Incredible India; the first big trip of 2015

For which preparation is fraught with irritation

and Himself gets really cranky

When Himself looked winsome as he suggested I come to India with him in far off February 2015, I looked into those twinkly blue eyes and gave in.  My inner conversation was this:  Yes, it is crowds of people. Yes, it is noisy. Yes, it is overwhelming. Yes, it is hotter than hell.  But yes, it is the right time to go.  I am healthy enough, and if there is  a next time, I might not be.  And he LOVES the place. I love to see him so excited to go, even if the real reason is work.  India, you see,  was not high on my bucket list, if there at all.

So I left him to the planning, which grew to include a trip to this thrilling place:  http://www.junglelodges.com/kabini-river-lodge,  where it is rumored that the tigers are populous in February.  But elephants and all sorts of  wild things we usually see in zoos are there so it promises to be amazing.

He made the reservations for the round trip flight using most of our saved airmiles for my ticket, hotel one, the conference venue, hotel two, the hotel closer to General Electric where he is invited,  the reservations for the safari park....but at this writing, the reservations for hotel three for the last night and day of our stay in Bangalore are still unclear.  But that is nothing.  We may not yet be going.  

Why? You might ask, at this late date, are we not completely sure of departure. In one word, VISA.

I never in my life thought that Indian bureaucracy extended to the green, flat shores of Cheeseland, but boy-howdy, mama, they do. About two weeks ago, we had our passport photos taken to make sure we had light background, 51 by 51 cm photos. Then Himself sat before the computer and spent a couple of hours entering forms and collecting various data, making copies and collating it all for both of us.  He needed a convention visa. Since he has done this before and knew it was a tangled mess, he was able to get his visa info in a tidy, thick stack in a couple of hours.  For my visa, a  simpler tourist request was filled out. Mind you, simple does not mean short. My parents, my life history including education and reason for ever thinking I'd want to visit India included, and that just to visit the country for 10 days.

I promise I am not going to suddenly decide to live there illegally.  I will probably kiss the floor of the airplane on the return leg.

With his schedule so booked, it was a little messy to find a day to drive all the way to Den Haag ( which is a truck filled crazy highway awful drive that I hate with every fibre of my being.)  but Tuesday he carved out some time and we arrived at the Embassy well before the 11:30 closing time. We followed the signs for Visa and Passports down the drive to the basement. Upon entry there was no one manning the window so we sat down to wait.  Minutes dragged by and other patrons appeared; finally someone shouted through the window to see if anyone would respond. A woman issued forth.  We lined up. We approached with our thick stacks in hand only to be informed that the office for visas is around the corner and down the street now...this was not news shared on the website where Himself got the visa information.  ugh.

Leaving the car in a rather illegal parking spot because there just isn't anywhere to park around the embassies, we walked to the visa office and joined the line of supplicants.  The nightmare began.

While it seemed previous experience had netted a good application for Hubby, my application was sadly flawed. The back ground of the photo and my hair are close in color.  It gave the officer some pause, but he finally passed it.  Then, suddenly I needed a conference visa even though I won't be attending any of it. Baffling.  And the worst was the name.  I use ( as many Dutch wives do) a hyphen in my last name.  Family-Maiden. It's normal and cultural.  The software for India visas does not allow for hyphens and eliminates it with no space between the names.  But,  my USA passport uses a carat between the names down in the code line, thus a space needs to be inserted for the name on the visa to match the name in the USA passport.  There was no space between the two last names.  ( Got all that?)  It did not end there. My first name is a double name, like Mary Ann, or Bobbie Jo.  I started putting the two names together, no space, as an adult because helpful folks misspelled my name so often.  Hubby is used to that.  So there was no space between my first names.  It did not match my passport.  On top of all that,we needed a copy of our marriage license. Visa application failed.  In a major way.  We had to come back with all new papers for me and the marriage license.

Hubby went back to work in high dudgeon. Two or so hours of administration, two hours of travel for nothing.   My good hearted, patient, slow to anger man was furious.  He was ready to shut down the whole project.  BUT  there was a window in his really complicated awful schedule where he could go the next afternoon between meetings.   He came home Tuesday very late from an inland conference,  reworked my visa application, copied the marriage license and we fell into bed after midnight.  At least another hour of filling in and copying. (and being unhappy.)

