Soooo… I’m bad at updating. That’s well established. My dreams of being a travel writer are slowly dying with the realization that good travel adventures are not conducive to regular updates. Or I just have commitment issues and an inclination to sleep away my downtime.
I’m in Greece! Specifically in Crete (more specifically in Iraklio, even more specifically in a bus station waiting for the 7:30am bus to Rythmno), having just disembarked an overnight ferry from Athens. I arrived in Greece Saturday afternoon after a sad goodbye to Egypt and the tour crew, and the last few days have been some much-needed sleep, a walking tour around Athens including the Acropolis and Parthenon, an adventure to the post office, and lots of wandering around markets and eating delicious souvlaki.
I suppose I should go back to the places I’ve left off (Dammit I think I’m still working on the tail end of Nepal. Feels like years ago now!), but I think I might go off on a different tangent. Besides, my feet are killing me from all the walking we (me plus Cat from Brooklyn/Paris) did yesterday and I think I might spend much of today laying low, so hopefully I can hash out some of the dates and details of the trip then.
The more I travel the more I feel like Vancouver isn’t home. It’s not a nice feeling, not knowing where home is. And I know it’s home for now, but it’s starting to feel like it’s not home /;’’’’’’’’’’’’’.iuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu]\[
That last paragraph was courtesy of the cute white and orange cat that’s clamoured up onto my lap for some snuggles (and then onto my keyboard for some messages of her own). Two other people tried to pick her up with no luck, and instead she came over and climbed up on me. Cute! Less cute is my cardigan now covered with cat hair, but I needed to do laundry anyway. C’est la vie!
Maybe home is just wherever there’s a cat or dog that loves you. Which brings me back to Vancouver (well, Mission) being my “now” home, as it’s where all the things I identify with home (friends, family, Jack, house, work opportunities, car, etc etc) are. But the more I think about it, the less it feels like somewhere I could or would want to live forever.
So what I’m left with is a weird kind of homelessness. I don’t know where home is supposed to be, but I think it involves sun and sand and saltwater, and I think I’ll have to keep looking.
I’ve never understood why people don’t live at the places they dream to vacation. If you work hard all year to save up enough money to go somewhere beautiful, you’re doing it wrong. Granted, many beachy places are in developing countries with fewer opportunities than those that we have at home, but what’s the price of happiness? I’d happily take a paycut if it meant I could dig my toes into sand everyday.
I’ve been feeling very un-Canadian, in that Vancouver is the nicest, warmest place in Vancouver and it’s still too rainy and cold for my taste. I can’t imagine living in a place that’s cold and dark and rainy for 3/4 of the year. And I don’t think I’d live in the US. So what I’m left with is somewhere far away from all the things I currently identify as home. And it’s scary to think that if I moved to say, Australia, I wouldn’t be regularly seeing all the people I love.
K now the cat is biting me. She just got a lot more playful and a lot more annoying. But she’s still cute.
But it’s cool to think I’d be living in the future.
K the cat just farted. That’s my cue to pack this up and head to my bus.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Logistic shiz
Hi readers (aka mom),
The following two posts
Day 15 – Road to Nepal
Day 19 – From Pokhara to Kathmandu
are now up, but backdated prior to the most recent post to keep them chronological. Feel free to go back and have a look if you're interested. :)
Cheers!
The following two posts
Day 15 – Road to Nepal
Day 19 – From Pokhara to Kathmandu
are now up, but backdated prior to the most recent post to keep them chronological. Feel free to go back and have a look if you're interested. :)
Cheers!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Day 21 – Things could always be worse…
Please note: I've got some posts that will be backdated before this one that aren't yet posted. I'm happy to be doing something in realtime, so I opted to post this now. In the next day or two the in-betweens should be up, so if you're trying to read them all you'll need to look back before this one. :)
“In India, sometimes you have to surrender before you win.” - Shantaram
You know, I’m pretty proud of myself. Yeah I might be a little teary, and I sure could go for some Canada right now, but all things considered I’m doing ok. This very well could have been the night from hell, but I (mostly) kept my cool, and considering this is the first time I’m actually alone in India (the first two days in Delhi don’t count as “alone,” as I had a direct transfer to my hotel and then I buddied up with Michael immediately), I’m not so bad at this after all.
Dinesh gave me recommendations on places to stay in Mumbai, namely the Colaba section of Mumbai, and I did an online search for hotels in Colaba. Found a three star place called the Hotel Pearl Residency in Colaba for only Rs 1695 (about $41 CDN), that included breakfast and an airport transfer, and made a booking just for tonight. Saved a screenshot of the receipt to Evernote, copied the confirmation number and hotel address into my iPod, and then looked for a phone number. Nada. Google for ten minutes looking for a phone number. Still nada. Oh well.
