Ending my India trip on a good note in Goa

Kayaking was nice, relaxing, and very early. The scenery was very pleasant, we saw a few cool birds, a dead cat, and some children who ran along the shore to follow us as we kayaked by them. The rest of the day was full of good food and beach relaxing, and then more good food. There were cows and donkeys wandering in the middle of the street, but this was nothing I hadn’t already seen. I had a whole fish for dinner and took forever to eat it. Well, I was kinda feeding the stray animals on the side…. That would probably be why, right? There was a litter of kittens and puppies. Cute as anything. Well, until I got scratched and was told to go wash with soap in water in case of infection.

We finished our evening with some cappucinos at the hotel. It was time for me to go back to the room, pack and prepare to go on home. The night before I leave to go back is such a mix of emotions. I’m excited to be home and see everyone, sad for what I never got a chance to do, and exhausted from all I have done. And I know what the trip home entails, which is usually many hours on many airplanes. My taxi driver ripped me off on the way to the hotel, which started my 5 am flight bitterly in the first place. I had a 6 hour layover in Mumbai before I could board the first flight which would take me to London. They made me walk around for 45 minutes before they would let me in. At one point, literally, they told me to walk a half mile, get a coffee, come back with it and they would let me in. WTF? I don’t know what the point of that was, but it got me in and that was all I cared about. Even when I did get in, they made me sit in the middle of nowhere before I could head over toward the gate to check in. Maybe for security reasons, I don’t know. Once I did get all checked in, I ate pizza and then a fried chicken sandwich from 2 different chain restaurants. I think subconsciously I was really hoping this would help me to sleep well to London.

Then this happened and it just made my ride home. I walked into a little shop because I had nothing better to do at the airport, and an male employee, a bit younger than myself at the airport asked me all sorts of questions. His first greeting was to say, “I like your jacket”. He ended with, can I give you a compliment? Yeah sure. “It’s a bit nasty” he says. Ummm OK… what could he possibly plan to say to me? “You have a nice figure.” He says. I cracked up, and then said… well…. Thanks?

On that note, ladies and gentlemen: That has completed survey November 2010!

Goa: Not overrated

Goa, ahhhh Goa. First, I’d like to throw out a big thank you to Mr. Southard who so graciously showed me around his neighborhood and home while I was there. I arrived early, early Saturday morning (like 6am early, maybe earlier) and was without a room for a good 4 hours. I slept in the lobby of the hotel, which was wide open to mosquitoes, other unattractive insects, and hotel guests to see me drooling on the couch. I wasn’t totally happy, but there wasn’t much else I could do. My room was average at best, but I was just ultimately happy to get to a bed.

Around 12:30, Michael came by on his scooter and we started by planning the rest of the day out. We met a girl friend of his for a couple drinks on the beautiful (and clean) beach. I saw some pet piggies, a fisherman in a thong (not cute, but he did have buns of steel), and some cows wandering the beach. I drank a pina colada right out of a coconut, which was awesome. It was getting fairly close to sun-down, (another hour and a half or so), but Michael thought it would be awesome to take the scooter to a hidden little beach on a little island. So, I hopped on the back of his scooter and off we went. Being on that scooter was exhilarating, it was awesome. I loved the feeling of just being out there, “with the wind in my hair” as they say, experiencing the drive and the nature as close as I could. When we approached the ferry, we just drove straight on without stopping, and we made it just in time. The ferry ride was less than 5 minutes. I didn’t realize we were headed directly across the bay. And off we were again. Towards the end, we had to ride down some mountains, with the volcanic ash under us, we were very close to paradise. We left the bike up top and had to walk down. The sight was just breathtaking, the beautiful ocean, bright green palm trees, a lake on the left which drained to the ocean on the right, and pretty landscaping in the distance. It’s something not even a picture would be able to describe. We stayed and took a bunch of shots, did some swimming both in the lake and the ocean (so warm both of them!!!) until it got pitch black and a wild dog tried to hump me (seriously, it was quite frightening, he was a strong beast and I don’t know what would have happened it Michael wasn’t there to scare it off! Every time Michael walked away he came to attack me again). I remember saying this was my most favorite swim I had ever taken, I felt like I was in paradise. Really truly. We had to ride back up with the first mile being lots of potholes and such, over the ground without pavement. I had a carrot coconut shrimp soup for dinner, before some fish. It was awesome. That night, I stayed at Michael’s because the next day we were going kayaking.

Tour of the slums

Speaking of disparity of wealth, I did a tour of the slums. Unlike anything I had ever seen. I saw the process of how they are shipped our recyclables, how they have to hand wash the foul-smelling, dirty, rotting remnants off the plastic, bleach it with dangerous chemicals, break it down with machines, and then put it up on the roof to dry off. Lots and lots of labor, all for a few dollars a day. Not only that, but they make papasans (or something like that, hand-made, very thin wafer type snacks generally served for free in bars). Also, they skinned and dried animal hydes here to make leather, made beautiful pottery, etc. etc. I found it pretty amazing everything that they did. The smells were putrid, I stepped on animal blood, over human feces, everywhere. There were rotting carcases, naked children who wanted to shake my hand. I often found it hard to breathe without feeling like I needed to gag. I’ve never experienced it that badly before. There were women who complimented me on my earrings, and girls that must have been 14 years old with babies. People were generally friendly, and very curious. A lot just stared. Children wanted to know our names and where we were from. We weren’t allowed to take photos, but it still seemed like we were at a zoo viewing the animals. Outside of the slums, some people asked to be in my photos. No one asked us for money in here. The money for the tour and the post card/photographs that I bought were used to support a school where they teach classes, such as how to use a computer and social etiquette.

That night, I was suppose to meet up with my friend Justin’s Indian friend who lived in Mumbai. I was psyched, it was the weekend and I was DONE with my work, not only that, I had an early flight in the morning to paradise (ie Goa). I wanted to do some last-minute shopping, some of my friends had asked me to pick up a thing or two if I happened to come by it. One wanted a shirt, another wanted a specific scarf. While shopping around, there was a store vendor who started talking to me. He was very unattractive, but had blonde hair and white skin. Upon further conversation, I learned he was originally from the UK but had lived in India for years. He was very invasive, like all the people that I met in Delhi. (That is where he grew up for the most part). He wanted to know if I wanted to get a drink, but… oh darn, I’m suppose to be meeting Justin’s friend to hang out for the night. Just in that very moment, I get a phone call. It’s Justin’s friend, and he can’t meet me anymore, he got out of work too late and it would take an hour to get to me. So blondy (I’ll call him that) hears the whole conversation and when I get off the phone, declares “perfect! Now you can go out with me. “ Great, just what I wanted. So, I reluctantly agreed, I guess I had nothing better to do. So we went out for some food and drink, and it wasn’t too bad. But then we got in a taxi because he wanted to show me some beach and I said no, no I have to go home, I have packing to do and an early flight. So fine, taxi dropped me off, and he came with. So I tell him, you’re not coming with me. I had to tell him over and over and over again that I didn’t want him to hang out in my room while I did my packing, and I definitely didn’t want him giving me a massage. Sadly enough, as unattractive and annoying as hell as this guy was, he probably got a lot of girls interested in him because he had light skin and hair. And he made sure to talk about all the girls that liked him, and the girls he hooked up with, trying to talk himself up in hopes that I would follow suit. Without being rude, because I’m really not good with being rude, it took me forever and ever to get him to leave me alone so I could go back and finish packing. No I didn’t want to stare out at the ocean, and I didn’t want to talk with him for just 5 minutes about my life dreams and goals. I made damn sure that he didn’t follow me in.

Cultural difference in India: Not sure if this was already mentioned in the previous 14 pages, but they ask you if you have eaten yet like it’s mentioning the weather. It’s kinda bizarre to say the least. When they ask you, and wait for your response, it’s not like they’re wondering if they can get you a snack, or can they eat with you, it’s just a silence filler. I thought it was the most bizarre thing and never knew how the heck to answer that question. I thought often times people were using it to promote the hotel restaurant, or ask me to lunch. Never though they just wanted to know that I had eaten or not.

