Boring Bahrain (Day 17)

In the Gulf region, Thurday and Friday are the weekend. Therefore, we have no school visits set up. There is not much to see and do in Bahrain, especially if you have been before. I did the souk thing on my last trip. I ended up sleeping in and then catching up on some e-mail and such. At 5pm we all met downstairs for a briefing from the US embassy on the Bahraini education system. We generally get these in every country we visit. The fair itself started at 6. It was packed. Joseph Humadi, the organizer (a quick aside - Joseph is Iraqi by blood. His dad is the chief of staff of the interim gov't and will probably end up being minister of education!), advertised widely for the event. We even had kids and counselors drive in from Saudi. I went through all my materials and talked myself hoarse. When it ended at 9:30, we would all kill for beer, so we met again downstairs for a few pints and some more Filipina entertainment. We were all too beat to check out the clubs again, and didn't want to deal with explaining Nasser's practical jokes. I read some and hit the sack.

By the way, I finished Cryptonomicon back in Delhi. I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys good historical fiction, especially about WWII. That is, if you are not afraid of books as long and complicated as the Old Testament. I'm now reading Book II of the Emperor series (about Caesar), The Death of Kings. It's ok.

Beirut to Bahrain (Day 16)

We checked out of the hotel as a group, around 11am, and went to the airport. The Gulf Air flight to Bahrain was crowded and there was a fat, stinky, snoring man behind me. No backgammon either, dammit. We all checked into the Bahrain Sheraton together, then met back in the lobby for dinner at an Indian place across the way. After that a few of us hung out in the hotel bar, watching the Filipino band, fronted by four girls. Close your eyes and they actually sounded American. One actually pulled off Beyonce quite well. A smaller group then checked out the hotel club, which was largely empty. Four of us moved on to a place called BJ’s that was a short cab ride away. Between the four of us, we had American, Saudi, Egyptian, and Moroccan passports. BJ’s was packed, with westerners and western-looking locals. It felt like South Beach. It was great for people watching. We stayed ‘til close then went back to the hotel.

I found out later that Nasser has been telling people all night that the four of us are security for Sharon Stone. E__, who was with us earlier, looks remarkably like her, but with red hair. He has gotten the staff at the hotel club to believe this, and they are reserving us a table tomorrow during a big party event. Great. This should be interesting.

Forget Vegas. Beirut, baby. Beirut. (Days 13, 14, 15)

Remnants of war

Last I wrote, I was in Delhi. Now I’m sitting in the Beirut airport preparing to leave for the island kingdom of Bahrain. Prepare for a somewhat lengthy filling-in (read it, it is interesting).


Spice

My final night in Delhi, I returned to the same club I’d been to the night before. Alas, lightening did not strike twice. The Bollywood starlet was not there. In fact, no one was. So, I went in search of superior entertainment with a couple of young French who just moved to Delhi for one or two year stints with electronics companies. The fellow looked a lot like Liam Neeson, his female friend not so much. Both were very nice and we ended up discussing politics all night, as we hopped from one venue to another. We were all pleasantly surprised at how much we enjoyed one another’s company. I got their info so I can get in touch next time I visit. When you have friends, you don’t feel like such a stranger.


Smoke

On my flight from Delhi to Dubai I sat next to a very interesting young woman named Fiona. Fiona is English, aged 27, and until very recently a foreign correspondent for Reuters (she and a couple friends just quit) working out of Beirut, where she is returning to after attending her brother’s wedding in Delhi. Fiona has also worked from and lived in Baghdad. This goes to show, no matter how interesting you think your own experiences are, there is always someone on a higher plane. She didn’t even live in the Green Zone (she scoffed when I suggested this). I get her digits so we can have a drink in Beirut when I get some free time. Who better to show me the town, right?


Downtown, towards the bar district. Check out those mountains in the background. Good skiing, I hear.

The flights themselves were some of the most interesting, as far as observable features on the ground, that I have ever been on: the parched deserts of western India, the convoluted mountains of Pakistan, and the beautiful coasts of the Persian Gulf. Great stuff for a geology junkie, and a very good education as to why it is proving so difficult to find O.B.L. When I wasn’t looking out the window, I was playing electronic backgammon on my personal seat-screen. I love Emirates flights. Just after the take-off of the Dubai-Beirut flight, I was finally able to get a look at the famous Palm Island, an artificial creation just off the coast of the UAE. I also was also able to witness the ongoing construction of the newest sign of the apocalypse - The World, a residential island community that will look like a map of the world, naturally. I heard that Richard Branson already bought mini-England.

In Beirut, Fiona and I shared a cab into town and I checked into the Movenpick Hotel, right on the Mediterranean Sea. I met up with the other reps and our organizer (more on all these later) in the hotel bar. We went over the upcoming schedule, got to know each other (those who hadn’t met on previous tours here and there), then hit the sack.

The next morning we were informed that our school visit for the day was cancelled due to recent, ongoing events.


