I left Coffs Harbour on Wednesday 4th Jan for Sydney, Kuala Lumpur and ended up in Chennai.
Chennai, which used to be known as Madras, is the largest city in Tamil Nadu state of India. It has 7 million people. After spending 6 days there, I catch a coach down to Punducherry, still in Tamil Nadu and on the Bay of Bengal. Until 1954 is was part of a French colony and still retains a French influence in architecture and food. I then go by coach overnight to Hyderabad the capital of Andhra Pradesh. The city is known as the City of Pearls. Many of the city’s traditional bazaars have remained open for centuries (I am sure the stall-holders would like to close for a least one day)My mate, Jeremy Hopkins, has asked me to help him put up some shelves in the attic so after India I go on to the UK. I hope to stay there for a month with Jeremy and Shirley and family. I chose a month as I was not sure how long the shelves would take to put up. Normally I would not visit the UK in mid-winter but he asked very nicely. If we finish the shelves and we have time Jeremy and I hope to go to Sicily for 10 days.I have created this page just in case something worth relating happens.Oh! Ye of little faith, of course something interesting has happened.
Prologue
India have recently introduced a system of electronic visas. One applies by email a month in advance of your arrival date and, in my case, the visa was emailed the next day. Being a cautious fellow I printed a copy and a spare just in case. When I arrived at immigration in Chennai I joined 3 others who had also got e-visas. As there were 3 staff to process us I thought this 1:1 ratio would mean plain sailing. Well, the first chap presented his visa which had a single digit of his passport number recorded incorrectly. This, naturally enough, took 2 staff and a supervisor to fix. Strangely, one had to present a hard copy of the visa. So chap number two had to unpack his suitcase to find his paper copy. I being a seasoned traveler only needed to unpack my backpack. I did eventually did get into India officially but while I waited half the passengers with old fashioned paper visas in their passports did also!Next, when I collected my main suitcase from the baggage carousel at Chennai airport I noticed that the suitcase lock was different. It had been changed. As far as I could see nothing was disturbed and my original set of keys fitted the new lock. The general opinion was that a customs officer wanted to rummage around my M&S underpants for some reason best known to him/her self.
Continuance
These two incidents were mere entrees to the main course of getting money. I should give you some background into the wisdom of the Indian Prime Minister. On Dec 8th he decided to destroy the cash economy in India by making 1000 and 2000 rupee notes illegal on Dec 30th and printing new ones. Only 1 % of Indians pay tax. This move was to force people to use bank accounts and electronic cards for pay and payments so that transactions are recorded. As you might guess this has led to chaos. When I arrived in Chennai after midnight the only ATM in the airport had run out of money. Luckily Judy suggested I take some US currency as an emergency fund. I did change the money but they only had a 2000 and 2 by 100 rupee notes. The cost of a prepaid taxis to my hotel was 530 rupee and the taxi man would not change the 2000. The other taxi man wanted 800 for the same trip. He had a card machine. I would not be held to ransom. Luckily a couple from Noumea (New Caledonia) were going to a hotel near mine and changed some euros and between my 200 and their money we paid for the taxi. I went to bed at 2 am some 26 hours after I last slept. Naturally I had a long sleep of 4 hours. This brings me to today. As you might guess today’s mission was to find an ATM with some money.
Now you have the background I can explain why:
The Indian banking system is like a Black Bear in Yellowstone.
When you see a queue of cars by the side of the road in Yellowstone you pull over and if you are lucky you can spot a Black Bear and if you are Judy, you spot Kevin Costner.
It is the same here, when you see a queue of people at an ATM you stop and queue for money. This I did at a branch of the Vijaya Bank. After taking 30 minutes to get to the front of the queue, the ATM asked a bunch of intelligent questions about passwords, accounts and type of receipts etc. All very polite and encouraging but it must have been a bit of a thicky ATM as it spent too long thinking and chatting to Sydney that it forgot what it was doing and timed out. This happened on all three of my DR cards. ( I brought 3 as there is a limit of daily and total weekly withdrawals on a single card) I went into the bank and saw the manager but she could not or would not unlock the back of the machine and give me a few bob. So after about 45 minutes I was still no richer. They did change my 2000 note into 2 by 500 and 100 by 10s! Luckily the South India bank ATM I found was not a thicky machine and promptly and business like gave me some money. Later I found third machine that was cooperative also.
