Two weekends ago, my husband and I traveled to see some of his family. We had a great time, so I figured I’d share the experience. I should have written this a week ago, when it was fresh in my mind, but it is too late to worry about that now.
His case is in Bangalore, so he had been there for a few days already. I flew to meet him. Airport security is very different than it is in the US. You aren’t even allowed in the building unless you have a printout with your flight information. It can’t be handwritten, and they wouldn’t let me show it, in pdf form, on my phone. Fortunately, if you haven’t printed it in advance, there are manned windows where you give your pin number and ID, and they will print the confirmation for you. In a strangely slow manner. I don’t know why it takes so long, but it seemed to take much longer than needed. Maybe they are actually checking your ID rather than just glancing at it.
Once inside the building, you are not allowed to check into your flight unless it is occurring in less than 2 hours. And check-in closes 45 minutes before the flight. So in reality, you only have 1.25 hours to check-in. This seems to work well, because I never saw any of the huge lines that we have in the US. I would guess we also have many more flights in the US, but at least I was never waiting.
Going through security is also different (and has always been a much shorter wait than in the US, too!). They have gender specific lines for security. As I have mentioned in a past blog (http://updatesfromindia-emily.blogspot.com/2011/01/weird-things-indians-do-that-i-just.html), Indians are terrible at queuing. So it is good that the lines are short and gender specific, because, roundtrip, I only had about four people cut in front of me.
You put bag tags on your carry-on bags, and run them through the scanner. While they are being inspected (they seem to be a bit more thorough checking here than in the US, but maybe I am just imagining it), the women get to go behind a curtain and get the wand wave and a pat down. Usually the men don’t get the benefit of the curtain. Your ticket gets a dated stamp saying you passed security. The bag tags on the carry-on items also get the stamp. When you board the flight, there is one person whose specific job is to check that the bags and ticket have been stamped.
I did have a case of (possible/probable) dishonesty in the airport. I am getting rather bored of Indian food, so I decided to dine on airport Dominos for a meal. A cheese pizza was clearly listed as 240 rs (~$5.33) so I ordered that. The first employee tried to charge me, correctly, the 240, but a second, apparently more senior person, came up and tried to tell me it was 290. I gave him a dirty look, and looked up at the board. There were specialty pizzas at that price, but clearly a plain cheese pizza doesn’t count as a specially pizza. Meanwhile, I had handed a 1000 rupee note to the first guy, and he only gave me 210 back! Now I was incredibly suspicious, and said rather coldly, “I gave you a 1000 rupee note, give me the rest of my money”. He gave it to me, apologizing. He hadn’t even rung up the pizza because he didn’t give me a receipt. I’m sure he was going to pocket the money. After hearing my voice and anger, the other employee suddenly declared he thought I had asked for a chicken bbq (aka special) pizza, and thus gave me remaining 50 they owed me. So I was shaking mad at that point, but glad I got all of my money back. The pizza was amazingly good, by the way. I think they sprinkled parmesan cheese on the crust, under the sauce and cheese. It was wonderful. I just hope they didn’t spit on it.
Anyhow, I eventually went to my gate and waited for the flight. It seems fairly common, in India, for the plane to land, and, rather than taxi up to a gate, to just taxi to a sort of parking lot. From the parking lot, the disembarking passengers jump on a bus and the bus takes them/me to the baggage claim. Of course, the opposite is true, too. So when I boarded, I actually boarded a bus, which drove me to the plane. Boarding the plane was easier than in the US, too, because they had the back and front doors of the plane opened. So it must take half the time to board.
One thing that really frustrated me was that on TWO flights, a man tried sitting in my seat. And then I have to tell them it is my seat and to get out. They always get out, but it really annoys me that they make me do it. Just sit in your own darn seat. The first guy sat in multiple aisle seats, and I watched him get the boot from more than just me. It just wastes everyone’s time. Every flight has been completely full, so it seems like a rather futile exercise. Especially when gunning for an aisle seat.
