My itinerary for leaving Georgia went like this:
14.9. Taxi to Tblisi airport 12.30, flight to Dubai 13.35, arrive in Dubai about 18.00. Take taxi from Terminal 1 to Holiday Inn near Terminal 3.
15.9. Shuttle to terminal 6.00, flight to Delhi 8.20.
All very simple and no need to rush. The first bit worked as planned and I was at the Tblisi airport in good time. It wasn’t very busy and I wasn’t sure where the check in counter was so I showed my ticket to a nice lady at information, and she promptly informed me I was exactly one month late to catch my flight. That was a bit of a blow as having booked it myself there was no one else to blame, not even my wife, and I could not miss my connection to Delhi where she would be waiting for me. Fortunately there were several travel agencies in the airport and I found one that had a nearly English speaking person and we started the process of getting to Dubai in time. Things were initially confused because of language but after an hour it was clear my only choice was to fly to Kiev in Ukraine and make a quickish transfer to a flight to Dubai that arrived at 2.30 a.m. For a while it seemed the only seat on Ukraine International Airlines was a ruinous one in business class but at the last minute a cheaper choice was found. This airline is a no frills variety and when you book at the last minute they know you have no choice and charge in a very frilly way.
All I can tell you about Ukraine is that the Russian missiles were inactive and from the air it looked very flat. Arrival in Kiev was on time and I was starting to relax until I hit the queue at transit security. Apparently nobody wanted to stay in Kiev and the only xray machine wasn’t too quick. Loathing and angst were predominant as we all started counting how much time was left to make our connections. A couple of French guys tried to politely move through the queue but got stuck behind me. When I finally emerged from the bureaucracy my bag was in backpack mode and I ran for a surprisingly long way and just made the last bus to the plane.
To complete the picture the airline served one glass of water per sector; the immigration queue in Dubai took over an hour to get through; the taxi driver to the hotel was extremely upset he wasn’t taking me a long way and I got two hours sleep before making it to Delhi and finding Kay.
All of which is a long intro to our three week Best Exotic Fabric Tour in India. This tour is an annual event organised by Jane in Hamilton to raise money for the education of her deceased sister’s children – she was married to a very nice Indian man named Bhooi and he is keen for the three children to be educated in NZ. They are at Hillcrest High. This is my fifth, and Kay’s fourth trip to India and although it covered familiar territory I was happy to go because the local connections mean you get to do and see stuff you never would in an normal tour. Bhooi organised the itinerary and although there was an emphasis on fabrics we also did a carefully selected group of sights. We were mostly in Rajasthan where everything associated with fabrics is a major industry and I qualified because last time there I bought nine bedspreads.
Our group was about twenty persons, it varied, and there were only three men. We knew a little less than half of those and some of them read these stories so I have to be careful in my reporting. In fact it was a pretty good group with no standout wallies but three weeks all together is a long time and I am sure everyone else was like me and at times suppressed the desire to be a bit forceful. The good thing about having my first real tour group experience in India is that in that there you have to become extremely philosophic and patient about everything. If you stay in normal mode you’ll end up terminally frustrated, and I was ready and mentally prepared for that so it was easy to extend this attitude to dealing with all the other people. You may be surprised to know I was not even tempted to explain the realities of issues like religion, alternative medicine or geopolitics.
Our main transport was a big bus that had air conditioning and also little fans above the passenger windows, which converted to a blunt instrument when we hit big bumps that made one ascend vertically. We all got quite fond of our bus which was a haven of comfort and predictability after being in the chaos outside. The driver started smiling at us after Bhooi told him he was not allowed to accept commission from the places we stopped at, but he would get a substantial tip if all went well. His assistant, Sanjay, was a favourite of the ladies because he was polite, helpful and had a wide range of shirts including a special kurta for Diwali. We had the delight of being in Jodphur for Diwali and for a couple of days locals had been warming up with sporadic outbreaks of loud fireworks. On the big night it sounded like the Pakistanis had crossed the nearby border and were engaging in street fighting as well as significant artillery bombardment. Our driver dealt very competently with the excitement of driving in Indian traffic including pulling off u-turns, several times in the face of heavy traffic. It was fun watching and listening to our group’s reactions to what goes on on Indian roads. Although you still get occasional livestock on major roads and people going the wrong way on one way lanes, traffic behavior has improved. I think the huge increase in private car ownership plus some better roads have helped, although in the cities it is still every man, bicycle, auto and pedal rickshaw, car, truck, bus, cow, cart and motor bike for itself. Apparently there are 5.5 million motor bikes in Delhi.
Secondary transport has been auto rickshaws, jeeps and assorted people mover things. The jeeps took us out of Jodphur to have dinner and entertainment at a house owned by a lady whose block printing clothing workshop we had visited. It was hot and sunny when we left so I got in first to ensure we were in a jeep with a roof and forward facing back seats. Which promptly backfired on us when at the first corner we loudly blew a tire and then got jammed into the back of an uncovered jeep that seemed to have no suspension. My view was backwards and the front tires of the following jeep made an interesting pattern as they turned with alternating bald black rubber and whatever has replaced canvas under that. I love driving in auto rickshaws because death always appears to be imminent but so far it hasn’t happened. Watching the newcomers reactions to the proximity of the other traffic was very amusing. We also flew to and from Varanasi and the to flight was supposed to leave at 6.15 p.m. but when we checked in, much later than I would have done, we found out it was leaving at 5 and was now on the runway. I was delighted when we were then told that as we were carry on luggage only they would call it back, however we still had to do security and catch the boarding bus so when we all filed on the other passengers looked just a bit annoyed at the extra half hour of waiting. There was no abuse.
