flora: Photo of a baby penguin chick (Default)
This past weekend we went on a long distance road-trip (10 hours) to extreme western Gujarat.  We saw Gir, Jahdtapur (sp?), Diu, Junagadh, and Somnath.

Unfortunately, Gir was closed for maintenance; it was all under construction. Turns out Gir National Park closes every summer/monsoon season, and it doesn't re-open this year until October 15. They weren't letting anyone in, no matter what. The large signs proclaimed in three languages that it is a point of pride that these public servants do not accept bribes or tipping. So we may go back and try to see the Asiatic lions in November.

We visited the large, famous Hindu temple at Somnath. There has been a temple on this spot continuously since about 300 BC. The site was a frequent target of raiders. Over the centuries, a couple Muslim mosques were also built at the same location. The current temple is about 60 years old, and controversial; they razed the latest mosque to build it. Maybe that's why there are guards with automatic machine guns at the gates. The temple does not allow any kinds of photography or mobile telephones, so we left our cell phones in the car.  As with all temples, you have to take off your shoes to enter. Michael and our driver, Alkesh, were barefoot. I was wearing socks and was just fine, but when the guys stepped on the sun-heated marble in their bare feet, they moved along quickly. Somnath was also my first sight of the Indian Ocean. There's a marker where from that point south, all the way to the South Pole, is completely ocean. Michael speculated that from that point north, all the way to the north pole, might be completely land.  We walked down and dipped our hands in the water.  Farther down the beach was a camel wading in the water and a stray dog playing in the surf.

The road to Diu was okay near Somnath, and then deteriorated. Our car rolled along for a couple hours through rural fields. There were field-worker camps nearby, with tarps propped up as makeshift tents. Part of the road, including a couple bridges, was under construction and our car followed detours diversions down into dry riverbeds and back up again.  There were even a few horses; our car swerved when two of them got away from the teenage boy who was holding them. We passed many auto-rickshaws and the occasional cycle-rickshaw or camel-pulled cart, but most of the traffic was motorcycles, Tata trucks, bullock-carts, and tractors pulling huge heaps of vegetation on trailers. I still can't get used to the traffic here.  When we got into the last town in Gujarat, we were directed along the better of the two roads to Giu.  The land gradually changed, finally becoming marshy estuary.  I smelled the sea air and it reminded me of home and the Chesapeake.   We finally rolled and bumped through the potholes to the checkpoint at Diu. 

Diu is its own independent little district; it's not part of Gujarat. Gujarat is a dry state (no alcohol), and Giu is not. The bars advertised their alcohol in neon lights. But away from the tourist strip, it's a lovely little seaside village with dozens of fishing boats pulled up on land in low tide. The old fort was especially picturesque, with waves crashing on the carved stone blocks. Michael had a cute little brown calf come up to him, as friendly as a puppy, and licked at his pant legs.  We saw the sun set over the old fort.

On the way back that night, we saw some sort of local traditional procession, with men dressed in long garments and covered in red streaks (paint? blood?), all hollering and carrying bamboo sticks. Our driver said he guessed this was some kind of local tradition for Navaratri (the goddess festival). It still felt wild when the traffic stopped and the apparent mob surged through, including directly around our car, with the men shaking their staffs and all shouting some unknown language.  They moved on, then so did we.

We bumped our way back to Junadgadh and stayed a second night at the Hotel Indralok. It's a good Western-style hotel there, with bathtubs and toilet paper. Cost is around 40 dollars a night for a super-deluxe air-conditioned room.  And all the plastic wastebaskets, buckets, pitchers, etc. said "Flora" all over them. :-) We considered driving back, but our driver had been fasting all day, and been up since 6 AM and would have been driving all night.  We found out why our driver had not liked the hotel the first night. He is not normally a driver, and he had to sleep in the driver-room barracks (cramped, with bunk beds). Alkesh is a successful businessman, the owner of his car-rental business. (In India, rental cars always come with a driver.) With the holiday, Alkesh had not been able to have one of his normal employees drive, so he had to take us himself. He didn't mind too much (he likes to travel). But he had not wanted to go back to the hotel and share a room with the other drivers. So we paid for his private hotel room ($14 for a non-AC room) and he was much happier.

The next day we took a longer stroll around Junagadh's historic fort and mosque. Those were beautiful, with elaborate carvings.  Michael went down to the very bottom of the early stepwell there; I was hot and went down part way and rested in the shade.  Michael said the well reminded him of dark caverns he's seen only in dreams.  We also went into the Buddhist caves there. The pigeons were thrumming in deep tones in the underground caverns, and it gave it the right atmosphere. We saw our first cobra, a small yellow snake peeking out of the fort wall. I also saw a lovely big lizard sunning itself in a hole in the rock.