Disparity of wealth

Before I had arrived in Mumbai, Kym sent me an article about the largest apartment that had ever been built. I tried to explain it to my driver, but he took me to see something else. Hmmm… I did want to make sure I saw it before I left. I made sure to keep my eye out for it, and one day… there it was, amongst all the other skyscrapers and the twin towers that my driver had tried to show me. It was incredible in person, I took a few pictures of it the few times we drove by it. Kym told me how the 3rd richest guy in the world lived there with his family, and a ridiculous amount of servants and maids. The largest single family home in the world, is what it was I believe. Sickening to see it and then the slums of people who live right down the street. I’ve never seen such a disparity of wealth as I did in Mumbai.

Mumbai: The NYC of India

It was time to move on to Mumbai. Stupid me, I waited till day-of to hire a taxi to take me to Mumbai. Not smart, but thank goodness I was able to find one. That was pretty irresponsible of me and I was lucky, I just didn’t even think it would be a problem! Silly me. My driver was telling me that they had been booked up for today but just happened to have a cancellation and I called just in time.
The drive to Mumbai was about 4 hours, but it was pretty. All through the hills. Unfortunately, it was still terribly hazy outside so my pictures wouldn’t come out as well as I had hoped.

Mumbai is a trip, it’s the NYC of India. So, picture NYC in all its richness and glory, and then picture impoverished, overcrowded India and BOOM! That’s Mumbai. My hotel was nothing compared to some of the sleek hotel rooms I had stayed in, in other parts of India, but the view was gorgeous. It was right over the boardwalk and just beyond was the ocean, with a beautiful skyline running along the shore. I was staying in one of the hotels that had been attacked during the 2009 Mumbai terrorist attacks. It was eerie being there. It was even more creepy when I went to the Taj which had been under attack even longer, it was right across from the gate of India and there was lots of footage there. The restaurants they had were unreal, and very expensive as well. There had to be at least 6 of them, featuring all different types of food. Security in Mumbai was just as tight as it had been at every other hotel in India, scanning the bags and each person that came in the hotel.

A few interesting events happened in Mumbai. I went out to dinner with a realtor about an hour north of where I was staying, in Bandra. I liked him, he was very kind. We ate at the Taj and kept saying over and over to just take in the moment, the beautiful view, the wonderful food, the great company. It really made me feel very relaxed, and it was one of those moments where I can sit back and say wow, how did I get here? Eating at an expensive restaurant in a luxurious hotel, halfway across the world in India. Thank you, Mr. Elsi Relo realtor. He had me write a message to myself to send him some of the grids from other parts of India, but he also had me mention the best tofu I had ever had in the message, so I can always remember it. Because it was, the freshest, most delicious tofu I had ever eaten. I could have eaten pounds of it, and usually the thought of tofu really just grosses me out. A…mazing. Surveying job, sometimes I love you.

Mumbai is ridiculously spread out. One day, I spent an hour and a half getting to a grocery store which was on the other side of the city, and that was without major traffic. It was by far the longest ride home ever. This was the longest commute I had ever taken before.

Meeting an Aussie superstar

Now for the best story of this survey. It was Friday night, I was tired, I could have easily crawled into bed and finished my work until I fell asleep, but I was hungry after not having eaten all day and sick of eating at the same restaurant at the hotel night after night since I had been here. So, I took my work with me and decided to ask the front desk where the music might be coming from. Apparently it was coming from the bar at the hotel, but I knew that couldn’t be right. I would have heard it on other evenings as well if that was the case. They did inform me though that at the end of the driveway and around the corner on the right was where ABC Farms was located, a cute little walk in the woods surrounded by restaurants lining on either side. I walked by quite a few restaurants but decided I would go to the end and settle on whichever one caught my fancy. At the end, a man with an Australian accent sitting at the entrance noticed me walking around in a bit of confusion and called out to me. “Hey! Come in here, Brett Lee is playing!” “Who is Brett Lee?” I ask. “Oh, where are you from? You’re clearly not from Australia” hey says. “Well I’ll give you a free drink ticket and a ticket to hang out backstage with the band. “ Well, I didn’t really have any idea who the band or Brett Lee was, but really who cares. Sounds like one of the band members was well-known somehow, so why pass up an opportunity to see where the night could take me.

I walked in and stood in the back and observed the scene. It was crowded, but not terribly crowded. There was nowhere to sit and getting to the bar was difficult, but not like being in an overcrowded bar in Boston that’s for sure. Especially since people graciously made way for me to get to the bar. The blonde hair again! I started talking to a couple nice guys at the bar. They were both fans of Brett Lee, but when the band finished playing, they didn’t bother standing in the long line waiting for an autograph.

The show was over, people were starting to leave, but I didn’t know where the “afterparty “is so I just hung around waiting for the next cue. The guy who had given me the invite to the afterparty had told me just a few minutes ago that we would be moving shortly to an undisclosed location. Shortly after, Brett Lee came down for a drink and afterparty invite man was behind the bar making the drinks. Meanwhile, the nice guys I were talking to seemed a little starstruck, I had just said goodbye to them and they were trying to sneak pics of Brett Lee, which ended unsuccessfully when his bodyguard said no pictures. They needed to leave. Meanwhile, Brett noticed me and caught my eye. “Come over here and hang out with us!” So I did. It was awkward, we were trying to make small talk while meanwhile everyone else in the circle knew each other and was giving congratulations on the great show they just had. I had a few awkward moments just standing there not sure who to talk to or what to do with myself. Meanwhile, afterparty invite guy jumped behind the bar which had closed down 20 minutes prior and makes drinks for everyone, and tells Brett he hopes he doesn’t mind, but he saw me there by myself and thought he should invite me to the party. Course it’s fine, Brett missed his blonde haired girls. Too bad I wasn’t Aussie and totally star-struck.

Shortly after we moved down the street. Mind you, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. Literally all day. I had already consumed 2 drinks at the bar and had just entered into an open-bar scenario in a really cool lounge-like area. The drinks kept coming. And, there was food too. I devoured pizza, which resulted in me not being as worried about how much I was drinking as I should have been, I was becoming happier and happier and so pleased to have found some fun people to hang out with, even if they were all guys. Lots of them good-looking too, either part of the band or cricket players from other countries! Things got more and more blurry, and then I started to dance.

That’s about as much as I really remember. I barely remember telling everyone around me that I was terribly drunk, and may have even fallen down once or twice. Seriously. I know I know…. Not smart. Thank goodness I made it back to my hotel room and apparently even talked to Mom on skype, which I only realized the next morning when I looked at my computer. Earlier in the evening I was determined to have a full work day the next day. And then I didn’t wake up until 1 pm. Even then, I couldn’t make it out of bed until 4 pm. I was sick to my stomach, I barely was able to order room service and must have looked like I got hit by a truck when the guy came in my room. Worst hangover of my survey career right there, but a super fun night.

Bomb threats and stalkers in Pune

Surveying Pune wasn’t so easy. The only grocery store that expats shop at was full of workers and security, all of which did not want me taking down prices. The third time I got caught typing into my phone, I was forced to speak to the manager who spoke to me like I was a little kid who needed to be put in time out. They “didn’t appreciate it at all” and were “quite disappointed” and it was “too late to reconcile”. So, I left reluctantly; but I had no choice at this point. I wasn’t going back. During the second time that I got kicked out, I was approached by security personnel and I was prepared to be asked to stop writing down prices. That didn’t happen. Everyone on the side of the grocery store I was in was asked to move to the other side. We were no longer accessible to cookies, baby food, flour and sugar. Damn, I was so close to being done there. Amid the chaos, I got myself caught by one of the shelve stockers. I asked to speak to a manager but he was much too heavily involved in the “crisis” going on outside. Since I got caught and it didn’t make much sense hanging around, I used the opportunity to check out a pretty impressive bomb scare. The street was blocked off on both directions and hundreds of people crowded the edges to get a glimpse of what was going to happen when the man in the bomb suit approached the package left outside the highly populated expat grocery store. It was like watching Hurt Locker, the man in the space suit look-alike couldn’t turn his back when walking away from it. Of course, nothing was in that bag. India receives bomb threats all the time. However, they do have their share of serious threats, like the one that blew up the very popular German Bakery in Pune 6 months prior. For this reason, it’s not taken lightly. I don’t blame them and certainly wouldn’t want it to be.