Got into Mumbai shortly after 10pm and it’s hot and sticky (28 degrees C). I’m hauling around all my luggage looking for the prepay taxi booth, and I’m already getting pestered by cab drivers. Luckily I know how to handle this now, thanks to Delhi and Kathmandu, and basically every other city I’ve been to on this trip, and I stick to my gut rather than follow the pesky cab driver that won’t leave me alone.
I prepay for my cab (Rs 180) and head to the line of taxis. In India, the answer to “Do you know where this hotel is?” is always “Yes,” regardless of whether or not this is remotely true. A guy that looks way too young to be driving legally is behind the wheel, and for some reason there’s another dude in the front seat. Driver Guy doesn’t speak any English, and Other Dude is hammering on about Rs 1000. I probably should have been on the ball enough to not get into a cab with two dudes, but I just wanted to get to the hotel.
“Do you have 1000 rupees?”
“No. I prepaid.”
“Yes I know but do you have 1000 rupees?”
“No. Why are you asking me for 1000 rupees? I prepaid.”
“Yes I know but do you have change for 1000 rupees? My driver he need fuel.”
“What? No, I don’t have 1000 rupees or change for 1000 rupees.”
“Yes you do.”
“Uhhh no I don’t.”
“Please check.”
“NO. I DON’T HAVE CHANGE FOR 1000 RUPEES. STOP ASKING ME.”
“Ok ok ok. But do you have change for 1000 rupees?”
Meanwhile, Driver Guy is repeatedly asking in super broken English where the hotel is, despite having already shown him the address several times. I show him the address again. “I no speak English, I don’t know.” Oh! Sorry, just let me translate that into Hindi sanskrit for you, silly me.
Driver Guy pulls over and Other Guy finally gives up the 1000 rupee battle and gets out of the cab, telling me that Driver Guy will take me there. I don’t know whether he legitimately needed change for a 1000 bill (because people are fussy about taking them, even though they’re only worth about $25 CDN), or if he was going to swap me for a fake bill, or if he was going to try to rob me, but I’m glad I stuck to my guns.
Then Driver Guy asks again where the hotel is. I tell him to take me back to the airport. After some protesting, he drives back to the cab stand, where a group of security guards and taxi drivers gather around to yell at each other in Hindi about where I’m supposed to be going. One guard is trying to get me back in the same cab, but I argue and demand a different driver, because this one’s already sketched me out and he has absolutely no idea where I’m supposed to be going. I get a new driver, this time with a fairly good grasp on English, and he tells me he knows exactly where the hotel is. I know this is an outrageous lie, but I think he’ll get me there, and it’s better than the other driver.
New Driver stops to ask for directions several times along the way, which I’ve become used to. The streets are poorly marked, addresses include things like “near ICICI Bank ATM,” and there are hundreds of hotels. If I were going to a big name hotel it’d be no problem, but when it’s little hole-in-the-wall joints you can’t expect them to know right away where you need to be. He starts getting frustrated and tells me to call them. I remind him that he’s the taxi driver and it’s his responsibility to find the place I need to be, especially since he told me he knew where it was.
Finally we find Pearl Residency, and I drag my stuff into the muggy lobby. I give my confirmation number and the guy has nothing for me. Awesome. Pull out the laptop and show him the screenshot confirmation page. Nope, I don’t have a reservation there. And I paid in full. And there’s no room in the hotel. Just great.
Reception Guy calls some woman and eventually hands me his cellphone to talk to her. She doesn’t have any room for me there, but I can go to some other hotel for Rs 2200. I have no idea if these people are scamming me or not, so I ask Reception Guy to call me a cab to take me back to the airport where there were hotel counters on my way out. Then he tells me that he does have a room and I can have it for Rs 1500. No thanks, cab please.
Outside, there’s more kafuffle over where I’m supposed to be and whether or not I have a reservation. Then someone suggests that there’s another Pearl Residency in Colaba. What? I’m not in Colaba? I specifically booked from a site advertising hotels in Colaba and looked at the Colaba hotels. Ohhhhhh fantastic.