Wednesday we really had to high tail it ( down that crappy horrible highway) to get to that office before it closed at 2:30.  But we squeaked in the door with a minute to spare, and got in line.  The worker bee took one look at my form and that was it.  There was no middle initial in my name. My name had to match the passport.  In my passport is a middle initial.  In my birth certificate there is not.  In between was my infant baptism at which the Catholic priest refused to baptize unless there was a Saint's name. Thus my then recently  deceased maternal grandmother's name became my middle name.  It depends on the document whether the middle initial is there or not.  No one has ever gotten that picky about an H in the history of man.

I burst into tears because I knew Hubby  was on the verge of cancellation and I really wanted him to go even if I could not, and he would not go without me.   He is not only one of the organizers of this conference, but he is the keynote speaker.  ...It was too late in the day to even go somewhere to get it fixed.  On the other hand, this worker bee decreed that a tourist visa was quite enough for me.  That is nice because it costs half of what the fancier visa does.  But still we left the office very sadly.

There was only one tiny ray of hope.  There was a couple of hours on Friday morning before he had an afternoon chockablock with meetings.   If we left predawn and hurried, we could get to the office and back in time.  Monday the visa office was closed. Any other day til we left, he was too booked to go back.  It looked pretty bleak.  

But that is what we did.  It took us an extra 30 minutes in the thick fog of the early rush hour to get there, the line was nearly out the door long, but we did it.  We even had two perfect forms filled out: one tourist, one conference because who knew which worker would be at the desk.  It was another long wait to pay: we chose to have courier service so no more horrible trips to Den Haag.  Another long wait and our faces and fingerprints were digitized.  Easy when you know how.

On the other hand the visa will not get here until 2-3 days before we leave IF the visas are granted.  There still is that hurdle.   Any joy in this journey has been sucked right dry.  Watch this space.

Madrid: day two

and why we prefer home-tels.

After coffee, yogurt and an orange, Himself was up and away in the dawn drizzle, only to be quite early.  That's the hazard when you don't know the city. Sometimes the walk looks like 15 minutes, but it goes straight up and down so it takes twice as long.  Madrid is hilly.  The closest Metro is a puffy climb to the hotel.  The one further is a pleasant loop through a park and along some interesting shops.  Poor Himself not only got dampish but the meeting was not all that constructive.  Even lunch wasn't great.  

On the other hand, the meeting ran out of steam an hour early, so he was delighted to hear I had targeted this as the sop to the miserable grim weather:   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolater%C3%ADa_San_Gin%C3%A9s.  

So off we went by foot.  I felt like we were walking through Chinatown. There are multiple small stores all run by folk who make it seem like Beijing's neighborhood around the Geoscience University campus.  The other preponderance of stores all have Spanish cured hams as their theme.  It makes it look like the only meat here is ham.  Not true, but you have to go find a poultry shop. And tapas.  Makes you wonder how folks stay in business--all the shops look the same to me. Apparently, people here must shop in a secret place for herbs and spices.  It took four tries to even find salt in a small take along recloseable package.  Teach me to forget the condiments.....

After gorging on delish-i-ous thick dipping chocolate and churros, we decided to walk to Mercato Anton Martin:  http://www.mercadoantonmartin.com/. We saw lots of Madrid life on the way . Many Christmas markets are ready to roll this weekend, even though it isn't December yet.

We never found the mercato due to some wonky instructions on a tourist site, but we did find pig's foot for Oma in a side street shop..  Wearily we turned to home base, successfully figured out the Metro, and with only three interesting shop detours return to the home-tel for dinner.  One detour was the jambon shop next to our apartment.  We have found that few folks speak any English in this area...but they forge on in Spanish and just hope something sounds familiar to us.  This shop was the real deal. Here is where the neighborhood comes to hang out.  Not one fancy up scale detail. But ham is all it's various very expensive glory from every angle. I have no idea what our knife wielding server was saying but he gave Himself directions on which hams to photograph...while he sliced away on a ham with hoof still attached.   This is not Kansas. Bearing our booty, back to base. 