I may have picked up a short-term, one time stalker while in Pune. How does that happen? Just like this. I get a facebook message from someone I didn’t recognize saying “hey, I thought I saw you in Pune and then just happened to come upon your profile on facebook, are you still in Pune?” OK people, what’s wrong with this picture. Rather, what’s wrong with this guy. Seriously… he just happened to come upon my profile among the millions of facebook users out there? Probably a quarter of them with blonde hair? Curious as hell, I badgered him for more information. After a few ridiculous “no really I just found you randomly” tries and me wondering if he thinks I was born yesterday, he finally admits that someone gave him my name. But, he wouldn’t admit who it was, no matter what. So, I didn’t press him for it. But bizarre though right? And creepy to say the least. After that one day of exchanging emails, I never heard from him again.

All set with that massage, thanks realtor weirdo

Today, I asked where the good shopping was. You know, the type of shopping if you wanted to grocery shop. Or go to malls, buy clothing, buy food. The lady at the business center tried to direct me to MG road where there was plenty of tourist shopping. After the fifth try, I gave up. She wasn’t getting it. Oh well.
DHL came today. On time and with bells on, the first time that’s happened in a well, orderly manner since I have been on survey. I was on the phone with the car dealership and as soon as I hung up my phone rang again. “Maam, the courier came and he left a slip for you. He’s here we just want to make sure everything is ok. “ Me, “yes that should be fine, does he need me to do anything?” “Nope, I’m outside your door with the slip for you”. The guy was outside my door the whole time, and the courier was still downstairs. The lengths they go to here. I actually really like this hotel. They haven’t been too pushy in any way. It’s very comforting.
At a realtor meeting today, a girl in the small office I was in (there were only 3 of us in the room) casually walked around the office and took pictures of me from every angle. Didn’t say a word to me. I tried hard not to feel terribly awkward. Meanwhile, realtor’s mignons brought us cookies, samosas, Indian coffees, and extra plates and napkins. How strange would it be hiring multiple people to take care of all the small things for you, all day? What would you do with the extra time in your life? Everyone middle class and up have at least one maid in this culture. What a strange life.

Today some lady came up to me, while I was mid-sentence asking for the price of an espresso and said hello, excuse me. I was like… ummm yes? “hi where are you from.” “I’m from the USA.” “Ohhh that’s wonderful! This is my Aunt, she really wants to talk to you. Can you give her a hug?” So I’m like sure… I’ll give her a hug why not. Meanwhile, Aunt doesn’t talk to me. I’m not sure if she can speak English. Then the lady asks, can you give her another hug? So I do. Hey, why not spread the love?

The realtor today showed me around. I think we saw every expat building in the city. Our conversation turned strange when he mentioned that the Indian people saw Americans as very sexual beings. Part of this comes from that men and women start to live together before marriage. And then, he mentioned that sex was a good thing, if both parties were ok with it. (Duhhhh). Then he asked no less than 5 times, on different occasions, if he could just come in the hotel and give me a massage. Though, it started with him saying more than once that after the tour and our lunch we could go to the hotel, where we could sit in the lobby or in my room if I prefer to finish answering questions. When my answer of I don’t think I have any more questions just wasn’t enough, he moved on to wanting to give a massage. Then, he proceeded to just assume and state that the reason I was saying no was because I was just assuming it was a sexual thing (a man giving a woman a massage; one who was probably half his age and much more attractive mind you. Not sexual at all.) And then, despite all my no’s, and his “assumptions” of me being afraid it was a sexual thing, he proceeds to tell me BUT I would still have to take off all my clothes for it. Minus my underwear, maybe. Really? Dream on creepy realtor guy. Thanks for lunch.

Leaving Chennai, into Pune

Despite having been in India for quite a while, I still don’t know what’s customary to tip. I wish I did know, cause I’m probably wasting a ridiculous amount of money, to be honest. Though today, after my cyclonic plane ride to India (will get to that in a second). Some kid grabbed my bags to help him, thinking he was from the airline (they don’t accept tips). He wasn’t. At the end, I gave the brat 10 rupees which was fair, definitely not over the top and he had the nerve to say to me “little rupees”, I was like… excuse me? “Too little rupees” he said. Well I should have slapped that kid and told him to give me my money back! I didn’t know what to say so I blurted out, “no it’s not. I didn’t ask for your help,” and then I walked away. I should have also said “I’ve been in India for 4 weeks now. I know better.” Arghhhhhhhh so frustrating. So, so frustrating. 2 people together in India is great (or more), 1 is just not fun.

So yep, I flew out of Chennai in a cyclone. Of course it was bumpy, and it was kinda scary too. The rain was pounding and the wind was swirling. Almost all the other flights out were delayed or cancelled and almost all the flights in were postponed or diverted to other airports. Not sure why mine as not delayed or cancelled. I have mixed feelings about that. As a 5* airline, would time or safety be worth more? Getting in on time as planned? Or making sure you get in as planned safely? Anyway, I made it. Even as we made it well above to 32,000 feet or whatever that height tends to be we were still surrounded by clouds and turbulence. They didn’t even do their tea and coffee services due to turbulence! What a nerve (kidding).

My hotel is lovely, can always count on Westins. They are so sleek and modern, usually. There is even a separate (but semi see-through) enclave for the toilet, but you can see everything besides into the bathroom. Scandalous I think. I’m going to have to take a walk and take some pics of the villages down the street. From skyview only, Pune looks like a modern, metropolitan city. It’s beautiful at night, (and probably at dawn…) throughout the day there is frequent chanting which sounds like it’s coming from a temple somewhere in the distance. And the haze and birds all around make me feel like I really am in Asia. Well for good reason, of course!

You can take pictures of me if I can take some of you

The beach in Pondy was not nice. But it was nicer than the one in Chennai. There I had a woman beg me for anything, but the only thing I had on me was my $35 sweater and I wasn’t about to give that up. Am I a bad person? Next a group of guys wanted my picture. I haven’t figured out yet how to say no, so whatever. What do I care anyways. This would be just one of many that I would take that day. After the 3.5 hour drive there, we were already heading back. We would be stopping in some place that starts with M and sounds similar to Mulholland Drive, haha. There were lots of ruins there. I had no idea what they all meant because I refused a stupid guide who would only want more money. They were pretty cool to look at though. One guy tried to follow me around and explain things to me even after I told him I have no money. I’m a poor college student. Finally, he left me alone. But not before trying to sell me a card with karma sutra positions and telling me next time, totally seriously and straight-faced that when I came back next time we would have to practice karma sutra together. Right buddy, dream on! There were more people trying to sneak pictures of me, so I looked right at them and said, it's OK and I posed with them as they took my picture. In turn, though; I wanted them in my pictures. So I got a couple good ones.

During lunch, I had some fried rice. I had no allergy problems. When I told him I had allergy problems in the first place, he suggested I have something with no spice. I did and I was fine, and even added some chili sauce to it. So really, it must be one of the spices! I was pretty impressed with the waiter’s understanding of my allergy.

On the way back, I wanted to stop and take so many pictures but I knew as soon as I saw something I would like, it was too late to say stop. We would have to turn around and that’s just a pain in the ass, especially to do over and over and over again. The people, the villages, the workers, the animals, the bright colors and beautiful gowns, the dirtiness but the functioning of society all the same is just amazing to comprehend. Maybe I should have just walked home.