In all the time I have spent in India I must have walked peacefully past hundreds of cows and bulls doing their sacred thing getting in everybody’s way. So it came as a great surprise when walking amicably down a street in Mandawa to suddenly feel a significant pain in my right thigh, I jumped back to see the attacker was a grumpy bull which thankfully had rounded points on his horns. Everyone else thought it was very funny. This was the first town on our tour and although it has interesting attractions it is not in the top division. We arrived in the dark in front of our hotel which was covered in flashing lights and surrounded by people enjoying a big celebration complete with extremely LOUD music which permeated every part of the hotel. One of our party had arrived a couple of days late because when she got to Auckland airport she discovered her passport was still in her photocopier in Turangi. So she got off the plane in Delhi, had very little sleep, endured a day of rough roads in the bus and was looking forward to a quiet lie down only to find this bedlam, which was for her far too much to cope with. The rest of us joined in the fun as there was no other choice and it was all over by midnight.
Our next celebration was a double birthday including Kay which was held on the rooftop of our hotel in Jaisalmer with magnificent views of the wonderful fortress, and a couple of bottles of local bubbly and some red and white. When we first left Delhi our bus stopped for a very long time on bridge while we waited for Bhooi and later l learnt the delay was mainly due to his determination to buy the bubbly despite it being a dry day in Delhi. India is still a bit funny about booze but there are alternatives in the government owned bhang shops, or the community we visited who don’t drink alcohol but do drink a mixture of water and opium. None of us were game enough to try it, because it was before lunch and one doesn’t do such things in the morning. When in Pushkar we had the top floor of a nice hotel to ourselves which allowed the sneaky consumption of banned booze. This place is so holy you can’t even get an egg, let alone a bottle. The local wine we had was acceptable and after a hard hot day’s work the Kingfisher is exactly right and management made sure a supply was available.
But the main activity has been shopping. Sometimes from shops, sometimes after seeing things like block fabric printing or weaving and always at every opportunity. We had to buy a new and large case about halfway through as have many others and I shudder at what that is going to cost to get home. There has to be an upwards blip in the Indian retail stats. It’s been like watching a swarm of locusts, which I never have but I’ve seen them on the telly. Right to the very end of the tour they unflinchingly kept going. The best one to observe is married to famous sunken sailor and her first language is Spanish. She would emphatically say she would not buy anything today and then surrender the moment something tempting was flung in front of her. I only have four new shirts and a half share in four carpets. So far.
All the spending was made easy by the Bhooi bank. He doled out cash on request and at the end of the tour we paid in U.S. cash or transfer to his NZ account. We all won by not paying the usual fees and didn’t have worries of finding a suitable ATM or a money changer. Bhooi has admitted that the bank suffered under the pressure of unexpectedly high demand due to the level of spending. We also had no worries about tipping because it was all included which I certainly really appreciated. There is nothing worse than having no idea of what the tip should be and never being certain if you’re a mug for paying too much or a miserable NZer who never pays enough. It was fun swanning out of the toilet stop places on the road and saying to the person with their hand out “Group. Bhooi.”
This is not an expensive trip, excluding shopping, and the hotels have been from good Indian mid range to a step below. They are a reflection of India in that they do the job but not always as expected. Usually something doesn’t work, like the hot water or light switches. Some of us have been rather critical of the cleaning standards and reckon they have to scrub out the bathrooms, but Kay and I have had a lucky run and even had a good room in the building project we stayed in in Udaipur. We had great views of the Lake Palace but some of the others had to be shifted to another hotel. All came right with plentiful drinks on the roof with its fantastic views over the lake. We are presently back in Delhi and the guest house here seemed a bit of a dump when we first arrived but now it’s just normal with the only problem being no hot water, which is not a big deal given how warm it is. Apparently we should have some soon. Yeah….
India is still a place of huge contrasts, illogical inefficiencies and bureaucratic nonsense. Right from the visa application which wants your father’s place of birth to the triple carbon paper invoices you can only wonder at the time wasted achieving nothing useful. Convenience stores are a real rarity and we have seen no supermarkets which reflects a retail scene where apparently 40 percent of fresh produce rots before it is sold. This is just an example of what happens with several layers of venal self-serving politicians plus vested interest groups plus an innate dislike of change. On the roads there are two truck brands, both local, both owned by powerful companies that don’t want competition, and both making a product that probably wouldn’t be allowed on the roads in western countries. I am really surprised at the levels of pollution we have seen and the trucks wouldn’t be helping. But it also is still the most interesting country in the world to visit with genuinely friendly people who don’t always turn out to own a shop, and there is a sense of humour close to the surface. Even with beggars. My usual response to the fully formed ones is to hold out my altered right hand and make whatever imploring noise they are making, and once when I did this the beggar put the coins she was showing into my hand and looked at me probably saying two can play that game. And the food is great.
Now for the very first time, and exclusively here, we reproduce a poem in rhythmic whatsit by K J
A bus full of ladies touring with flair
With Dennis and Tony and Terry and Blair
Guided by Boohi, accompanied by Jane
In rickshaw, on camel across the terrain
Now Nikko is here and she has the art
Of stopping a plane just about to depart
At sunrise and sunset we take photographs
And some of each other dressed up just for laughs
At least twice a day we scoop up yum curries
And once, off in jeeps, we saw and bought durries
When given the chance we shop up a storm
Overnight tailormades picked up in the morn
We’re decked out in jewels grabbed at various stops
And colorful pants with decorative tops
Handmade decorations to take home for a friend
Heavier rugs we’ve just had to send
Dozens of scarves, soft pashminas and shawls
Hurrah! Bank of Bhooi will pay for it all.
KJ