This is Rafiq Hariri, killed by the bomb

This is a good spot for a current events lesson. If you’ve been watching the news this week, you probably know a bomb went off in downtown Beirut, killing Rafiq Hariri, former prime minister, and over a dozen others. This guy was, and still is, very, very well-liked by many disparate factions of Lebanese society. After all, he helped to end Beirut’s endemic violence and return the city to its former glory. His picture is plastered all over town. Seriously, it is everywhere. I could draw him in my sleep. He has been christened a martyr and everyone is in mourning. This is not that dissimilar to the assassination of JFK, but unlike in the US, the Lebanese are pretty sure they know why the death of their hero occured and who is ultimately responsible. Hariri was pressing hard to end Syria’s troop presence in Lebanon and to also end its interference with the government. His assassination has brought to head a huge anti-Syrian sentiment. On this day in particular, a large march is planned for the downtown area, demanding for Syria to get the hell out. Some are kind of wondering how this will pan out. There is a good bit of tension in the air. So, the cancellation of the school visit.


Lebanese writing on a remembrance wall


Campers against Syria

Not wanting to waste time sitting in the hotel, but deciding that downtown might not be the best tourist destination at present, I, along with C________ and R__, rent a car for the historic town of Byblos. The three of us know one another from a previous tour of the Gulf states.


Crusdaer castle in Byblos


Roman pillars, through the crenellations of the castle


Fish'n in Byblos


Byblos is not just historic in the sense that it has some old buildings (though it does). It is most historic in that it is recognized as one of the oldest human settlements, ever. We are talking 8,000 years. Makes the founding of Southville in 17XX look silly. So, we spend some time looking around. When we are all full of history, we shop, eat pizza, and find refreshment in the neighboring commercial district. If you ever go there, eat at this place:


The pizza place up the hill from the ruins of Byblos

The fair that evening was not well-attended. Understandable, considering the whole thing about all the locals hitting the streets to tell the Syrians they aren’t wanted. I’m just glad I’ll be able to say I was here at this historic time. Afterwards I joined a few other reps for dinner at a local place across the street, then went downtown to meet up with Fiona. We had a few drinks along with some of her friends at a place called Dragonfly in the “Ju-maze-ey” district (phonetic spelling). It seemed crowded to me, but Fiona said it was a relatively mellow night compared to the usual, again because of recent events.


Downtown cafe area

In the morning I went downtown to a café with free internet service. I also did some walking around, seeing some Roman ruins, mosques, and the reconstructed, and very impressive central business district. In the afternoon we had a couple of nearby school visits. Back to the café with some other reps after that. On the cab ride back we got as close as you can to where the bomb went off. It knocked out windows and spread rubble for several blocks. The evening’s fair was much, much better. People actually showed up! The pace was steady and I was able to talk to some promising students. Afterwards I accompanied R__ to the local Hard Rock. He went back to the hotel and I went to the “Mono” district to check out a couple more bars I’d heard about – Ice Bar and Pacifico.


Cool downtown architecture

I was hoping to meet some interesting locals, but ended up just getting cornered by a drunk one wanting to talk politics. I was not in the mood, so I made my escape when he went to the bathroom.

Observations:
Beirut is home to a large proportion of badasses. The men all seem to have an Al Pacino vibe going for them while the women all carry themselves like Angelina Jolie. They make the Arab language sound very attractive (unlike many of their cousins), mixing in French and sometimes English here and there. The city itself is beautiful - great architecture, Mediterranean beaches, and snow-capped mountains. Lingering bullet-holes give it extra character. The climate is wonderful and so is the nightlife. It does not deserve the reputation that its past has given it, though it might not be a bad thing. It keeps the squares away. I want to spend more time here in the future. I could even live here. Maybe I’ll check out the graduate programs at the American University of Beirut.


Sunset on the corniche

Beirut

Updates on Beirut will come after the fact. The schedule hre is tight, and internet access is expensive. Things are very interesting right now, but apparently safe. Check back in a day or two.

Nothing (Day 12)

Today I did nothing, and it was all that I thought it could be.

Last night however, I danced with a Bollywood movie actress. Never got a good handle on her name. Her brother owns the club inside Le Meridien Hotel. I hope she is back there tonight. If I am fortunate, there will be an interesting update to this.

My Next Car (Inspired by the Monkey)

Indian kids would kill for this. Developing nation chic.