Ah, the joys of self-catering.  Fresh cooked food we enjoy, in our socks; relaxing on the sofa while things simmer.  Yes, indeed, well worth the search to find short term apartments.  The fridge is bigger than the usual hotel bar fridges for our food finds.  A regular dinner table to spread out maps and information to study.  No maids in and out unless we ask. Much bigger rooms with comfy sitting instead of having to struggle with close quarters and using the too low bed to share information. Very happy. 

Tomorrow we walk through royal Madrid , meet friends and move on to their home.  

Madrid: Take Two

Some time ago, I tagged along to Madrid for a mad rush couple of working days.  We did get to whizz through Museum Prado http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museo_del_Prado, and walked about that area at night ( our hotel was just down the street.) I discovered that Madrid tapas were not what I thought they would be.  We also managed to find a cafe by the botanical garden where the service was so rude it was shocking. The only thing I thought really worth a trip to Madrid was churros and chocolate. Also the wheelchair valet service at the airport was amazing.  However, it was not a stellar intro to Madrid.

Thus when Himself encouraged another tagalong to Madrid, I was less than enthused but we found a self-catering apartment, close to where he needed to meet the shuttle,  and in a different district close to the Royal Palace, for a great price. Plus some colleagues who live here want to take us under their wing for the weekend, so it will be a different visit entirely.

Let me just say that if you are a tiny person, Iberian Express has planes for you.  I have sore knees from the drubbing my kneecaps got for over two hours.  The weather is really bad in Madrid just now so we had a nightmare ride the close we got to the destination. We were in the last tail row.  I was a little alarmed.

Taxi man was lovely, not one word of English.  The Madrid Christmas lights are up and they are beautiful.Amazing street traffic for, to us, so late in the evening.  But we got to the hotel street in one piece, although the hotel could spend a penny and light the sign in front.  Since we arrived well after reception closed, and it was pitch dark, it was a little fumbly to get the right number punched in and get into the building.  Our keys and info were in another secured by keypad safe inside.

We stepped into our apartment  and were blown away. It's big, it's well equipped, it's comfy.

Then we went off to buy groceries, yes, at 11 o clock at night. The store is inside the nearby train station ( so convenient)  For the price of half a restaurant dinner, we got enough to last us til Saturday, when we join our friends. Himself had an early morning so we ate and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

It's grey and rainy this morning. I have to find condiments.  I have to finalize checkin. but first my breakfast....in my jammies.  I love apartment hotels.  :)

Why Coming Home Can Be a Trial

At least this trip did not end with police reports, broken locks or windows, and insurance assessments.  The carport shutters were screwed  tight,  The annex door was screwed tight.  The upper window has metal screening. The shutters were down on all the side and back windows. Our delightful neighbors were in and out for mail.  Another friend did walk thrus, cared for the car, and plants.  Thus all was well at Jade House when we arrived home. Thanks to everyone we spent not one paranoid moment!

We dropped all 10 of our bags in the dining room which immediately became a cluttered mayhem of a  staging center.  Boy decided to leave for his house that very night to check his premises and so he could get to the U to sign in for his study year, perhaps take aptitude and interest tests to help decide his future.  That eliminated two bags but his tooth still needs looking at....and the dentist had no room til next week.

Sweetpea declared that she would take care of her belongings so that eliminated two more bags still leaving 60 Kilos of mostly stinky sweaty dirty clothes for me to unpack (peee-euw), sort and wash.

Himself had booked the next day (Wednesday) off to recover from jet lag.  And jet lag has been the millstone ever since. Both of us have had a hard time getting our internal clock reset. Today (Monday) i still have not had a decent night sleep. I was up at 3:30 am Wednesday sorting and unpacking.  Then I took a nap while Himself went about unscrewing and opening up the house.  Then he napped.
I got up and did laundry until I went to bed at 6:30 pm because I couldn't stand up anymore.

Thursday morning I was up at 3:30 am again to do laundry, then we both got dressed  and went to the office because he had a meeting (I caught up on emails and administration):  at 1200 we fetched Sweetpea from the house and went to a church member's funeral and burial.   He dropped us off at home and went to another meeting.  I started yet another wash load and went to bed. He dragged in about 7pm, made dinner and we both died in bed after.