It appears that most airlines in India still provide meals, even for a <2 hr flight. So that was a pleasant surprise. They also passed out drinks before the flight even took off. So I felt quite pampered in comparison to a typical US, 8 hour, absolutely no food, American Airlines flight. The silverware was metal instead of plastic, too. Very nice. And the meals were all fresh (at least, ‘no preservatives’ was written on them) and hot. And came with a brownie. Who can complain when they get a brownie?
Anyhow, eventually I arrived and went to look for my car. Lines of drivers are all standing outside the baggage claim, with signs spelling out your name. When you find your driver, you wait while they pull up the car. And then, for foreigners like me, you begin the dance of whether or not they speak English. So far it hasn’t been too bad. Plus, I also carry handwritten addresses with me everywhere, in case I do have communication problems.
About an hour later, we were circling Uncle’s neighborhood. A common problem, I’ve found, is that drivers know the general area, but have a hard time finding the actual location. They don’t have GPS, and the addresses aren’t so simple to understand (our guesthouse address is actually ‘above the Levis store’, to give you an idea of how addresses are written here). So usually, the car driver will stop, and ask a local. This happens everywhere. And he must have stopped multiple times. And turned around multiple times. I even gave the driver my cell phone so he could talk to Auntie. Finally, Auntie sent her driver to find him, and then my driver followed Auntie’s driver to the home. We wound up being less an a minute away. It took forever. But then I was at least there!
Of course, after the hugs, the first thing I did was eat way too much food! Auntie knows exactly what sweets I like, and stuffed me full of besan laddu. After I was sufficiently satiated, we sat with some extended family. The ‘kids’ (we are all 20-30, but I think that until we have children of our own, we still count as the kids) went shopping that evening, for a new pair of shoes and suitcase for my husband.
Travel in India seems to be rough on suitcases. Both of us have had suitcase casualties in India. And my husband wanted some leather-like ‘fancy’ sandals rather than his plastic Adidas sandals for nicer occasions. Shopping in India is quite different than the US. In the states, you’d go to a huge mall, walk from one end to the other, and find what you want. Even in Chicago, where you can walk outside between stand alone shops, is dominated by huge malls on Michigan Ave. But here, there aren’t very many malls. So you walk from store to store, drive to another area, and keep walking. Eventually we found a good suitcase and pair of shoes, and headed home for dinner.
Dinner, as always at Auntie and Uncle’s house, was delicious. I ate way too much food, and it was topped off with ice cream. Stuffed with food, we all went to bed, with plans to resume the shopping trip Saturday.
We slept in, and by the time we were up, the bandh had started.
bandh(courtesy of Wikipedia): Originally a Hindi word meaning ‘closed’ is a form of protest used by political activists in some countries like India and Nepal. During a Bandh, a political party or a community declares a general strike. Often Bandh means that the community or political party declaring a Bandh expect the general public to stay in their homes and strike work. The main affected are shopkeepers who are expected to keep their shops closed and the public transport operators of buses and cabs are supposed to stay off the road and not carry any passengers. There have been instances of large metro cities coming to a standstill. Bandhs are powerful means for civil disobedience. Because of the huge impact that a Bandh has on the local community, it is much feared as a tool of protest.
So, anyhow, by the time my husband and I stumbled out of bed, this bandh had already been declared (see my blog list http://updatesfromindia-emily.blogspot.com/2011/01/weird-things-indians-do-that-i-just.html). So we spend the day at home, eating lots of yummy food and playing a card game called ‘Clever Donkey’. You can guess what you are called if you lose the game! I finished yet another Ken Follett book on my kindle. I then found a copy of Gone with the Wind, and started reading that. I’d seen the movie, but the book is amazing, too! It was a slow day, but good to just hang out with family and not be rushed.
