Thursday, June 17th
I had to wake up a tad early today, in order to get to the airport and catch my flight(s). Once I got up I strapped on my various backpacks and was out the door. I walked from the YHA to the Southern Cross Railway Station in no time at all, passing by Batman’s Hill on the way. Looking at my watch, I deemed it both necessary and possible to go get a coffee before catching the bus to the airport. I walked upstairs to Starbucks (hey, sometimes you just need some Americanism) and had a cup of delicious caffeine elixir. Much to my chagrin, because of my coffee pit stop I missed the bus and had to wait another 15 minutes, which was a bad thing since I had cut my time planning a little short. This was a bit odd, since I normally play travel pretty conservatively.
I got to the Melbourne Airport with no time to spare and rushed to the check-in counter. I got my bag tagged for Sydney and ran to security, which I breezed through, only to get to the gate and find that my flight had been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances in both Melbourne and Sydney. Not only had my flight been delayed, but my plane was actually yet to land in Melbourne, which meant, of course, that it also was yet to be refueled, cleaned, and prepped for my flight. I was relieved of all my previous travel anxiety, since I had a long layover ahead of me in Sydney and even with this late flight my overall schedule wouldn’t be changed. The plane eventually arrived and we took off about 45 minutes behind schedule for the two hour trip between Australia’s two largest cities. I was sad to see Melbourne go, as I had had an absolutely great time there. The flight was uneventful, which is, as I have stated previously, the best thing a flight can be.
In Sydney I proceeded to baggage claim, since I was switching airlines from Virgin Blue to QANTAS. I was quite excited to fly on one of the two oldest continuously running airlines in the world (for those not in the know, the other is Royal Dutch Airways, or KLM). I was hoping that the Queensland and Northern Territory Air Service would live up to my expectations. After getting all my bags (3) in order I hit a barrier, which was that there was no clear way of telling where my next flight would board fro, so I followed the signs pointing toward the “QANTAS Terminal,” through an underground passageway and up into a gigantic atrium. This was, unfortunately for me, the QANTAS domestic terminal (and yes, in much the same way that BA dominates sections of Heathrow, QANTAS likewise dominates all airports in Australia). Thankfully, since I was flying on QANTAS, the people behind the counter helped me out, arranged my tickets, and checked my big bag in, before directing me through domestic security and onto a transfer bus. I did finally get to the international terminal, with only about 5.5 hours left to go before my next flight, from Sydney to Singapore. From there I would have two more legs on my journey, from Singapore to Mumbai (also on QANTAS) and then from Mumbai to India’s capital city, Delhi (on Jet Airways). The international terminal was immense, and very luxurious. I had some Italian food for lunch, and bought a Lonely Planet for Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan, which was the section of India I would soon find myself in, if everything went according to plan.
At the gate my ticket wouldn’t work, but this was due to the fact that, unbeknownst to me my seat on the flight had been changed, so I was immediately given an alternative boarding pass once they realized who I was. My new seat was still a window seat, but I had been moved up considerably, to the first set of emergency seats, meaning I had a good amount of leg room and a fold out entertainment system. As with Air NZ, the entertainment system was so robust as to make me forget about my reading materials and iPod. Dinner was a tasty chicken dish, with some slight Asian flair, which was, I suspect, a product of our destination in Singapore. I was somewhat surprised to hear, over the loudspeaker system of the plane, in both English and German (since our plane would be carrying on to Frankfurt) that even those passengers who would be only stopping in Singapore to refuel would have to deboard the plane, along with all of their hand luggage. This seemed to me to be even more of a security threat than keeping them on the plane, but who am I to question the decisions of the Singaporean Aviation Authority. A very noteworthy, and somewhat unexpected, feature of the flight was the spectacular view. Since I knew out route would carry us mostly over the uninhabited Australian outback, I had thought that the view would be barren, as with flying over the desert in Arizona. How wrong I was, however, because as soon as the sun began to set the whole landscape and clouds took on the most spectacular and ludicrous hues of red, yellow, orange, pink, purple, and colors without names. The glowing kaleidoscope below me was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen nature offer up, without question, and I can only imagine what it must look like from ground level. I might add, also, that once the sun had set, the night sky was no less miraculous, with an unfathomable amount of stars suddenly visible. Since there was no light down below to wash out the stars, I was witness to a field of vision eerily familiar (in that it was similar to the glorious night sky out West in those unpopulated parts of the US) and unfamiliar (in that none of the stars nor constellations were recognizable to me, as I was in a different hemisphere). There was almost no difference in looking down on Northern Australia and looking down on the ocean, and the only reason I noticed when we crossed over the coast was because we happened to cross over Darwin, the Northern Territory’s sole city.
