Programmer: Outsource Thyself

...the rain is gone

2007-10-16T11:55:00.000-07:00

I've had my first check-up. I had no trouble reading the chart, and a bonus extra small line was revealed. I made a decent job of reading that, which means that my vision is now better than 20/20, or 6/6 in metric. It is more like 20/10, which means that I can make out detail at twenty feet that someone with normal vision could discern at ten feet. The downside at the moment is that I am not allowed to wash from the neck up for another two days. The main problem is salt encrusted eyelashes. I can't wait until I am allowed to rinse them! On a positive note, I bought myself a pair of Oakley sunglasses to wear in place of the less than glamourous shades that the surgery provided. It is nice being able to buy any sunglasses without bothering about prescription lenses. One of my fellow surgery victims was there for a check-up too. She was literally jumping for joy when she left. This kind of surgery reminds us jaded souls just what wonderful things are available to us in the 21at century. Give me my flying car, and a portable fusion reactor, and I'll be a happy man.

I can see clearly now...

2007-10-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a while. Mainly because I haven't been up to much outside of work. Almost half a year ago, I enquired about laser eye surgery. This was after my latest pair of glasses was demolished by my daughter. I had a preliminary examination around then, and was told that my eyes were suitable. However, the surgeon in question is frequently out on the lecture tour, so I wasn't able to have the operation performed. Then I went on holiday to the UK, and had more or less forgotten about the surgery.

Last Saturday I received a phone call asking if I could attend the surgery. When? 3pm. OK. When I got there we had a quick eye test, which confirmed that my prescription hadn't changed. Then I was asked if I wanted the surgery. Yes. Tomorrow? When? Noon. OK. That was a pretty quick turnaround!

So I came in a midday on Sunday. They were a bit behind schedule, so San and I headed off for lunch. She had her South Indian treat of Idlis, whilst I had a Gobi Jal Frezi. It was excellent. Refreshed, we returned to the surgery, and I began the first of a long course of eye-drops. There are three separate drops to take, and I had one of each regularly prior to the operation. Then I was called in. You lie down on a padded bench, with an indentation for your head. Then the blinken-lights technology is maneuvered into place. It all takes place quite rapidly. First some strips of clear plastic are placed over an eye. Next a clamp is placed which prevents you from blinking. A vacuum device is then placed over your eye, once the vacuum is present your vision is lost. Then the scary bit happens. They need to slice a flap from your cornea, so that the laser can work on the underlying structure of your eye. It sounds and feels a bit unpleasant. Not painful in any way, just a bit icky. After that your vision is prety blurry, so it is not so scary, and then comes the laser. You can make out all sorts of interference patterns. It like a FPS computer game when you pass a security check. The laser stage takes all of five seconds. You can smell burning eye though. After that they fold the cornea flap back, and it's time for the next eye. Quarter of an hour and you're done.

Except you still have to wait around for more eye-drops, and a vision check at the end. I was first of our group to have the surgery, so the others asked how it went. I think my dislike of having things held close to my eyes made them more nervous! One of the girls did think my Ray Charles goggles made me look handsome though, Another four or five courses of eye-drops and it was time to have my sight tested. Despite having slightly sore eyes, and a bit of exected fogginess, I was able to read the bottom line of the eye chart, where before I could barely make out the enormous

A
at the top.

With that I was sent of home with a pack of eye-drops. Three drops an hour for the first evening, before reducong to a more sane four times a day regime. I went to lie down in a darkened room for an hour or so. After more darkness, rest, and eye-drops, my eyes were feeling much more comfortable by 9pm. I suspect I'm not up for a full day in front of a computer tomorrow though. My experience has been a good one. Messing with your eyes is always going to be somewhat sobering, but I am happy with the results so far...

Cockroach in Ear

2007-08-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

Last night I stayed up past midnight watching England give India a good hammering in the cricket. All of a sudden my wife came out of the bedroom, bent over double, screaming, and generally freaking out. Turns out a cockroach has crawled into her ear. Not unreasonably she asks me to extract it. Cue a search for some tweezers. They are eventually found, but it is no use. The beastie has obviously crawled deep into her ear as it is not to be found. More freaking out suggests that it is still alive and scuttling though. A few more probes with the tweezers only succeed in retrieving a tiny bit of shell.

After giving up on the tweezers I fallback to the trusty internet. Googling for 'insect ear' brings up some useful links. They suggest not poking things in the ear. Ooops. They do suggest turning the affected ear upwards. San is reluctant to do this, and it seems to lead to an increase in insect activity. Next suggestion is to pour oil in the ear. Two search results suggest the same thing - that's as good as medical fact in my book. The first oil I find in the kitchen is mustard oil - probably bad. More searching reveals some corn oil. I tip some in. The cockroach doesn't bob to the top, but on the plus side it appears to have drowned. No scuttling means no more freaking out.