So, one out of two fixed. Money✔ Sleep X.
When I can put a ✔ next to sleep I will take some photos which I will post for you all to see.
Dicing.
One forgets how crossing the road in India is dicing with death. I have found the foolproof way is to think like a cow. You see, the cow, in India is sacred. They roam everywhere and never get into trouble. So, think like a cow, head into the traffic and you will reach the other side of the road safely. This has worked so far but I did have one near miss on an empty road. Most of the time it is easier to walk on the road. I believe there are laws that require all pavements to have broken pavers, uncovered holes, low tree branches or similar life threatening structures. As I said, in an empty one way street I walked out behind a parked mini bus to confront a motor cyclist going the wrong way. His clothes brushed mine and I said a rude word.
Cost of Travel.
Today, I got tired of brushing with death, thinking like a cow and walking 10 kms in the 30+ heat. I decided to go home on a train. The trip was 40 minutes on an electric train and it required a change of line. I found out the following when I took up the challenge.
1. Indian train fares are fixed price – there is no room for bargaining.
2. Foreigners can’t get a concession.
3. Due to modernisation, there are electronic ticket machines installed.
4. The new machines are staffed by two people. One askes you where you want to go, presses all the buttons, tells you the cost and hands you a ticket.
5. The other staff member takes your money and gives you any changed.
6. Today I thought a 40-minute ride would not cost more than $1.10 so I had 60 rupees to hand.
7. I could not help thinking that the cost of the tickets would be less if they reduced the staff.
8. I may have got the 40-minute ride for less than the 5 rupees I had to pay (Aus 0.10₵)!!
I like to have a mixed breakfast some Indian and Western food. Today it was a curry then an omelette. I like to have a coffee with breakfast especially when on holiday. The coffee served at this hotel is of unknown origin with a white substance already added.
So, I found another way of banishing thoughts of dicing with death and I went into a French café that served a caramel flavoured coffee with black forest gateaux.
Tuk-Tuking.
Taking an auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuk) is always and experience. The first thing you are asked is where you want to go. The driver then says “Yes – get in”. One stays firmly out of the cab. The driver always knows where you want to go until you quiz him. One can only be sure when he repeats the destination or the area or the house nearby where his uncle lives. The driver then says “Yes – get in”. One stays firmly out of the cab. Next is how much. The driver then says “Yes – get in”. One stays firmly out of the cab. He usually says 200 rupees, I say 100 – we settle on 120. The distance does not seem to come into it. I was paid the ultimate compliment yesterday. We started the exchange and I said my 100 rupees. The driver said no so I said OK and walked away. After a couple of minutes, he came up behind me and we started the prescribed bargaining process. I eventually relented and we agreed on 130. He said at one point I was asking for an Indian rate. At places like the Government Museum the price of admission for Indians is 15 rupees and non-Indians 200 rupees.
Anyway, my driver had the last laugh. We were on a dual carriageway and he carried on the way I was walking down the wrong way for 500 meters. When we turned off it was down the bumpiest road in Chennai. I had a good shake up.
The ride brought to mind Mr. Smallweed, a character in Bleak House. He is always saying:
“Shake me up, Judy! Shake me up!
It is never made clear exactly what is wrong with him, but he obviously has a serious condition such as rheumatoid arthritis or osteoarthritis which makes it impossible for him to walk. He has to be carried around on a litter, and he is always requiring this comical “shaking up.” Naturally his affliction doesn’t do anything to improve his temper.
Blackpool.
If you have looked at my photos then you will have seen a couple of Chennai main beach. It initially struck me that it could be mistaken for Blackpool with the tower and the merry-go-round on the beach. On second thoughts, this beach is not so much like Blackpool after all.
Because cows are sacred they can go anywhere and do anything which they do. This is why you see cow-pats on the beach. There is also a shanty town on the beach with ramshackle huts. Lastly it is a wider beach than Blackpool. From the road across the beach to the sea is a round trip of a kilometre.I booked my seat on the bus from Chennai many days ago, I chose the front seat so that I could see ahead. The whole bus had the curtains drawn to keep the heat out. It was only later that I dare peek out and see the countryside. It struck me a very green and looked much better to live in than the city of Chennai.
Tea Anyone?