Following Lakshme around the temple

Nice little day trip I had today, though of course I missed my alarm on my phone somehow (I could NOT get to sleep last night!) and didn’t wake until I was told the driver was here. Well lucky for me, it didn’t really matter all too much that I woke up late, plus… it was only 5 past 6 and I had told the driver 630. Plenty of time. Got dressed quickly, and headed out for a long ride. I was in the back so it was hard to see, but there were so many potential pictures. Cars hanging out in medians with no where to go, tent villages, mud house villages, workers in the rice field, etc. My mind drifted off and my body did too into a short sleep until we arrived in Pondy, we would start with breakfast. I ordered something that gave my mouth that dreaded tingling sensation so I didn’t eat it. It was terrible, I felt horrible. I was in India and wasting my whole breakfast. I sat at a table with 3 other people (awkwarrrrd) and I tried to tell them when mama bear put a heading load of white mushy stuff that apparently contained cashews onto my plate that I would die if I ate that. Yep my food was going to waste… would you like to eat it? They were from Southern India and had come up for the 2 day holiday. All had bindis painted on them, and the man even had a face colored with white. And they, like the rest of them, didn’t understand my allergy which made me feel worse. “Just eat it” they said. “Your body will be more tolerant than the others’ when you return home”. If only they understood.

Next stop was two temples. People were sticking their head into weird crevices and lighting matches in front of statues of animals and paying to have some white powder wiped all over their face. Then, I came face to face with my first real elephant, in the temple. Give it a coin and it will bop you on the head, which must be some form of good luck. Then I followed as the elephant led a large, colorful statue followed by crowds of people in circles around the full outside of the temple walls. Quite fascinating. I was begged and begged to give coins here, there and everywhere and it’s hard to say no to these poor people. You know they really need it. If only I was rich, and didn’t decide to leave my purse in the car for that reason….

Spiritual experiences

The beach, the sand, was not nice. It was dirty and gross and littered. I may have caught a few diseases, actually. There were so many people on the beach, everywhere. So many dirty, dirty people and dirty homeless animals. And to make it worse, it was terribly dreary out. After the monkey and kids incident, I quickly went back to the car. We went to the temple, and I felt awed by it. First, I had to take off my sandals and feel the dirtiness; the bare dirt and grit on the bottom of my feet. Half of that was probably full of contaminants from cow shit and piss from the cows running wild through the stone ground of the temple. It was cool, it was spiritual, it was moving for sure. I walked around one of the small temples with everyone else, four or five times, and found a smile when one of the little girls continuously looked back at me, expressionless, just staring as much as possible. I wanted to know what she was thinking. It’s amazing that in the 21st century so many of these people still live under a rock. They’ve only seen blond hair and light skin on television. Anyways, there were people on their hands and knees, kissing the dirty ground at the foot of the statues, lighting candles and giving flowers and other offerings including food to the gods. Dressed in their best saris and intricate Indian gowns. I want one! Too bad I would look terribly strange if I ever wanted to wear one.

So I ended up at another shop after, where the man talked a lot to me. He still tried to pry as much money as possible out of me, but he also told me some pretty interesting stories. Like, how they treat people who come into the stores differently depending on what they look like. The lighter the skin the better the treatment, is what I understood. For example, apparently there was some guy from Boston (though he is Indian) who came into the shop with his barefoot mother. Asked to see the largest carpet they had, and then bought it immediately. He said they didn’t give him any special treatment until they realized he was ready to pay. And then I spent $55 on 4 scarves. At least they are really very lovely. While in the store, my old driver from Delhi called me. I heard the phone ring but thought it would have been one of the annoying Indian men I regrettably shared my phone number with. It warmed my heart to see that Deepak would be calling to wish me a Happy Diwali 

Got back in the car and oops, went 2 hours over my free 4 hours of sightseeing. Of course they didn’t want to warn me, cause then the richest hotel in the city wouldn’t have made an extra 1200 rupees ($25) off of me. Not only that, but not too long before the driver had told me I had a ton of time left, we were going through everything too quickly. Thanks man.

Back at the hotel, I got some dinner. Decided to skip out on the Indian and went for the Italian, which was absurdly expensive. A glass of wine in this freaking hotel is $13, for the cheapest one. Unbelievable. At least the food was good and the salad didn’t make me sick. Now that I think of it, it’s also very strange I even got a glass of wine. Restaurants in Chennai are not allowed to serve after 11 pm (can you imagine?), and it was definitely after that time. (Liquor and alcohol is extremely limited in sales in Chennai and critically overseen by the government. So strange). The manager personally took me down to the Italian restaurant. He had heard about my allergic reaction and told me he would make extra, extra care to make sure every restaurant in the hotel serving little miss Lauren from room 431 leave out the nuts and any Indian spices since I have no idea what made me sick. Now that’s service! It even had it printed out at the top of my hotel bill, along with all the other package details of my stay, my nuts allergy boldly displayed itself to everyone who opened my profile.

No monkeying around

Today I did some sight-seeing. And gave some people too much money again. Almost bought a pearl bracelet, but didn’t do it. And, I’m glad that I didn’t. These items I can buy in the US for just about the same price, I’m pretty damn sure. I found a taxi for tomorrow to take me to Pondi at least. That should be a good time, I hope. I am happy though that I bought some nice silk scarves. Chennai is famous for them, so might as well. I walked on the beach and a jeep stopped in front of me and the young kids asked if I was on camera. And then asked me to take their picture, in which case I gladly did of course. Then there were more children with monkeys. I took their picture and they begged for money money money, so I gave them a little. I’m so sick of everyone trying to take my money though. Then, one of the kids started beating the monkey. So I gasped and shook my head so the sister of the little boy beating the monkey started beating him. Ah, what to do. I turned around and left. I didn’t want to be part of that situation, who knows what I would have gotten myself into. But that kinda put a damper on my already not too great mood. I’m trying to make the best out of it, but I’m sick of everyone looking up to me and thinking I’m rich. Especially for the rich part. When I went to check out the temple today I told someone who was trying to be my guide to please, please go away and stop bothering me. I hate having to say that.

Trying not to die in India

For my first realtor meeting, I showed up in a cute little dress. I didn’t think twice, but maybe my cute little dress is a little low-cut for Indian standards. They have saris which cover all of their upper area, and my dress subtly might show off my cleavage. Appropriate for most standards in most countries, but not here. As soon as the elevator touched down and I saw her, she looked me up and down. And may have looked at my chest a little too long. Not sure that meant she liked it or she thought it was a little too much. So, for my second meeting, I changed.

Today… I left the hotel. Via tuk tuk, fearing for my life on a little mini go-cart with no protection and my office, dressed-up black skirt and long sleeved white button down shirt on. I forgot how hot it would be out there. I wasn’t prepared for the tuk tuk, for sure. It was a wild ride to the photocopying office place, but I survived. I also went shopping tonight for a little while, and once again found someone who wanted to come with me of course. I bought a super cute pair of sandals for $35, (and another shirt from my FAV store Vero Moda…) and tried to get convinced to PLEASE stop at my friend’s shop and have a look around. Again, I got the “I’ll get a gift for Diwali, please…” man it’s annoying here. Even at the hotel, when I asked the concierge for things to do this weekend, he wouldn’t stop trying to sell me a $400 day package. Come on… can’t you see I’m not THAT rich?

If I have another one, I will very sadly be going on my fifth allergic reaction since I’ve been here. Ridiculous. I almost had an anxiety attack while eating dinner tonight because I’m so scared of having another allergic reaction. I have absolutely no idea what I was allergic to last night. After I got allergic, (wasn’t sure if it was the food or the medicine), I puked up the little amount I had gotten down at dinner. And then, I had the effing allergic reaction all over again because whatever it was came up through my throat again, but I was sans chewy benedryl. So, I had to rip open a packet of strips (it was a major pain in the ass, especially being life-threatening and you have to use scissors to open the packet. Really? What were the engineers of this product thinking?

Being waited on hand and foot

My arrival yesterday was pretty classic. I just got in from a nice flight from Bangalore where I had a great conversation with the guy next to me. Normally, or recently rather during transit times I tend to keep to myself for the most part. He spoke English pretty clearly but his accent was a bit difficult to interpret at times. He thought I should consider the “happiness factor” when I do my studies as well, which is an interesting concept. Especially after reading The Geography of Bliss. Though, I explained that the happiness of the locals isn’t nearly the same as that of the expats.