Friday was a bit better.  I was up at 6, he rode his bike to work after we cleaned up the kitchen from the night before.  I sorted out some more belongings one big bag for upstairs, one big bag for in storage. Then I got dressed and went back to church for another funeral.  This was a large group. so I stayed to pitch in and serve and cleanup after the reception.  But by the time I got home it was all I could do to go up and crawl in bed.  Boy came home early so he made dinner. Again, early to bed.

And so it was in the weekend.  We dropped gifts for the neighbors and had coffee, we did some grocery shopping, the sewing machines were serviced and picked up, we went to church, we went to Clan headquarters for dinner, we stopped by Brother2 to drop off a loaned camera.  More washing and folding. Suitcases put away. Some photos viewing.  All while feeling  like molasses in January.

Today everyone else starts the University year.  I need to get my house back in order.  MEH.

I think I will take a nap.

Scenic Xi'an

I love Xi’an. I truly do. If we had to stay in this country for any amount of time, I think I could live here.  Xi’an is quaint and quirky, crowded but spacious, amazing and appalling, all at once.

Of all the cities we have visited in China, Xi’an I think suffers the most from the millstones which China drags along as it tries to progress into the 21^st century.

One millstone is the Imperial past which shapes tradition.  Tradition is not a small thing in these parts. The Dynasties are carefully excavated, memorialized, and preserved in wonderfully curated museums where the oppression and misery of the folk who did the heavy lifting while the leaders basked in magnificence is unheralded.   All hail the unknown persons who made amazing scientific, artistic and technological advances well before the rest of the world were wearing clothes. Xi’an is famous for its historical treasures, as it should be.  A visit to the archaeological dig containing terracotta warriors ( and bronze chariots, and stables, and all manner of things needed for the afterlife)  should be on everyone’s bucket list.   We wonder just how much of the area’s economy depends upon tourist revenue.  The city has worked hard to make Xi’an a splendid attractive place to come with the family.

But the poor will always be with us and it bothers me to see ancient tiny toothless grandparents begging amongst the beautiful statues in the park, or sidling up to you outside the museum to gather your empty plastic bottles (to recycle??) Where did the tradition of taking care of the elderly go?

Well, part of that challenge is also connected to the next millstone. The Communist Dynasties.  Not much changed for the truly poor under communism, I think,…the folk carried the weight while the leadership got fat and powerful.  Now China’s economy is vying for a part of the capitalistic pie. This economic shift creates a mobile population that comes to the cities or moves to another. Then parents are left behind, with no infrastructure for support.  In a country this huge, children cannot go home every weekend, so the elderly make do the best they can. But it is a problem.

Opening itself to the capitalists has made other changes to China- Dunkn’Donuts, KFC, Macdonald’s, Subway, Prada, big cars, 7-11---just to name a few.  Boggling to see a Papa John’s Pizza nestled next to a stunning statue commemorating ancient Chinese philosophers and poets.

Another millstone is the population numbers.  My goodness, there are a lot of people here. Everywhere.  Loudly.   The rule about one child has serious repercussions in the countryside, but here in the city it seems like every second person has a child about their person. Every one of them cute as a button.  I asked how the one child rule was working for China-  the answer: very slowly. I guess good nutrition and better conditions mean people aren’t dying fast enough….but the grandchildren are twice as tall as their grandparents…

So it is a little multiple personalitied, China is.  You can’t find a taxi to save your life in Xi’an, but around the corner is yet another serene and breathtaking public park to settle your chi right back down.  The University here is doing well and has a great new campus. But the students really struggle with conversational English, so they almost have to go study abroad if they want to present well in the greater scientific community.  There is internet and even WiFi but the connections are so slow and chancy that you can’t upload photos.

And there is more, the air conditioning works a treat- but the plumbing is so outdated that you throw your toilet paper in the bin and take a lot of cold showers.

Still, it is green and lovely here, even in this heatwave.   I do love Xi’an;  warts, wrinkles and all.

