Well, that is it for me. All joking aside, I need to go home. Each time I see my daughter and wife on Skype (thank heaven for Skype!), it reminds me how much I miss home.
I actually handed my notice in about three weeks ago but neglected to publicise it on these pages for obvious reasons. Originally I was due to go home around the middle of May but circumstances, and the kind actions of my line manager, have allowed me to come home earlier than envisaged.
Don’t get me wrong, India has been an amazing experience and I am grateful for it. I have experienced a whole different way of life, had my eyes opened to new and intriguing things, expanded my cultural knowledge and met some pretty good people in the process.
Of course there had to be one last hurrah at the Novotel on Sunday. No point in expanding on that as regular readers will know how it is an orgy of gluttenous eating, demonic drinking and lounging by the pool for hours afterwards because that was as far as one could manage to walk afterwards.
I did have very mixed emotions whilst I was sitting in the international departures lounge of Hyderabad airport. On the one hand I could not wait to get back to Blighty and be with my family again, I was also conscious that this was the end of an era and I was going to miss it in a way.
As time goes on the bad memories fade, and only the good ones remain don’t they? I like the way your mind does that and I will look back fondly on my time out there.
Still, time to move on and start the search for a job. Thank you all for following my adventures and reading my blog, especially those who were kind enough to suggest that I send this on to a publisher or two. You know, I might just do that………..
Best wishes
Neil
Friday, April 17, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Thursday 26th March to Weds 1st April 2009
I’m an Englishman………Get me out of here!! Strange way of starting a blog entry isn’t it? Not too mention being a reference to a despicable example of tabloid television that has now made its way into the national vocabulary to, becoming nothing more than a vulgar cliché. Sorry, I digress, why did I start this way? Well, I was being driven back to the villa last night and, as I turned into the driveway, I suddenly became very self-aware that I was staring at this chap that was walking past. Why was I staring? Because he was white, nothing other than that. He did not have pink hair, unfeasibly large man-boobs, or any other distinguishing feature other than his skin complexion. I have become so used to being stared at for my own fair skin that I have started doing it myself. I have clearly been here too long.
Two of my colleagues returned from a trip to Delhi Tuesday night and on the way back from the airport they passed a checkpoint on the road. Now, I should probably explain that it is not uncommon to see checkpoints, with a number of armed guards, on the roadside. In fact it is quite common and understandable given the volatile nature of India and its surrounding countries. When I asked what these checkpoints were for I was met with two possible explanations, one of which did not surprise me….and one that did. Apparently they sometimes do these spot-checks as a counter terrorism measure. Yep, I expected that one……..there are elections going on here and Indians seem to love nothing more that blowing up their politicians just so they have a name for their new airport. The second one was less expected, drunk drivers. Yes, they look for drunk drivers at these checkpoints as well. Odds are that, if you got caught, it would only be a question of how much, ahem, “fine” (read bribe) you would have to pay before you were on your way again, but it got me thinking though, how do you spot a drunk driver in India? My thoughts on the chaotic nature of the roads and the drivers out here are well documented on these pages so, how would you spot one? Well, the logical conclusion is this………a drunk driver in India can be isolated by the fact that he will be the only one driving at a sensible speed BETWEEN the white lines that you and I know as “lanes”.
If further proof were needed of how money greases the wheels of bureacracy out here then I shall provide it. I shall not name names, but my friends recently purchased new motorcycles so they could go cruising at weekends. I am told that the roads actually improve out of town by and large so this I can understand why this would appeal. However, in order to ride on Indian roads, like most countries you require a driving permit or licence. Unlike most other countries though the system for obtaining driving permits goes like this……first, you send one of the locals you are friendly with to go and fill out all of your forms for you and stand in each of the queues required to get the relevant part of the form stamped, great, you have just saved yourself an hour or two, then you present yourself at the local office for your test. This is easier than it sounds I am told and, once completed, you are presented with your shiny new Indian driving permit. The whole process costs a mere 600 rupees (approx £9)…….100 rupees for the actual permit itself and 500 rupees for the examiner to take the test on your behald before he politely smiles and says, “congratulations, you have passed”. What it does not cover is the cost of the world’s smallest book though, namely the Indian Highway Code……..that, if you can find one, you have to buy yourself.
Weekend comes, and we have elected to go to local fish market to get some “fresh” fish for a barbecue. You have to get up early for this place because it starts at 6am, and finishes around 10:30am, and I was told in advance that many of the hotels and restaurants come to this place to source their fish so I was looking forward to it, and expected much. I wasn’t disappointed, well, it wasn’t what I had envisaged but it was still a great experience. Certainly it was crowded, but aren’t all markets like that? It’s held in what looks like a town square, around the edge you buy the fish, and in the middle people clean and scale it for you. We picked out something called Marrel, another fish (the name of which escapes me) and some prawns from what I can only describe as an old time fishwife. I had read about them in Dickensian novels but believed they had died out long ago, but then many things you would have assumed to have been long since lost still exist in India (see Austin Ambassador cars and Royal Enfiel motorcyles – they still make both here). How did I know this fish was fresh? Well, the Marrel certainly was as it was still alive when we picked it out!!! Of course, we had to get this fish cleaned (why do it yourself when you only have to pay 100rupees and someone will do it for you?), so off we went. Two swift whacks over the head of the Marrel with her cosh and she begins to brush the scales off…..but the fish still moves. A blow to the body, another to the head, and she begins to cut off the fins…..yes, fish still moving at this point. Yet more head shots and this fish would not give up. Only after she had actually cut the head off did it finally quit, (no, I don’t know why she didn’t do this in the first place either?). I confess I found this quite brutal at times. We need to eat, and we need to eat meat/fish as that is part or our natural diet, but do we have to make our food suffer so much beforehand?
Valentines Day has been and gone a long time ago I know, but a sign on the back of the bus this morning had me thinking about the ultimate present for your loved one. I confess, I did only get my wife flowers for Valentines this year. The fact that I was nearly 6000 miles away meant it was difficult to find anything else. Believe me when I say I trawled through the various gift sites for inspiration, but with the cost of postage and difficult in ensuring that what you are buying isn’t utter crap, I felt it better to play safe (well, that is my excuse and I am sticking to it). Maybe I was wrong though because this advert could have given me another option. The strap line said “gift your loved ones – give them a health check up at Vijaya Diagnostics”. So, you can buy vouchers for these places now it seems. In the same way you would maybe buy book tokens or a red letter experience back home, you can show the one your life partner how much you care but gifting them the experience of a smear test or prostate examination (delete as applicable) for Valentines Day. Remember, nothing says “I love you” like a free, invasive medical procedure!!!
Gods honest truth, sign outside a shoe shop in Hyderabad read “Special Offer – Buy One Get One Free”…………..’nuff said!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
11-15th March 2009
Well, I’m back (for my sins). I managed to miss yet another Indian festival, this time called “Holi”. You may recall the kite flying festival we had a while back? And how ridiculous it was to have a national holiday just so you could fly a kite? Well this was along those lines trust me. “Holi” means the festival of colours (a somewhat flowery sounding title – pun intended), but it is nothing of the sort. What it actually means is yet another excuse for people to take a day off work and get drunk. People simply go crazy around this time evidently and cover each other in as many different dyes as they can lay their hands on, egged on by a special “holi” punch drink laced with Marijuana apparently! Evidence of this stupidity was all around, as I was being driven from the airport to the villa, in the form of large numbers of purple people staggering around the streets at 10am on the morning. Either it was a serious case of the morning after the night before……. or the remnants of an Oompah-Loompah’s stag party!!
Everything is image in India as well. People give themselves grand titles even though they carry no real importance. Even tuk-tuks are fitted with numerous aerials, giving the impression that they could (at any moment) transform into a two-stroke, 125cc version of the Batmobile at any moment. Still, to them it looks good I guess. Sometimes they do remind me of home though, like the way that the younger tuk-tuk drivers put huge sub-woofers in the back of their vehicles and neon lights underneath. A sign maybe that they are reaching out to their knuckle-dragging brethren that are often seen frequenting Southend seafront?
Quite often, at most road junctions, you will see an official controlling the traffic (well, I say controlling). Always a man, never a woman (signs of this being a very masogonistic society are everywhere). Clad in sharply-pressed beige trousers, crisp white shirt that would not look out of place in a Daz commercial, and a hard hat (why?) , he places himself in the middle of the road to ensure maximum opportunities for him to be run over. Then he proceeds to do absolutely nothing. Traffic still comes from all directions, people still swerve everywhere, and pedestrians still cross the road whenever they feel like it, half-heartedly raising their arm and outstretching their palm as if they were King Canute holding back the tide!! Bizarrely enough, it works though, and no one gets irate with this system of understood chaos. Perhaps our society is too well-ordered and people have forgotten how to think for themselves? All joking aside though, the upshot of Daz man stood in the middle of the road is generally to bring about more chaos than if he were not there………. it must be, because if you drive past one of these junctions at any time when there is no-one attempting to control the traffic and it seems to work much better!
Yet another example of the irony of the country I find myself in is the example of next doors dog, a young Golden Labrador. He is a friendly, happy soul as these type of dogs generally are but he barks almost incessantly, why? Well they chain him to the gate at the front of the house 24 hours a day. He has nothing but the length of the average dog lead in which to exercise and for any dog that is not enough, let alone one with the boundless energy of a Lab. We have asked about buying the dog but they are having none of it. When we ask why they do this to him they simply reply, “because he is naughty”. How is he expected to learn what is right or wrong if they never take the time to teach him? The one time I did see someone trying to teach him basic behavioural patterns he was rewarded with a stick being whacked hard across his nose if he did not comply first time……..no way to teach a dog is it? Yet, and this is the irony, having seen many dogs walking the streets searching for food, some with puppies, this dog is one of the “luckier” ones.
Power cuts (yes them again), are becoming more frequent it seems, and planned. They will often occur during the day, around 10am, and the supply will be off for around 4-6 hours. This is because there is simply not enough generating capacity to cover the existing requirements for the city. So what is the solution to this problem you ask? Well, if you are Indian, the solution is to build many more office blocks and houses. Yup, constructions are everywhere and not one of them is a power station! Do these people not think of the supporting infrastructure needed for these places? To be honest, I am seriously considering taking a cart and a horse to the offices of the Greater Hyderabad Municipal Council and asking them to assemble them in the correct order…..how do you think they will get on? What is quite amusing is how, when we have these power cuts at night, the guards that patrol our complex will blow their whistles in turn to signal to each other “all is well”. These guys are tremendously regimented in their approach like that, they salute you each time you go in and out and they conduct drills every night at the gate. Despite all this, I still cant help but think, each time the lights go out and the whistles start, they are in fact conducting an improptu rave because they think no one can see them!!
Oh well, must dash.
TTFN, one and all
Neil
Everything is image in India as well. People give themselves grand titles even though they carry no real importance. Even tuk-tuks are fitted with numerous aerials, giving the impression that they could (at any moment) transform into a two-stroke, 125cc version of the Batmobile at any moment. Still, to them it looks good I guess. Sometimes they do remind me of home though, like the way that the younger tuk-tuk drivers put huge sub-woofers in the back of their vehicles and neon lights underneath. A sign maybe that they are reaching out to their knuckle-dragging brethren that are often seen frequenting Southend seafront?
