Thursday, August 2, 2007

First day @ Weatherford.

Now you find yourself in a foreign land, having no idea where you are, and no idea where you need to be, with a driver that produced a Weatherford logo at an airport, and does not speak a word of English! Relax? Yea maybe.

The cab ride led to rural areas. The city streets of Mumbai were intimidating enough, but out in the sticks things were different. Not better, different. In India, speed limits are reduced due to the condition of the roads, and the variety of traffic. The road is shared by everything from pedestrian, bicycle, moped, something they thing is a motorcycle, three wheeled taxis, passenger cars, buses and heavy cargo. 18 wheelers? Forget it! Lanes are seldomly marked, and traffic signals are non-existent. Speeds are reduced for all of these reasons, but traffic is much too close for comfort in my experience. The success of transportation in India relies on INCHES of separation, and a constant tooting of your horn. Many commercial vehicles display signs or painted markings that state HORN OK PLEASE. The horn seems to be the only way to convey your presence and you intentions!

In the back of this cab, fearing for my life, I try to relax and enjoy the countryside as it rolls by. I fear for my life, because if I wanted to take advantage of someone, I would drive them out to the middle of nowhere and leave them to fend for themselves. This was exactly what I beagn to think this driver was up to... After a half hour or so, traffic comes to a complete stop. I wonder what is up ahead that stopped everything, but cannot see around the cargo truck in front of us. At a standstill, I look over the crowd of pedestrians and others awaiting their return to travel, and begin to get suspicious of their intentions. About this time, my driver sets the hand brake, ignores me completely, exits the car and begins walking back down the road in the direction that we came!

WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!!

Funny thing, he walked about thirty yards back down the road, stepped down into a ditch / gully, and was obviously relieving himself of some bodily pressure. I had to laugh @ my concerns, as he faithfully returned. The traffic jam? A train!! One that I began to realize would interrupt my daily journey back and forth to work from the hotel.

And I was worried!

Arrival in Vadodara

The exodus from Mumbai was very much like the arrival. A driver took me to the airport, and people immediately started to collect all my belongings from me. The porter walked me straight to the entrance where a uniformed guard insinuated that he wanted to see my tickets. I was a little confused in that I could see the check-in counter behind his post. How does one produce tickets prior to checking in?

Over my shoulder, I saw an operation that appeared to be associated with the airlines I was to board, so I moved over there for assistance. Upon identification, they immediately knew what I needed, and produced an itenerary. This was all I needed to proceed into the airport, and funny thing, I had one of those in my carry on. It seems that in India only travelers are allowed inside the airport!

Now, imagine sitting in a foreign airport and waiting for your flight to be announced. Did you think it was going to be announced in ENGLISH?

I intentionally arrived prematurely for my flight, and spent my time recognizing how flights were being announced. A row of 8 kiosks had hard board plaques with the destination of the flight, and would be displayed and taken down as boarding was underway. About the time I figured this part out, I was approached by another traveler from South Africa. With an English speaking companion, it was easy to convey to her what I had discerned from my observations, and dismiss her concerns of missing her flight. (believe me, there were no electronic boards indicating flight status here)

The airport in Vadodara was small and quaint, but took on a different nature. Uniformed people were replaced with armed guards. Rifles slung, the imposed their glances on most of the crowd, but on travelers from abroad with a special interest. Although I was never approached, I just wanted to scream under their scrutiny.

Again my sign was outside and I connected with my cab.
It would have been nice to have this up from day one. I should have kept a log to let everyone catch up on my daily activities. At this point, I'd like to share some of my experiences to date. I cannot describe to the apprehension that comes with a first trip abroad. The last conversation I had before I left the states indicated that all I had to do was step on the plane.

After an exhausting journey, I stepped of the plane in Mumbai to an overwhelming funk that was the stale musky air in the airport. I moldy noxious stink that would make any breather of the earth's air supply gag. I thought I was going to be sick! I really wanted to get right back on the plane! After a week in country, I think the smell is still in the air, but it only overwhelms me occasionally.

The trip through the airport was intimidating. I am not the type of indidual that takes kindly to people questioning my actions or impeding my movements. Add to that, not everyone spoke English so there was much pointing and repeated attempts @ communication. I managed my way through the thousand checkpoints and uniformed inquiries to find myself in front of the airport.

At this point, my second thought of leaving the country hit me. Immediatly outside the airport terminal was a police type barricade. (like the ones we pull out for Mardi Gras) Behind it, the crowd was as thick as any parade route I had ever seen. US citizens, (and any travelers from abroad) stick out no matter what we wear. I was approached by a nicely dressed younger man in a 'spiffy' suit with a walkie talkie about the same time I managed to find my name on one of the hundreds of signs haning on the barricade. (Gregori Stelly, figured that one was mine) I pointed to the sign, and the gentlemen immediately squawked on his walkie talkie. Then, he had the audacity to grab all my bags from me!

In India, the service community is unlike anything I have ever experienced in the US. At an airport in the states, no is likely to care anything about you. With no idea where I was headed, the walkie talkie guy hooked up with the driver from the hotel, and I settled in for a good nights rest on DAY 1

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

PBMotorcyclye

First, I want to thank my daughter for dragging me into this BLOG thing. Thanks
Bridgette.

I thought it might be easier to get pictures up here for all to see while I am away in India. It's already been a long trip, and a big culture shock, but at least the food is good.

I'm gonna try to get everyone up to speed in the coming days so visit back every once in awhile