Long Post Written Mostly in the Airport (Day 11)

I don't think he has a permit

First on the agenda: dinner with the prospective student (who we will call S) and her parents (who we will call M & D). This is the first time I have had dinner with a prospective student. I know some reps do it often while traveling. I suppose one must be careful with this, not to get too close (academic bedside manner and all), in case the student is not accepted, or can’t find the resources to attend if they are accepted. The former I’m not too worried about. S is very bright and talented. The latter is the question. S and M meet me at the Taj Bengal. Their car and driver are waiting outside (clue one). M speaks flawless English, as does S, with a cultured accent (clue two). We are meeting D at a Chinese restaurant. He has just finished teaching a college course on international marketing, which he does as a sort of hobby. He owns his own manufacturing business (clue three). This business calls for him to travel quite a bit, at least once a year to the US (clue four). During dinner I let M & D grill me all they want. S is very set on going to my university. M & D are warming up to it, even though when she first proposed going to school in America they thought it was crazy. By the end of dinner, they say it is up to her. They will go along with it, but they want S to get some sort of financial aid through scholarship. I get the feeling they could pay for it without, but they want her to help defray the cost of this crazy thing she wants to do. Perfectly understandable. After dinner, D’s car and driver (different from the first, clue five) pick us all up and drops me at the hotel.

Today’s First Digression: “As you please.”
When a cabbie says this to you (as mine did in response to my query as to the price of his services for the day, as he dropped me at the hotel [yesterday]), it means, “You may or may not know the going rate, but I know if I leave it to you, you will pay me more than if I quote you the rate.” This is true. I do know the going rate. However, unless I am explicitly and directly instructed to pay this amount, a very feeble sum, I cannot do it. It just isn’t enough. So I over-pay, but I don’t feel like a sucker, because I do know the going rate and over-paid voluntarily. It is still a lot, lot less than you’d pay in the states. Besides, this is the first cabbie I’ve had who has not once had to stop and ask directions.

My wake-up call roused me at 5:30am. Shower, pack, breakfast, check-out, cab to airport. Now, my same cabbie from yesterday was supposed to be at the hotel to get me. He was not. I even waited a bit for him. My over-paying (see digression) probably led to his absence, as he probably went out on the town and blew the wad of cash I threw at him.


No, not the entrance to Arlington


At the airport I discover that my ticket says the 17th. Today is the 18th. Hmmm, I put off wondering how the mistake was made and go to the counter fully expecting to be bent-over for a new ticket. However, they fiddle on the computer, then simply scratch out yesterday’s date and write in today’s. Wow. This brings me to…

…Today’s Second Digression: Indian airport oddities.
1) Friendly, helpful employees. Ahmedabad aside, which might be the exception that proves the rule, all my airport experiences in India have been very pleasant. The people who work here are friendly and seem to enjoy it. Great, now I’ll get even more pissed off when facing the insulting, moronic quagmires that are American airports.
2) I have never been asked to show ID of any kind in an Indian airport. If I ever do anything very bad in the States, I will immediately fly to Mumbai, then buy a ticket to another city with cash. My new name will be Raj.

Delhi: check in and then wait an hour for my box of pre-shipped materials to be brought to my room (Did I mention I needed it quickly? Only three times). Then I load up and go to the local Fulbright office. There I speak to some employees and then one-on-one with several interested students.


No, not the Washington Monument

Rather than go straight back to the hotel, I decide to walk around a bit. Delhi feels deserted compared to other Indian cities. In parts it seems that the wide, tree-lined boulevards serve no purpose other than to link lavishly landscaped roundabouts. Then there is the Indian version of the National Mall. Quite impressive, what with the huge India Gate and all. Oh, and there are monkeys all over the damn place. I’m kind of afraid to make eye contact with them. Will they attack? Throw feces? I just avoid them. I walk ‘til me feet are killing me, then grab a rickshaw.

Confession: McDonald’s for dinner.

Cause for joy and celebration: I’m going out tonight! Woo-hoo!

Lotta Kolkata (Sorry, Day 10)

Holy Cow! I slept in ‘til 8:30am. That is by far my best yet. Didn’t have an early appointment, so I went to the gym and had a late breakfast. My school visit not being far away, I waited ‘til a half hour before to get a cab. I was still early. It’s amazing what competent drivers can do, and traffic moves pretty well here in Kolkata.

Calcutta International School: I do two informal sessions for students. We chat, have coffee, etc. The teacher will actually be in New York this summer, so I might have to invite him down to get a look at my university. Despite trying to drag it out, I still have a good bit of time before my next stop. I have my driver, who has been waiting (I don’t let a good thing go), to take me to the Victoria Memorial to kill more time. This thing was pretty cool, see pics:


Doesn't he look swell


The whole she-bang


Details...


...details


I love lion statues

Kolkata is not at all what I imagined. I like it. The dirt and poverty is no worse than other Indian cities, and many parts of it are a lot better, as the pics above show. They actually have large swaths of land not encumbered by heaps of discarded trash. I still have time to kill, so the driver takes me for a refreshment.

Fulbright Kolkata: pretty much all grad students. We go through most of the segments on the DVD and talk a lot. I get thrown out after going way over my allotted time.

I’m going to dinner with a prospective student and her mother tonight. More on that later.