When we were about to land, we started going down and then went back up again. I was wondering what the heck was going on but it was nothing but a delay with air traffic control. Upon arrival to the airport, literally just as I was about to get my bag and was thinking about how I was going to get to the hotel, I heard “Ms. Basler?” Someone from the Taj was waiting for me despite that I never asked for it. He helped with my bags, get me into the hotel car where I was given cold water and a cold towel, at which time the driver asked me if it was OK to move the car. Really? Followed by, would I like to listen to some music? I was greeted immediately upon arrival to the hotel (but not before my driver announced we were approaching the hotel) by three different people; the hostess, the doorman, and the bellhop. Each doing their duties. I didn’t even check in, I was taken immediately to my room where my passport was taken to be scanned, the bellhop came to bring my bags, and a glass of fresh juice also came. Man I had a lot of tips to dish out. My room is smaller than at the ITC, but I really don’t mind that. Everything, from lights to curtain commands to TV is situated on a “keypad” right next to my bed. Pretty impressive. My shower has three settings, rainfall from all the way at the top, the regular one from the shower head, and a massaging one with water that comes from 6 heads on the side. What more could you want? It appears that people here will wait on you hand and foot. Really neat, but I just wonder if it will get to a point where it will be annoying.

Holding on for dear life..

I took a tuk tuk today from the grocery store to the mall (which sorta ended up being the wrong mall, in both a bad and a good way). Bad because it was the smaller of the two and good because it’s one that expats frequent. Anyways, it was not as scary as I previously thought it would be. Well I mean, it was at first, but then it was fine after. Though there was no traffic so we reached speeds that I had no idea the tuk tuk could reach. I’m glad I can at least say I took one, finally.

Everyone here has a mustache!! I have no idea why, I should look that up: “In India it is very common for men to have mustache, especially from places like madras....In India it is considered gentlemanly etiquette for guys to have mustache. Also, in India having a mustache is considered more masculine than for guys to be clean shaven...for example traditionally all Indian men would have mustaches expecially the kshatriyas (warriors). ” Courtesy of travel expert guide.com.

They say numbers by doubles and triples. This took me a little bit to get accustomed too, but now I have also started doing this, haha.

The past two days have been a bit blah. My hotel sucked (Le Meridien). It was dark, dreary, my room was terribly musty and smelled moldy. I just didn’t enjoy being there even though I spent a lot of time there. A lot, over the last two days. Maybe I’m PMSing. And maybe my interest back home isn’t expressing an interest anymore. Feeling homesick, feeling lonely, feeling like I don’t want to deal with anyone’s crap. (Better think twice before messing with me).

Stalker #1

My "friend" Fahad was outside when I got back to the hotel. It was like he set it up perfectly. I agreed to talk to him for 20 minutes and man was it a pain in the ass but I thought it wouldn’t hurt too much to make his day. He still is totally set on wanting to marry me. I tried to gather my thoughts to make a senseful statement to him that even if I was interested (and didn’t have a boyfriend… ;) ) it still just wouldn’t make sense to be together. He was so hopeful and idealistic that I felt bad, and I just couldn’t seem to find the right words to make it make perfect sense.

I dreamed this morning that I left some event after talking with ms. Gram my old 7th grade math teacher who married another math teacher (that was a big topic of conversation way back when) and Fahad was on the side of the street. He had jumped off some wall because he was so upset I didn’t want to be his girlfriend, or more extreme, marry him. That was when I decided this morning that it was time to get up. Even though I was still very tired.

Question of the day… am I a pushover? Should I have been more stern with these men to tell them no or is that unnecessary? I use to be so much more easy-going then I am now, things bother me easier, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. I think it can be both. Though I said no to the important things. Fahad asked me to marry him, I said no…. (just kidding!) He wanted to know my room number and come with me to my room to talk and I said no, no. (See I’m learnin)

Bangalore is not my "cup of tea"

In Bangalore, I met with some relocation agents who were real pains in the asses. They asked me if AIRINC would pay them for future meetings. Relocation agents NEVER ask us that, and we deal with Santa Fe especially all over the world. We share the same clients, the meetings are meant to be mutually beneficial. I couldn’t believe they sat me down to ask me, I was perplexed and a bit offending, and tried to do what I could to defend my company and our reason for why we shouldn’t pay. Pain in the ass lady was annoyed. At least I got (almost) all the info out of them that I needed.

Got the red dot painted on my forehead for lunch. Bhindi, I guess it’s called? I ate at a “veg only” restaurant when I went to the mall and I was nervous, I have to admit. There were lots of different items presented with lots of different sauces and even though I said “no nuts, no nuts” it’s so hard to know for sure. I kept my trusty benedryl next to me at all times, of course. Everyone next to me ate everything with their hands (should be my paradise, right old roomies?) but I kept my fork and spoon in hand. Eating rice with your hands just doesn’t seem right. It was a messy, messy feat for everyone else. I surprisingly had no issues with any allergies. And, I was able to eat everything, though I stopped to stare at items every now and again for any hint of anything that looked nutty. I kept the bhindi on until it wore off by the end of the night. I felt a little self-conscious walking around with it (I had NO idea what it actually stood for) but I thought it was interesting to have, for sure.

Here in Bangalore, they have only negative things to say about people in Delhi. “They are very expensive. They rip you off. All they want is money, money, money.” I was told on multiple occasions. Hmm… besides my jewelry problem, I actually had a pretty good experience! I was surprised to see everyone’s reaction on Delhi. I thought they weren’t any better in Bangalore than they were in Delhi, for sure. They still tried to rip me off left and right. I didn’t like Bangalore much because I didn’t really have any time to check it out. And, it was rainy most of the time.
Today my stupid driver took me to some stupid shop after I said no to him 5 times. I am pretty mad at myself actually for not losing it on him. I already know the classic Indian “take advantage of tourist shops” very well. I walked in there, they took the time to show me rugs, and made me feel guilty when I didn’t buy anything. I curbed that a little bit by saying I would come back the next day. I took a quick look at prices and they were just absurd. Totally absurd. Oh, and by the way, the exit was through 6 different shop display areas. I was quietly fuming and definitely let the hotel know I wasn’t happy when I got back.

By the way, the "green bangalore" image I posted is totally a contradiction. Bangalore is anything but green and clean.

Frustration ensues

Went shopping and may have spent money a bit excessively. Though I must say, if I had been in Europe I would have spent a ridiculous amount more on the same clothing. The brand of the store I found that I LOVE is based out of Sweden I suppose, and we have yet to have one in the US. Though, I swear I own a shirt or two from there. I’ll have to try and figure that one out. I found a stalker. Though he helped me a little with my research. He might be the 3rd person who offered to help me. Not a bad deal. Why not take advantage, right? So I did. And of course I gave him my number. He called I didn’t answer. And then I saw him when I went back to the mall a day or two later, and when he wouldn’t leave me alone I told him sorry, I don’t know what you’re expecting. I’m leaving tomorrow. And he said OK well in that case then I guess maybe I should just go. OK bye I said! I’m sick of all the attention, and everyone staring at me! I walk by and it’s almost like I have a spotlight on me, people turn and follow me until I’m nearly out of sight. It’s unbelievable! I would be chased down for many, many pictures over the next 5 weeks. I’ll be showing up in family albums all over the country.

I ate down the street from my hotel. On the way back, I had a taxi that quoted me a VERY high price for the trip home. But, I didn’t have much choice. I had to get home. So, when we showed up to a different hotel 20 minutes later, I asked the driver where we were. At the Obraya. I said no… the Maurya. MAUR-YA. Your hotel is the Sheraton ITC Maurya he said. So, I made it clear it was a misunderstanding. Not my fault, not his fault. So he took me back and still tried to charge me double the high price he quoted me in the first place! I was PISSED and told him I would pay him a certain amount but certainly no more than that. 200 less than I was suppose to pay him and even that was too much. Then, he had the NERVE to ask if I needed a taxi the next day. Seriously? I said to him. You think I want you ask my taxi driver??? Then I got out and slammed the door and that was that.