Quite often, at most road junctions, you will see an official controlling the traffic (well, I say controlling). Always a man, never a woman (signs of this being a very masogonistic society are everywhere). Clad in sharply-pressed beige trousers, crisp white shirt that would not look out of place in a Daz commercial, and a hard hat (why?) , he places himself in the middle of the road to ensure maximum opportunities for him to be run over. Then he proceeds to do absolutely nothing. Traffic still comes from all directions, people still swerve everywhere, and pedestrians still cross the road whenever they feel like it, half-heartedly raising their arm and outstretching their palm as if they were King Canute holding back the tide!! Bizarrely enough, it works though, and no one gets irate with this system of understood chaos. Perhaps our society is too well-ordered and people have forgotten how to think for themselves? All joking aside though, the upshot of Daz man stood in the middle of the road is generally to bring about more chaos than if he were not there………. it must be, because if you drive past one of these junctions at any time when there is no-one attempting to control the traffic and it seems to work much better!
Yet another example of the irony of the country I find myself in is the example of next doors dog, a young Golden Labrador. He is a friendly, happy soul as these type of dogs generally are but he barks almost incessantly, why? Well they chain him to the gate at the front of the house 24 hours a day. He has nothing but the length of the average dog lead in which to exercise and for any dog that is not enough, let alone one with the boundless energy of a Lab. We have asked about buying the dog but they are having none of it. When we ask why they do this to him they simply reply, “because he is naughty”. How is he expected to learn what is right or wrong if they never take the time to teach him? The one time I did see someone trying to teach him basic behavioural patterns he was rewarded with a stick being whacked hard across his nose if he did not comply first time……..no way to teach a dog is it? Yet, and this is the irony, having seen many dogs walking the streets searching for food, some with puppies, this dog is one of the “luckier” ones.
Power cuts (yes them again), are becoming more frequent it seems, and planned. They will often occur during the day, around 10am, and the supply will be off for around 4-6 hours. This is because there is simply not enough generating capacity to cover the existing requirements for the city. So what is the solution to this problem you ask? Well, if you are Indian, the solution is to build many more office blocks and houses. Yup, constructions are everywhere and not one of them is a power station! Do these people not think of the supporting infrastructure needed for these places? To be honest, I am seriously considering taking a cart and a horse to the offices of the Greater Hyderabad Municipal Council and asking them to assemble them in the correct order…..how do you think they will get on? What is quite amusing is how, when we have these power cuts at night, the guards that patrol our complex will blow their whistles in turn to signal to each other “all is well”. These guys are tremendously regimented in their approach like that, they salute you each time you go in and out and they conduct drills every night at the gate. Despite all this, I still cant help but think, each time the lights go out and the whistles start, they are in fact conducting an improptu rave because they think no one can see them!!
Oh well, must dash.
TTFN, one and all
Neil
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Friday 20th to Thursday 26th Feb 2009
I need your help readers. I have an urge that is building up inside me, growing like addiction, and I doubt I can fight it much longer. You may recall how I mentioned in previous posts that the women out here do all the work?.......... No? allow me to refresh your memory. You regularly see women walking down the road with stuff on their heads. It is quite an amazing sight in all honesty and I have nothing but the deepest admiration for them. There is usually a cloth, or sponge to soften the impact on their skull and atop that will be a tray or dish with all manner of things. It could be tools, building materials, food, clothes…anything. Frequently they are accompanied by a male carrying nothing. It is the exact reverse of my situation in the UK where my wife (yes babe, you) will load me up like a human “buckaroo”, always trying to get that one more bag on me before my hind quarters spring up and throw everything off. Well, my urge is this, as much as I respect as I have for these women, I would really love to creep up behind one and tickle her, just to see if she can retain the poise and dignity (and it’s like the Indian equivalent of the Finishing School girl with the books on her head), that she had displayed up until that point. If it wasn’t for the fact that touching an Indian woman in the street is tantamount to gang rape, I would have done it already!
Touching Indian women is a major no-no. Just a friendly tap on the arm, the occasional shoulder massage because you can see they are stressed (all things you see every day in the most UK workplaces), even a handshake is heavily frowned upon here. Any public display of affection is a taboo.
In the news recently was the case of a married Delhi couple who had the audacity to kiss in public. They were arrested, charged and the case went to court. Eventually it was quite rightly thrown out but not before serious amounts of money and time had been wasted in the process. Bizarre isn’t it? You can openly stop your car or motorcycle in broad daylight and urinate on the street, that’s ok, but woe betide you if you kiss your wife!!
Which is why I was so shocked to see an advert on the television recently for a product called “Unwanted-72”. The premise was that this woman had a serious dilemma, a life changing event that she didn’t want……basically she was pregnant. So she was introduced to Unwanted-72 which is a morning after pill. She took that and suddenly everything was fine again, and she could begin her life again. In such a conservative country such as India, where sex before marriage is actually illegal, it is surprising to see them almost encouraging casual sex to be honest.
Work-wise there is not much to report. I work all weekend, all day, and have been hard at it since. I did manage to get up the road to the Bali rooftop restaurant Saturday with a few of my colleagues which was nice.
After a hard day Sunday, and once I knew my flight was airborne, I did venture out to the market I had been meaning to go to for some time. It is about ten minutes by tuk-tuk from the villa and has things like jewelry, ornaments, pashminas and numerous other things. I managed to get a few bargains, after some serious haggling, and went away happy.
The spelling hasn’t got any better out here by the way. On the way home from work tonight (Wednesday 25th) I passed a sign advertising some new apartments for sale or rent. They boasted all the facilities, and the exterior looked very nice. I just could not help notice the part of the sign that said “avilabale now”. Now would you buy anything built by someone who spelt “available” like that?
I travel home on Friday 27th and I cannot wait. I will probably not be posting any blog entries whilst I am at home because I want to spend as much time with my family as I can…..well I am only home for a week. I have to say that, despite being surrounded by so many wonderful people, and I have made some good friends, I still feel lonely and that feeling has grown and grown with each passing day. Weird isn’t it?
Touching Indian women is a major no-no. Just a friendly tap on the arm, the occasional shoulder massage because you can see they are stressed (all things you see every day in the most UK workplaces), even a handshake is heavily frowned upon here. Any public display of affection is a taboo.
In the news recently was the case of a married Delhi couple who had the audacity to kiss in public. They were arrested, charged and the case went to court. Eventually it was quite rightly thrown out but not before serious amounts of money and time had been wasted in the process. Bizarre isn’t it? You can openly stop your car or motorcycle in broad daylight and urinate on the street, that’s ok, but woe betide you if you kiss your wife!!
Which is why I was so shocked to see an advert on the television recently for a product called “Unwanted-72”. The premise was that this woman had a serious dilemma, a life changing event that she didn’t want……basically she was pregnant. So she was introduced to Unwanted-72 which is a morning after pill. She took that and suddenly everything was fine again, and she could begin her life again. In such a conservative country such as India, where sex before marriage is actually illegal, it is surprising to see them almost encouraging casual sex to be honest.
Work-wise there is not much to report. I work all weekend, all day, and have been hard at it since. I did manage to get up the road to the Bali rooftop restaurant Saturday with a few of my colleagues which was nice.
After a hard day Sunday, and once I knew my flight was airborne, I did venture out to the market I had been meaning to go to for some time. It is about ten minutes by tuk-tuk from the villa and has things like jewelry, ornaments, pashminas and numerous other things. I managed to get a few bargains, after some serious haggling, and went away happy.
The spelling hasn’t got any better out here by the way. On the way home from work tonight (Wednesday 25th) I passed a sign advertising some new apartments for sale or rent. They boasted all the facilities, and the exterior looked very nice. I just could not help notice the part of the sign that said “avilabale now”. Now would you buy anything built by someone who spelt “available” like that?
I travel home on Friday 27th and I cannot wait. I will probably not be posting any blog entries whilst I am at home because I want to spend as much time with my family as I can…..well I am only home for a week. I have to say that, despite being surrounded by so many wonderful people, and I have made some good friends, I still feel lonely and that feeling has grown and grown with each passing day. Weird isn’t it?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
14th - 19th Feb 2009
Went on a tour of the city on Saturday. It was pretty uneventful in them main to be honest as it involved the Fort (which I have done before), and the lake, again. The reason I visisted them again was simply that we had a couple of new pilots who wanted to explore a bit, having recently arrived in India, and I has the day off so I thought, why not?
The main difference this time was that this time we went into the park that surrounds the lake and took a boat ride which was actually quite fun. It was a speedboat, costing a whopping 200rupees for all 3 of us (less than 3GBP), and he took us right round the lake, stopping briefly so we could take some more photos of the Buddha statue in the middle from closer up. The driver sat at the back and steered the craft using the outboard motor. He must have decided, pretty much upon laying eyes on us, that he thought he could wind us up a bit because he kept swinging the tiller from side to side, making the boat swing violently. The motion of suddenly swerving was little more than irritating however, and that was only because I was trying to take photos, what actually scares you is the water itself believe me!
When you enter the park, and even when you are anywhere near it, the smell of the lake is quite off-putting. Our driver told us that, in the not too distant past, this was once a fresh water lake teeming with fish and suitable to drink even. He knows this because he has done both as a child. Now, it is a dark and disturbing shade of green, with a putrid smell about it. This is not due to algae, far from in fact as I doubt even algae could thrive in that water. That was what scared us when the boat was swaying, the fear that we could fall into that if we tipped over into the water we would probably end up going through some spider-manesque molecular transformation as a result of whatever chemicals and pollution are contained therein!
We ended our stay in the park with a quick stint in the cricket batting nets they had behind the boats where they fire tennis balls at you and, depending on where you hit them, you score a certain number of runs. I won (sorry Ian, had to get that in), and off we went to find a cold beer!
On the way back we went via “Tank Bund Road”. This is a major highway between the two smaller cities that from Greater Hyderabad (Hyderabad and Secunderabad), and passes right by the lake. It is so named because of the tank that was presented to the city in 1973 to commemorate 25 years of Indian Independence. As a responsible tourist, keen to ingratiate myself to the locals, I climbed on top of this tank, thrust my arm into the air and looked as though I was leading some sort of revolution. My friends took some great photos of me doing this (see my facebook page for those who have access). What the photos do not show is the traffic chaos I caused on this major highway as drivers stopped to look at this crazy paleface standing atop one of their national monuments…..oops!!!
I have decided that my next mission is to target the Indian Tourist Board and get them to change their slogan. Why? Well, there is a whole national ethic out here that simply consists of two words (three if you are a grammatical purist), and simply goes “that’ll do”
When they build something, be it a house or office complex, you find all manner of things odd. There will be wonky windows, and improperly sealed windows that allow the monsoon rains to flood the inside, light switches that are at a 45 degree angle and bits of steel re-enforcing jutting out from the concrete exterior that they simply paint over and hope you won’t notice………and so on.
The roads (yes I know, my favourite subject), were clearly built by “that’ll do constructions”. They must have been otherwise how else would you explain the poor state they are in?
They also regularly use internal sockets, outside the building and then fail to properly seal so that sufficient moisture can get into the exposed wiring to cause a short-circuit.
So, I suggest we all write to the people that promote tourism in India and suggest they go with the following new advertising campaign………..