Fox in the Hindi-House (Day 9)

My day started with a 9:30am appointment at the American International School of Chennai. The Fulbright office was supposed to send me an air-conditioned cab to use for the day. The driver of said cab was supposed to call my room when he arrived. At 8:50 I got ansy and decided to go downstairs to wait. I found that the cab had been sitting in the hotel parking lot for 30 minutes. It does no good to yell at people here, even if I could decide who was the appropriate person to yell at (driver, concierge, reception people), so I just climbed in. Ah, cool a/c, but to keep it that way means keeping the windows rolled up. Keeping the windows rolled up means quarantining myself with a tribe of mosquitoes that seem to be using the interior of this cab as a brothel. I spend the whole ride to the school alternately swatting them into olivion and covering exposed skin. I'm not yet hallucinating (or am I?) or having alternating hot and cold spells, so either I got them before they got me, or my medicine actually works. Pharmacuetical giants aren't all bad.

So I spend some time talking to the counselor and her son, then give a presentation to a group of students. No sweat. Now the cab take me back to the Fulbright office where we pick up my chaperone, for the next two stops are at women's colleges - Vaishnav College for Women, and Stella Maris College. At both I address large groups of young impressionable ladies. There is much tittering and giggling. I must have done a good job, because by the end they have shed their coy fascades and are catfighting in the aisles over whether I should next show the DVD clip on Fashion Design or on Film & Television. I scan the crowds for billboard girls, but find none.

Visits done, I grab my crap at the hotel and head back to the airport. The flight to Kolkata (Calcutta) is full of children wandering the aisles and making unpleasant noises. I'm really hoping a stewardess will lose control of the dinner cart and knock them over like bowling pins. The landing is heavy and abrupt. Another cab. Whereas previously cabbies have used a morse-code-like tooting of the horn, here they prefer to make it ululate like a distraut Palestinian woman mourning her dead/incarcerated husband. I check in. I do e-mail. I think of beer. Mmmmm, beer.

Today's digression: Hinglish
This may seem very un-PC, but after you've been here awhile you overlook that and just do what works. What I'm talking about is pronouncing things the way Indians do in order for them to understand you. Yes, they speak English, but not your version. Therefore you must adapt, even if adapting feels like tactless mockery at times. Instead of saying you are going to the Hilton, you must say you are going to Hill-Tun, both syllables distinct and equally accented. Then they respond, oh Hill-Tun, why didn't you say so.

Chennai, or Madras if you please (Day 8)

I've been spoiled by staying in one hotel for a whole week. It took a very long time for me to get all my junk together last night, and to check out this morning. But finally it was done. Also a sent a nice fat packet back to my university, full of apps, time sheets, and expense reports.

Cabbed it to the airport at 7:30. Hopped on a plane. Hopped off a plane. Chennai has a very nice airport, by Indian standards. Walking outside, I felt like I was somewhere in the Caribbean. First, because my eyes were almost scalded from their sockets by the intense sunlight, as a wall of heat overtook me, and second because there are low rolling hills around the airport, covered with short, dense vegetation. I hear there is a beach somewhere, but it might still be a little messed up. I plan to see for myself.

Another cab, to the Trident Hilton. I check in and try to get wireless access. It sucks. I have to walk the halls with my laptop, like some hick in Kansas prospecting for underground water, until I find a steady stream and a nearby seat. When I do get access and pull up the New York Times, I see there has been a large, fatal-type explosion of the deliberate sort in Beirut. I see I also have e-mails from the tour organizer in charge of the Beirut event to take place later this month. I read. The fair is still on, which makes sense. That bomb was meant for a specific person, and it was successful. It was not random. As long as I stay away from people who piss off Syria, I should be fine. I L-O-V-E Syria. So, no worries unless things escalate, in which case I'll just spend a couple more nights in Delhi.

At 3pm I am supposed to be visiting the local chapter of USEFI (the US Fulbright people). In the lobby they want me to pay 550 Rs (about $13) just to have a cab take me there, nevermind wait and come back. I decide to just walk out to the street and catch a rickshaw. This is what I got:


The Zen-Master of Rickshaw

A rickshaw is like a motorized big-wheel with a windshield and a back seat. I was initiated into using these last night. I must now digress for a moment:

Last night I went to dinner with an Indian I met on my last trip that has many connections in the art and education world. He suggested we take the rickshaw to the restaurant. For the next 40 minutes he proceeded to subject me to psychological torture. He blinked too much, he gestured too much, he definitely talked too much, and way too fast. I wanted to put a bullet between his eyes. I wish I could say the food made up for it, but this was the first time I got some Indian food that disagreed with me. I don’t mean that I got Delhi Belly later, I mean that I wanted to vomit right there. Imagine a root beer float, but instead of root beer, the fluid medium is some sort of way-too-sweet fruit juice. This juice is fresh squeezed, with pulp and seed floating in it that have the consistency I’d imagine 3-day-dead tadpoles to have. Add to this chunks of gelatin floating about for no reason. Yeah. Digression over.

So my rickshaw driver is a zen-master. Even though we are bobbing and weaving all through traffic at speeds defying all common sense (we were outrunning motorcycles), I never felt the chill hand of certain death. Not once. I could have gone to sleep back there, if not for the fumes. He was so good, I had him wait for me outside the American compound during my appointment. He then took me on a short tour of Chennai.


