Saturday was affected by arriving in the wee hours and not getting enough sleep. Himself managed to get out for a couple of walks while I shook out clothes, steamed his suit, and stowed our belongings in a convenient way. I don't mind setting up house in a hotel for long stays. Ironing out the quirks of the room takes doing, for instance, one has to figure out the electricity in this place and what switch does what, where the best light is...oh man, lighting in hotel rooms....Although this hotel is really very fine and goes against all the warnings in the travel guides, we were not glad to see that the pool and sauna are under renovation: Himself could have used some steam bath and swimming. I wish hotels would tell you before you arrive.
And this hotel does not have clothes drawers. Six desk drawers, narrow and shallow, and two lingerie drawers in the closet; so undies sit in one suitcase, personal gear in the other. Boy, am I happy I bring extra hangers. But it's a workable accommodation. There's a restaurant open all day as well....
When He was ready to take walk number three, I went too. Next door is a sari emporium. We took a look. Two floors of the rainbow fairy's cavern of delights. I wish I was brave enough to ask to have one draped on me just to see. Goodness me, the fabrics and colors and sparkly bits are just enchanting. On our walk, we found a grocery and bought water and fresh ginger for my already suffering tummy.
We like grocery stores in other lands. It is interesting to see how alike/not alike the shelves are. As small as this emporium was, it had a wide variety of items; the British influence is still apparent.
The heat started to affect us so we toddled back to our room, stowed water, rested some, and had dinner with our student who had arrived Saturday afternoon fresh from a 40 hour train trip from up north. He's been in land for two weeks "doing" India all by himself. Brave kid.
Our coughs and congestion made sleeping unusually poor that night.
Sunday we went to church. We found there are more than one units in Bangalore. One is just 5KM away in Richmond Town district. It's a big building with CES offices and Family History facilities. And amazingly, completely in English. Huh. Lots of younger men and women. I was not aware of many children, but on our way out we peeked into a children's class busy singing away, so there are families. The chairs are a misery so we did not stay the entire block of meetings...two days of poor sleeping takes its toll. The women wear traditional dress and look so vibrant compared to what I am used to. The colors! The sparkly bits! No two saris or shalwaars are the same. Just multiply that by a couple million and think of the textile genius it takes to make so many splendid combinations. it boggles my mind. A feast for the eyes.
Our conference host provided us with a car and driver for the day, which is wonderful, but the poor driver had nothing to do for long periods of time. He, as every driver so far, was excellent in negotiating the traffic. It defies description. No apparent rules or lanes. constant tooting. It takes nerves of steel. And I hear that the Bangalore traffic is nothing compared to other places.
In fact, Bangalore, they say, is much different than other cities. Cleaner, less crowded, traffic less chaotic (???), less smelly. Huh. I guess it is a good introduction for folk like me.
Because we had a couple of hours, we asked to be driven to a local market. No tourists. It was grand. Saw fruit and veg I have never seen but read about in books. We were offered jackfruit, which He tasted, but after I saw the bugs, I declined. The babies are so cute. We found a fabric store which had pre selected lengths in a pack for the making of shalwaar: top , pant, wrap. Again, no two alike. Since I would never wear some of the combinations in staid Netherlands, it took a little convincing but the man found some neutral combinations of which we chose two. I see some nice tropical weight two piece outfits with wrap for the summer in China....not Indian style though.
Sunday night we were expected at the University for registration and dinner. It was disorganized, chaotic, boring, long and time wasting. I had my knitting and my book. am always prepared.
I finished this entry Tuesday morning. Monday deserves its own post.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
The rest of the Outbound Journey
Charles de Gaulle airport is one we love to not like. One disembarks and runs up and down escalators just to arrive at a jitny bus which drives a slow serpentine path to another entrance. More escalators and long walks through immigration (to leave the EU) and finally to departures. The priority lounge at CDG is lovely. Quiet. Restful. On to Bengaluru.
When the time came to cue for the departure gate, Indian style procedures prevailed. The longest priority line I have ever seen, and every document and visa was examined. It took ages.
However, everyone managed to get on board (as opposed to the unfortunate no-shows off loaded from the first flight in the grey Amsterdam morning.) Off we went for nine hours in the air.
Air France, how you have fallen. The inflight magazine was one long dull advertisement. The food was embarrassing. If this was the first introduction to Indian food for the novice traveler, it was a shock. Cardboard, nasty, uninspired. Breakfast was some sort of gucky wrap thing...I used to look forward to Air France flights. The food was so good.
The staff was polite and pleasant; but gave us a black and white photocopy of the customs form instead of a colored original. "This is unacceptable,"says the worker bee with a head bob that made me wonder if he was going to burst into a Bollywood routine. Thus we had to rewrite our forms...but it seems not one other soul had to; I am still baffled. Then there was the meat. In cans. From home.