“Visit India …………………..Land of that’ll do”
Got some great news today! I am going home…….hooray! Albeit, only for a week but still, it will be nice to catch up with the family and visit my little girl. Strangely enough, I am even looking forward to some colder weather for a change.
.
.
.
Not sure I’ll still be saying that when I get there though?
The main difference this time was that this time we went into the park that surrounds the lake and took a boat ride which was actually quite fun. It was a speedboat, costing a whopping 200rupees for all 3 of us (less than 3GBP), and he took us right round the lake, stopping briefly so we could take some more photos of the Buddha statue in the middle from closer up. The driver sat at the back and steered the craft using the outboard motor. He must have decided, pretty much upon laying eyes on us, that he thought he could wind us up a bit because he kept swinging the tiller from side to side, making the boat swing violently. The motion of suddenly swerving was little more than irritating however, and that was only because I was trying to take photos, what actually scares you is the water itself believe me!
When you enter the park, and even when you are anywhere near it, the smell of the lake is quite off-putting. Our driver told us that, in the not too distant past, this was once a fresh water lake teeming with fish and suitable to drink even. He knows this because he has done both as a child. Now, it is a dark and disturbing shade of green, with a putrid smell about it. This is not due to algae, far from in fact as I doubt even algae could thrive in that water. That was what scared us when the boat was swaying, the fear that we could fall into that if we tipped over into the water we would probably end up going through some spider-manesque molecular transformation as a result of whatever chemicals and pollution are contained therein!
We ended our stay in the park with a quick stint in the cricket batting nets they had behind the boats where they fire tennis balls at you and, depending on where you hit them, you score a certain number of runs. I won (sorry Ian, had to get that in), and off we went to find a cold beer!
On the way back we went via “Tank Bund Road”. This is a major highway between the two smaller cities that from Greater Hyderabad (Hyderabad and Secunderabad), and passes right by the lake. It is so named because of the tank that was presented to the city in 1973 to commemorate 25 years of Indian Independence. As a responsible tourist, keen to ingratiate myself to the locals, I climbed on top of this tank, thrust my arm into the air and looked as though I was leading some sort of revolution. My friends took some great photos of me doing this (see my facebook page for those who have access). What the photos do not show is the traffic chaos I caused on this major highway as drivers stopped to look at this crazy paleface standing atop one of their national monuments…..oops!!!
I have decided that my next mission is to target the Indian Tourist Board and get them to change their slogan. Why? Well, there is a whole national ethic out here that simply consists of two words (three if you are a grammatical purist), and simply goes “that’ll do”
When they build something, be it a house or office complex, you find all manner of things odd. There will be wonky windows, and improperly sealed windows that allow the monsoon rains to flood the inside, light switches that are at a 45 degree angle and bits of steel re-enforcing jutting out from the concrete exterior that they simply paint over and hope you won’t notice………and so on.
The roads (yes I know, my favourite subject), were clearly built by “that’ll do constructions”. They must have been otherwise how else would you explain the poor state they are in?
They also regularly use internal sockets, outside the building and then fail to properly seal so that sufficient moisture can get into the exposed wiring to cause a short-circuit.
So, I suggest we all write to the people that promote tourism in India and suggest they go with the following new advertising campaign………..
“Visit India …………………..Land of that’ll do”
Got some great news today! I am going home…….hooray! Albeit, only for a week but still, it will be nice to catch up with the family and visit my little girl. Strangely enough, I am even looking forward to some colder weather for a change.
.
.
.
Not sure I’ll still be saying that when I get there though?
Friday, February 13, 2009
03rd Feb - 13 Feb 2009
I had the day off work on Tuesday so I elected to go shopping. I needed some clothes so why not eh? Having only found out at 8:00am in the morning that I was off that day, I decided to travel in with the usual transport to the office (as I was up anyway) and get them to drop me off at the shopping mall. Bad move, what I did not know was that nothing opens in India before 11am! So there I was, stood in the middle of the busiest part of town, waiting for these shops to open. I had a wander round, took a tuk-tuk ride, so the time passed quickly enough.
Whilst I was sat there a tuk-tuk pulled up in the centre of the roundabout. It is not unusual to see vehicles just randomly stop, or swerve all over the place so I thought nothing of it. However, it was clearly the wrong move as he was approached by what I later found out to be the Indian equivalent of a traffic warden. This guy was wearing a uniform, and carrying a big stick that must have been 4 foot long so I assumed he was police but apparently not. An argument ensued and without warning the warden just started kicking the passenger in the back of the tuk-tuk. He must have launched about six or seven kicks onto this guy, for no obvious reason……..guess they just don’t issue parking tickets out here and that’s how they deal with the problem. I’ll take the fine if it’s all the same to you?
I also observed how the majority of Hyderabadis get to work and I have to see, everything you hear is true. There is an etiquette for buses out here….women get on the front and men get on at the back. None of the buses have doors, some of them don’t even have windows, and I’ll bet none of them have air-conditioning. People pack themselves in so tightly that it cannot be a pleasant experience travelling on one but for about a rupee or two per journey, can you really complain? All the guide books and websites suggest that, whilst travelling on public transport is not inherently dangerous for westerners, you are a target for pick-pockets. Given how beggars gravitate towards us ‘pale-faces’ I can well believe that.
Even though one bus I saw was so packed that there was not an inch of wasted space inside, people still tried to get on it. As the bus drove away there were several people hanging off the back door, grabbing onto what they could, and with no more than half of one foot touching the door sill. In the UK, bus surfing is a dangerous craze only undertaken by people under the influence of some kind of narcotic or maybe alcohol, here it is a way of getting to work!
Having done my shopping I decided to have some lunch and was pleasantly surprised to see a McDonalds. I am not a massive fan of huge global organisations that pillage the world of its natural resources, nor am I an anarchist that seeks to bring these conglomerates down (I am English remember, all I’ll do is quietly grumble about it but ultimately do nothing). I must admit I felt cheap for succumbing to this little corner of familiarity, but comforted at the same time, that was until I went in. What is the last thing you would expect from Maccy D’s? What are they famous for? If you said to yourself, what is the first word that comes out of my mouth if someone asked me to describe them in one word, and one word alone?.......Burgers yes?. Well this is India, and not even McDonalds staff will cook beef out here. So it was fish or chicken, or rice (yes rice). As a chicken burger was the closest thing I could get to a piece of home I elected to have that. It was OK…..wasn’t the same though.
With the shopping done, I headed back to the villa. You never need to flag down a tuk-tuk in Hyderabad, they simply approach you. I thought I had got the haggling thing sorted as well. I am quite firm with everyone, I state my price and rarely allow myself to be shifted from what I have stated as being prepared to pay.
This guy was different though. He was more experienced in haggling and equally (if not more so) inflexible in what he wanted. It just goes to show that, no matter how good you think are at something, there is always someone better at what it is you do. I got the whole story……. his 3 kids, how poor he was, how many people he had to support, blah blah blah. He quoted 200rupees for what I wanted, I said 150. Eventually we met in the middle at 175. A small victory for me so I was happy, especially against such an experienced adversary!
One of the things I have been told, by more than one Indian, is that we British left the country 50 years too early. Having not been proud of our colonial past I had ignored these comments at first. However, when they were repeated so many times I started to believe them. The road system is knackered, the country disorganised and nothing changes. There is no obvious sense of leadership or direction. I am not colonialist as I have said, but am starting to see why we should have perhaps stayed. The fact we came here is wrong of course, but having done what we did, leaving the job half done was not particularly bright either.
This week I thought all my Christmases had come at once. Why you ask?, well I didn’t get a huge pay rise or have Kylie Minogue pester me for my phone number (sadly), I simply got a tin of corned beef and some Yorkshire tea bags. Not very exciting I hear you say, well when you live in a country that does not have Corned Beef, or some decent tea bags, you start to miss certain things after nearly three montsh I can tell you……and it’s surprising what you do start to miss. If anyone wants to set up a smuggling ring that can sneak in a Peter’s Sausage Roll and a Ginsters Pasty you have my number…..we’ll talk!!!
Hope all are well :-)
Whilst I was sat there a tuk-tuk pulled up in the centre of the roundabout. It is not unusual to see vehicles just randomly stop, or swerve all over the place so I thought nothing of it. However, it was clearly the wrong move as he was approached by what I later found out to be the Indian equivalent of a traffic warden. This guy was wearing a uniform, and carrying a big stick that must have been 4 foot long so I assumed he was police but apparently not. An argument ensued and without warning the warden just started kicking the passenger in the back of the tuk-tuk. He must have launched about six or seven kicks onto this guy, for no obvious reason……..guess they just don’t issue parking tickets out here and that’s how they deal with the problem. I’ll take the fine if it’s all the same to you?
I also observed how the majority of Hyderabadis get to work and I have to see, everything you hear is true. There is an etiquette for buses out here….women get on the front and men get on at the back. None of the buses have doors, some of them don’t even have windows, and I’ll bet none of them have air-conditioning. People pack themselves in so tightly that it cannot be a pleasant experience travelling on one but for about a rupee or two per journey, can you really complain? All the guide books and websites suggest that, whilst travelling on public transport is not inherently dangerous for westerners, you are a target for pick-pockets. Given how beggars gravitate towards us ‘pale-faces’ I can well believe that.
Even though one bus I saw was so packed that there was not an inch of wasted space inside, people still tried to get on it. As the bus drove away there were several people hanging off the back door, grabbing onto what they could, and with no more than half of one foot touching the door sill. In the UK, bus surfing is a dangerous craze only undertaken by people under the influence of some kind of narcotic or maybe alcohol, here it is a way of getting to work!
Having done my shopping I decided to have some lunch and was pleasantly surprised to see a McDonalds. I am not a massive fan of huge global organisations that pillage the world of its natural resources, nor am I an anarchist that seeks to bring these conglomerates down (I am English remember, all I’ll do is quietly grumble about it but ultimately do nothing). I must admit I felt cheap for succumbing to this little corner of familiarity, but comforted at the same time, that was until I went in. What is the last thing you would expect from Maccy D’s? What are they famous for? If you said to yourself, what is the first word that comes out of my mouth if someone asked me to describe them in one word, and one word alone?.......Burgers yes?. Well this is India, and not even McDonalds staff will cook beef out here. So it was fish or chicken, or rice (yes rice). As a chicken burger was the closest thing I could get to a piece of home I elected to have that. It was OK…..wasn’t the same though.
With the shopping done, I headed back to the villa. You never need to flag down a tuk-tuk in Hyderabad, they simply approach you. I thought I had got the haggling thing sorted as well. I am quite firm with everyone, I state my price and rarely allow myself to be shifted from what I have stated as being prepared to pay.
This guy was different though. He was more experienced in haggling and equally (if not more so) inflexible in what he wanted. It just goes to show that, no matter how good you think are at something, there is always someone better at what it is you do. I got the whole story……. his 3 kids, how poor he was, how many people he had to support, blah blah blah. He quoted 200rupees for what I wanted, I said 150. Eventually we met in the middle at 175. A small victory for me so I was happy, especially against such an experienced adversary!
One of the things I have been told, by more than one Indian, is that we British left the country 50 years too early. Having not been proud of our colonial past I had ignored these comments at first. However, when they were repeated so many times I started to believe them. The road system is knackered, the country disorganised and nothing changes. There is no obvious sense of leadership or direction. I am not colonialist as I have said, but am starting to see why we should have perhaps stayed. The fact we came here is wrong of course, but having done what we did, leaving the job half done was not particularly bright either.