Making oneself understood can often be a problem even when the two-people involved are talking a version of the same language albeit in a different dialect.
I was in Pothys department store earlier today looking for some things.
Pothys have branches in a few cities in India. I have visited the Mysore branch (I think) on an earlier trip.
The Pondicherry branch has 5 spacious floors covering clothes and household goods etc. I could not spot the department that sold loose leaf tea. In the store, there are numerous uniformed men that rush up to you to help. So, I asked in my clearest Aussie drawl, “Got any loose-leaf tea cobber, me old mate”. Now, I would have thought that was plain enough to anyone but I got a blank look. Then, I said it louder and rather more succinctly, to the nub, as it were, using a bit of literary licence to get the message across, “Teeeea Baaaags”. I find this simpler method of talking to non-Australians generally successful. Still no light bulb came on. A colleague was called over. Still sans-light bulb (Pondicherry was a French colony until 1954 “sans” is French for “not a flicker”)
At this point the big guns were brought to bear. I was ushered over to the “Customer Care” desk. I am prepared to admit that at this point I did perhaps over act. I said, “Teeeea Baaaags” whilst lifting an imaginary cup to my lips with the little pinkie extended.
The customer care operative immediately had the looked for “light bulb” moment and issued a string of instructions to her uniformed colleague. He ushered me to a stool and bade me, with gestures, to sit. Now, I should have paused for thought but I considered he had gone off to seek some higher tea authority. Anyway, in a couple of minutes he came back with a cup of tea on a saucer made from a tea bag.
I thanked him but said “No, tea in a bag, not a cup”. Quick as a flash he said 5th Floor. So off in the lift I went. Needless to say, they did not have the tea I wanted.
I did, however, buy a saree to use as a cover for my desk at home. This process was very elaborate. A uniformed man helped me choose the cloth. He took me to a desk where a printed ticket was created, I had one copy and a duplicate was left with the cloth in the care of the lady on the desk. I went to the cash counter where I presented the ticket and the money. I was given change and my ticket was stamped and handed back to me. I then went to the collections – saree counter. (This is different to collection- material lengths) I presented the ticket. My cloth had been delivered from the lady on the ticket desk. The ticket with the cloth was matched to my ticket and both stamped twice. One copy was put on a spike and the other handed to me with the saree in a carrier bag.
Phew!
Belt Factory.
The other trading encounter. I have been looking to buy a leather belt and luckily today I spotted a belt factory. This could be a bit of an exaggeration. It was a road side stall with strips of leather hanging up. After the necessary bargaining process where one is made to feel that one is condemning the factory owner to a life of poverty if I don’t pay at least 3 times the going rate for a belt. In the end, I paid at least 1.5 the rate if not more. It was a joint ownership concern and the partner was called over, I suspect, to discuss the effect of letting me leave with money in my wallet. Anyway, we agreed upon 300 rupees and the belt construction process was started. The buckle I had chosen was riveted on to the belt. I was stood on the measuring cardboard where marking was made for the holes. These were punched, 3 each side of the spot marked to cater for shrinkage (I should be so lucky!) and expansion (No comment). Next on to packaging – the belt entered a plastic bag and so to the cashier area when I offered 300 rupees. The cashier (who did all the other jobs) asked for an extra 20. I smiled and said no 300. He shook hands and a broad smile came over his face. It was a look of “Worth a try?”
Happy Pongal
Happy Pongal – today, Sunday is a Public Holiday in the middle of the 4-day festive holiday. Pongal is a Tamil Harvest festival and normally celebrated from January 14 to January 16. This corresponds to the last day of the Tamil month Maargazhi to the third day of the Tamil month Thai.I have been taking my early morning walk early the last couple of days. At 6:30am the air is fresh and where I walk, along the beach promenade, is closed to traffic until 7:30 am so it has the added benefit of being quiet. I lost track of time yesterday and while I was walking down the middle of the road suddenly I was tooted and a tuk-tuk came screeching to a halt asking me where I wanted to go. The time was 7:30:01.547.
