets, let alone ride passenger. Everyone weaves in and out within inches of each other, and every time you come to a crossing you contemplate your end. Yet somehow, accidents are rare. These people must be the most skilled drivers on earth, because I wouldn’t wish their daily commute on my worst enemy.

Pedestrians are fearless here. People walk in the streets with zero fear of being run over, even though every car that passes them makes you cringe as you imagine their impending doom. I will discuss the skills I acquired in crossing Indian traffic later.

I just stepped out of the car into our hotel’s parking lot in Vadodara. The pollution and dust are overwhelming, especially when you are used to the clean, clear air of Texas. I haven’t been out of the car more than a minute and I feel a slight headache coming on. I’ll just need to get over it so I can survive this trip, considering Delhi is supposed to have pollution exponentially worse than here.

Just flipped on Indian TV for the first time. My first observation: Indian commercials show a way of life that doesn’t exist for 99.9999% of Indian people. They depict very light skinned Indian people living in nice American style homes. American commercials do this sometimes as well, but the gap between what is shown on television and the way the general populace lives is astronomical, I can just look out my window and attest to that. I posted links to 2 commercials below, notice 2 things: how light skinned the actors are, and how nice their homes are. Like I said, almost nobody looks or lives this way here. (FYI these are the only two videos in my blog that were not taped during my trip).

 

 

Anup says that Indian TV never shows the way things are, only the way people wish they were. TV is used as an escape in the country, much more so than in the U.S. That is partly why movie stars/actors in India are worshipped like gods. American’s think that celebrity worship is a problem in our country, we don't even hold a candle to India.

I just woke up from a 4 hour nap. It was the first sleep I’ve gotten on my entire trip so far, and it was awesome. To give you an example of how bad I am at sleeping on planes, I took Benadryl on the flight from London to Mumbai, and didn’t sleep a wink.

I’m about to ride on the back of a motorcycle, and I’m honestly not to thrilled about it. Anup’s cousin Bhavik wants to take us around the city on his bike, so I can’t really say no.

Ok so the motorcycle ride turned out to be amazing. I saw the entire city of Vadodara via motorcycle, what a great way to see the city up close and personal. Anup videotaped some of the ride. The video looks really good. There is so much poverty here that people pretty much sleep and live wherever there is a spot, whether that’s on a bench, at a bus stop, on the sidewalk, or the shoulder of the street.