This week I thought all my Christmases had come at once. Why you ask?, well I didn’t get a huge pay rise or have Kylie Minogue pester me for my phone number (sadly), I simply got a tin of corned beef and some Yorkshire tea bags. Not very exciting I hear you say, well when you live in a country that does not have Corned Beef, or some decent tea bags, you start to miss certain things after nearly three montsh I can tell you……and it’s surprising what you do start to miss. If anyone wants to set up a smuggling ring that can sneak in a Peter’s Sausage Roll and a Ginsters Pasty you have my number…..we’ll talk!!!
Hope all are well :-)
Monday, February 2, 2009
28th Jan 2009 - 02nd Feb 2009
You got to love this country….in a way at least. India has it’s own take on Western culture, and it doesn’t make a particularly good fist of it either. It is almost like they have taken the main ingredients of what has to be the two biggest global influences (namely Britain and America), put them in to a pot, and come up with their own version, it’s almost like they have curried western culture.
Let me explain, spelling out here is quite comical. Some shops will claim to be a “centre” for whatever it is they are selling (be it sporting goods, luggage or clothes etc”, others will claim to be a “center” for their particular wares……and others, not wanting to sound quite so elaborate, describe themselves as a “shopee”……. and that is exactly? Did the signwriter got a bit excited when he was making that? Was he on a rollercoaster ride that went for the big dip just as he finished the “shop” part of the sign?.........or maybe it’s just plain illiteracy? (which is my money). Most of the people out here eke out a simple existence, and probably never had time or money for a proper education. They get by, they exist, and they have more fortitude and are probably happier with their lot than most of us in the more affluent West. You have to admire really don’t you?
Can’t remember if I have blogged this before or not? Apologies if I have, but I still have not received, nor discovered, a satisfactory reason as to why this even exists so here I go again……………
Let me explain, on the way home from the office to the villa every day we pass this clinic (not THAT sort of clinic so drag your minds out of the gutter please……and stop smirking). Outside said clinic is a 30 foot, illuminated archway advertising their 24 hour walk-in CT scan facility. You can, if you want to, walk in (any time, day or night) and pay your money and to get yourself x-rayed.
Have you ever had this happen to you? You are walking home after a night out, you know you have had a good night because you sway, nay stagger, down the road……the obligatory kebab has been consumed….now what? Yes, you feel the overwhelming urge for a CT scan but where can you get one at 3am. Worry no longer my brethren as you can get one in Hyderabad!!! Another solution to mankind’s simplest dilemmas brought to you by the people of India.
Lastly, I have a question for you. This is not India related I hasten to add, but it is something I have noticed whilst I have been in here so I guess it qualifies for the blog……..just!
Those of you who use I-Tunes will know that it automatically groups your music for you. It will decide, unilaterally, if what you have uploaded is pop music, rock, country and so on. As the user you have absolutely no input on this.
This is quite a handy feature however, as I am sure you will agree. It means you can tell your I-Pod to play a certain type of music, say for parties or when you have guests, and keep the embarrassing stuff back for yourself to listen to when no one is around via the private inner sanctum provided by your headphones.
One of the genres my I-pod grouped my music into was it termed “Easy Listening”. Alright, I’ll admit I own more than one Michael Buble album (I would like to apologise to my family as I should really have come out to them first), and it was this that had been deemed as “Easy Listening”.
I can picture it now, because it is Easy Listening I will clearly have no trouble hearing it? I will not have to turn the volume up if I can’t hear it because, as it is easy to listen to, it will simply not allow me to move a muscle to adjust the volume….it will do it for me, right?
Or does it mean that, the very microsecond that the first sound wave begins to resonate around my inner ear, I will be struck by an involuntary stress relinquishing paralysis and all my muscles will simply relax?
The more likely explanation is that it is just simply a term made up by the kind of people who frequent Jazz Clubs to make music they liked sound “groovy”. I mean, is there such a thing as “Hard Listening” music? Are there times in which you have to reach inside your cochlea, rip out the ear drum and place it up against the speaker to listen to a Def Leppard LP?
These people are talking rubbish!......................... Go and complain to your MP!
Rant over.
Let me explain, spelling out here is quite comical. Some shops will claim to be a “centre” for whatever it is they are selling (be it sporting goods, luggage or clothes etc”, others will claim to be a “center” for their particular wares……and others, not wanting to sound quite so elaborate, describe themselves as a “shopee”……. and that is exactly? Did the signwriter got a bit excited when he was making that? Was he on a rollercoaster ride that went for the big dip just as he finished the “shop” part of the sign?.........or maybe it’s just plain illiteracy? (which is my money). Most of the people out here eke out a simple existence, and probably never had time or money for a proper education. They get by, they exist, and they have more fortitude and are probably happier with their lot than most of us in the more affluent West. You have to admire really don’t you?
Can’t remember if I have blogged this before or not? Apologies if I have, but I still have not received, nor discovered, a satisfactory reason as to why this even exists so here I go again……………
Let me explain, on the way home from the office to the villa every day we pass this clinic (not THAT sort of clinic so drag your minds out of the gutter please……and stop smirking). Outside said clinic is a 30 foot, illuminated archway advertising their 24 hour walk-in CT scan facility. You can, if you want to, walk in (any time, day or night) and pay your money and to get yourself x-rayed.
Have you ever had this happen to you? You are walking home after a night out, you know you have had a good night because you sway, nay stagger, down the road……the obligatory kebab has been consumed….now what? Yes, you feel the overwhelming urge for a CT scan but where can you get one at 3am. Worry no longer my brethren as you can get one in Hyderabad!!! Another solution to mankind’s simplest dilemmas brought to you by the people of India.
Lastly, I have a question for you. This is not India related I hasten to add, but it is something I have noticed whilst I have been in here so I guess it qualifies for the blog……..just!
Those of you who use I-Tunes will know that it automatically groups your music for you. It will decide, unilaterally, if what you have uploaded is pop music, rock, country and so on. As the user you have absolutely no input on this.
This is quite a handy feature however, as I am sure you will agree. It means you can tell your I-Pod to play a certain type of music, say for parties or when you have guests, and keep the embarrassing stuff back for yourself to listen to when no one is around via the private inner sanctum provided by your headphones.
One of the genres my I-pod grouped my music into was it termed “Easy Listening”. Alright, I’ll admit I own more than one Michael Buble album (I would like to apologise to my family as I should really have come out to them first), and it was this that had been deemed as “Easy Listening”.
I can picture it now, because it is Easy Listening I will clearly have no trouble hearing it? I will not have to turn the volume up if I can’t hear it because, as it is easy to listen to, it will simply not allow me to move a muscle to adjust the volume….it will do it for me, right?
Or does it mean that, the very microsecond that the first sound wave begins to resonate around my inner ear, I will be struck by an involuntary stress relinquishing paralysis and all my muscles will simply relax?
The more likely explanation is that it is just simply a term made up by the kind of people who frequent Jazz Clubs to make music they liked sound “groovy”. I mean, is there such a thing as “Hard Listening” music? Are there times in which you have to reach inside your cochlea, rip out the ear drum and place it up against the speaker to listen to a Def Leppard LP?
These people are talking rubbish!......................... Go and complain to your MP!
Rant over.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
19th-27th January 2009
The updates are getting less regular (as you have probably noticed), and there are reasons for that I promise. Mainly it is because I am busy. The more I get into the job, the more I have to do and the less spare time I have. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, if I had nothing to do I would probably just end up sitting by the pool with a cold beer every day……..wait, maybe I am complaining! Bugger!
So I have left it until I have some things to say and here they are. I take notes during the week, a scribbled sentence here or a word or two on the notes function of my Blackberrry, and then I expand on them when time allows.
I haven’t been up to all that much really. I know my blog may give the appearance that I am living the good life out here, but really I am not. The weather is perfect that is true…the beer cheap and the facilities good….but I have to work hard for it, honest!
This is where I am going to blow that last statement, and your trust in me, out of the water. This last weekend has been perfect because I have pretty much done the square root of bugger all. Saturday I just hung around the villa and caught up on some sleep. I had to work most of the afternoon but that is to be expected, its just one of the perils of the job I guess.
Sunday, well what else? Novotel again! Got to love that all you can eat buffet and fully inclusive bar really haven’t you? Top that off with an afternoon by the pool and it just doesn’t get any better than that! For a change of pace, as Monday was a national holiday in India (Republic Day), we elected to relax around the entirely different pool at the villa. I am now sitting here, typing this, looking like a swan vesta! We rounded Monday off with a visit to a place called “F Café”. I had heard many good reports about this place, and knew that they did beef burgers (a real rarity in a country that worships the cow believe me), so I was keen to check it out. My verdict……..adequate at best, it certainly did not live up to the top billing for me but it was OK. The beefburger was great though but maybe that was imply because I have been denied one for what seems like an eternity. What certainly did not help matters was that I had to enjoy it stone cold sober! Yesterday, being a national holiday, was declared a dry day….A DRY DAY for crying out loud. Every off licence was closed, every bar and restaurant stopped serving alcohol for the day. How weird is that? Can you imagine the Aussies doing that on Australia Day? Or the Americans doing that for July 4th?....I think we all know the answer to that is WOULD THEY B****CKS!!!
It is surprising when you spend a long way from home like I have been, what you start to miss. Yesterday I got a craving for Worcester Sauce for some reason? I have a bottle at home all the time. It can go weeks without being used, and then sometimes I’ll have it with scrambled eggs or cheese-on-toast, something like that. I could have killed for a bottle when the thought flashed across my mind, weird isn’t it?
Now the really daft bit. This morning (Tuesday 27th) I noticed the birdsong for the fast time. In the UK it can occasionally become nothing more than a background effect, or white noise, particularly for those who are rushing around…..somewhere to be, fast….and never noticing what can sometimes be the most magnificent of ornithological compositions? Well, today I noticed the Indian equivalent….even stopping to listen for a while. I have resolved myself to learn more about the birds that orbit around me, and in so doing, expand my Indian experience.
Talking of which, I have noticed some more curious sides to the Indian way of doing things. One of which is, of course, my old favourite that is the roads. On Sunday I observed yet more madness in what I could only describe as a motorcycle stunt team. Well, it was actually a family of three, the driver of which was the only one with a helmet, and on the back was a lady riding side-saddle….with a baby in her arms! The baby was clearly not phased by the experience however as it was happily snoozing away in what I assume to be its mother’s arms!
To adapt to life in India you have to be prepared to accept many strange and unusual things. Power cuts being one of them. I guess it’s another thing that, in the UK, I would take for granted….you know, regular power? Well here the power goes out daily, and often more than once during the day. Hyderabad has serious generating problems. I read in a newspaper shortly after my arrival that they only have something like 75% of the generating capacity it actually needs. Couple that with the ad-hoc wiring that the locals do, whereby they just wire something into the nearest junction box or lamppost, and you see why there is not enough to go around. All of the tarpaulin huts that litter the streets have power via these means, the engineering involved is way beyond my expertise, not too mention the sheer bravery involved in wiring something in without having the ability to neutralise the electrical flow first!
