Travel

I had a heck of a time purchasing and subsequently using my Indian Airtel SIM card. I learned a lot in the process that might be useful to other travelers visiting India. The following are some of my experiences as well as a few suggestions. Obtaining a SIM card from abroad: This is perhaps the most confusing step in an entirely confusing process. I started by trying to purchase a card online. This is a complete non-starter. All of the links that I found point to sites that seem to have been set up prior to 26/11 (Mumbai’s Terrorist attacks). Subsequent to the attacks, India’s government set up a serious bureaucracy that seems to do little more than inconvenience legitimate customers. ...

I’ve just posted the best (331) pictures from our trip. I will be adding Titles and Summaries over the next few days but if there is one that you would like to know more about in the meantime, just add a comment here with the picture’s URL and I’ll jump ahead. The “En Trip” sub-album contains photos I uploaded while we were traveling. For the most part they are duplicates (at lower resolution) of what is in the main album, but there are a few gems from my Dad’s phone.

Varkala, Kerala November 14, 2009 The muezzin’s chant wakes me at 5 am. It is still dark outside except for the occasional lightning bloom over the Arabian Sea. The early morning rumbles with ominous portents. First a ferocious dogfight down the lane with anguished howls from the injured, then an argument between man and a woman close by, the first public display of such emotion I have witnessed. I lie back on my pillow to read with my nightlight, trying not to disturb T who is sleeping peacefully beside me. But peace is not the order of this morning. An enormous swarm of screaming blackbirds begins wildly swirling the palms in the walled garden just to our south, reminding me of a Hitchcock movie with it’s eerie freneticism. ...

After getting situated in our hotel room, the first order of business was to get a couple of motorcycles so we might regain a modicum of control over our adventure. Dad had an aesthetic interest in the Royal Enfield. So we asked our host if he could arrange such a thing. After a little back and forth on the details he went off to see what he could do. A few minutes later he came back with the details and within 30 minutes we were staring at two of the most beaten up bikes left in India. The first Royal Enfield bikes were built in India in 1955, and I suspect that ours were from the first batch. ...

We left Bangalore last night on an overnight train. We were joined in our sleeper (2AC) car by two guys who were heading to Cochin for a business meeting. After chatting for a while they started making recommendations for our next few days. “You must go to Varkala” they pressed “You will find nice people there and its not too busy”. We chatted a bit longer and then settled in to read the guide books. Dad and I both picked a few hotels that looked good and then hit the hay. ...

Bangalore November 8, 2009 Darkness falls abruptly here. At 6 p.m. it is raining hard and the light is abandoning us. Tucker hangs onto the luggage rack of our ancient 100 cc. Hero Honda with a steely grip as I pitch and weave through the crush of Mysore traffic, wiping the fog from my glasses and searching for any clue as to where we might be. Mysore is laid out like a Mandala, with roads radiating outward from the Maharaja’s Palace. An endless web of crooked lanes link the rays, with confusing traffic circles at key intersections. Watchtower Circle, New Statue Circle, Devaraja Urs Swamibatami Circle. Their names are helpfully scribed in Kannada, the predominant second language of Karnataka state. Occasionally a sign in English will give a vague nod in the right direction, but I am forever disappointed in my hope for clear direction. When the sun is out I know my compass points, but in the dark of night in the rain it is dead reckoning only, hopefully in the primary meaning of the phrase. Still, the fact that Sateesh’s motorcycle has no working lights or horn raises the vague possibility of second meanings. ...

Tucker and I are planted on platform number 9 waiting where the porter has deposited us for the 3 p.m. Tippu Express to Mysore. It is 1:30 p.m. and Tuck has settled in for the long wait, putting his backpack down on the dirty cement platform and perching atop it with easy adaptability. I am standing at parade rest, one hand gripping my matched luggage. It is hot, but not oppressive, and the hundred or two other passengers have made themselves as comfortable as possible, chatting, rearranging belongings, trying to position themselves on the platform to be located properly for their car when it arrives, or staring at us. I am trying not to stare back, but with little success. Oddly, there are no flies despite the fecund air and abundant garbage. ...

The flight to Mumbai was as sublimely pleasant as the long haul to Hong Kong had been. It wasn’t until we started our descent that the uncertainty started to set in. Looking down on the city from the approach path you see slums everywhere with occasional stands of sky scrapers sprouting up amongst them. We landed and disembarked and things were pretty predictable until we reached the last turn before the elevator that descended to the H1N1 screening area. Blood curdling screams reached up to assault us and I could have sworn that someone was being tortured. Rounding the corner I was relieved to identify the owner of the tormented bellow. She couldn’t have been more than 2 years old. My relief was instantaneous. A universal sympathy connected me to her parents and I alighted the escalator with a small smile. The customs and immigration process was a tremendous press of bodies. The bodies combined with the unfamiliarity of the language to dispossess me of my remaining emotional energy. I was running on empty.

The e-mail from Bentley’s Hotel came while we were still in the relative comfort of our Hong Kong hotel. The management let us know that our “Tentative Reservation” could not be filled. We would have to find another place to stay. For some reason this didn’t strike either dad or I as a particularly big deal. We spent the morning hoofing it around Hong Kong Island. When our feet started to fail us we took a bus until we were ready to walk again. Our journey led us through an amazing outdoor market, a bustling shopping district, and eventually through the Botanical Gardens. By the time we figured out how lost we were, there was nothing for it but to hail a cab and get found, and back to the hotel.

3 days to go. I can’t remember ever being this excited for a trip. I haven’t packed a thing yet, but I spend every spare second thinking about what to bring (and perhaps more importantly what to leave behind). The anticipation of the people I’m going to meet and the places I’m going to see is nerve wracking and thrilling and overwhelming. I’m buried at work. TED related activity, on both the TEDIndia and Jill’s Wish front have created a maelstrom of tasks and objectives. Beyond that I’ve got new and old projects coming out my ears. Come Friday, I will have to find a way to let all of those things go so that I can be free to lose myself in this experience. ...

While I was on vacation, I received word that I had been invited to be a guest at TED India 2009. Tonight I completed the registration and made it official. My tickets are purchased and plans are being laid. When I mentioned to my dad that I was almost certainly going to India, he told me that he had always wanted to go and got this far away look in his eye. I instantly extended an invitation to him, hoping that he would accept, but aware that it was a big lift for him. I was happily surprised when my Mom started to encourage him and he gradually agreed that this was the chance of a lifetime. Of course my parents have this habit of dreaming about things in a way that looks to outsiders like resolve, so I was optimistically skeptical until last week when we bought our plane tickets. ...