Footloose in Fuzhou, but I scored some great sandals

{Yes, I know the formatting is abnormal, but because of the VPN, bandwidth, computer illiteracy and kismet I don't know how to fix it.]
So. This afternoon the conference excursion was the planned event.  Even though the first bus didn't
leave until after three PM we all suspected that it was crazy blisteringly hot to wander in downtown
Fuzhou no matter how enchanting the sights are.  Nevertheless, the organizers dealt out hats and fans
and water to the hatless, fanless and waterless (don't people plan ahead?) and off we went under the
guidance of a very hard working guide who was not chosen for her dulcet toned voice.  After about 10
minutes I would have put that screeching cat out of it's misery.  Poor thing!  She has no idea how ear
cringingly dreadful she is. So, teeth firmly gritted, we trooped along after her-- and only one of us got
sent home with heat stroke.

We went to see a restructured historical area called "Three Lanes and Seven Alleys" which has been
reconstructed not so long ago to look authentic- but for the modern shops after the facades. Still, it is
worth a look...

Since I am not in  an optimal photo sharing position, here is a linky to some images:
http://www.google.com/search?complete=0&bav=on.2,or.&bvm=bv.50310824,d.cGE,pv.xjs.
s.en_US.I9e44VIvEiw.O&biw=1024&bih=405&um=1&ie=UTF-&hl=en&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=218CUqahJOO
JjALUyICoBA&q=Sanfang%20Qixiang%20%22Three%20Lanes%
20and%20Seven%20Alleys%22

Himself and I are usually not big group follow the leader folks, but this weather really saps any desire
to stroll along back alleys and quiet neighborhoods  on our own.

This was actually our travelers' nightmare. Huge group, strident guide, off the charts heat and humidity- and
nothing really exraordinary if you have been in China before.  It was the children's first Chinese history moment; but I think the heat made it less wonderful than it could have been.

It was a blessing to go play tourist shopping the last hour. Many of the shops are air conditioned.

My flip-flops (which I had gone all over Holland to find) were falling apart.

 Sweetpea had developed the dreaded enormous heel blisters and had been wearing them non-stop since we got here- I think that constant readjusting ( we do not have anywhere near the same feet) and cheap construction combined- so there I was digging my toes into the sole to keep the dang sandals on--
further aggravating my great toe- which toe hates the compression socks- which I must wear to offset elephant legs- which are brought on by heat and humidity- so I need sandals.

While cooing and oohing over very expensive backpacks and bags with panda, shark and cute as all get out
designs, I spied with my little gotta go see every shoe store on earth eye, a small section of sandles
at the back of the store...12 euros later I have a fine pair of well fitting good looking flappers.
I love a good shoe bargain.

We staggered back on the bus to return to the venue- where we drip dried during yet another hit-or-miss
recipe collection buffet for dinner.  As we walked out the dining hall door, Himself was informed he was
expected for an unexpected meeting. We had talked about me getting a pedicure and a foot massage after
dinner and were sort of heading that way.

So we collected Lady Professor Xi'an for translation and information help and swanned off to the spa.
Himself went on to his meeting from there while we ladies skinnied up the narrowest circular stairs I
have ever seen to go up to the massage and body care area ( where even your ears can be cleaned for a
fee.)

Once everything was in order, I bid a grateful farewell to lady professor and with watermelon juice in hand,
settled in for my treatment.  The pedicure took nearly an hour- and that was with no fussy polish. He used only a sharp instrument to cut nail, dry skin and callouses away. It was amazing to see him work.  Then he went on to give a from the knees down full out therapeutic foot massage lasting about an hour as well.
And all of this attention for less that 50 euros. These folk really work hard for so little.

By the time I got back to the room, Himself came back from his meeting- and then we sorted laundry for
pickup tomorrow. Who knew that laundry was going to be a major line item? I do not remember paying
through the nose before- but you gotta have clean undies.

Himself decided a dip in the pool would be a great way to end the day and remove a layer of the day's
sweat- alas- 10 PM is closing time- so showers must suffice--tomorrow is another day to swim.

But swim in sweat or swimming pool is the question.

Frying in Fuzhou (but it was cool getting here)

It was exciting  when the 2013 DPC conference venue was chosen for  Fuzhou, China.  Of course, Himself was expected to attend,  I was more than happy to go,  then we decided to take SweetPea and The Boy along.  With school and other constraints, the regular summer conferences usually meant a very spoiled stay with the grandparents. Now they are young adults; they can't afford a trip like this.  We think this is the last great family  journey before they are off creating their own histories. So it began:   we had two years to pull it off.