This hotel which is a good not high class establishment has an interesting concept of service. I have learnt that all you have to do is ask, so far this is what I have had to phone for:
1. The water heater to be switched on when I want a shower.
2. The morning newspaper.
3. The room to be cleaned.
a. A new toilet roll (requires some forward planning)
b. Fresh towel
4. The internet connection to be reset. (Multiple times a day)
The request is always met with a friendly comment (I never understand what is being said – it might be English or Tamil but it sounds friendly)
I have said elsewhere that Puducherry (Pondicherry is the old spelling which I prefer) was a French Colony until 1954. There is still a large French influence including an old French café called Café des Arts. I have been there a couple of times it has a great atmosphere and is very relaxing so it gives me a chance to read. I saw at least one couple on both visits and almost all the clientele is French. It is very quiet and they do a good cappuccino and baguette.
Well, that is where I decided to stop earlier today but Lo! There is more.
I wrote the above in Word like I normally do, then I connect to the Internet and copy, paste and format what I have written on to the web site. This morning web access was non-existent so after a couple of hours I decided to go out for a coffee. Just as I shut the room door my phone beeped and I received an email. I checked and outside my door there is a strong signal so I setup in the corridor. I brought a chair out of the room and put the laptop on a window sill and had a sound and vision Skype call to Judy. A real luxury in Puducherry. I judged this to be noteworthy and deserved to be gazetted. Something Judy said I though must be reported also (with, I might add, her permission). She said that, in the interests of the environment, after sleeping for few days on her side of the bed she then moved over to my side to save washing the sheets. Thereby saving electricity, water, soap powder and using up the sun to dry the sheets. I thought this was a great Idea and suggested she should not stop there. If she slept at the other end of the bed she would get not 2 but 4 times sheet usage. Why stop there, turn the sheets over and top and tail to get 8 times usage. She need not wash the sheets until I get home. Brilliant?
Most crows favour Brown sugar
I am prepared to admit that my assertion does lack in depth scientific evidence. Anyway, here is my basis for the statement. I had to check out of the Sun Park hotel in Puducherry at noon and as my coach did not depart until 5:30 pm I had a spare 5 plus hours to while away. Naturally my first choice was to go shopping for vital supplies to sustain me on my journey. Alas the local supermarket, Niligri’s was closed for Pongal. Second choice was Cafe des Arts for a coffee, it too had been Pongaled. As you can imagine, I was starting to panic that all my plans were coming awry. I calmed a little and went into the park and sat at the base of a statue to regroup. I was moved on – I had climbed over a fence to sit at the statue and a park keeper waved a stick at me. I went back in bounds to ruminate. (In my defence when the Parky was out of sight, twice as many people went back over the fence. I, of course, did not, I wanted to go to Hyderabad not jail.
I decided to have a coffee at the Promenade hotel on the veranda overlooking the sea. Initially I had every intention of having a coffee until I spotted a Margarita on the drinks list. That was my downfall, I don’t handle strong drink. On reflection, downfall is a strong word, more a feeling of Bon Ami came over me. (This was hitherto a French colony, so I felt a certain Bon Ami rather than a She’ll be right mate). Now we approach the nub of the tale. A couple at an adjacent table ordered 2 cups of tea. They came with a bowl of sugars and sweeteners wrapped in paper. After the couple left down came 3 crows, 2 left with brown sugar and 1 left with white. None favoured artificial sweeteners. Al that flying and squawking must use up the calories.
Hence, more crows like brown sugar than white Q.E.D.
PS Many more crows like fried rice with chicken.
Compare and contrast Sleeper trains and Sleeper busses
When I say that Sleeper buses are very similar to Sleeper trains in India, I know from bitter experience, I have sampled both.
I took a sleeper train on a previous trip to India, I did not have a bed but a seat in a sleeper compartment. The coach was still made up for sleeping as one woman did not want to wake I so I sat on the end of her bed, with 4 others. There were naturally arguments as to whose space was whose.
So, I arrived an hour early for my overnight trip to Hyderabad, just in case. The bus arrived soon after me and I met the driver. A jolly fellow who spoke very literal English. He told me if I wanted to urinate I should knock on the driver’s door and he would stop. (No toilets on board). I should explain that the trip overnight was 14 hours and there were no seats in the bus only bunk beds. One single upper and lower and one double upper and lower. 31 sleeping berths in all.