As we descended into Singapore, we began to see the bright lights of this tiny, yet worldly, metropolis state. The forced deplaning of the entire list of passengers caused a bit more hassle than I deemed necessary, but I was in no position to argue, so I grinned and bore it. I was more than a little disappointed to learn that I was not in the new terminal at Singapore International (that’s the one with the free massages and extravagance that makes the Dubai sheiks shake their heads) but rather in the old one, and would have no need to leave it. This terminal was fine, by most standards, but Ryan’s tales had gotten my hopes up. Technically this was the 3rd country on my circumnavigation, although I don’t really count it since I never left the airport. I was delighted to find that the convenience store sold a normal sized Symphony Bar, something which Publix still remains completely unable to offer. Feeling a bit peckish, I got a burger at the BK Lounge, happy to see that it isn’t called Hungry Jack’s here.
Eventually I got on my next flight, again on QANTAS, to Mumbai (or Bombay as it had been known for some time until a recent name change). Unfortunately my flight was on a normal Boeing 747, and not an Airbus A380, despite the fact that half of QANTAS’s flights between Singapore and Mumbai are carried out on the newer double decker planes. My flight was the first place on this trip where I had been in the minority due to my skin color, as the flight was, understandably, full of Indians. For out in-flight meal, we were given a choice of curries, one chicken and one vegetarian, and then I went to sleep, as it was very early in the morning according to my body clock. The only noteworthy part of my flight was that we were forced to change course in order to avoid a freakishly powerful monsoon storm settled over southern India. Being bumped around somewhat violently several miles above the surface of the Earth, while simultaneously being surrounded by lightning is not an enjoyable experience, let me tell you. Since we landed in Mumbai in the early hours of the Indian morning, I will leave it until the next day’s entry for the rest of my travel tale.
Friday, June 18th
I was very tired when I arrived in Mumbai, despite (or perhaps because of) the panicked sleep I had been able to have on the previous flight. Walking off the plane and onto the tarmac, I was immediately hit with the heat of an Indian summer. Despite it being the coldest part of the night, the temperature was still easily in the high 80’s/low 90’s. Since this was my first return to summer, after a month of antipodean winter, I was ecstatic. A bus took us from the plane to the terminal, where my visa was checked by Immigration Control, and I found my luggage. I then breezed through Customs, as I had nothing to declare. I now was in a bit of a jam, since I had no idea how to get to the domestic terminal, which I knew to be too far away to walk to. The fact that none of the signs were clear, and hardly any were in English, was not helpful in my quest. In all my wanderings I went outside, where many touts tried to offer me absurdly expensive taxi rides between the two terminals, and then went back inside to wander past the customs officials 5 separate times, something that would have gotten me arrested in the USA. Eventually, with no help from the nonexistent airport information desk, I found my way to the transfers area, where I got my next boarding pass to get to Delhi, and checked my bag in, before getting on a coach bus to travel across the runway to the other terminal. It was an annoying convoluted system, but I bested it, and for that I was a tiny bit proud of myself.
The terminal was quite modern, and I had no problem waiting there during my layover in Mumbai, which was a relief, because I had been unsure of what level of amenities to expect. I had a doughnut ($1.00 thanks to the dollar to rupee exchange rate) and a bottle of water, and sat in a café for a little while, just contemplating things. When I went through security the guards were not quite sure how to treat my didgeridoo, but they did eventually let me pass through with it. My plane arrived on time and I boarded with no major problems, along with a full flight’s worth of other passengers. There was to be no room on this flight for lounging, unfortunately. On the flight I spent most of the two hours trying to sleep, since I had to regain those lost hours and adjust to a new time zone 4.5 hours earlier than Australia’s. As a side note, that extra half hour is ridiculous and annoying India, please do something about it. Make you country either 4 or 5 hours different than eastern Australia, for your own sake, since I’m sure it’s inconvenient to you too. I did wake up for the descent into Delhi, though, so I could get a feel for the landscape and the area surrounding the city. The first thing I noticed was the dust and haze, a product of Delhi’s position near the dry Rajasthani desert and her position as a world leader in pollution, which gave the whole scene a very eerie feeling as it was impossible to see the sky above or very far into the horizon. The landscape varied between fat plains, small villages, small canyon like ridges and hills, and then finally the rich enclaves for the powerful built well outside the city, with mansions, private grounds, swimming pools, gardens, and all the accoutrements of wealth.