In Delhi (north) they have a strange head bob. Like when they are saying yes, their head kinda curves to the side. In Bangalore and in Chennai (south), they have a head bob. Back and forth, right to left over and over. It’s quite entertaining. Man, I have even caught myself doing it from time to time. I hope I don’t take that habit home with me!

Taj Mahal

I think I lost 5 years of my life driving out to Agra. The pollution was unbelievable. It stung my nose and my lungs alike and I tried breathing through my shirt but that really didn’t do too much. I couldn’t believe how bad it was! Above all, I had no idea how we were driving hours through the countryside (and small villages) with pollution that was worse than that of Delhi. To make it even better, Agra (where the Taj is located) is production-free so that the beautiful whiteness of the Taj is not ruined. Tourism might be about the only industry here in Agra. I thought the story about the Taj was lovely. The sultan or whatever his title was had a third wife and she told him on her death bed (due to complications giving birth to their last child) that she had three wishes. One was for him to never remarry. Two was to take good care of their children and be a good ruler. Three was to build a memorial for her to remember her. He wanted to build something as beautiful as he believed her to be, so, therefore started the building of the Taj Mahal. It took 22 years and the labor of 22,000 workers. Unbelievable. And ungodly beautiful, I wish I had been able to see it at daybreak and sunset. Agra was an annoying town of annoying people. Give me money, buy pictures, give me money. I spent a ridiculous amount on two rings that I bought which would have probably been worth much less in the US. I won’t even disclose the amount of money I spent. I wish I could take them back. I hate when you hire a stupid guide and they take you to all their stupid friends’ stupidly expensive shops and pressure you into buying things. I learned my lesson, and at least I know how to deal with the rest of the problem in the rest of India.

The reason why Delhi was OK after all; Deepak!

I was blessed when I found my Delhi driver. The first taxi to take me out. Someone up there knew I needed help being eased into the craziness of the country, and gave me Deepak. He didn’t rip me off. Hmm on second thought, maybe the Delhi – Agra-Delhi trip was a little expensive, but the daily taxi rate in the city was very good though. And, he did work overtime, at times. He didn’t try to take me to his friends’ shops.

He saw my eczema and took me to his doctor. He lended me money on two separate occassions. For the most part, he was an honest, genuinely nice guy which was NOT what I heard about taxi drivers in Delhi. Going to the doctor was interesting. It cost me $10 and he prescribed me some allergy pills and some cortisone cream. Both of which I already had, but either way I thought it was an interesting experience. Deepak came into the doctor’s office with me and I showed the doctor the places on my body where I had problems (no clothing needed to come off!) Deepak was clearly very proud of his doctor and wanted me to experience the same success. So nice!

First of many great meals that would almost kill me

Due to the Mumbai attacks some years back security at the hotels is tight. Well it appears to be, but who knows if it’s a front? Though, upon entrance they open the front and back of the cars (engine and trunk) to check for bombs and anything suspicious. And then bags are scanned, people are scanned, though you walk in through the metal detector, it beeps, but still they let you through. I have to wonder if that metal detector is for show or actually detects harmful items.
Drugs are ridiculously cheap in India. While obtaining prescription prices, I ran into a handful of American Airlines crewmembers (ladies) in the drugstores buying all sorts of items. From multivitamins to botox creams. Being loud Americans, demanding the attention of the whole store. Not surprised. Drugs are so cheap so that they are affordable for the poor.

That night, I met Nick (the guy from Washington DC) for dinner. We ate at my hotel which he was no longer staying in, and had a great Indian meal that I wasn’t allergic to. Until it came to dessert time. We ordered, to split, the only dish without pistachios listed for the ingredients. But guess what it had. One wild guess. PISTACHIOS! Sweet, almost died for the first time this trip. Oh there would be so many more.

Feeling creeped out

During my realtor meeting, the relocation agent handed me his business card with two hands. Probably a customary thing, so I awkwardly did the same. I think it’s a sign of respect. We had a great meeting and I went to give him a bottle of JW black but lo and behold… he wouldn’t accept it. What? I was so embarrassed. I felt really bad. I might try and see what a typical gift would be here that I could drop off for him. Although, he keeps emailing me now. I can only guess why. Being a blonde I think I’ll get way more attention than I bargained for.

So, yep… why am I surprised. The realtor Amber started to email me dirty sex jokes, one after the other after the other. But what could I do? He was a realtor that had really helped me out, someone that I definitely wouldn’t want to sever a relationship with. So my answer to everyone he sent was haha. Haha. Haha. What else could I do? We need to keep up a relationship with this guy. And how else am I suppose to respond??

Speaking of sketchy, how about sketchy happenings in my hotel room? I go to bed, and 45 minutes later get woken up because my phone on the opposite side of the bed is on speakerphone and is calling the front desk. No explanation. Something similar happened a few nights later, though I was up working and suddenly the speaker phone was on. That was it. It didn’t call anyone, just turned on for no reason. As much as I loved loved loved my hotel room, I was totally creeped out by it. Especially with it being as large as it was. Also, check out the creepy window washers outside my window, and the view when the window washers aren't there!

I finally got into the groove of the time change and slept for a decent night’s sleep, last night I had only slept 4 hours but was surprisingly productive and not too tired all the same. Being in the mall is quite interesting, people actually appear honored to have me in their stores. As soon as I enter all eyes are on me and they are wondering what is it, what is it can I do to help you? And when I leave, whether or not I have bought anything, the security guard bows and thanks me. No problem dude, all I did was walk into your store and copy prices.

Annnnnd here comes culture shock

Last night I went to bed at 10 pm and couldn’t sleep past 4 am. My body is still entirely adjusting to the time change, which is much harder than it was a year ago when I went to Asia, (South Korea, Taiwan, etc.) I don’t want to jinx myself but I might even like it here. Good food, reasonably nice people, great hotel with excellent service. Once I actually start the G&S survey I’ll really know what I think. On my way out today I was feeling hesitant, I hadn’t been in public in a full day (it’s funny what that can do to you). I was about to go down and a man can out of the elevator, walked away and came back. “Excuse me?” he said, “where are you from?” “US, Boston I said”. “Oh OK”, he said “just wanted to ask because I have been here for a while and I haven’t seen anyone like you.” Hmm not sure what he means. “You just look so, American.” Haha, is this a compliment? I’m not sure I’m trying to stand out here, but I guess I’m doing a great job at it. He was from Washington DC and I was struggling to figure out if he was in his late 20’s or late 30’s. Hard to tell. Here for business. Maybe we’ll meet up for a drink this weekend.

I walked out of the elevator and realized just how many men there were. Lots of men. And lots of eyes on me. Center of attention. I disliked. The breakfast buffet room was pretty formal with both breakfast and lunch being offered, pristine service, and I didn’t want to do anything wrong to attract attention. Indian music played in the background, and I liked it. I felt like I was truly in India. This reminded me of the breakfast room when I was in Taipei Taiwan, very fancy.

I headed out in a cute little taxi on my first time out in Delhi during the daytime. Lots of people, lots of traffic even though it wasn’t peak traffic time, lots of bicycles, horses carrying big loads of stuff, people walking, little tuk tuks. I may have even seen a monkey on a leash. Yeah I want one too. I got out of the taxi and didn’t know where I was going and was a bit nervous cause of all the poor people around. They didn’t say a peep to me. It amazes me how official and dressed up everyone around here looks. Dressed to the nines, like we’re in Washington DC. You’ve got the highs and you’ve got the lows (meaning the poor and the very rich-looking).

Driving in India is nutty. Totally nutty, like a lot of their food. (Bad joke). Cars, motorcycles, trucks, tuk tuks pass on all sides with nothing but a simple beep of their horn. Sometimes two lane highways are occupied by four vehicles parallel to each other trying to pass. It’s a madhouse out there, it’s so true when people say your life is really in your driver’s hand. It’s amazing I haven’t seen more accidents than I have so far.

Delhi; at least my hotel is nice

And I arrived in Delhi and bought 2 bottled of JW black for a ridiculously cheap price. $68. I already noticed that people smelled though. People drive like maniacs here and the smog is terrible. But, my hotel is lovely, until I couldn’t figure out how the hell to shut off all the lights. Took me almost a half an hour to find the light strip next to my bed. Ohh well, lots to do once I finally get up tomorrow, it’s already around 6:30 am here, yikes!