Where do I find these billboard girls?

The main thing worth mentioning is Marina Beach. This is the biggest beach I have ever seen. I drank a whole bottle of water just hiking across its Saharan expanse to get to where I could get some shots with water in them. See pics below.


See? Looks like desert. Except for the boats.


This is Ground Zero of where the tsunami hit India. Honestly, you can't tell. And we bitch about hurricanes.


...

After a couple more stops my buddy took me back to the Hilton. For dinner I had pizza at Pizza Corner, which is around the corner. Imagine that.

Mumbai Day Seven: My Funny Valentine's Day

I actually managed to make myself sleep in 'til 7:30 this morning. Congrats to me. I ate breakfast then headed out to two solo school visits. They were both in an area called the Bandra Kurla Complex. Going into this spacious, modern development, I thought I'd somehow been beamed to Dubai. Huge, gleaming, brand-new buildings all around. Wide streets. No squalor. Amazing. The schools, the American School of Bombay and Dhirubhai Ambani International School, look like hip office parks surrounded by playgrounds and soccer fields. Wish I'd brought my camera. At each I met with the guidance counselor and took a look around the place, speaking to a few interested students. Then I zipped back to the hotel to say goodbye to M____ and K____ as they caught their cab to the airport.

I finally managed to enjoy the pool a bit. I took some sun, read some Cryptonomicon, ate lunch, and had a swim. After a shower I took my laptop down to the lobby area and CAUGHT UP ON ALL MY E-MAIL! That is, until the sun rises in Southville and they start forwarding me more. Every fourth song the piano guy played was "Funny Valentine." I almost started typing it subconsciously. At sunset I took a break and went out to the point where the movie had been filming to watch the nuclear orb burn through the layer of pollution hugging the horizon. Quite romantic.

No pics today.

Mumbai Day Six: The Grand Fair

I get up way too early once again and head to the gym. I stay here for almost two hours, because it needs to be done. Fatness is a slow creep when you travel. It will sneak up on you. There is so much going on (even when it involves just sitting: cars, planes, fairs) that you always have a good excuse not to work out. After kicking my own butt, I did some e-mail, showered, and ate a late breakfast. Then it was time to get set up for the fair down in the basement ballroom. Came back upstairs and got pretty. I even put my suit on. Why not? No oven-hot cabs to take, just the downwards elevator.


My pre-fair spread

The fair itself was a non-stop blur of babbling. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind at these things. I hear and say so many similar (yet not quite the same) things that I lose track of what I have and have not said, and to whom. Things that happened at the fairs in Pune and Ahmedabad will seem like they just happened 5 minutes ago. That's why if anything important happens, I really, really have to write it down. Sometimes this doesn't help. I'll look at my notes later and think, "What the beejeezus was that about?" Despite this, I did a good job on the presentation and collected one more app from an aspiring film director. I also managed to get rid of all my materials that I shipped over (just saving a few for Chennai). This is a plus. I can't take extra crap with me, but I feel horrible trashing it. Best to hand it all out, even if it ends up lining bird cages.


All the reps, organizers, and helpers

After the fair we dress down and Husain takes us all out to a celebratory dinner. We finally get to indulge ourselves. We also let loose on Husain about what we felt could have been better about the tour. He was a good sport about it (he did ask for us to be candid). Many of the problems were beyond his control. Overall it was a worthwile experience.

Pictures to come.

Mumbai Day Five: Piddling in Pune

Wake at 5am. I just can't seem to get in a good 8 hours like I do when I'm home. I'm not sure if this is lingering jet-lag, or just my mind and body adapting to a travel schedule where there is so much to do. Regardless, I feel rested and don't zonk out during the day, so I guess it doesn't matter. I do some work on the computer, get breakfast, and meet the group in the lobby a little before 7.

Today we are driving to Pune (pronounced Pu-na), which seems close by map, but is a good three hours by car. It takes a while just to get off the island of Mumbai (which was once seven islands, now fused together). After that we soon begin to rise into the Western Ghatt mountains. These are not very big - more like large hills. In fact, the old Brit installations that have grown into cities up here are called Hill Stations.


School setting at the hill station

In one of these we stop of at a college teaching business and hotel management. Once again, this isn't a great place for me to get students. In this specific case, I don't see how this stop was a use to anyone in our group. We were given a tour of the campus and didn't even have a chance to talk to students. Maybe if the tables were turned, and we were sending students to India, this visit would have made sense. Aesthetically, it was pleasing, and they served some good samosas, but other than that it was a complete waste of time. One piece of info we did pick up is that the road we are driving on has been designated the most dangerous in the world by the BBC. Great. I do assume however, that they are not counting highways in Iraq.


Hotel management students preparing for a Valentines party. Our silly holidays have spread so far...