On Sunday, we again ate a lot of yummy foods. We went to a beautiful garden show. It had plenty of fun looking plants (have you ever seen a patty pan before?!) and lots of gorgeous flowers. We watched Indians attempt to queue (again, see http://updatesfromindia-emily.blogspot.com/2011/01/weird-things-indians-do-that-i-just.html), but my favorite parts were the rose garden and monkeys.
The rose garden was huge, maybe about the same area as a football (American football, of course) field. And there were rose bushes of every color. For those of you who are Utena fans, I found myself singing Toki ni Ai wa for at least 20 minutes straight. And imagined Anshi watering the roses. It was incredibly peaceful.
The peace was, of course, disrupted when a family asked to take a picture of me. This happens constantly if you are blonde and in a tourist location. You are part of the attraction. The funny part is that they asked my husband and cousin, not me, if they could take the picture. Presumably, it is because they knew I didn’t speak Kannada/Hindi, but it sure seems like they could have non-verbally asked me. I posed with the wife and kids, but refused to pose with the husband. That is just weird.
Of course, immediately after that all the adorable grey monkeys, with red faces, showed up in a bamboo stand. And I stood there, gawking, just like Indians gawk at me. So I found that mildly ironic. But those monkeys are so darn cute! There were tiny little baby ones, too!
We eventually meandered down to a lake and peacefully walked along it for a while, watching the ducks heads bob rapidly to eat grains buried in the grass. Eventually we headed home, but it was such a nice, peaceful day, away from the constant sounds of cars, and far fewer people than normal. I would have loved to just sit there with a good book and read the day away.
Of course, once we were home, we ate again.
I did want to mention one difference here in India in comparison to the US. The showers. First, to heat water, you have to turn on a switch. There is a tank of water (usually attached to the wall/ceiling directly above the shower) that will then be heated. So whenever you want to shower, first you have to wait for the water to heat up.
Most people here (at least in the past) took a shower with a bucket. You fill it up with water, soap up, and use a smaller bucket to rinse off. Nowadays, the guesthouses, hotels, and my Uncle’s house have a showerhead. So there is very little adjusting/inconvenience. Except that it is always too hot, then quite cold. You have to really master that switch and change it continuously as you run out of heated water. The only other difference is that, quite frequently, there is no shower curtain/wall divider. So you take your shower and the entire bathroom floor, sink, toilet, etc. get wet. Most people also have maids, so they clean all the water up.
Also different are the towels. Some places have towels like we have in the US. However, most homes do not have clothes dryers. So the towels are just hung up to dry. They are hung up to dry outside, over the window, or on the roof. Once, my towel had pigeon poop on it…. So that is the risk you take, I guess. At my Aunt and Uncle’s home, the towels were more like bed sheets. They worked just as well, which surprised me. I would have guessed that sheet-like towels wouldn’t absorb as much. But that was another interesting surprise.
My flight back was quick, but it was also very disappointing. I have always been told to keep a lock on my suitcases during international travel. I use a TSA approved (of course!) combination lock. Now, you can only CLOSE the lock if you have it set to the proper combination. After I close my lock, I always set it to 3-3-3 when I travel. When my baggage rolled off the carousel in Mumbai, the lock had clearly been broken open, and they had attempted to disguise this fact by re-setting it to 2-2-2, a whole number off. That, and they couldn’t actually close it since they didn’t know the true code. So the lock dangled, open, from the bag. It was very frustrating to learn that even with a lock your stuff is not safe here. I have never had anything stolen (in the US) in all my years of travel. Although I did lose a gorgeous watch in Costa Rica this year.
Regardless, they didn’t steal anything (that I can figure) from my suitcase. Which is good, but also kind of sad that my stuff is obviously not worth anything! Anyhow, I got home, disappointed at the world in general, and then, the next morning, discovered that I was also missing 1000 rupees from my wallet (~$22). Which means that either my Uncle’s trusted servants, or one of the maybe six people in the guesthouse, where I have been living for two weeks, stole it. So that was another painful eye opener. I guess the overall moral is don’t trust anyone with your possessions.
But it sure is a depressing thought.
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