There’s a younger (and pretty cute!) Indian guy with a weird accent who steps in to help. I find out he’s from Australia but here on holidays, and he makes a couple of phone calls. He can’t tell if there’s another Pearl Residency in Colaba, and he agrees with me that my best bet is to just go back to the airport and start again. The cab driver wants Rs 250 to take me back to the airport, even though I only paid 180 to get to the hotel, and Aussie Guy barters him down to 150 for me. So grateful to that guy (and the cute little benny – benny/beni/benni / however it’s spelt is Nepali for “sister,” but is used to address any younger girl, like a waitress – with him). Definitely nice to have a helping hand when I needed one.
Get in the cab and the driver is offering to show me hotels. They get a commission from the hotels, so they’re more than happy to wait outside for free in case it nets them a sale. He takes me to the Travellers Inn, which we had passed on the way in and I was going to investigate tomorrow anyway, and I go in to check rates.
The lobby is clean enough, but somehow I still have the foresight to ask to see the room first. Gold star for me on that one! He shows me the room and at first glance it’s ok, but there’s something on the bed near where the blanket folds over. I lift the blanket and it starts to move. A cockroach. On the bed. Yeeeeeaaaaaah no, no thanks.
Then I bend down to tie my shoe and I see two more cockroaches in the sheets. I haven’t even been in the room for 15 seconds. Bellboy is looking at me like I’m crazy for suggesting that there’s something wrong with bugs being in the room.
Back in the cab and back to the airport we go.
At the airport, I’m trying to weave my way back into Arrivals to get to the hotel counters. A dude stops me and offers me a hotel for like Rs 4500 (over $100 CDN). Noooooo I want cheap cheap cheap, especially since I’m already out $40 for my non-existent hotel reservation. He says that all the hotel counters inside the airport are for expensive hotels, which is probably true, and he offers me a cheaper one. Rs 2200 total, including free wifi and taxi. Done deal.
Get here to Le Grande, check the room (cockroach free!!), and pay to stay. It’s definitely nothing special, but it’s amazing how quickly you lower your standards when abroad. At home you couldn’t pay me to sleep in a room like this, but when in India, and especially when you drive past the slums to get somewhere, you start to think that things like a clean safe bed are all you need. Things like wifi and hot water and free breakfast are bonuses!
I’m sick with a runny nose and a bad cough, my ears haven’t cleared from the flight and I can barely hear anything, but today was definitely a success. Leaving Kathmandu this morning was an experience all on its own.
Three security checkpoints, all with x-ray scanners and pat-downs! At the second checkpoint, the most thorough of the three, the cute Nepali security woman discovered a kilt pin in my jewelry bag, which I hadn’t even considered to be contraband. Expecting her to throw it out, which would have been completely fair as it’s a three-inch-long safety pin, she giggles, leans in close to me, and pins in through my scarf and shirt. Then she tucks my scarf over it, puts her fingers to her lips and says “Shhhh!”
When I get to the gate for our flight, the security guard shyly starts striking up a conversation with me. I say that Nepal is beautiful, and he turns bright red and whispers “You are beautiful.” Awww! Love Nepal. Not Kathmandu, mind you, but Pokhara is all sorts of awesome and I’d definitely go back. And the people are so sweet and genuine, in every city.
Then when I got into Delhi, I said goodbye to Steen and Louise, picked up my bag and went back through security. The Delhi airport is actually really nice, and ridiculously clean. I didn’t see much of it when I first arrived here, but as I have a six or so hour layover on Friday night in the airport I’m not dreading it at all. Found my gate and took a seat next to a middle-aged man and we struck up a conversation. He’s from South Africa and was in Delhi for a conference. He’s the CEO for all of Africa for the charity Focus on the Family, and his job lets him travel a lot. Super interesting guy, and we swapped cards so I’ll shoot him an email later on. Dr. Amon Kasambala. Fancy!
Checked my email and there's a message saying that my attempted reservation for Pearl Residency was cancelled and my money was refunded, which was a treat to find. While I planned to dispute the charge, I didn't think I'd see a refund, so it's nice that it's already done!
I’m behind on entries for the past few days, but I should probably hit the hay. I’m hoping to get over this cold soon, so I think I’ll be taking it really easy tomorrow. Two weeks of rushrushrush touring in big, dirty, dusty cities has taken its toll, and while Mumbai is as big, dirty and dusty as the others, at least I can slow down my pace, even if the city is whirring by.
“In India, sometimes you have to surrender before you win.” - Shantaram
You know, I’m pretty proud of myself. Yeah I might be a little teary, and I sure could go for some Canada right now, but all things considered I’m doing ok. This very well could have been the night from hell, but I (mostly) kept my cool, and considering this is the first time I’m actually alone in India (the first two days in Delhi don’t count as “alone,” as I had a direct transfer to my hotel and then I buddied up with Michael immediately), I’m not so bad at this after all.