Airfares were going to be the biggest budget item we thought at the time. So we hoarded  every air mile we could earn. This was helped by an unexpected trip to China last autumn.  And KLM issues air mile tickets by leg of journey. This meant it cost no more extra  to fly in and out of different cities as it would by purchased tickets.  A program change downgraded my air miles card, but Himself is still Elite, a bonus for us all in efficiency and comfort as we would find out later.

The extra trip in between demonstrated just how much the economy, and prices had changed since our first trip back in 2005.  Our revised  budget was going to be very different; hotels were now raising prices, and tourist tickets were also increased.  I began to fret over this to The Man Upstairs, because nothing ruins my travels more than watching every single atom of food, sip of drink, and curtailing adventures because of budget cuts…

And so my frustration was heard.  A second conference was added (invited speaker’s stipends are a good thing,)  colleagues in Xi ‘an and Beijing requested seminars as we pass through their area. Those universities will accommodate all of us, and are planning full out sightseeing programs for the family. I started to relax a bit about funding this excursion.  Even when the car needed repair…

A former student will get married next week. He planned his wedding so we could be there—and has laid out a full schedule of tourism in Wuhan.  He is being so generous we finally had to put our foot down about the room and board. Gosh.   Yiming has greased the wheels of train ticket and domestic flight tickets purchasing as well.  Abundant hospitality.  We are totally in awe of what folks will do for us.     

Actually the most complicated part of the journey was wrangling visas for our stay which required three trips to The Hague, and the addition of extra pages in my passport…who knew?   And appropriate clothes…it took some preparation to get here.

A check of the climate told us that we were headed for “the sweatbox of China.” Apparently that is something people are proud of. Huh.  Since  the Dutch weather is cold and wet most of the time, finding subtropical weight clothes in a local store is sort of beyond hope. And so I sewed, and sewed and sewed…and will blog about that in another place.

Our housesitter had to cancel for dreadful personal reasons and every other avenue was a dead end so we literally nailed things shut, and put grates on the windows.  The lovely neighbors will be in and out as will a trusted friend so we hope that the burglars will leave us alone. But there were moments when we thought we’d have to worry about security for the entire trip.

Writing about it now seems like a distant memory, but I assure you July was not a calm month. But the day finally arrived and we left.

Other than not having printed  boarding passes for the children for the second leg of the trip in, we actually enjoyed our checkin for the first leg of the trip.  Because Himself is Elite, we are in the fast lane for everything, just following like little ducks along the way.  We even got through security without a hassle this time ( although SweetPea had a tiny pair of blunt nosed scissors in her first aid kit that the Chinese guards removed)

As we were scanned in to the departure gate, the machine binked red and Himself had a seat change.  I had worried about this a bit because often the air mile seats are in a different section than purchased. BUT, this time, it was that his seat was upgraded to Business class.  Well, that meant to the family that uncomfortable me was going in the front alone. Um well OK.  So then the gate ladies saw that PapaDuck had three waddlers behind and they did some magic so that suddenly all four of us were Business class tickets. Now that was so overwhelmingly wonderful  could have kissed them all.

Turbulent flight, terrible food, but oh those seats recline right down flat and have leg room for six in the space of two seats.  Fabulous. Thank you, god of upgrades.

We had a stopover in the boring early morning airport of Guangzhou –where the kids got to eat real Chinese food for the first time- and flew on to Fuzhou.  We were met and delivered to the hotel (whew- one more thing to not worry about) called Fuzhou Lakeside- a 5 star- and the venue for the conference.  It is a decent hotel.  Pretentious lobby, good rooms, fine plumbing  ( something China is not good at) and a whole boatload of cooks who serve hot food cold and the scrambled eggs swim in oil.  Worst food I ever had in China. Really. Except for the bread- some of the best bread- really tasty- and truly solid black. Literally BLACK bread. Your eyes just do not jive with what the tongue tases.

And oh the weather.  35 to 40 Celsius and humidity in the 90’s.  The plus side of that is the swimming pool is 34 Celsius so  I actually will get in and stay in for more than a dip. The family was thrilled to see mama in a swimming pool.  Walking we have decided is for very early in the morning or after dark.

But that is for another post.