I tried to sleep but could only make it to 10:45 am. My body is exhausted by my mind is wide awake. Fair enough, I have quite a bit to do today. I may just stay in and make lots of phone calls and try to book realtor meetings and try to go to bed around 11 pm. So far, I’ve had one computer problem while being here, and I may be having a second one now. I guess the good thing about being in India is that they are so tech savvy. I don’t even have to worry about computer problems, they have men in fine suits ready to help out at any moment. My internet wasn’t working last night at 2 am and within 10 minutes a nicely dressed man with a suitcase equipped with his own computer came and worked his magic in 10 minutes. It was something I definitely would not have been able to do myself. My hotel is pristine. Everyone seems to know exactly who I am, that my breakfast was included in my stay, they called me to let me know that my do not disturb sign was on the door so they didn’t bother me, left me 3 notes to say they tried to clean it, left me a note to say the temperature in my room was warm but they didn’t change it, they will change the linens UNLESS you put the do not change linens sign on the bed (usually if you put the sign on the bed, it means you do want linens changed). I can have a complimentary hot tea/milk/cocoa at bedtime, I have a pillow menu, dream scents to spray on my pillow, pretty incredible.

So commences survey N10: INDIA

On the way, once again, to my next destination. Usually I’m a bit sad to be leaving home for a while, even when I’m excited about my trip. But this time, I’m leaving home and I’m not even going somewhere where I want to be. India; dirty, overcrowded confusing poor India. Well, that’s what I’m anticipating my experience will be like, though I’m hoping I can say otherwise in 2,3,4 and 5 weeks when I’m leaving.
It was a particularly stressful week with my birthday, housewarming, cell phone crisis happening all at once. I didn’t have time to get anything done, it felt like. Up to the hour I left it was a rush to do everything I needed to do. Mom and Nana took me to the airport after I dropped off my car there and we had some dinner. I was just feeling blah but tried to reassure myself it will be better when I finally get to India.

I flew British airways, a big, semi-double decker plane from Boston to London. I slept the whole 6 hours aside from waking up to scarf down my second dinner of the night. In London I only waited around for an hour before boarding again. This flightcrew was English, one of the stewards called me “love” as in, “what would you like love?” I liked it. Enough that I had to remember to write it down. There are men with turbines (is this the right word?) scarves on their heads. And there are women with red dots on their foreheads. I slept most of my second flight as well, despite that it was 8.5 hours long. No better way to get through a flight than that, for sure. Both planes I flew on were very nice, and also very new. That’s a great feeling. The individual tvs we had in front of us were touch screen, even. Not too shabby. I didn’t even have to reach up above me to switch on my light, it’s all on the remote for me tv.

The right taxi... bye bye Trinidad/survey Aug10

I am definitely getting less tolerant of the small annoyances of traveling, such as the pilot and the flight crew having to be called back to the terminal 10 minutes before our flight was scheduled to take off. Turns out, when they finally arrived an hour and a half later they were delayed for some reason due to bad weather we had experienced 3 hours ago. Really? I was too, but that didn’t cause me to be an hour late to my flight. Well who knows… you expect everything to be better in America but sometimes it’s just not.

Anthony took me to the airport this morning and told me a pretty inspiring story, though I think he was a bit disappointed that I didn’t tip him more than I did. Maybe I should have, looking back on it. He did do quite a bit for me to help me out. Anyways, he said when he was growing up he smoked quite a bit of marijuana. I guess it’s the thing to do here. He lived with his mother and even though they were well off, it sounds as though she made an illegal living somehow. She passed away and he lived in the dumps for a couple years before he tried getting his life back together again. No electricity, no running water, just a fig tree which he planted and ate daily, making different dishes with it, and all the marijuana that he spent the small amount of money which he earned on. So eventually, he turned his life around; he stopped doing drugs, he found something to make a living with (a taxi) and he worked hard at it. He met this woman who he drove from the airport once and she continued to use his services every time she would come to Trinidad. One day she said to him, Anthony, is there anything can I do to make you happy? And he thought about it and said well, what I really want is one of these vans. And she said well I’m sorry, that’s not something I can give you. And he said OK that’s fine! You asked me what would make me happy and I told you. The next day she showed up with $7,000 USD to help him pay for the new taxi, and this was approximately a little less than a third of the cost of the van. See? You never know who you are going to meet. He was the old, wise taxi driver. Those are the guys that you have to hang on to because they know how to treat people right. Well, if there’s nothing else I learned in my travels, haha… it’s how to find the right taxis!

I met with Michael today, a realtor in place of Denise who we usually meet from one of the best realty companies in Trinidad. He was more interested in talking about Trinidad and his family than going through my questions, which was actually alright because most of my questions were answered. We talked about how the minimum wage was equivalent to US $2 per hour and that no one can afford to live on this price, which is the reason why these young kids turn to drugs and violence, and can’t get out of the poor cycle they are in. This seems to be the story of every third world country, doesn’t it? It’s sad but there is so much corruption, so little that people can do to prevent a life of hopelessness. There are few super rich families, a small middle class, and a whole lot of poverty. On the brighter side, Michael’s cousin is the most famous cricket player in Trinidad, and is considered the “Michael Jordan” of the world for it. He told me he has a huge party every year, and if I happen to come again during Carnival, not only will Carnival be a blast, but I’m more than welcome to the party. Sounds good to me! There may be a request for my return to Trinidad in February.

Tobago finally!

So today, I went to Tobago. At least I can say I made it; even if it did require 8 hours of transit time (NO joke). So, if you ever find yourself in Trinidad, don’t go to Tobago unless you have more than a day to spend there. I actually made it to the ferry (without sleeping last night) at 5:20 am to try to get onto the 6:30 boat. Upon suggestion from the hotel, I walked to the port. I have to admit I was a bit nervous, as security is definitely an issue here, but the lady thought I would have been crazy to pay for a taxi so I did it. And to Tobago, I made it! After quite a bit of waiting… but had no security of a ticket home.

Wingin it at its best… it would be a major problem if I couldn’t get home. Anyways, I got my “night’s” sleep on the ferry ride over and decided to worry about it once I got there. It felt good to nap.

On arrival, I was swarmed by the regular numbnut taxi drivers that I was warned to stay away from cause they would overcharge. One though was persistent so I decided to talk with him, make sure he was safe, and also make sure he was giving me a good deal. I looked at his license plate, it started with H – check. He had an ID on. The local people and police knew him and didn’t try to warn me (not that that would really mean much…) He took me to an old run-down jewelry shop to buy my return ticket home, but it was just a standby ticket. So, on suggestion from the “jeweler” I told my driver we should go back to the terminal to see if I can get an actual ticket. I did, easily and felt much better. My taxi told me, he knows me, he gave you the ticket cause he knows me. I was thinking, OK buddy. As long as you don’t try to overcharge me we’ll be all good. Tobago was much less commercialized than Trinidad, almost like how St. John is to St. Thomas (but not quite as beautiful as St. John, I think). There was lots of cattle on the side of the road, lots of local fruits and veggies being sold on the way to the beach, but it was still looking run-down.
The glass-bottom boat that my driver told me about (which I wanted to take) would cost about $60 for 2.5 hours – (about 9 USD). Well of course the guy tried to overcharge with $90 and my taxi explained he already told me $60. No problem man, everything be cool man. At least taxi man got me my discount. Taxi man pointed out the beach bums. They have nothing to do and are just trying to make a buck/find a white woman to marry. Yep as a result, I got quite a few callouts/compliments, two of which consisted of a desire to swim in my eyes. How Caribbean-ocean-romantic. At least it was appropriate. Two women came up to me and said they are looking for white men for husbands, because the white men treat women better than the black men. They are also trying to find white men/women for their children. They travel quite a bit to find themselves “matches” apparently, including in England. One of the women had barracuda teeth, considering the teeth she even did have. NOT attractive, I should have told her she needs to take a trip to the orthodontist before being able to pick up a first-world white man.