Dinesh gave me recommendations on places to stay in Mumbai, namely the Colaba section of Mumbai, and I did an online search for hotels in Colaba. Found a three star place called the Hotel Pearl Residency in Colaba for only Rs 1695 (about $41 CDN), that included breakfast and an airport transfer, and made a booking just for tonight. Saved a screenshot of the receipt to Evernote, copied the confirmation number and hotel address into my iPod, and then looked for a phone number. Nada. Google for ten minutes looking for a phone number. Still nada. Oh well.
Got into Mumbai shortly after 10pm and it’s hot and sticky (28 degrees C). I’m hauling around all my luggage looking for the prepay taxi booth, and I’m already getting pestered by cab drivers. Luckily I know how to handle this now, thanks to Delhi and Kathmandu, and basically every other city I’ve been to on this trip, and I stick to my gut rather than follow the pesky cab driver that won’t leave me alone.
I prepay for my cab (Rs 180) and head to the line of taxis. In India, the answer to “Do you know where this hotel is?” is always “Yes,” regardless of whether or not this is remotely true. A guy that looks way too young to be driving legally is behind the wheel, and for some reason there’s another dude in the front seat. Driver Guy doesn’t speak any English, and Other Dude is hammering on about Rs 1000. I probably should have been on the ball enough to not get into a cab with two dudes, but I just wanted to get to the hotel.
“Do you have 1000 rupees?”
“No. I prepaid.”
“Yes I know but do you have 1000 rupees?”
“No. Why are you asking me for 1000 rupees? I prepaid.”
“Yes I know but do you have change for 1000 rupees? My driver he need fuel.”
“What? No, I don’t have 1000 rupees or change for 1000 rupees.”
“Yes you do.”
“Uhhh no I don’t.”
“Please check.”
“NO. I DON’T HAVE CHANGE FOR 1000 RUPEES. STOP ASKING ME.”
“Ok ok ok. But do you have change for 1000 rupees?”
Meanwhile, Driver Guy is repeatedly asking in super broken English where the hotel is, despite having already shown him the address several times. I show him the address again. “I no speak English, I don’t know.” Oh! Sorry, just let me translate that into Hindi sanskrit for you, silly me.
Driver Guy pulls over and Other Guy finally gives up the 1000 rupee battle and gets out of the cab, telling me that Driver Guy will take me there. I don’t know whether he legitimately needed change for a 1000 bill (because people are fussy about taking them, even though they’re only worth about $25 CDN), or if he was going to swap me for a fake bill, or if he was going to try to rob me, but I’m glad I stuck to my guns.
Then Driver Guy asks again where the hotel is. I tell him to take me back to the airport. After some protesting, he drives back to the cab stand, where a group of security guards and taxi drivers gather around to yell at each other in Hindi about where I’m supposed to be going. One guard is trying to get me back in the same cab, but I argue and demand a different driver, because this one’s already sketched me out and he has absolutely no idea where I’m supposed to be going. I get a new driver, this time with a fairly good grasp on English, and he tells me he knows exactly where the hotel is. I know this is an outrageous lie, but I think he’ll get me there, and it’s better than the other driver.
New Driver stops to ask for directions several times along the way, which I’ve become used to. The streets are poorly marked, addresses include things like “near ICICI Bank ATM,” and there are hundreds of hotels. If I were going to a big name hotel it’d be no problem, but when it’s little hole-in-the-wall joints you can’t expect them to know right away where you need to be. He starts getting frustrated and tells me to call them. I remind him that he’s the taxi driver and it’s his responsibility to find the place I need to be, especially since he told me he knew where it was.
Finally we find Pearl Residency, and I drag my stuff into the muggy lobby. I give my confirmation number and the guy has nothing for me. Awesome. Pull out the laptop and show him the screenshot confirmation page. Nope, I don’t have a reservation there. And I paid in full. And there’s no room in the hotel. Just great.
Reception Guy calls some woman and eventually hands me his cellphone to talk to her. She doesn’t have any room for me there, but I can go to some other hotel for Rs 2200. I have no idea if these people are scamming me or not, so I ask Reception Guy to call me a cab to take me back to the airport where there were hotel counters on my way out. Then he tells me that he does have a room and I can have it for Rs 1500. No thanks, cab please.
Outside, there’s more kafuffle over where I’m supposed to be and whether or not I have a reservation. Then someone suggests that there’s another Pearl Residency in Colaba. What? I’m not in Colaba? I specifically booked from a site advertising hotels in Colaba and looked at the Colaba hotels. Ohhhhhh fantastic.