Much of the scenery on the way to Pune actually reminds me of parts of Central America during the dry season. Like, C.A., they say that when it rains here, everything becomes lush and unbelievably green. Once in Pune, we go through the now familiar and annoying effort of finding where we are supposed to be going. We arrive at the college library to set up just as our fair is supposed to be beginning. Luckily, we are not swamped with students. At this location we've decided to give half-hour info sessions as well as set up booths. Other than during training, I've never had to do this before. We were supposed to have a separate room, but we end up doing it in the rotunda in the middle of the general fair. It wasn't that bad. It helps that I have great support material on the DVD that I was able to show on a big screen. Afterwards I talked to a few students who seemed relatively interested, even though this is mainly a technical school. I also got an app from a girl I'd been e-mailing with.


K____ from Ontario (married, before you ask)

Having been served huge samosas during the fair, we all decide to forgo stopping for dinner and drive straight back to Mumbai. Making the trip worse, the light was fading so I couldn't read, and I am then forced to listen to all the married people's stories of how they proposed or were proposed to. Gag.


Sunset over the Western Ghatts, from the car.

We get back to the hotel around 10pm. Though we'd all talked mightily in Pune of going out for a drink, now that it is put-up time, we all decide to just hit the sack. I don't even manage to undress or turn the lights off. To any of my friends suspecting that I'm leaving stuff out, I wish I could say I am, but unfortunately I am not.

Mumbai Day Four: Brush with Bollywood

Technically this is supposed to be a day off, as far as the organized tour goes. I however, have booked a couple meetings downtown of my own. M____ from B___ State is going that way for some shopping and sight-seeing, so we get a lift together. It takes over an hour to go about 10 miles. I thought of a good metaphor for Mumbai traffic: you remember those films you saw in school of the human circulatory system? All those blood cells careening through arteries and veins, all crammed together, starting stopping. That's how it is, except going in two directions at once. Ok, I hear you, enough about the traffic already.

My first stop is at the local Fulbright office. It has a loose affiliation with the American consulate here. It needs to become tighter. The Brits and Aussies are kicking our asses when it comes to gov't assistance in promoting their schools overseas. I meet a couple of the employees, one who I've been e-mailing, chat a bit about how we can work better together, and drop of a box of materials to give to interested students.

Afterwards I walk to the next office, yes walk. It feels so good to get out of the car (which M____ has taken shopping). I get a lot of looks from the locals. I'm kind of tall and kind of white, compared to them. There just aren't a lot of Yankees street hiking 'round here. The EDU World office is nearby. There I meet with Rushabh about how we can better promote my university in Mumbai. His organization is what we call agents. They get us students. We decide I should definitely try to make it back in April for the huge Times of India (newspaper) education fair. Students have just finished exams and 100,000 of them pass through the doors in two days looking for what to do next. He wants my university to man a booth at EDU World's display space, with me and perhaps a professor or two, then stay for a week meeting with interested parties. I tell him I'll give it a go.


Dude outside the pizza place

Meetings done, I call M____ and I grab some pizza at a little place nearby on Marine Drive. Finally, a cold beer. Marine Drive is what best characterizes Mumbai. If you look back at that map I posted previously, Marine Drive runs all along the edge of the inner "claw" the lower peninsula forms. Great views, lots of stores and hotels, and even a little beach, called Chowpatty. Whenever I get time, I'd like to take a stroll down its length. Not today.

M____ wants to go see the Ghandi house, which I have already seen. No problem, I go on a little safari while he takes a peek. See pics below.


Those damn cows just can't stay out of the streets


I told them later what frat boys do with those cricket bats...


Park near Ghandi house


Read this sign, great stuff

Another hour in the car and we are back to the hotel. I'm tempted to sleep, but do some e-mail and such. As the sun starts to go down, I put on my flip-flops and decide to take a stroll out to the point where there is an old fort. Whattaya know, they are in the process of filming a movie there, a Bollywood movie. For those who don't know, Mumbai has the largest film industry in the world. Yes, the world. Their films are more like musicals, and what is being filmed now is a choreographed dance scene in the old fort at sunset. There are tons of Indian guys clambering to get a look. Apparently the star is pretty hot. I climb up to the top of a cliff with a bunch of other guys and use my height to get a good look. The director doesn't seem happy. It's windy and the girls hair keeps getting blown in her face, and she or her partner screws up the steps. I don't think they got all the shots they wanted, so they will probably be back tomorrow night.

The stars are in the bottom left

Lemmee see!!

Mumbai Day Three: Ahmedabad by Day

Woke at 3:00am. Oh yeah. In the lobby at 4. The drive to the airport was actually quite nice. There was absolutely no traffic. Without all the bustle and noise it seemd like a whole new city. Plus, I was seeing it all illuminated by cleansing artificial light, rather than sunlight filtered through a lot of floating dirt. It almost seemed...Western. Then we got on the plane. It looked like it had been bought at a pawn shop. If you are ever in India, never stray from Jet Air. You will pay for it if you do.