Then there are the people who seem to hang around on street corners. Great swathes of people whose sole purpose is it seems to re-affirm the existence of gravity. Why else would they congregate on every street corner?..... and outside every shop?
Lastly there is this most frustrating nodding head thing. So many people seem to do this! Whenever you ask a question you don’t get the standard western thing of the head goes up and down for yes, or side to side for no, here the head just wobbles. You ask a waiter what they can recommend, the head wobbles…..you ask someone directions, the head wobbles….you want to negotiate a price with a tuk-tuk driver….well, you get the idea. It is incredibly frustrating when all you get is a non-descriptive head movement. It’s like having a conversation with a nodding dog sometimes I can tell you!
Well, time to sign off. Hope everyone is well
Neil
So I have left it until I have some things to say and here they are. I take notes during the week, a scribbled sentence here or a word or two on the notes function of my Blackberrry, and then I expand on them when time allows.
I haven’t been up to all that much really. I know my blog may give the appearance that I am living the good life out here, but really I am not. The weather is perfect that is true…the beer cheap and the facilities good….but I have to work hard for it, honest!
This is where I am going to blow that last statement, and your trust in me, out of the water. This last weekend has been perfect because I have pretty much done the square root of bugger all. Saturday I just hung around the villa and caught up on some sleep. I had to work most of the afternoon but that is to be expected, its just one of the perils of the job I guess.
Sunday, well what else? Novotel again! Got to love that all you can eat buffet and fully inclusive bar really haven’t you? Top that off with an afternoon by the pool and it just doesn’t get any better than that! For a change of pace, as Monday was a national holiday in India (Republic Day), we elected to relax around the entirely different pool at the villa. I am now sitting here, typing this, looking like a swan vesta! We rounded Monday off with a visit to a place called “F Café”. I had heard many good reports about this place, and knew that they did beef burgers (a real rarity in a country that worships the cow believe me), so I was keen to check it out. My verdict……..adequate at best, it certainly did not live up to the top billing for me but it was OK. The beefburger was great though but maybe that was imply because I have been denied one for what seems like an eternity. What certainly did not help matters was that I had to enjoy it stone cold sober! Yesterday, being a national holiday, was declared a dry day….A DRY DAY for crying out loud. Every off licence was closed, every bar and restaurant stopped serving alcohol for the day. How weird is that? Can you imagine the Aussies doing that on Australia Day? Or the Americans doing that for July 4th?....I think we all know the answer to that is WOULD THEY B****CKS!!!
It is surprising when you spend a long way from home like I have been, what you start to miss. Yesterday I got a craving for Worcester Sauce for some reason? I have a bottle at home all the time. It can go weeks without being used, and then sometimes I’ll have it with scrambled eggs or cheese-on-toast, something like that. I could have killed for a bottle when the thought flashed across my mind, weird isn’t it?
Now the really daft bit. This morning (Tuesday 27th) I noticed the birdsong for the fast time. In the UK it can occasionally become nothing more than a background effect, or white noise, particularly for those who are rushing around…..somewhere to be, fast….and never noticing what can sometimes be the most magnificent of ornithological compositions? Well, today I noticed the Indian equivalent….even stopping to listen for a while. I have resolved myself to learn more about the birds that orbit around me, and in so doing, expand my Indian experience.
Talking of which, I have noticed some more curious sides to the Indian way of doing things. One of which is, of course, my old favourite that is the roads. On Sunday I observed yet more madness in what I could only describe as a motorcycle stunt team. Well, it was actually a family of three, the driver of which was the only one with a helmet, and on the back was a lady riding side-saddle….with a baby in her arms! The baby was clearly not phased by the experience however as it was happily snoozing away in what I assume to be its mother’s arms!
To adapt to life in India you have to be prepared to accept many strange and unusual things. Power cuts being one of them. I guess it’s another thing that, in the UK, I would take for granted….you know, regular power? Well here the power goes out daily, and often more than once during the day. Hyderabad has serious generating problems. I read in a newspaper shortly after my arrival that they only have something like 75% of the generating capacity it actually needs. Couple that with the ad-hoc wiring that the locals do, whereby they just wire something into the nearest junction box or lamppost, and you see why there is not enough to go around. All of the tarpaulin huts that litter the streets have power via these means, the engineering involved is way beyond my expertise, not too mention the sheer bravery involved in wiring something in without having the ability to neutralise the electrical flow first!
Then there are the people who seem to hang around on street corners. Great swathes of people whose sole purpose is it seems to re-affirm the existence of gravity. Why else would they congregate on every street corner?..... and outside every shop?
Lastly there is this most frustrating nodding head thing. So many people seem to do this! Whenever you ask a question you don’t get the standard western thing of the head goes up and down for yes, or side to side for no, here the head just wobbles. You ask a waiter what they can recommend, the head wobbles…..you ask someone directions, the head wobbles….you want to negotiate a price with a tuk-tuk driver….well, you get the idea. It is incredibly frustrating when all you get is a non-descriptive head movement. It’s like having a conversation with a nodding dog sometimes I can tell you!
Well, time to sign off. Hope everyone is well
Neil
Monday, January 19, 2009
Jan 12th - Jan 19th 2009
Ok, I had to put something down I guess. It has been a week since the last blog entry and I am getting complaints from one or two people who say they need their fix. Really?.....Do some people regard my blog as a sort of soap opera? If that is true then I am flattered, nay, humbled by that and I thank you.
I would also like to thank my manager, my stylist, my driver, my mum, my cats, my newsagent……(Cue acceptance speech and crocodile tears of greater than Gwyneth Paltrow-esque proportions) etc etc.
The real reason for the delay between entries us simply that I have little to tell you. I am working very hard, and slowly coming round to the India way of things ,but my life consists of going from the villa to the office, back to the villa, to the office, and then the villa and so on, and so on (you get the idea). I have no fear of hard work of course, and in truth I would rather be busy than not, but I would like to go and see a bit more of the city, if only so that I have more to report in this blog. At the moment I feel like I need to be near my laptop all the time in case a call comes through and my blackberry hangs, like a ball and chain, from belt almost constantly.
I have no doubt it will get better so please don’t misinterpret this a moan, because it’s not. I am only human (sorry ladies, I am not really a god despite my heavenly appearance), and there are times when it gets to me that’s all I am saying.
The only thing I have to report is that Wednesday the 14th was a national holiday out here. We had an email come round the office wishing us a happy “Pongal” and announcing festivities would begin downstairs. I was confused at first as I had always thought Pongal was that Icelandic (or is Norweigen?) children’s television programme about an incomprehensible penguin who gets himself into all sorts of mischief? I had to admit I found it odd that he would be revered by a country with a one billion-plus population but I was willing to go with it……
Believe it or not, and to my lasting disappointment, Pongal was not about the penguin. It was in fact a kite festival………..I ask you, an entire sub-continent takes a day off work or school so that it can go kite flying – is that anymore ridiculous than worshipping that bloody penguin? It is also quite sad that, we in the UK, cannot get a day off to celebrate one of our national achievements such as Trafalgar or Waterloo, and yet these people down tools to go and play with what is effectively a childs toy. I therefore declare, right here and now, that January 31st will henceforth be forever known as “Space Hopper Day” in the UK. You must all rush out and get yours, whilst stocks last, and then take the day off to race around on your space hoppers and bollocks to the government! Hurrah!
The laughable truth is this, the locals are not stupid. There was little more than feigned interest in flying a kite from pretty much everyone. I had expected to see a sea of kites fighting with the birds and clouds for their own little bit of sky but no……….there were a few kites yes, mainly flown by children, whilst everyone else saw it as simply a day off work. See, we are not that different are we?
Sadly I was working pretty much all day at the villa because we had a full flying programme that day. Guess it would not have been a day off had I been in the UK so I haven’t really lost anything. We did manage to squeeze in another barbecue at the end of the day however that included drinking and much merry-making of course………
Thursday, Friday and Saturday passed with little that I can report. Besides which, it is all work stuff (I was in the office all 3 days) and you don’t want to read about that do you?
Sunday came and I got my lie in bed that I had been so looking forward to. I had actually crashed out at 9pm Saturday night and went right through to Sunday morning at 9 am. Bliss!.
It was Novotel day today and I was determined to enjoy it this week. Not having been sabotaged by my villa mates the night before, I had woken up with clear head and empty stomach for a change. This meant I could actually get my moneys worth out of the ‘all you can eat buffet’ and ‘fully inclusive’ bar for a change……and I did. Beer, wine and vodka and orange later and the pool beckoned. You know the rest and if you don’t, just read last Sunday’s blog entry!!
Back to the villa and it was West Ham vs Fulham on the box. Sports channels in India cost just over one pound a month, yes, one bloody pound a month! How cool is that eh? And they show the 3pm Saturday games they are not allowed to show in the UK in case people decide to watch it on TV instead of actually going to the stadium. West Ham won 3-1, played well, good game………..and I had another beer. Love it!
Have I told you about Manuel? He is our night watchman that lives in a small hut at the back of the villa. I guess his main job is to watch over the place, and let us in when we arrive back late for whatever reason. He doesn’t really have much to do, and despite his lack of English, he is a fairly pleasant chap. You will find him most mornings washing down the driveway, or performing some other task becoming of a caretaker. He also comes in very handy when we are running low on beer as we just give him some money and send him up the road for additional “supplies”. The reason I have christened him Manuel is simple……every morning we have this little exchange whereby he will say “good morning sir”, and I reply “good morning” in that just woken up sort of way I am sure you are all familiar with. He will then say ”how are you?”, and it is how he says this that makes him Manuel. Every syllable is exaggerated in that way commonly found amongst those whose first language is not English. It doesn’t translate well into text I’ll admit but I keep waiting for him to say “I am learning English….I learn it from a booook”. Add this to the ‘tash he sports, ignore the skin pigmentation and he could almost be from “Barthelona!”
I would also like to thank my manager, my stylist, my driver, my mum, my cats, my newsagent……(Cue acceptance speech and crocodile tears of greater than Gwyneth Paltrow-esque proportions) etc etc.
The real reason for the delay between entries us simply that I have little to tell you. I am working very hard, and slowly coming round to the India way of things ,but my life consists of going from the villa to the office, back to the villa, to the office, and then the villa and so on, and so on (you get the idea). I have no fear of hard work of course, and in truth I would rather be busy than not, but I would like to go and see a bit more of the city, if only so that I have more to report in this blog. At the moment I feel like I need to be near my laptop all the time in case a call comes through and my blackberry hangs, like a ball and chain, from belt almost constantly.
I have no doubt it will get better so please don’t misinterpret this a moan, because it’s not. I am only human (sorry ladies, I am not really a god despite my heavenly appearance), and there are times when it gets to me that’s all I am saying.
The only thing I have to report is that Wednesday the 14th was a national holiday out here. We had an email come round the office wishing us a happy “Pongal” and announcing festivities would begin downstairs. I was confused at first as I had always thought Pongal was that Icelandic (or is Norweigen?) children’s television programme about an incomprehensible penguin who gets himself into all sorts of mischief? I had to admit I found it odd that he would be revered by a country with a one billion-plus population but I was willing to go with it……
Believe it or not, and to my lasting disappointment, Pongal was not about the penguin. It was in fact a kite festival………..I ask you, an entire sub-continent takes a day off work or school so that it can go kite flying – is that anymore ridiculous than worshipping that bloody penguin? It is also quite sad that, we in the UK, cannot get a day off to celebrate one of our national achievements such as Trafalgar or Waterloo, and yet these people down tools to go and play with what is effectively a childs toy. I therefore declare, right here and now, that January 31st will henceforth be forever known as “Space Hopper Day” in the UK. You must all rush out and get yours, whilst stocks last, and then take the day off to race around on your space hoppers and bollocks to the government! Hurrah!