There’s a younger (and pretty cute!) Indian guy with a weird accent who steps in to help. I find out he’s from Australia but here on holidays, and he makes a couple of phone calls. He can’t tell if there’s another Pearl Residency in Colaba, and he agrees with me that my best bet is to just go back to the airport and start again. The cab driver wants Rs 250 to take me back to the airport, even though I only paid 180 to get to the hotel, and Aussie Guy barters him down to 150 for me. So grateful to that guy (and the cute little benny – benny/beni/benni / however it’s spelt is Nepali for “sister,” but is used to address any younger girl, like a waitress – with him). Definitely nice to have a helping hand when I needed one.
Get in the cab and the driver is offering to show me hotels. They get a commission from the hotels, so they’re more than happy to wait outside for free in case it nets them a sale. He takes me to the Travellers Inn, which we had passed on the way in and I was going to investigate tomorrow anyway, and I go in to check rates.
The lobby is clean enough, but somehow I still have the foresight to ask to see the room first. Gold star for me on that one! He shows me the room and at first glance it’s ok, but there’s something on the bed near where the blanket folds over. I lift the blanket and it starts to move. A cockroach. On the bed. Yeeeeeaaaaaah no, no thanks.
Then I bend down to tie my shoe and I see two more cockroaches in the sheets. I haven’t even been in the room for 15 seconds. Bellboy is looking at me like I’m crazy for suggesting that there’s something wrong with bugs being in the room.
Back in the cab and back to the airport we go.
At the airport, I’m trying to weave my way back into Arrivals to get to the hotel counters. A dude stops me and offers me a hotel for like Rs 4500 (over $100 CDN). Noooooo I want cheap cheap cheap, especially since I’m already out $40 for my non-existent hotel reservation. He says that all the hotel counters inside the airport are for expensive hotels, which is probably true, and he offers me a cheaper one. Rs 2200 total, including free wifi and taxi. Done deal.
Get here to Le Grande, check the room (cockroach free!!), and pay to stay. It’s definitely nothing special, but it’s amazing how quickly you lower your standards when abroad. At home you couldn’t pay me to sleep in a room like this, but when in India, and especially when you drive past the slums to get somewhere, you start to think that things like a clean safe bed are all you need. Things like wifi and hot water and free breakfast are bonuses!
I’m sick with a runny nose and a bad cough, my ears haven’t cleared from the flight and I can barely hear anything, but today was definitely a success. Leaving Kathmandu this morning was an experience all on its own.
Three security checkpoints, all with x-ray scanners and pat-downs! At the second checkpoint, the most thorough of the three, the cute Nepali security woman discovered a kilt pin in my jewelry bag, which I hadn’t even considered to be contraband. Expecting her to throw it out, which would have been completely fair as it’s a three-inch-long safety pin, she giggles, leans in close to me, and pins in through my scarf and shirt. Then she tucks my scarf over it, puts her fingers to her lips and says “Shhhh!”
When I get to the gate for our flight, the security guard shyly starts striking up a conversation with me. I say that Nepal is beautiful, and he turns bright red and whispers “You are beautiful.” Awww! Love Nepal. Not Kathmandu, mind you, but Pokhara is all sorts of awesome and I’d definitely go back. And the people are so sweet and genuine, in every city.
Then when I got into Delhi, I said goodbye to Steen and Louise, picked up my bag and went back through security. The Delhi airport is actually really nice, and ridiculously clean. I didn’t see much of it when I first arrived here, but as I have a six or so hour layover on Friday night in the airport I’m not dreading it at all. Found my gate and took a seat next to a middle-aged man and we struck up a conversation. He’s from South Africa and was in Delhi for a conference. He’s the CEO for all of Africa for the charity Focus on the Family, and his job lets him travel a lot. Super interesting guy, and we swapped cards so I’ll shoot him an email later on. Dr. Amon Kasambala. Fancy!
Checked my email and there's a message saying that my attempted reservation for Pearl Residency was cancelled and my money was refunded, which was a treat to find. While I planned to dispute the charge, I didn't think I'd see a refund, so it's nice that it's already done!
I’m behind on entries for the past few days, but I should probably hit the hay. I’m hoping to get over this cold soon, so I think I’ll be taking it really easy tomorrow. Two weeks of rushrushrush touring in big, dirty, dusty cities has taken its toll, and while Mumbai is as big, dirty and dusty as the others, at least I can slow down my pace, even if the city is whirring by.
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