We were honest. Yes we had tuna and ham with us. a few cans. So we went to the Declarations. and waited. and waited. and waited. Remember it is 1:30 in the morning. we waited some more.The single clerk was busy in a molasses sort of way over a boxed LCD screen. We had our little bag of eats all ready. Finally, a man without a uniform wandered up and asked if we were waiting. We explained. He took our declaration slips over to a uniformed fella on the other side of the wall, conversed, and came back to tell us to cheat. To change our forms to nothing to declare and go away. Otherwise the mountain of forms for us to fill out for 4 cans of tuna and one canned ham would keep us there til dawn. We scribbled and left. But I know in my bones they would have scanned our bags and found the cans if we had been dishonest. Then all sorts of hellish events transpire.
Our host had arranged a taxi for u. We were, without a doubt, grateful for not having to fuss with transport at 2 am in a strange land. We got all loaded in and drove through the night to our hotel. In the dark Bangalore looks like any other city around the airport. Uninspiring. Not one OOOO Look!
But maybe we were too travel worn to care.
Smooth registry at our hotel, and a huge comfy bed. We fell into bed about 4am and set the alarm for breakfast. Day one is finally ended.
When the time came to cue for the departure gate, Indian style procedures prevailed. The longest priority line I have ever seen, and every document and visa was examined. It took ages.
However, everyone managed to get on board (as opposed to the unfortunate no-shows off loaded from the first flight in the grey Amsterdam morning.) Off we went for nine hours in the air.
Air France, how you have fallen. The inflight magazine was one long dull advertisement. The food was embarrassing. If this was the first introduction to Indian food for the novice traveler, it was a shock. Cardboard, nasty, uninspired. Breakfast was some sort of gucky wrap thing...I used to look forward to Air France flights. The food was so good.
The staff was polite and pleasant; but gave us a black and white photocopy of the customs form instead of a colored original. "This is unacceptable,"says the worker bee with a head bob that made me wonder if he was going to burst into a Bollywood routine. Thus we had to rewrite our forms...but it seems not one other soul had to; I am still baffled. Then there was the meat. In cans. From home.
We were honest. Yes we had tuna and ham with us. a few cans. So we went to the Declarations. and waited. and waited. and waited. Remember it is 1:30 in the morning. we waited some more.The single clerk was busy in a molasses sort of way over a boxed LCD screen. We had our little bag of eats all ready. Finally, a man without a uniform wandered up and asked if we were waiting. We explained. He took our declaration slips over to a uniformed fella on the other side of the wall, conversed, and came back to tell us to cheat. To change our forms to nothing to declare and go away. Otherwise the mountain of forms for us to fill out for 4 cans of tuna and one canned ham would keep us there til dawn. We scribbled and left. But I know in my bones they would have scanned our bags and found the cans if we had been dishonest. Then all sorts of hellish events transpire.
Our host had arranged a taxi for u. We were, without a doubt, grateful for not having to fuss with transport at 2 am in a strange land. We got all loaded in and drove through the night to our hotel. In the dark Bangalore looks like any other city around the airport. Uninspiring. Not one OOOO Look!
But maybe we were too travel worn to care.
Smooth registry at our hotel, and a huge comfy bed. We fell into bed about 4am and set the alarm for breakfast. Day one is finally ended.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Off we go
Yes, the visas finally came. Our vaccinations are in order. Yesterday we packed and cleaned. Himself found the travel pillow that was exactly where it should be -and we already bought a replacement. So now we have two sizes. That is ok. Sweetpea came and took the perishables and 40 pounds of other sundries to stock her own larder. Off we drove at dark o'clock; poor little Fannie May car was surprised to be on the road so early, packed to the gills.
We left car and coats in the care of daughter dear at Schiphol. We discovered only one set of keys made it to the airport so plan B of the return to pick up car had to be implemented. But everything else is where it needs to be. We are having breakfast in thee Priority Lounge (there is a benefit to all the frequent trips of Himself. ) We have braved one security check.
Now it is time to hike to the gate. First tstop Paris, Charles de Gaulle, one of the less favorite hubs in the world, but there you are. :)
We left car and coats in the care of daughter dear at Schiphol. We discovered only one set of keys made it to the airport so plan B of the return to pick up car had to be implemented. But everything else is where it needs to be. We are having breakfast in thee Priority Lounge (there is a benefit to all the frequent trips of Himself. ) We have braved one security check.
Now it is time to hike to the gate. First tstop Paris, Charles de Gaulle, one of the less favorite hubs in the world, but there you are. :)
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