It's half past midnight by now and we need to find a professional to remove the carcass. Our daughter is asleep so we don't want to wake her. Fortunately we live in an apartment block with 24 hour watchmen, and one of them agrees to babysit whilst we head for the hospital. A medical drama is the perfect excuse for driving as recklessly as my 800cc car allows. The roads are empty, apart from the sleeping dogs, and the car is slow so it is safe enough. We park outside the gates and walk in to reception. They're all watching the cricket too, although with India 40/4 I suspect they're not too happy with the way things are going. A doctor is more than happy to leave the game and take a look in San's ear. He manages to extract some small pieces of insect, but is unable to retrieve the main body. This makes me feel better about my failed attempts. The ENT specialist is called from his home, and says he will be round in 15 minutes. Meanwhile a crowd of doctors, asssistants and nurses has formed - they're loving it. True to his word the ENT guy arrives at the promised time and invites us into his surgery. There's obviously a knack to extracting things from ears, as he pulls out the obstruction with one attempt. The doctors crowd round to take a look at the expired culprit. For some reason San doesn't want to join them.

A few swabs of iodine later we return to reception and settle up the bill. 400 Rupees, that's £5 or $10. The staff thank us for livening up their night, and we return home some time after 1am. San stuffed her ears with cotton wool before going back to sleep.

Island Holiday

2007-08-04T13:45:00.000-07:00

San (The Wife) is missing my blog entries, even though she knows what I'm up to. So, here's an update. I spent most of July in a small village on an oceanic island. Sounds a bit more glamorous than 'I was back in the UK for three weeks'. However, we do forget that there are some pretty places on our island. I mailed a link to some pictures of Cadgwith and Kynance to my Indian colleagues and some of them were mightily impressed. 'Only seen places like that in the movies!'.

I had a good time back in familiar territory. I even had a quick trip up to Brum, and popped into the head office. I took advantage of the trip to the metropolis and bought a shiny new 17" MacBook Pro with pretty much all the trimmings. Since I live outside the EU I can claim back the VAT; a decent saving. It got some approving comments from colleagues in in Birmingham, and predictable derison from the Philistines ;). The rest of the Birmingham adventure was spent in the pleasant enough Ibis Hotel on a roundabout by the inner ring-road. Not as bad as it sounds: the room was fine, and suffering from 20 months of wine withdrawal, I splashed out and bought a bottle of 1989 Chateau Musar. Rather better than the pints of Carling offered in the bar below. The salesman in Selfridges asked if I'd had it before. Yes. He replied that it was magnificent stuff, and then we got into the normal conversation about how it is miraculous that they produce anything at all considering the location.

Enough on living the high-life in the second city; back to the Southwest on Virgin's much maligned trains. I thought the trains were great, especially the power points for plugging laptops into. I was happily watching Life on Mars on the way back. I'd heard that Life on Mars was a good TV series. In fact I'd heard enough to buy the box sets of both series. It is brilliant. I don't think I've seen a two series TV show where every episode hits the mark since Fawlty Towers. It's that good.

My Dad and one of his friends have/will celebrate their 60th birthdays this year. As part of the celebrations they held a party on the Cornish cliff-tops. A more than good time was had by all. The situation, on the cliffs above the village, was fantastic. Added to that was a top band and some good local beer on tap. Can't go wrong. To top it all there was an amazing sunset - it looked like the sky was on fire.

The one downside to the holiday was that the airline KLM/NWA managed to lose my hold luggage on the way out. This meant that I arrived in clothes that I had been wearing for 24 hours with nothing to change into. A phone call to KLM got me €100 which was promptly spent on Tesco's finest attire. I was awarded a further €200 after the luggage failed to materialise days later. Weeks have passed and there is still no sign of it. More €€€ to claim...

On a more positive note I got a ride in my Dad's 60th birthday present to himself - a Porsche Cayman S. It's a bit nippy. It could haul round some fairly tight bends at quite a lick with a very unreasonable lack of drama. Overtaking was proved not to be an issue after a few demonstrations. The most impressive thing about the car is how calm and quiet it is when cruising; yet when you let rip it sounds like hellish furies have been unleashed. My Maruti 800 feels inadequate.

ATTENTION SAN (or anyone else whose been on the Moon for the last few months) - Life on Mars spoilers follow. Don't read the last paragraph until you've watched it.

And then back to India - this time my luggage made it. By now I had compulsively watched every episode of Life on Mars. Returning back to India I was reminded of the last episode. Sam had returned to the real world, but jumped off the roof to return to 'Mars'. I know why he did it.