Upon landing I was still a little heavy lidded, but I pushed through it. Stepping out of the plane and onto the tarmac, one thing became immediately and immensely clear: Delhi is a very hot place in the summer. It was early in the morning, but already well over 100 degrees. The wind actually made the situation worse, as hot air and haze was pushed towards me. The humidity was pretty low, although not nearly desertesque. As a Floridian, it took a few minutes before my sweat glands opened up, but they eventually did, which is a rare occurrence for me. Once I got my bag I walked back outside the terminal to find my ride to the hotel in which I was staying, which I had arranged before leaving Melbourne. Unfortunately, none of the signs and placards being held up by expectant drivers said anything remotely like Mr. Blumberg. After some calls back and forth between home and the hotel we learned that they had forgotten to send anyone, but that they would reimburse me for the taxi ride. I took a prepaid taxi from the airport to my hotel, in the area known as Karol Bagh. Once we got there the first thing to strike me was the level of construction. Almost every road was either being torn up or had its sidewalks suffering the same fate. Several buildings were missing everything but their skeletons. It was not the most confidence instilling sight, although thankfully my building was complete and I had nothing to worry about. The building attached to my hotel on the right, however, was undergoing serious construction, which proved to be a bit of a nuisance during the daytime hours.
As a side note, having ridden in from the airport, I am now absolutely terrified of traffic and driving in India. As someone who has not only seen but also driven in the worst traffic in the world, in terms of mortalities per day, in Vietnam, I had assumed I would be able to handle anything. Not so. In Southeast Asia I was in awe of their traffic. While at first it appears to be chaotic, there was actually a very sensible basis to the driving style, which was more like a school of fish than the regimented driving system of the US. Here in India most vehicles on the road are either cars, trucks, or autorickshaws, which makes the chaos much more dangerous than it is in motorbike infested Vietnam.
Anyway, back to the hotel. After being dropped off at Hotel Delhi Heights Hotel (they used hotel in each position equally, so I have decided to refer to them as such) I made quick work of checking in and was shown to my room, 905, on the fourth floor. The room was fairly well kept, with two twin beds pushed together, a nightstand, bathroom, desk, and a flatscreen TV which for about 50 channels (40 of which were in Hindi). Although it certainly wasn’t the Ritz, it was a nice step up from the hostels in which I have been staying. I did feel, though, that I would miss the communal sense one gets from living in such a shared space. I turned on the AC and took a nap.
After my nap I took a walk around the area, again struck by the heat of Delhi, although I was told this would get better once the monsoon came, approximately right when I was leaving. Almost everyone I met was in agreement that I had come to India at exactly the wrong time of year, but it was inevitable given the nature of my trip, and so I was unperturbed by the conditions as much as possible. My first stop was at a barbershop, since I hadn’t gotten a cut since a few months ago in Miami and I was getting pretty shaggy (which is a bad recipe for dealing with heat). I got cleaned up and felt much better, although the barbershop was a little more expensive than I had planned due to the fact that they kept adding services without asking me. It was still cheaper than I could have found in Australia or New Zealand, though.
After that I walked around until I found the Karol Bagh Metro Station, which is an elevated station towering above the road. For 10 Rs I took the train into town to the Rajiv Chowk Station, which lets you off right under the meeting point of old and New Delhi, Connaught Place. It’s a large circle with a park in the center and many circular roads and axials running out from it. Along all of these circular roads are shops and I spent some time wandering around and through them, just getting a feel for this part of town. I was, after some time, hungry for dinner, and so I found a place that suited my tastes and was cheap, called The Embassy, and got some very delicious Chicken Korma with rice. Getting meat off the bone when it is covered in goop, though, can be a challenge.
I then took the metro back to Karol Bagh, along with hundreds of locals who do not believe in the application of deodorant, apparently (although for all I know it may just be useless in this heat). I took a rickshaw back to the hotel, where I watched some soccer on the TV and then went to bed. I had noticed, interestingly enough, throughout the day, how very few foreigners there seem to be in Delhi. I blame it on a combination of the time of year and the fact that even if 10,000 American descended on the city, there would be enough locals to surround each many times over. Anyway, it just took some time getting used to being the only white person in some places.
Conclusion
This brings me to a point of introspection in my blog. I have a very annoying habit of falling behind in these things, and this has certainly not been helped by the lack of reliable internet access in India and South Africa. Nonetheless, given the fact that you, my loyal readers, don’t need to know that I did in fact go to lunch every day, and the fact that it will suit my style of writing and updating much better, I have decided to change the nature of this blog. It will, of course, still focus on what I have done, in both my exploration and research modes, and where I have been, but rather than give daily updates and keep falling behind, I will give larger city updates, after each is complete. In that nature, very soon I will post the following:
- 1. India (including both Delhi and Agra)
- 2. Travel from India to South Africa
- 3. Johannesburg
- 4. Pretoria
- 5. Cape Town
- 6. Travel from South Africa to London
From there on out I will be kept on schedule and this change should work out for the best. Just bear with me for a little bit longer, I know my absences can be frustrating. I really do appreciate that you take the time to follow me, though, and I thank you for it. Keep on being awesome!
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