I stowed my large case in the hold and took on my small case. When you get to look at the pictures you will see that there are lots of steps up into the bus. I put my foot on the first step and the driver tut-tutted. The driver put his foot on the bottom step and held on to the rail with his left hand. OK, I thought, the penny dropped. I transferred the case to my right hand and started up. Again, this was apparently wrong. Then a second penny dropped, so I thought, tuppence and now I get it. I should take off my shoes, maybe his bus was a temple to transport where people always remove shoes before entry. (They do so before going into temples and Roman Catholic churches here also). I bent down and yes, I was stopped again. Anyway, it took four-pence before I realised that I go up using the correct hands on hand rails, sans-case (sans is French for case-less). When I alighted on the top step I was handed my case. Phew!
People soon started to climb aboard, seasoned travelers no doubt as they used the correct feet, hand, rail and bag combinations.
Now a train similarity. The lower double bunk across from me had 7 young men in it. Two tried to get in the top double but were soon asked to leave by the woman, child and husband therein. After a while 2 boys left and went to a double bunk down at the back, 2 left the bus altogether. Now, if your maths is up to scratch there are 3 left across in the double. I did not see what happened to them as the dividing curtains where drawn. All this happened while we were still at the bus-stop.
To finish the tale when I prepared to leave the bus this morning one of the original boys was there and a man I had never seen before!
Some comment on the Bargaining process – Indian style
With a few exceptions, one is generally expected to bargain for a bought item. It seems that the seller usually quotes twice as much and he expects to get. Depending on how robust one is feeling, the response is a light-hearted laugh, a smile and a few No! No!s Then the seller says “How much do you want to pay” The reply, if you are brave, is a bit below half the asking price otherwise say half the price. One usually has to go up a bit and you end up paying over the odds but not too far over the odds. You have two tricks in your arsenal.
The first is to walk away, if you are not called back you went too low. The other trick is to stick to your price and get that exact amount of money out of your wallet. You must not want change, that puts you at a disadvantage.
I hope that gives you a bit more of an insight to shopping in India. I would be interested in the results if any of you want to practice at home. Say, Woolies or Coles or Sainsburys or Tesco. Do let me know.
Café culture
I must admit to rather enjoying my visits to Café des Arts in Puducherry. Before I move to Hyderabad where some stuff has happened I should just let you know…
The Café des Arts is such a change from the normal life in Puducherry. The café is a series of rooms like lounge rooms with easy chairs and lounges (sofas). Last Sunday being a Public Holiday it was busier than usual. There was only one single chair available next to a young lady. She spoke English and when I enquired she said she was happy if I sat down. Very soon I realised why it was the last chair free as it was opposite a loudspeaker that was playing a monotonous beat style of music. So, there was only one thing to do, I turned off my hearing aids. Bliss unconfined.
Her meal came and she turned to me and I realised she was talking. I switched back into two ear stereo. This took a few seconds so I felt I had to offer an explanation. I said about the loud music and that I was deaf (l left out the other two, daft and stupid). She said it was fine, she had friends who were always turning their hearing aids off. What with the powering up the aids and the resulting explanation a good time had elapsed since the first try and she had another go. She asked if she could move the table closer to her so that she might more easily eat her lunch. I naturally said “of course”. I thought at this point that I should keep “my ears in” to save a repeat performance. She (or I) might not live long enough for another question otherwise.The second question was not long in coming. She turned to me again and said “Have you got your hearing aids switched on”? I affirmed that I had and she asked if I knew the wi-fi password. I did not but we asked the waiter. He spoke English with an Indian accent (on reflection that was not unsurprising given the location i.e. India) and rather hurriedly rattled off the password and immediately said he would come back. The young lady said ‘Did I understand what he said”, I did not – we agreed that the language was English. He came back and wrote down the password “Ilovetea”.
The most amazing part of the whole encounter was the lady saying “Have you got your hearing aids switched on” I could have been in Coffs Harbour at 15 Jensen Close and I could hear a certain other young lady saying exactly those very same words. Spooky!
At last! I am OLD!!
Whilst out for my walk on Wednesday last, I had to be helped across a road by a policeman. There are, in my defence, some mitigating circumstances.
I was trying to cross a dual carriageway, there were no lights in sight. Pedestrian crossings do not count as they only help to concentrate the aim of a road user. It was a 28-lane carriageway in each direction. There were 4 lanes marked on the road but each lane had 7 cars / busses / motorcycles / tuk-tuks / cyclists abreast. I had been stood for a minute or so when a policeman came up to me. He started a dialog. Every dialog in India starts with the same question. Which country are you from, Australia was the reply, of course. Then I thought we would cross, but no, it went like this – quoted below in full.