I think my husband is part mountain goat.  After the fort, he insisted we go to the nearby mountain, Girnar. There's a guru there, at the top of a staircase of what locals call 9,999 steps. Both Hindu and Jain believers make pilgrimages there and climb the steps to the top; elderly people included.  It was already afternoon, and there was no way we could even think of climbing it; but Michael went up for about 20 minutes anyway, and came back down. Alkesh marveled at his boundless energy.  I remarked on it later, and Michael says his attitude is, "What would Michael Palin do?" That sounds like the right attitude to have in this country. 
flora: Photo of a baby penguin chick (Default)
Getting there is half the trip, right? This post documents our recent time in airlines and airports.

I packed a few critical kitchen utensils, mosquito netting, insect repellent lotion, stainless-steel water bottles; I will try to post a comprehensive packing list at a later point (along with a wish-list of should-have-packed). We checked two big bags each plus 2 carryons apiece, and squeaked by the excess baggage fees. Note for the future: Know the weight/kilo limits for ALL the carriers to be traveled on. 50 pounds is the limit for American carriers. Emirates Airlines charges 30 euros per extra kilogram and the post office isn't always open or convenient. Fortunately the flight wasn't full and the person who checked our bags took pity on us and didn't charge us.

Note for the future: Assume dirty laundry will not fit and leave extra room for it. Also leave extra room for the Darling Spouse (tm) who says "oh, my bag's full, do you have room for this?" and "oh do we have a place for this book?" We were both guilty of these crimes and somehow made it all fit.

Paris gets its own post. Later, once I can link to pictures.

Emirates airlines as a carrier was pretty nice. Comfortable seats. The food was glamorous airline food (dill prawns, truffle-bechamel-sauce pasta) but it didn't really taste good. The best part was the free personal movie/entertainment system. You could view cameras for the front or underside of the plane. We watched a movie and I actually watched a couple episodes of NCIS. The entertainment user interface could've been much better designed though; for instance, it took several screens to simply adjust the volume. Also on the second flight, the screen defaulted to the main movie after only a ten-second-delay. For all the money they apparently spent on it, they could've done more in usability or user studies. Also, it was all in English; our neighbor the next seat over spoke only Arabic and he couldn't make sense of it.

We connected through the Dubai airport. That's not something I ever want to do again. For one thing, prescription sleeping pills (and a lot of other extremely commonly prescribed US drugs) are illegal in Dubai and will get you 4 years in prison. We mailed all our meds from Paris to the Fulbright house in Delhi; it cost $$$ but it sure beats jail time! Dubai had a separate security screening inside the terminal when you transferred planes, and they definitely weren't looking for explosives; didn't have to remove the ziploc of liquids or laptops. They stopped Michael and asked him questions for a couple minutes on where he was going, but they let him go. They let me go.

DBX (Dubai airport) is also a miserable place for anyone with cigarette allergies. The terminal had "smoking rooms" that had single-story glass walls that didn't block the smoke from wafting over; the whole terminal had an undercurrent of cigarette smoke. It gave me a headache but otherwise didn't trigger my cigarette-allergy migraines too badly, as I chugged water and managed to keep my food down. For some reason, the gate was closed until a half-hour before boarding, and the whole terminal aisles for several gates around it were lined with bodies of Indians lying on the floor and sleeping before the flight. We hung out at a little coffee shop that had less smoke in the background. We nibbled pastries and I read Jack Keay's History of India for a couple hours until the gate opened.

The Indian immigration/entry process was very straightforward; much improved from five years ago. For one thing, the waiting area in Indira Gandhi airport is now air conditioned (hooray!) and has its own clean, modern toilets. The airline gave us a single long half-sheet of paper Indian immigration form for use by all people entering India; we didn't have to try to figure out which form to use on our own. They also gave us a photocopied half-sheet of paper with questions on our health for the Swine Flu. We had a line for the health check when entering. The health check line used thermal imaging; the clerk took our papers and stamped them. The immigration line checked our visas and gave arrival stamp. Then we had a very welcome sight of a driver waiting for us. Yay! An enterprising Indian guy loaded up a luggage cart for us and steered us through "nothing to declare" customs. He asked for five dollars in return; we gave him a euro coin and sent him on his way.

Traffic--- well, traffic in Delhi makes me long for the quiet, orderly calm of the DC Beltway during rush hour. From the airport to the hotel, we were in bumper-to-bumper traffic that was somewhat worse than I remember five years ago. Almost all the vehicles were cars or motorcycles, not many auto-rickshaws and only a couple mopeds or Tata trucks. We saw cows on the side of the road, but they stayed out of the main traffic flow. The rules were the same as always though--biggest vehicle gets priority; lanes are a suggestion; honk if you pass by someone, so they don't swerve into you when they're dodging someone else. Lots of people playing pac-man with the lane markers, going down the dividing lines. It might have been worse than normal; this traffic jam was bad enough that a couple of the motorcycles ahead of us crossed the median and went the wrong way down the other side of the boulevard. 'Course that might be normal too.

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