Sunrise at Ahmedabad airport

First thing we did is stop to check out the hotel where the afternoon's fair would be and have breakfast. Not bad. Then it was another game of find the school. This took well over an hour of zig-zagging through town. Ahmedabad is much more open than Mumbai, but there is still tons of traffic, it just moves a lot faster. At any given time, vehicular motion and vehicular manslaughter are only about 5 centimeters apart. Throw into the mix a lot of people on scooters and bikes, cows wandering in the road, mules and camels pulling carts, lots of stray dogs, and a few monkeys here and there scratching themselves. So, at least the ride was interesting. The school was not. Best management school in India. 134,000 people compete for 250 spots each year. They are not going to any other school after this. I will cut off an apendage if I get an app from one of these kids. They looked at me like I was ... I don't know what, a third nipple?

The fair was good, however. I met some very interested students, got two applications for our M. Arch program, and met about 5 people who had already applied, two who showed me their amazing portfolios. One day I'll be bragging that I recruited these kids, seriously.

After the fair it was back to the airport. Wouldn't you know our flight was delayed 4 hours. Since the flight is only 45 minutes long, we figured this meant it would never come to pass. After much haggling, gnashing of teeth, and pulling of hair, we bought tickets on Indian Air. I almost pulled their clerk through that little hole in the glass booth. It would have been worth the jail time. We had to pay a "Yankee tax" if you know what I mean. We still had time to kill in the airport.


Our intrepid travelling reps stuffing face in the airport. From left Baiju (no idea if I'm spelling that right) from the educational mag, S______ from Toronto, K____ from Ontario, and M____ from B___ State University.

Got back to the hotel in Mumbai at 11pm. I promptly fell on my bed and passed out. Woke up at 3am and started doing some e-mail and making these entries.

THE END

This looks like I felt at the end of the day

Mumbai Day Two: Mumbai Marathon, Part Two

View from window of first school visit

OK, so we met up in the lobby at 8:30 and hit the streets in a couple of little SUVs. We drove from our hotel way down to the southern tail of Mumbai, called Colaba (see map below). There we visited the B. D. Somani school, which seems to have a great program. We had an opportunity to do brief overviews of the school, take questions, and then meet one-on-one with some students.


Map of Mumbai, taken from a newspaper ad

Next it was way back past our hotel, to the northern part of Mumbai. On the way we grabbed McDonalds. None of it is made with beef here, for obvious reasons, so I had a Big Mac made of pressed chicken patties. Yummy. School two wasn't so great, but we got to see Juhu Beach on the way there, and the house of India's most famous Bollywood star. You've still never heard of him.

School three, the RIMS school, was another good one. Only got a chance to meet with a limited number of students, but they were all very interested. I'll be looking back in on this one and the first.

So, all that sounds fairly simple, but we did not get back to the hotel until after 5pm. Mumbai traffic is hell. The A/C wasn't working so well either. And our drivers only had an idea of where the schools were, so there was lots of U-turning etc. Mumbai is a complete maze. I have no idea how you would map it, let alone create a phone book or something. It's chaos.


Lite traffic, seriously

Back at the hotel I walked around the grounds a bit, did some more e-mail (surprise), and went to bed before 9pm. Wait 'til you read about day three.


Hotel grounds. Notice new causeway construction in upper right.

Mumbai Day Two: Mumbai Marathon

Oy, I'm beat. We drove all over town today. Tomorrow I have to wake up at 3am so we can catch our flight to Ahmedabad. Coming back tomorrow night. If I'm not dead, I'll try to post some of my new pictures.



Snore.....

Mumbai Day One: Settling In

Well, I did ok on the jet-lag front, but not great. I worked on e-mail all morning (exciting, huh) and into the afternoon, taking breaks to read chapters of Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon. I'm now 300 pages in - this isn't going to last me as long as I'd hoped. On one of these reading breaks, lying in bed, I decided to rest my eyes, then woke up at 6pm, the time I was supposed to be meeting the rest of the group in the lobby for dinner. Luckily I had some non-wrinkled clothes I could pull on fast.

There are just three other reps on this trip (1 Yank, 2 Canucks), and one Brit who represents an educational periodical. Hussein, our organizer and guide, along with his wife Rupali, took us all to dinner at a local Chinese restaurant. There we were introduced to about a dozen Indians somehow involved in the educational scene of Mumbai. At one point, I thought dinner was done, then realized we hadn't been served the main course yet. It is going to be a struggle to keep the pounds off if they keep putting so much food in front of us and talking for so long.

After dinner I went to my room and answered MORE E-MAIL. Due to my long afternoon nap, I was not able to get to sleep until late, and then woke promptly at 6:30. I knew I wasn't dozing off again soon (I felt way too clear-headed), so I just went down to the gym.

I should start putting up some new pictures. Today we visit three local schools.