Q: Which country are you from?
A: Australia
Q: Where are you staying?
A: Golkonda Hotel – Mass Tank.
Q: Where do you want to go?
A: Across the road. This was one of many answers I could have given. Pearl diving was another but more about that later.
Q: Why are you in Hyderabad?
A: Tourism – Holiday.
Q: Do you have a visa?
A: Yes, electronic tourist visa issued in Syd-den-nee Allstralia. (Spoken like IOC president Juan Antonio Samaranch on 23 September 1993 when he told the world that we had won the rights to host the 2000 Olympics and optionally go broke. We did not by the way)
He looked thoughtful and I realised he was thinking. The questions over I thought he would either put me in jail or accompany me across the road. He did neither. It turns out he was a specialist in the interrogation of foreign nationals not the accompanying of old men across 56 lane roads. (Keep up – 4 x 7 x 2).
He called up a subordinate who, I found out later, was a specialist in accompanying of old men across 56 lane roads. I shook his hand and he smiled, I am sure he read my mind, the look of relief on my face must have given me away. No jail.
The crossing specialist did a great job. We arrived on the other side without a scratch. We too shook hands.
Yesterday I had a great time and saw all the sights of Hyderabad I wanted to see in one go. I forfeited my independence and took an all-day coach trip. In the coach of 20 I was, of course, the only westerner. The commentary was in Tamil and I caught the odd word. “Australian” – “Old” – “Man” – “Good-looking”. Well maybe I misheard the last one!
It was always a bit disconcerting when he talked to the coach in Tamil for 2 minutes and turned to me and said “Next is Chowmahalla Palace”
The tour guide did have a few Basil Fawlty traits. He moved the people already sat in the front row so that I could sit there. I was always led in by him to each attraction and often he beckoned me over the ropes to take better pictures. The guards seemed to accept this.
Now, I have a theory. To most attractions in India there is a two-tier price structure. To the Salar Jung Museum the cost to Indians is 65 ₹ but to non-Indians including me it is 500 ₹ plus 150 ₹ to take pictures. I never queried the hopping over the rope idea at these prices.
I had a philosophical discussion about whether or not I could pass as an Indian national. He said not, I did bow to his superior guiding knowledge. I don’t expect I was the first to make such a suggestion and I am prepared to believe that I had a better case than many. In fact, in the photos, I have uploaded, there is a group photo that I think supports my argument.
Lastly,
Pearl Diving
My long-time friend Ray was relating to me about how traumatic it is to be subjected to women’s apparel before one can gain the sanctity of a good safe men’s department in a department store.
He thought that was tough. No Ray this is tough shopping.
1. Survive in India for two weeks without getting the plague.
2. Look for a single drop pearl to hang on a chain but don’t buy the chain.
3. Find matching earrings that clip on the ear not on a stud through a minute hole in the ear.
4. Don’t buy too cheap, don’t pay too much.
5. Take a photograph of any jewellery found.
6. Remember where the shop is and how to get there.
7. Come back to hotel – reduce the photo.
8. Email the photo to a lady you have been married to for at least 25 years.
9. Await the response by email or Skype. This could be hours due to 5.5 hrs time difference.
10. This is my experience date. I have started back at item 2) twice already.
11. I think, at last, the purchasing specification has been nailed down now.
Whilst this narrative is essentially true, I have to concede that this is all of my own making.
Hyderabad is known as the City of Pearls as it has been, for centuries, where they process the pearls.
Naturally I offered to buy Judy a/ some pearls, I was in no way pressured. I knew it would not be easy but like President Kennedy said when announcing that he (and a few others) would put a man on the moon.
“We choose to buy pearls in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.
I could not have said it better myself, John F!
Pearl Diving success
You have to be made of very strong stuff to shop in Hyderabad.
I combined my daily walk with the shopping expedition for pearls. Taking into account the 6 kms of my walk and visiting 15+ shops I covered 10.2 kms before the day was out.
I, of course, did not have a purchase order (PO) from Judy only a letter of intent (LOI). I had to find pearl pendant contenders that fitted the purchasing specification. (See above under Pearl Diving).
One of the issues was that whilst all shops stocked pearls not all shops I visited stocked pearl pendants.