The laughable truth is this, the locals are not stupid. There was little more than feigned interest in flying a kite from pretty much everyone. I had expected to see a sea of kites fighting with the birds and clouds for their own little bit of sky but no……….there were a few kites yes, mainly flown by children, whilst everyone else saw it as simply a day off work. See, we are not that different are we?
Sadly I was working pretty much all day at the villa because we had a full flying programme that day. Guess it would not have been a day off had I been in the UK so I haven’t really lost anything. We did manage to squeeze in another barbecue at the end of the day however that included drinking and much merry-making of course………
Thursday, Friday and Saturday passed with little that I can report. Besides which, it is all work stuff (I was in the office all 3 days) and you don’t want to read about that do you?
Sunday came and I got my lie in bed that I had been so looking forward to. I had actually crashed out at 9pm Saturday night and went right through to Sunday morning at 9 am. Bliss!.
It was Novotel day today and I was determined to enjoy it this week. Not having been sabotaged by my villa mates the night before, I had woken up with clear head and empty stomach for a change. This meant I could actually get my moneys worth out of the ‘all you can eat buffet’ and ‘fully inclusive’ bar for a change……and I did. Beer, wine and vodka and orange later and the pool beckoned. You know the rest and if you don’t, just read last Sunday’s blog entry!!
Back to the villa and it was West Ham vs Fulham on the box. Sports channels in India cost just over one pound a month, yes, one bloody pound a month! How cool is that eh? And they show the 3pm Saturday games they are not allowed to show in the UK in case people decide to watch it on TV instead of actually going to the stadium. West Ham won 3-1, played well, good game………..and I had another beer. Love it!
Have I told you about Manuel? He is our night watchman that lives in a small hut at the back of the villa. I guess his main job is to watch over the place, and let us in when we arrive back late for whatever reason. He doesn’t really have much to do, and despite his lack of English, he is a fairly pleasant chap. You will find him most mornings washing down the driveway, or performing some other task becoming of a caretaker. He also comes in very handy when we are running low on beer as we just give him some money and send him up the road for additional “supplies”. The reason I have christened him Manuel is simple……every morning we have this little exchange whereby he will say “good morning sir”, and I reply “good morning” in that just woken up sort of way I am sure you are all familiar with. He will then say ”how are you?”, and it is how he says this that makes him Manuel. Every syllable is exaggerated in that way commonly found amongst those whose first language is not English. It doesn’t translate well into text I’ll admit but I keep waiting for him to say “I am learning English….I learn it from a booook”. Add this to the ‘tash he sports, ignore the skin pigmentation and he could almost be from “Barthelona!”
Sunday, January 11, 2009
10th to 11th Januray 2009
What a great weekend I have to say. It's been nice as I have had little work to do so I have been able to take a break a bit and relax. I am never truly chilled though as I know that I may have to answer a call, or set up a flight at any moment. I must stress that this is not because of any pressure from work, far from it, it is just me. I need to learn how to take the opportunities to relax as and when they present themselves.
I have developed a new medical condition called 'Blackberry Paranoia'. Let me explain, my blackberry is set to vibrate when it is in its holster and attached to my hip, every time an email, text or call comes through. A useful feature I'm sure you will agree but what it does mean is that I find myself imagining it is vibrating when it is not. To tell you the truth I am almost disappointed when I remove the phone from its leather prison and find nothing has been received. Please.....please tell me that, those of you who have had blackberry phones with work or for personal reasons.....please tell me I am not alone in this condition?
On Saturday 10th, myself and a colleague, went on a mission to get stuff for an improptu barbecue. We managed to get pretty much everything you would have such as sausages, prawns, fish, chicken etc etc. What we could not get, we made, such as burgers using Halal mince and onion. What made the evening though was that so many people came. Most were people from work, but they brought their families and we all had a good night. What topped it off was being able to watch Newcastle vs West Ham on the Indian equivolent of Sky Sports. As it was a 3pm game in the UK it would have been on TV so I was in charge of reporting the main events of the game to my friends in the UK....how ironic is that eh? I am 5500 miles away, on a different continent, and I am able to watch a game that those who are only 200 miles away and in the same country!
Sunday was even better. I finally got around to going and exploring the botanical gardens adjacent to the villa. It is very much a work in progress, with so much still needed to be done, but I am sure when it is done it will all be worth it. Not that what is already there is not nice enough you understand.
On the way back we wandered through a collection of shops that we had not experienced before.....and have christened 'Little Pakistan' for reasons that will become apparent later. It is not like a shopping complex you would know back home with nice, brighly lit frontages and clear signage. These were more like a series of shutter fronted small units that you don't actually go into, you just wander up to the counter and point at what you want. These shops were clearly there for the locals and it showed I can tell you.
For a start, we found the local butcher and it had good points and bad. To the left of it was a cage full of live chickens and you are supposed to walk up and "select" your dinner, which they kill, pluck and gut right there and then so you do at least know that it is fresh. Personally I could not do that. I could not even go into a posh restaurant and pick out a lobster because I prefer my dinner to be already dead. Call me fussy if you will? What also puts you off buying at these places is the fact that they had some already plucked chicken carcasses hanging up at the front of the shop. It's 28 degress celcius and they are not even being refrigerated. However, it is difficult for the sun to get to this meat and start the putrification process when it cannot circumnavigate the colony of flies that was in its way. Some of the meat was starting to go black already and the smell was more than noticeable I can tell you.
Unpeturbed by this, we wandered on. Half way round I could not help but notice the collection of Pakistani flags everywhere. They hung from every telegraph pole, shop, bike and any other solid object....hundreds of them. A bizarre show of national pride by what I assume to be Pakistani immigrants, given that they are not the most popular nationality in India right now! After having our photo taken again by some locals fascinated with "pale-face" people, we returned to the villa.
The day was not done though. It was only 12:30pm and we elected to experience the Novotel. What a deal, you pay no more than 1500INR (about 20GBP) and you you can eat (and drink) as much as you can possibly handle. The food is varied and of a very high standard, consisting of Indian, western, a la carte, pizza, roast chicken, lamb chops and a fantastic sweet trolley (amongst many other things).....they even had potato shapes and breaded chicken nuggets for the kids. A few plates, and a couple of beers (yes only a couple as I was taking it easy) and we headed for the pool. What a civilised way to spend a Sunday afternoon eh?
I have developed a new medical condition called 'Blackberry Paranoia'. Let me explain, my blackberry is set to vibrate when it is in its holster and attached to my hip, every time an email, text or call comes through. A useful feature I'm sure you will agree but what it does mean is that I find myself imagining it is vibrating when it is not. To tell you the truth I am almost disappointed when I remove the phone from its leather prison and find nothing has been received. Please.....please tell me that, those of you who have had blackberry phones with work or for personal reasons.....please tell me I am not alone in this condition?
On Saturday 10th, myself and a colleague, went on a mission to get stuff for an improptu barbecue. We managed to get pretty much everything you would have such as sausages, prawns, fish, chicken etc etc. What we could not get, we made, such as burgers using Halal mince and onion. What made the evening though was that so many people came. Most were people from work, but they brought their families and we all had a good night. What topped it off was being able to watch Newcastle vs West Ham on the Indian equivolent of Sky Sports. As it was a 3pm game in the UK it would have been on TV so I was in charge of reporting the main events of the game to my friends in the UK....how ironic is that eh? I am 5500 miles away, on a different continent, and I am able to watch a game that those who are only 200 miles away and in the same country!
Sunday was even better. I finally got around to going and exploring the botanical gardens adjacent to the villa. It is very much a work in progress, with so much still needed to be done, but I am sure when it is done it will all be worth it. Not that what is already there is not nice enough you understand.
On the way back we wandered through a collection of shops that we had not experienced before.....and have christened 'Little Pakistan' for reasons that will become apparent later. It is not like a shopping complex you would know back home with nice, brighly lit frontages and clear signage. These were more like a series of shutter fronted small units that you don't actually go into, you just wander up to the counter and point at what you want. These shops were clearly there for the locals and it showed I can tell you.
For a start, we found the local butcher and it had good points and bad. To the left of it was a cage full of live chickens and you are supposed to walk up and "select" your dinner, which they kill, pluck and gut right there and then so you do at least know that it is fresh. Personally I could not do that. I could not even go into a posh restaurant and pick out a lobster because I prefer my dinner to be already dead. Call me fussy if you will? What also puts you off buying at these places is the fact that they had some already plucked chicken carcasses hanging up at the front of the shop. It's 28 degress celcius and they are not even being refrigerated. However, it is difficult for the sun to get to this meat and start the putrification process when it cannot circumnavigate the colony of flies that was in its way. Some of the meat was starting to go black already and the smell was more than noticeable I can tell you.
Unpeturbed by this, we wandered on. Half way round I could not help but notice the collection of Pakistani flags everywhere. They hung from every telegraph pole, shop, bike and any other solid object....hundreds of them. A bizarre show of national pride by what I assume to be Pakistani immigrants, given that they are not the most popular nationality in India right now! After having our photo taken again by some locals fascinated with "pale-face" people, we returned to the villa.
The day was not done though. It was only 12:30pm and we elected to experience the Novotel. What a deal, you pay no more than 1500INR (about 20GBP) and you you can eat (and drink) as much as you can possibly handle. The food is varied and of a very high standard, consisting of Indian, western, a la carte, pizza, roast chicken, lamb chops and a fantastic sweet trolley (amongst many other things).....they even had potato shapes and breaded chicken nuggets for the kids. A few plates, and a couple of beers (yes only a couple as I was taking it easy) and we headed for the pool. What a civilised way to spend a Sunday afternoon eh?
7th to 9th January 2009
It's been a rough week I have to say. My eye is getting better and I can now see white bits where once there was deep claret, which is always good. No sooner had the healing process started and I picked up a bad case of Indian Man Flu. It was not good I can tell you. My head felt like it was in a vice and someone was tightening on the hour, every hour. I had a stuffed up nose and my throat felt was clearly trying to push down the golf ball/cactus hybrid I must have somehow inadvertently ingested. Not good! I am getting better but I now have that extreme lethargy you get when you are recovering from these things. Think an early night is in order.
We are in the grips of a fuel crisis out here. The tanker drivers have been on strike for over a week and fuel is in short supply. There are long queues at the petrol station, and (you had better sit down for this), the drivers that take me to work have been instructed not to use the air conditioning in the car in order to save fuel! It is surprising just how much you come to rely on that I can tell you, even if it is allegedly 'winter' over here. Those of you who remember the fuel shortage in the UK back in 2001 will know exactly how bad it is out here right now. I read in the paper yesterday that this city is normally served by 300 fuel tankers every day, and on Thursday, only 6 made it through. I have heard stories of people being driven down dark streets by their cab driver, only to be met by a fleet of vehicles and men with baseball bats. It transpired that these vigilantes were protecting a small local garage that had managed to procure some fuel from somewhere. Imagine what would go through your mind though, it's late on a Friday night and you are taken somewhere you have never been before, by someone you have never met before, and you are greeted by this gang of thugs with bats. Personally, I know my sphincter would have been flapping like a windsock in a hurricane and I am not ashamed to admit that!