The boat was nice, we saw the coral and the fishies beneath the haziness of the green water, did some snorkeling (decent but not great) and visited the ocean pool (a shallow pool in the middle of the ocean, quite unique and pretty). I met 4 Scottish mates (3 girls 1 boy) and we chatted about our purposes for being here, which I am almost getting sick of doing (that’s weird…) they are zoologists who just finished studying at the university in Trinidad. In their company, I finally ate a “shark and bake” two pieces of delicious bread of some sort with some pieces of fried fish on the side, kinda like a disassembled fish sandwich with better bread. And, there were 4 sauces to choose from; ketchup, hot pepper, garlic, and some green curry tasting one. It’s amazing how much Indian influence there is here. I would like to try the roti before I go; it’s a sandwhich made of fried chicpeas, a huge mean in itself I have been told.

I parted after lunch with my Scottish friends and went for one last dip in the ocean (after being harassed about paying $3 for a beach chair for 10 minutes) uh uh don’t think so… and my tie-dyed t-shirt driver was there, like he said that he would be. “You’re a smart woman who keeps her promises. “ And the compliments continued. “I had to rope you in to get my business, you are cautious and I had to do my homework to prove to you that I was legit.” And he did, and as he admitted, that’s how it should be.

I got in line to check-in and some woman started talking English (or I think it was…) with a super-heavy accent so I just smiled and nodded and said ohhhhhh a few times. These people sound Jamaican, and some of them, as I just expressed, are very tough to understand.

I passed out again on the way home. Felt double-good. On the taxi ride to the terminal I could barely keep my eyes open. My favorite taxi man Anthony called to check up on me. He’ll take me to the airport tomorrow. I walked home, again in the dark. I felt a little better this time, it was still early.

Good day. (Ha, I wrote that subconsciously… this is the greeting they often use here.) Good day it was, I meant. Now goodnight, I meant to get to bed earlier but this will have to do.

Sarah Palin look-alike? I think not; that's my mom.

Today I was told by my taxi (who also said I don’t have an “accent”) that I look like Sarah Palin. Very interesting.

I FINALLY had a good taxi today. He decided to keep him with me for the day. He was honest, genuine, and helpful. He also was sorta the supervisor of the other numbnuts so I told him the story of the guy who kept asking me how much longer. I kinda feel bad, but whatever.

I had a great trini meal tonight. Some sort of meat with dumplings, and it came with beans, avocado salad, some rice, plantains… much more than I could eat. So I took it home, and then I realized I don’t have a refrigerator. Oops…

Today one of the realtors I was trying to contact finally got back to me. She happens to be in Boston at the moment, reverse! She felt so bad that she couldn’t meet with me that she found one of her co-workers that could. So totally sweet! Though he wanted to meet with me tomorrow and I was like… sorry can we meet Friday? I want to sightsee tomorrow!

I had happy explosions when I wrote to Patrick tonight. I was happy about finishing survey, eating great food, being able to have a free day tomorrow… I think for the first time this trip I really was happy. It feels good to be back for the moment.

Loose screws in taxi drivers' heads in Trini, back off!

I don’t like the taxi drivers here. I had one this morning who took me to a realtor meeting. I asked him to wait for me. I guess I told him it would be about 45 minutes though I don’t remember saying that. He came in an hour later looking for me and wanted to know how long it would be. He had a pickup in an hour and a half! We left at 10:30 and he seemed upset and worried, though where I was from the hotel was only 15 minutes away and where he was going to was another 15. I didn’t get it. Then, tonight I had a taxi who said he would pick me up when I called later. I called, he said he would call me back and he didn’t. So then I called the hotel who apparently sent a taxi and 50 minutes later no taxi. I had to take the employee taxi (take it away from them) to get to the hotel, those poor people. I was pretty pissed.

On a lighter note, the taxi I had this morning said he didn’t think I even had an accent. Apparently I sounded just like him. All this after I had to say “what?” about 5 times first because I can’t understand their English. Makes sense right?
I had a realtor meeting today that was just awesome. 2 ladies, both truly genuine and just wanted to do anything they could to help out. They spent ample time on everything and would have been fine if I talked to them for 2 hours plus I think. And, next time they told me to send the grid in advance so they can work on it before I get there and we’ll take less time so that I have more time to hang out and enjoy myself. So sweet!

I can see the ocean from my window, and there are lots of tankers in the distance too. So I suppose, the view is nice. My room is nice but it smells moldy. And the malls are nice (and not too big!) and well-stocked. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I’m happy to be in a place where crime isn’t running rampid (well gang violence is, but I’m not in one so it’s ok  )

Anyways, I love the Caribbean. I hope to make it to Tobago.

Ba bye Venezuela, hellooooo Trinidad!

Arrived safely in Port of Spain after a good 3 hours sleep last night. Today I feel like I must have gained 10 pounds since I’ve been away from home, I feel gross from my arms to my stomach to my thighs. All that fried food; fried chicken, French fries, fried cheese etc. has really gotten to me I think. Yuck. So far I like Trinidad. It’s certainly friendlier and less chaotic than Venezuela for sure. And, I get to speak English again finally. The hotel is older but my room is nice (got an upgrade of course since I’m a frequent Goldpoints travelor) and this came with some free cookies, a nice glass of complimentary rum punch and a whole lot of disturbances. I got two knocks on my door today, one for some sort of maintenance check or something, another for the cookies, and two phone calls, one to make sure my room was satisfactory and another to make sure my food was satisfactory. The second phone call woke me from my sleep which pissed me off, but how can I get mad about them making sure everything is perfect. So I answered and tried not to express a sleepy, pissed off voice. The plane I was in today was called a dash-8, it had propellers and was fairly small plane, and luckily a fairly pleasant flight.

Caracas’ crazy personality didn’t show itself the way it did went I went to Curacao and had to wait 3 hours to get through the gate. Today was a fairly smooth transition through to safety in the terminal away from Crazy Caracas and I was grateful. I even got an “oh you’re an analista? I thought you were a modela” from the immigration official. Thanks dude, you brightened up my morning a little. Oh Latin men. Though it would have been nice to sleep a few extra minutes instead of having the extra time.

I like the Caribbean-english accent. So far the food is decent (I even ventured to eat salad without getting sick), and people have been friendly. Not one person has yet second-guessed my strange price questions; “how much do you charge by hour for manual labor on cars?” (Really, when you are going in for an oil change or a body service, why does this matter?) Regardless, much better than Venezuela. Happy I don’t need to go back again this trip. I got a text message from my bizzaro taxi driver in PLC tonight. Apparently he just wanted to know if I was in Trinidad or if I had left from there. Not sure why that matters, but he’s bizarro so I guess it shouldn’t make sense anyways. I kinda miss Spanish already. Well, not really, but it was nice to get some practice in. OK it’s once again much too late; goodnight!

Nothing good about Maracaibo

There isn’t much to say about this hellhole, besides that I got stuck in the worst rain storm I have ever seen! Cars were swimming through the streets because of the lack of a drainage system. We had to pull over and wait for the rain to let up for 20 minutes, making me late for my realtor meeting. My driver was the same one that another co-worker had had previously, he asked me why I was here and I told him what I did. He was able to explain to me what the previous girl, Steph looked like; and he told me about all the places that he took her. He was OK. Reliable but emotionless. Maracaibo was dirty, dangerous, and there just wasn’t much to do here. My hotel was pretty nice anyways, and the restaurant manager took a liking to me. I got free drinks on my last day while swimming in the pool before taking my flight to Trinidad ;) He wants to marry someone from the US, who doesn’t. I also met Roger, an interesting character. He was wearing a digital advertisement in a grocery store. He was cute, but ridiculously hard to take seriously in his awesome outfit. He wanted to be my boyfriend. And still to this day asks to be my boyfriend. Oh, the malls in Maracaibo were awesome. If I was a kid, I would want to play here all day everyday, no wonder the malls are so popular to hang out in. There were jumpy things where kids could jump to the ceiling, there were balls you could sit in and roll around in, there were even live female models who were much too young to be wearing scandalous bathing suits in the middle of the crowd.