Slowing the process was the purchasing ritual. It went like this:
- Approach the door of the shop and wait to be noticed by the security guard.
- The security guard opens the door. One does not open the door oneself.
- One is met by a floor-walker who ascertains your requirements. I tended to give only a precis of my requirements at this stage as it will be repeated generally twice more. The purpose of this letter of intent precis (LOIP for short) is so that one is sent to the correct floor and/or counter. If the pendant department is on a higher floor the floor-walker will accompanied you in the lift. If there is no chance that the shop stocks pearl pendants you will not be told that at this point. The floor-walker walks not sells.
- The next recitation is to the head of department (HOD). One does not just front up and recite, oh! no! one sits at a chair in front of the counter and a water or coffee is brought. Now, sitting comfortably then one may begin the LOIP for the HOD. If he/she speaks English or rather, more correctly, understands one’s version of English. One can go into the full specification but often they smile and call up a young minion whose training has included understanding strange looking foreign persons in sun-hats, shorts wearing blue-walking shoes.
- I have never gained the courage to drink the water or coffee offered, on does know where it has been.
- At this point one may be shown pearl pendants or if they have none you will be shown anything else from pearl necklaces or diamond ear-rings, in fact, anything that is judged you might buy.
- In 4 out of 15 shops they had pendants and 2 fitted the LOI. These pendants were photographed for subsequent emailing to the writer of the LOI. I did explain the process I have to follow to gain approval from my principal.
- Walking and shopping took 4 and a half hours.
- Communication was established with the principal and a PO was raised.
- It is the way of things that the 2 pendants chosen from the selection were in the first shop that had any. The 5th out of 15. Armed with a PO I decided to return to the shop and effect a purchase. The shop was closing today, Sunday. The reason will be made clear.
- I decided to be one of the big spenders and engage a Tuk-tuk for the 8 km round trip (4 km out, waiting 10 minutes and 4 km back). After walking 10.2 km I thought that the extra expense was justified. I could not get the round trip for less than Aus $4 though.
- The price negotiation was hard for the pendants. I tried everything. At last, I got a 12.5% discount as a pre-wedding discount. The owner was closing the shop today for one day for his daughter’s wedding. All the staff were invited and I suggested he would be so happy for his daughter that he would want me, as a valued Australian customer, to have a discount. The assistant reluctantly agreed.
The Trials and Tribulations of Travel.
These are many and varied, let me relate some of mine.
Number 1 was getting from The Golkonda Hotel to Hyderabad airport. I talked to a Tuk-tuk driver outside the hotel. I was buoyed by the fact he wanted to use his taxi-meter. That should have sent me a warning but it did not.
I had a day or so before got a quote for 800 rupees and expected to pay roughly the same. You can imagine my chagrin when the meter stopped at 1300! That was only the start of it. Being a tuk-tuk he was not allowed up to the terminal entrance. We were stopped by a police barrier. The driver wanted to help me with my luggage the last kilometer. I told him what I thought. I offered him 1000 and no more. I pointed out it was more than my previous quote. I pointed out I had to walk the last kilometer to the airport, he knew he could not get me there but said nothing. I stuck to my guns, 1000 or nothing. Not surprisingly he took the proffered cash and motored away muttering. I went up to the police barrier and said to the sergeant, by way of introduction, “I am 70, you know, is it OK to walk to the airport”. Command clearly rested easily on his shoulders. He stopped a passing car, I did not realise immediately that it was a taxi-cab going into the airport looking for business. It had no signage indicating it was a taxi. Anyway, he got the driver to help me load my suitcases and told me the driver would not charge me anything. I was dropped 50 meters from the entrance. Great!Soon after I arrived in the terminal I asked when I could check in the luggage, I was told I could – straight away. Great so I queued up. The line was slow and it took 45 minutes to get to the front of the queue. I was told I had to queue up again as my flight was not until later. I said I knew that, I arrived early (dressed in UK warm clothes I did not want to walk about in the heat so I thought the airport air conditioning was the best bet.) Further, I said, I was told I could check in anytime. I stood there defiant. The check-in clerk relented (I did not even have to pull the age card!)
I don’t know what it is about airports but they seem to be gold mines for some.
As I had ages to fill I started by watching some TV, the 4th One-day test between Australia and Pakistan. I watched most of the match live (from Sydney on Sunday) and now I think I have seen the highlights about 5 times.