The good news is that the strike was called off late on Friday but it will take a week or so I would imagine for things to return to normal. It's a shame in a way because this strike has meant that I have been able to get home much quicker in the evening because there was little or no traffic on the road. Selfish ain't I?
It is because of this fuel shortage that I was driven home in a local taxi after work on Friday. Our own vehicles were being used sparingly for obvious reasons, and they were kind enough to make provision for me to get home anyway. I have to say though, it was probably the most nervous I have been in a vehicle out here. I got in the car, not entirely sure the guy knew where he was going but I had to trust him. He then proceeded to drive so fast (and weave in and out of traffic) that he overtook the Starship Enterprise that was being joyridden by a teenager on speed! a. That seemed odd to me as I assume he was just as affected by the same fuel problems everyone else was and I would have expected him to take it a little bit easier? The car itself rattled and groaned at every gear change, every bump in the road and well, just everything really. It had seat belts, but nothing to plug them into. Despite that I gripped onto what I could and just sat back. To be honest I was so tired I did not have the energy to muster up a state of panic. In my opinion, the car would have been scrapped in the UK long ago......or used for stock car racing at best. It did have one unusual safety feature though, a fire extinguisher strapped to the left hand side of the windscreen. They must be a standard requirement for all taxis as this was not the first time I had noticed one....if it is not required then I guess it can only amount to a vain attempt to reassure the passenger that the owner/drivers do care about who they carry. Strange really when the car was held together with nothing more than prayers and good will on the part of the chassis!!
We are in the grips of a fuel crisis out here. The tanker drivers have been on strike for over a week and fuel is in short supply. There are long queues at the petrol station, and (you had better sit down for this), the drivers that take me to work have been instructed not to use the air conditioning in the car in order to save fuel! It is surprising just how much you come to rely on that I can tell you, even if it is allegedly 'winter' over here. Those of you who remember the fuel shortage in the UK back in 2001 will know exactly how bad it is out here right now. I read in the paper yesterday that this city is normally served by 300 fuel tankers every day, and on Thursday, only 6 made it through. I have heard stories of people being driven down dark streets by their cab driver, only to be met by a fleet of vehicles and men with baseball bats. It transpired that these vigilantes were protecting a small local garage that had managed to procure some fuel from somewhere. Imagine what would go through your mind though, it's late on a Friday night and you are taken somewhere you have never been before, by someone you have never met before, and you are greeted by this gang of thugs with bats. Personally, I know my sphincter would have been flapping like a windsock in a hurricane and I am not ashamed to admit that!
The good news is that the strike was called off late on Friday but it will take a week or so I would imagine for things to return to normal. It's a shame in a way because this strike has meant that I have been able to get home much quicker in the evening because there was little or no traffic on the road. Selfish ain't I?
It is because of this fuel shortage that I was driven home in a local taxi after work on Friday. Our own vehicles were being used sparingly for obvious reasons, and they were kind enough to make provision for me to get home anyway. I have to say though, it was probably the most nervous I have been in a vehicle out here. I got in the car, not entirely sure the guy knew where he was going but I had to trust him. He then proceeded to drive so fast (and weave in and out of traffic) that he overtook the Starship Enterprise that was being joyridden by a teenager on speed! a. That seemed odd to me as I assume he was just as affected by the same fuel problems everyone else was and I would have expected him to take it a little bit easier? The car itself rattled and groaned at every gear change, every bump in the road and well, just everything really. It had seat belts, but nothing to plug them into. Despite that I gripped onto what I could and just sat back. To be honest I was so tired I did not have the energy to muster up a state of panic. In my opinion, the car would have been scrapped in the UK long ago......or used for stock car racing at best. It did have one unusual safety feature though, a fire extinguisher strapped to the left hand side of the windscreen. They must be a standard requirement for all taxis as this was not the first time I had noticed one....if it is not required then I guess it can only amount to a vain attempt to reassure the passenger that the owner/drivers do care about who they carry. Strange really when the car was held together with nothing more than prayers and good will on the part of the chassis!!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Tuesday 6th Jan 2009
Today has been the most frustrating day so far. Not due to anyone in the office I hasten to add, just simply because I was not given the correct information to start with by some third parties. People have a habit out here of telling you one thing, only for it to be superseded by someone else who has a different opinion so you have roll with that. I have found myself going around in circles today, numerous times, but the key thing is we got there in the end.
It is something I am learning to live with. It still frustrates me, and no doubt it will for some time to come, but it’s the way things work out here. There is no way of circumventing that, you will never change it, so you start to learn to live with it I guess. You only have to look at those who have been out here longer that me and they start to resemble a tree. What I mean is, for each month they are out here they earn a ring that ages them. That aging process consists of a gradual and grudging acceptance of how it works out here. The longer I spend out here, the more rings I will earn I guess?
Changing the subject entirely…….I have decided I need a day off. No phone calls, no emails….just sleep. How am I to achieve that you ask? well I will tell you.
The best way to ensure a clear day off is to claim it for religious reasons. My problem is, while I hold a belief in that there must be something out there, some higher authority to create so many wondrous things on this planet of ours, I don’t particularly subscribe to an organised religion……It was clear that I needed to invent my own.
Ladies and Gentleman, allow me to introduce myself as the high priest of Chuckle. There are few rules. No praying, no self-flagellation, no fasting, no denial of alcohol or pleasure in any form…..in fact the reverse applies for that last bit. The only rule is that you need Wednesdays free from work (for purely religious reasons you understand) to worship the high and mighty Paul and Barry Chuckle (It is purely coincidental that tomorrow is Wednesday you understand)
I would ask that you respect my new found faith and do not call or email me during this day for I shall be worshipping.
Remember…………….WEDNESDAYS IS CHUCKLE DAY
TTFN
It is something I am learning to live with. It still frustrates me, and no doubt it will for some time to come, but it’s the way things work out here. There is no way of circumventing that, you will never change it, so you start to learn to live with it I guess. You only have to look at those who have been out here longer that me and they start to resemble a tree. What I mean is, for each month they are out here they earn a ring that ages them. That aging process consists of a gradual and grudging acceptance of how it works out here. The longer I spend out here, the more rings I will earn I guess?
Changing the subject entirely…….I have decided I need a day off. No phone calls, no emails….just sleep. How am I to achieve that you ask? well I will tell you.
The best way to ensure a clear day off is to claim it for religious reasons. My problem is, while I hold a belief in that there must be something out there, some higher authority to create so many wondrous things on this planet of ours, I don’t particularly subscribe to an organised religion……It was clear that I needed to invent my own.
Ladies and Gentleman, allow me to introduce myself as the high priest of Chuckle. There are few rules. No praying, no self-flagellation, no fasting, no denial of alcohol or pleasure in any form…..in fact the reverse applies for that last bit. The only rule is that you need Wednesdays free from work (for purely religious reasons you understand) to worship the high and mighty Paul and Barry Chuckle (It is purely coincidental that tomorrow is Wednesday you understand)
I would ask that you respect my new found faith and do not call or email me during this day for I shall be worshipping.
Remember…………….WEDNESDAYS IS CHUCKLE DAY
TTFN
Monday, January 5, 2009
Monday 5th Jan 2009
Ok, the repercussions of Saturday night still linger like ripples on a pond. I can see why and actually find it quite funny.
I have to say, right here and right now, we all had a great night. None of us fell out and it was good fun. However, the fact that one guy walks in with a busted chin, and then there’s me with a Subconjunctival Haemorrhage (burst blood vessel in my eye), which looks like I have been punched, I can see why people are leaping lemming-like to the wrong conclusion.
I know I haven’t been punched…..and I also know that you do not believe me…..but trust me, I can’t feel any bruising so that rules out even an accidental collision.
My denials count for nothing in the office (and I would expect and deserve nothing less) as it is all banter with good intent. If the situation were reversed I would be exactly the same of course. Love it!
I elected to stop at the pharmacy on the way home and get something to treat my eye with. I needed something that would wash it out and clean it obviously. The driver came with me in case there were any language difficulties of course even though the majority of people out here have an excellent command of the English language. You have to understand that, out here, pharmacists are allowed to dispense any medication without prescription, so you assume they know what they are talking about. Should I therefore be worried that a supposed trained medical person’s first words upon seeing my eye were “oh shit!” do you think?
I have to say, right here and right now, we all had a great night. None of us fell out and it was good fun. However, the fact that one guy walks in with a busted chin, and then there’s me with a Subconjunctival Haemorrhage (burst blood vessel in my eye), which looks like I have been punched, I can see why people are leaping lemming-like to the wrong conclusion.
I know I haven’t been punched…..and I also know that you do not believe me…..but trust me, I can’t feel any bruising so that rules out even an accidental collision.
My denials count for nothing in the office (and I would expect and deserve nothing less) as it is all banter with good intent. If the situation were reversed I would be exactly the same of course. Love it!
I elected to stop at the pharmacy on the way home and get something to treat my eye with. I needed something that would wash it out and clean it obviously. The driver came with me in case there were any language difficulties of course even though the majority of people out here have an excellent command of the English language. You have to understand that, out here, pharmacists are allowed to dispense any medication without prescription, so you assume they know what they are talking about. Should I therefore be worried that a supposed trained medical person’s first words upon seeing my eye were “oh shit!” do you think?
Sunday, January 4, 2009
02nd to 04th January 2008
I find that, the more I look round, the more I see evidence of India's colonial past still thriving in these modern times. Allow me to give you two shining examples:
Firstly, there's Tiffin. Tiffin is something to me that invokes images of Carry On Up the Khyber, you know the scene where Sid James' character is given numerous opportunities to right the wrong done to him by the Khasi of Kalabhar? It is something that died out in the UK a hundred years ago (if it every truly existed back home)....it is something that will always be associated with British rule in India because it is such a uniquely British thing! Tiffin in India nowadays has evolved into more of a take away thing though. There are signs for it on every other stall along the road so it is not the afternoon social experience you might think. It may be a British invention, but rest assured I have no intention of experiencing it any time soon....certainly not from the roadside stalls anyway!
The other British legacy is bureaucracy. People have very set roles in whatever they do in India and never cross the line into another person's job description. I saw very clear evidence of this on Friday when I went for a blood test. I needed to know my blood type for my ID card (no I don't know why either!) but I was encouraged to get this done and went along with one of my colleages. We arrived at this clinic/hospital thing and immediately noticed everyone staring at us. I am not sure why we are so different but we are certainly an object of fascination for the locals purely because we are a different skin colour. We filled out the required form, paid the 70 rupees and were shepherded into another room down the corridor. The man then stabbed at my finger repeatedly with a needle like he was pricking a sausgue innumerate times until the blood came out. I dislike hospitals at the best of times so being used as human pin cushion did make my stomach turn I can tell you. He then passes the blood samples to another man who tests for the blood type. That man then passes the information to another man who types out a letter with your blood type on it. He then passes that letter to someone on reception, who in turn passes it to you. Now do you see what I mean about how they never encroach on each others jobs? The hospital itself did not look the most inviting of places either (which did not help put me at ease) It was badly lit, did not look as clean as maybe it could have been and like I say, we were stared at a lot! Trust me, anyone who believes the tabloid hype about NHS hospitals being infested with MRSA due to shoddy cleaning standards should visit this one in Hyderabad for a reality check! Still, it's over and I am glad for that much at least.