Countdown ( 0 )

So, my last night in town for a bit. It was fun. Not as fulfilling as I’d hoped, but fun nonetheless. I said goodbye so a few of my better friends, got drafted to help behind the bar and with security at Mercury, and took advantage of my upcoming two month absence to say some things to people that otherwise I would not have. If you are reading this and suspect you are one of these people, you probably are. J.C. impersonating a wrecking ball.

Next morning, locked the house up and left. Taxied to the airport. Caught the same flight out of Southville as one of our visiting international counselors, Steve, from Paris, France. In Newark we grabbed some food and drink together before heading off to our respective departure gates. Twice now, from two different airports, I have seen the New York City skyline, but never been there. I’m thinking now, that when I return in two months, I might have to stop for a night or two. Maybe I can crash at The Turk’s place.

Now I’m in Schipol airport, outside Amsterdam. Security really gave me a working over here. I haven’t gotten it this bad since having long hair, returning from Central America, and making the mistake of telling the customs officer that I worked in the bar industry. This Dutch guy takes a gander through my passport, then looks at my itinerary, and the fact that I do not yet have a return ticket to the US, and decides I am Up To Something. He asks what I do, then doesn’t seem to buy it and asks a bunch more questions, including, but not limited to:
“Who pays for all this travel?” (about three times)
“What do you study at this university?”
“Why do you need international students?”
“Don’t you have enough people in the US?”
“Do you speak Arabic?”
“What were you doing in Cyprus?”
Now, I quickly get it that the whole purpose of this is to get under my skin and fluster me, so that if I am Up To Something, maybe I will contradict myself. This realized, it still does not quell my urge to snap at him after awhile or say something smart-assed that will end up getting me a cavity search, like:
“Cyprus, oh you know, brokering arms deals. Wait, wait, sorry. Different trip. I mean attending an educational fair at the US Fulbright office. My bad.”
Luckily, I control myself. Feeling he has given me enough scorn and distrustful looks, he lets me pass.

The flight to Mumbai is not bad. The plane is packed, but I’m on an aisle and the seat next to me is one of the few empties on the plane. Score. At this point I’m trying not to calculate the time in the US, or how much sleep I have had. The flight arrives at 11pm local. I wait for the tour organizer for about 15 minutes, but still not seeing any sign with my name on it, I get my own cab. It’s about a 12-mile drive to the Taj Lands End in Bandra (North Mumbai) and only costs about $6.50 US. Love it.

I check in and then decide to see if I can’t begin resetting my internal clock. One trick I believe in is going to the hotel bar for a late night drink. My brain may still know it is only early afternoon in the states, but my liver and kidneys are fooled into thinking it's last call, and together they carry more weight. My brain will have to fall in line. Inside the faux English pub are a few stragglers and a couple of Filipina OCWs (Overseas Contract Workers) singing Indigo Girls and Guns n’ Roses. They finish their set and one joins me at the bar, inviting me to eat at the hotel café with her and her singing partner. I sit with them for awhile, but now getting tired, and suspicious of a business pitch around the corner, I excuse myself and go to bed. I wake at 7:30am, grab some breakfast buffet, and now here I sit. We’ll see if I can beat jet-lag in just one day. Oh, and catch up on all my e-mail. Yuck.

Countdown ( 1 )

The bags are all packed. The house is secure. I have one more university dinner to go to. After that I'm hitting the town one last time. It will be spring when I return.

I'm pretty sure I'm not forgetting anything. Pretty sure...

Countdown ( 1.5 )

Don't you know it, just before you leave, something interesting happens that makes you wish you could stick around a bit longer...

Countdown ( 2 )

So here I sit, surrounded by piles of clothes and other sundry items (including the all-important toiletries) I plan to take with me. I'm going to get it all packed up tonight and make myself a final list of things to do tomorrow. Then, I'm going to let myself go out and have a couple beers. No more than that. I still have to get up fairly early tomorrow (Saturday) and accompany the international counselors on the second half of their university tour. I can't complain, because I'll get a couple more great meals. Today we ate at L___ and S___ for lunch. I'm still sluggish. But, the light is at the end of the tunnel. I will be leaving soon.

Countdown ( 3 )

I have now posted all the pictures from my last trip that I think are worth posting. I'll be putting up new ones as I travel.

This morning started with the ADT security people banging on my door. I didn't mind. My place is now a veritable Ft. Knox. Being gone two months, I'm sure I'll still worry a bit, but not as much.

I worked a half-day and then came home to start the laundry. I'm about midway through it now. I took a break to eat at Soho with B_____, a fellow international rep, and a few international counselors from abroad that the university has invited to see the school for the weekend. The meal was great, as usual. I stuck with my shrimp and grits. I always over-eat when helping out with these guest weekends. Now I need to hibernate for a bit.

On a side note, my good buddy from back home in Panama City, Lucas McArthur, leaves for medical school in the Caribbean today. If that sounds interesting (of course it does) you can check out his blog here.

Barkeep. Munich, Germany.

More Pics: Germany

Bavarian countryside. Germany.

Church window. Cyprus.