Here in India they show cricket from all over the world. They show all the T20 matches from Australia. They really are keen on their cricket.
Anyway, I was feeling peckish so I chose a Chicken Tikka (with Marsala Tea). A good price – 297 rupees. When the assistant had rung up the order it was 360 rupees – it now included taxes. I told him no thank you. It does annoy me when they advertise a price and then ask for another 17.5%. I went and had a sulk and a wash and chose something rather more modest.Another couple of hours and I will be on my way to Mumbai and thence to London.
I am assured it touched 40C here today – when I was out earlier today it was very hot. I won’t have that trouble tomorrow as it will be ONE DEGREE CENTIGRADE in Wokingham where Jeremy and Shirley live.
I fully expect some parts of me to freeze and detach – I really can’t wait.
I am not sure when I will write again as it will probably be next weekend before I thaw out!
I had hoped to upload a few last photos of India but I will have to do that from the UK now.
No new photos have been added but all the existing ones are here .
Weather!
On the day I left Hyderabad the temperature was approaching 40C. I was not impressed when the Captain of the flight to London said it was -1C when we were landing.
I did the only thing open to me, I caught a cold. I am now sitting up and taking note – very much better.
I am staying with Jeremy and Shirley in Wokingham in Berkshire, 60 kms west of London, Jeremy and I have been friends for approaching 60 years. Reading, a large town nearby, was where we met at school. Whilst here we have put up some shelves and have been electrifying.
The other day I decided to have a nostalgic trip into Reading and took the 10 minute train ride. I had a sudden desire to have a Cornish Pastie for lunch (a pastry filled with meat and potatoes). My first thought was that a supermarket might have a hot food cabinet. I tried one and they said there other branch might have one. When the lady gave me directions it started with ‘Go down Smelly Alley”. This is the name that Union Street has been known as for at least 60 years and probably much longer. It gets its name from the fish and meats shops in the alley and its narrowness that contains the odors. I saw around town a van with “Smelly Alley Fish Company” on the side!
No luck in the other branch.
My next thought was that a pub would be a good bet to find a pastie. I went to the street known as St Mary’s Butts.
In the Middle Ages, Edward IV made it compulsory for all yeomen in England to learn archery. An archery butts was set up on the land in front of the Minster Church of St Mary the Virgin. It was used by the adult males of Reading to practice on Sundays. Some of the archers who fought at the Battle of Agincourt trained at St Mary’s Butts. In 1631 the town paid £3 to have the archery grounds closed. The name has stuck.
In the St Mary’s church yard there is a gravestone that records a young man who died after being struck by lightening on a platform at Reading station.
One of my duties in my first job, back in the 60’s, meant that I had to do some banking every Monday morning so I used to escape and have a cup of coffee at the Grey Parrot, a coffee shop owned by Marianne Faithful’s Austrian mother, Eva von Sacher-Masoch, Baroness Erisso. Marianne was singer, songwriter popular in the 60’s and was with Mick Jagger for a while.
I enquired for my pastie in the Hope and Anchor in the Butts but no luck – a man followed me out of the pub and showed me the way to the Sweeney and Todd Pie shop and I was transported to Pie heaven.
The Latest Adventures
Sicily – the beautiful isle
Sicily in winter is a lovely warmish place with some beautiful sights.
We thoroughly enjoyed the mosaics that were said to be the best of their kind in the world. They were large and extensive – the craftsmanship was superb.
Our apartment was in the old town of Syracuse called Ortigia. As you saw from the images there were some lovely old buildings. There was one car park in the town that was free. It had an industrious unofficial car park attendant. He would quiz passers by if they were leaving the car park and stand in front of the vacant spot until we took it. Naturally he expected and received a tip. We never had to wait more than 5 minutes for a parking spot. Great job!
The quality of the fruit and veg was superb. We bought almonds, pistachios, blood oranges and tomatoes. We also ate some fresh and tasty fish. Sea bream, prawns, mussels and Red Snapper (we think).
We found a small supermarket with a well stocked deli counter. We always got looked after as, on the first visit, I thanked Rene for speaking English to us. (I don’t know if he was called Rene but he looked a lot like him (Gordon Kaye – ‘Allo ‘Allo)
Well than’s all folks – see you again on the next trip.
Bye, Bazza