Ladies and Gentlemen....the Kiwi has landed! He is here and already living up to his reputation! We met up again (for the first time since leaving EBJ) last night and the drink flowed I can tell you. By the time we had worked our way through numerous beers, the majority of a bottle of bourbon, and sunk a few whisky shots as well we were quite merry. A midnight dip in the pool beckoned, as did an improptu game of wonky cricket!! I am feeling it this morning though. I have woken up with an eye that is red with blood and what looks like a black eye. It isn't though as it is not bruised, it just feels dry and sore so I guess I have picked up an infection or something. I got off lightly though, one of my villa inmates has woken up with a busted chin....the result of a fall near the pool when he slipped on the marble flooring. Whoops!
Firstly, there's Tiffin. Tiffin is something to me that invokes images of Carry On Up the Khyber, you know the scene where Sid James' character is given numerous opportunities to right the wrong done to him by the Khasi of Kalabhar? It is something that died out in the UK a hundred years ago (if it every truly existed back home)....it is something that will always be associated with British rule in India because it is such a uniquely British thing! Tiffin in India nowadays has evolved into more of a take away thing though. There are signs for it on every other stall along the road so it is not the afternoon social experience you might think. It may be a British invention, but rest assured I have no intention of experiencing it any time soon....certainly not from the roadside stalls anyway!
The other British legacy is bureaucracy. People have very set roles in whatever they do in India and never cross the line into another person's job description. I saw very clear evidence of this on Friday when I went for a blood test. I needed to know my blood type for my ID card (no I don't know why either!) but I was encouraged to get this done and went along with one of my colleages. We arrived at this clinic/hospital thing and immediately noticed everyone staring at us. I am not sure why we are so different but we are certainly an object of fascination for the locals purely because we are a different skin colour. We filled out the required form, paid the 70 rupees and were shepherded into another room down the corridor. The man then stabbed at my finger repeatedly with a needle like he was pricking a sausgue innumerate times until the blood came out. I dislike hospitals at the best of times so being used as human pin cushion did make my stomach turn I can tell you. He then passes the blood samples to another man who tests for the blood type. That man then passes the information to another man who types out a letter with your blood type on it. He then passes that letter to someone on reception, who in turn passes it to you. Now do you see what I mean about how they never encroach on each others jobs? The hospital itself did not look the most inviting of places either (which did not help put me at ease) It was badly lit, did not look as clean as maybe it could have been and like I say, we were stared at a lot! Trust me, anyone who believes the tabloid hype about NHS hospitals being infested with MRSA due to shoddy cleaning standards should visit this one in Hyderabad for a reality check! Still, it's over and I am glad for that much at least.
Ladies and Gentlemen....the Kiwi has landed! He is here and already living up to his reputation! We met up again (for the first time since leaving EBJ) last night and the drink flowed I can tell you. By the time we had worked our way through numerous beers, the majority of a bottle of bourbon, and sunk a few whisky shots as well we were quite merry. A midnight dip in the pool beckoned, as did an improptu game of wonky cricket!! I am feeling it this morning though. I have woken up with an eye that is red with blood and what looks like a black eye. It isn't though as it is not bruised, it just feels dry and sore so I guess I have picked up an infection or something. I got off lightly though, one of my villa inmates has woken up with a busted chin....the result of a fall near the pool when he slipped on the marble flooring. Whoops!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Years Eve 2008
So it's hear, New Years Eve 2008. If you had asked me where I thought I would be seeing in 2009 as little as 2 months ago, I doubt my first answer would have bee India I must admit.
Having eaten at the office again (and it was spicier than yesterday I can tell you), we decided to sneak off a little early and get the party started. We were not alone I can tell you and were probably one of the last to leave. Driving home in the daylight was a new experience though I can tell you and as we arrived back at the villa I looked up at the most perfect sunset straight ahead of me. The notion of this being the last sunset of 2008 was not lost on me as the fiery orange sphere slowly sank behing the buildings at the end of the road.
There were only three of us at the villa, but we were going to make a night of it. We had beer of course, but we had also (through a multitude of shopping trips) managed to source some beef, prawns, ribs, sweetcorn and various snacks. So what if it was only 3 of us eh? Getting beef out here is a challenge. If you know of anyone that has some sort of chicken fetish then by them a ticket to Hyderabad for next Christmas as they will love it out here! The strange thing is, you see these cattle walking down the road almost every day and yet nobody eats beef? This country has some strange ideas I can tell you!
We lit the barbecue about 6:30 and got a good roaring heat going. We didn't want to eat too early for fear of getting tired with full stomachs so we held off for a bit. The only thing we missed was some music and we elected to drink more beer to numb that particular pain.
One of our colleagues from the office pitched up about 8:30 armed with his guitar and this guy can play I can tell you! I had heard how good he was from other people I work with but you have to hear if for yourself to really believe it. So we sang, and we drank.....eventually we ate, and the four of us saw in the new year.
Don't get me wrong, seeing the new year in with my family would have always been my first choice, but this was the next most perfect way to say goodbye 2008 and hello 2009. Last year was rough, for so many of us, so here's to the next 12 months eh? May it bring peace, prosperity and good health to you all.
Having eaten at the office again (and it was spicier than yesterday I can tell you), we decided to sneak off a little early and get the party started. We were not alone I can tell you and were probably one of the last to leave. Driving home in the daylight was a new experience though I can tell you and as we arrived back at the villa I looked up at the most perfect sunset straight ahead of me. The notion of this being the last sunset of 2008 was not lost on me as the fiery orange sphere slowly sank behing the buildings at the end of the road.
There were only three of us at the villa, but we were going to make a night of it. We had beer of course, but we had also (through a multitude of shopping trips) managed to source some beef, prawns, ribs, sweetcorn and various snacks. So what if it was only 3 of us eh? Getting beef out here is a challenge. If you know of anyone that has some sort of chicken fetish then by them a ticket to Hyderabad for next Christmas as they will love it out here! The strange thing is, you see these cattle walking down the road almost every day and yet nobody eats beef? This country has some strange ideas I can tell you!
We lit the barbecue about 6:30 and got a good roaring heat going. We didn't want to eat too early for fear of getting tired with full stomachs so we held off for a bit. The only thing we missed was some music and we elected to drink more beer to numb that particular pain.
One of our colleagues from the office pitched up about 8:30 armed with his guitar and this guy can play I can tell you! I had heard how good he was from other people I work with but you have to hear if for yourself to really believe it. So we sang, and we drank.....eventually we ate, and the four of us saw in the new year.
Don't get me wrong, seeing the new year in with my family would have always been my first choice, but this was the next most perfect way to say goodbye 2008 and hello 2009. Last year was rough, for so many of us, so here's to the next 12 months eh? May it bring peace, prosperity and good health to you all.
28th Dec 2008 - 01st Jan 2009
Well here I am, back in India once again. The journey back was OK I guess. Long haul flying is not my idea of fun and I don't know how people do it on a regular basis I must admit?
I got up early on Saturday to allow plenty of time to get to the airport. As it was 4am when I left home there was little or no traffic on the road and I made it in plenty of time. Enough time even to allow myself breakfast in O'neills bar at T3. Yes, I had a pint of beer too (well, it was rude not to), and didn't have a problem with drinking at 6am on a Saturday morning either!
Upon boarding we were informed by the Captain that someone, some selfish individual, had decided not to travel and they were having to be offloaded. Of course, with current security regulations, their baggage has to be removed and that takes time on a plane with 300 people and at least 300 bags! You have to wonder about these people though don't you though? I mean, who gets all the way to the airport, checks in, and as they are about to board the plane, suddenly decides not to travel. Do they get all that way and then suddenly realise that, it is standard procedure for the plane to actually leave the ground during the flight? People like that should not be allowed out on their own, or near anything sharp for fear they may harm themselves. Idiots.
Rant over. I made it to Hyderabad about 3:30 am Sunday morning and I crept into the villa. I didn't make a sound as I locked the door and crept upstairs. Quietly opening the door I put my bag down on the bed without turning the light on....and all of a sudden a voice said "hello". Evidently they had let out my room while I was away but hadn't though to tell me.....what a way to meet our new pilot!! He was cool about it though and we shared a joked or two about it the next day.
It takes a week at least to adjust to the time difference again. So though Sunday I slept very littles. I even found myself awake at 4am Monday morning and went and sat on the balcony for a bit. Through my bleary, sleep deprived eyes I saw a dog hobbling past outside. It was clearly a wild dog and I guess it was looking for food, but one of it's back legs was damaged in some way and he could not walk on it. I did feel sorry for it, and for a brief second thought of putting out some food, but that would have only made it come back night after night, and it was a wild dog after all so you have to be so careful.
Tuesday comes and finally now I have the courage to eat at the office. The food is very spicy I have to admit and clearly geared towards the locals. The meat is cooked with the bones in it and you find yourself sticking your fingers in your mouth after each bite to removed the bone that you have just bitten down on! That said, it is fairly good food though so I may brave it again tomorrow??
I got up early on Saturday to allow plenty of time to get to the airport. As it was 4am when I left home there was little or no traffic on the road and I made it in plenty of time. Enough time even to allow myself breakfast in O'neills bar at T3. Yes, I had a pint of beer too (well, it was rude not to), and didn't have a problem with drinking at 6am on a Saturday morning either!
Upon boarding we were informed by the Captain that someone, some selfish individual, had decided not to travel and they were having to be offloaded. Of course, with current security regulations, their baggage has to be removed and that takes time on a plane with 300 people and at least 300 bags! You have to wonder about these people though don't you though? I mean, who gets all the way to the airport, checks in, and as they are about to board the plane, suddenly decides not to travel. Do they get all that way and then suddenly realise that, it is standard procedure for the plane to actually leave the ground during the flight? People like that should not be allowed out on their own, or near anything sharp for fear they may harm themselves. Idiots.
Rant over. I made it to Hyderabad about 3:30 am Sunday morning and I crept into the villa. I didn't make a sound as I locked the door and crept upstairs. Quietly opening the door I put my bag down on the bed without turning the light on....and all of a sudden a voice said "hello". Evidently they had let out my room while I was away but hadn't though to tell me.....what a way to meet our new pilot!! He was cool about it though and we shared a joked or two about it the next day.
It takes a week at least to adjust to the time difference again. So though Sunday I slept very littles. I even found myself awake at 4am Monday morning and went and sat on the balcony for a bit. Through my bleary, sleep deprived eyes I saw a dog hobbling past outside. It was clearly a wild dog and I guess it was looking for food, but one of it's back legs was damaged in some way and he could not walk on it. I did feel sorry for it, and for a brief second thought of putting out some food, but that would have only made it come back night after night, and it was a wild dog after all so you have to be so careful.
Tuesday comes and finally now I have the courage to eat at the office. The food is very spicy I have to admit and clearly geared towards the locals. The meat is cooked with the bones in it and you find yourself sticking your fingers in your mouth after each bite to removed the bone that you have just bitten down on! That said, it is fairly good food though so I may brave it again tomorrow??
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