Clouds, Bikes and Lonavala

2007-06-13T06:12:00.000-07:00

This is a bit of a disconnected entry to catch up with what I've been up to in June. We're almost halfway into the month, and the monsoon approaches. The sky clouds up in the afternoons now, and we have had some showers. No proper downpours yet; we have that to look forward to. The temperature has already dropped. It has been in the mid to low thirties for the last few weeks. Once the rain starts in earnest it should drop further. In the evenings the light and cloud look quite atmospheric. I suppose they couldn't be anything else really.

I've been driving the roads in Pune and further afield in Maharastra for a while now. I am obviously getting jaded by the mayhem as I have bought myself a motorbike to increase the thrill factor. It's a Honda Unicorn, a bike specifically for the cost conscious Indian market. It's mighty 150cc engine is plenty for me to be getting on with for now. Especially considering that I'd never ridden one before. I've been using it to go to and from work for the last few weeks, and am finding it a lot of fun. I'm not sure how much fun it will be when the heavens open though!

Last weekend we had a work day out to Lonavala, a resort town between Pune and Bombay famous for its Chikki. We met up at Pune station and caught a local train to our destination. My previous experience with an Indian local train was in Bombay. I'm pleased to say that the ones around Pune are not quite so manic, and as we were boarding at the first stop it was easy enough to get seats. The seats were as hard and narrow as the train was slow. It was a bit uncomfortable. Fortunately Lonavala isn't too far, and we arrived in under two hours.

We had a snack at a nearby restaurant. Lonavala is on the old Pune to Mumbai highway. Traffic is much reduced since the opening of the new expressway. I as told that in its heyday it would have been an achievement to find a seat. After eating we headed off on a walk, ostensibly in search of lunch. Once out of the town the road followed a long dam. There was a no entry sign and a closed gate, but we scrambled up the wall to walk along regardless. At this time the cold drinks came out. What looked like a harmless bottle of Thums Up, the local idiosyncratically spelt cola substitute, turned out to have a mighty whisky enhanced kick. Full of vigour, we headed off along the wall only to be turned back by a security guard on a cycle. Once we had retraced our steps no-one was in the mood to re-retrace the route along the road in the hot and humid conditions. Therefore the cold drinks were finished off and we headed back into town in search of a late lunch.

A restaurant was located, lunch was eaten and it was time to head to the station and return to Pune. We stopped off at a chikki shop to buy our souvenirs, and from there we went to the station. Once again we were at the initial stop, but entraining was more challenging. This was because the train arrived full of passengers from Pune who wanted to leave whilst everyone on the platform wanted to board as quickly as possible to make sure they could grab a seat. We all managed to get ourselves seated and had an uneventful journey back to Pune.

Himalayan Holiday - The Credits

2007-05-24T12:11:00.000-07:00

So, this is The End. It's taken about as much time to write up the holiday, as it took to actually partake in it. It was a wonderful experience. I have wanted to see the Himalayas since the first time I came to India, and it can turn out that expectations can exceed reality. Fortunately, this was not the case, the holiday was fantastic.

Credit must go to Paras, and his Himalayan Holidays company. He organised everything superbly, and reacted to last minute changes of plan without skipping a beat. He took us to places that we would never have found by ourselves. Reading this blog you will see that we had the odd hiccup. That we had so few hiccups in India is nothing short of astounding. I have no hesitation in recommending Paras. If you fancy a trip to Sikkim, or the Darjeeling region of West Bengal, you could do worse than contact Paras - himalyanholidays@yahoo.com / 09932980738. He's good enough for the BBC, and he's good enough for me.

Oh, and well done to San for finding him, and conducting all the business with him. Thanks also to Andy for putting us up in Bombay, and hanging around the airport at ungodly hours.

Himalayan Holiday - Kurseong, Kalimpong, The End

2007-05-24T11:15:00.000-07:00

We wake up in a large bedroom in Selim Tea Estate. It is a 150 year old bungalow. Bungalow is a word that was appropriated by English in the days of the Raj. In India it refers to a detached property; the number of floors is unimportant. We were in the first, and topmost floor. We headed down for breakfast. First we sat outside for some Darjeeling tea served on the verandah. We were right on the edge of the Himalayas, and could see the flat plains stretching out into the distant haze. We then went inside for the proper meal. Our host was the manager, a Rajasthani. His cook provided a delicious breakfast, the highlight being a Rajasthani pastry filled with various vegetables, onions, and homemade tomato sauce.

After eating, we had a tour of the factory. There were some tremendous Heath-Robinson style devices which sorted the leaves - my favourite being the Britannia Balanced Pucca Tea Sorter. Only the final stages in the factory were operational, as they work through the night to avoid the daytime heat. the tour completed, we headed out for a pony trek around the estate. My prejudice for bovines over equines was confirmed, as I nearly slid over the other side of the pony's narrow back on mounting it. No such problem with the stout yak a week ago. The estate is 'organic', so pesticides are not used. There were many butterflies, crickets and strawberry plants amongst the main tea crop. The manager complained of a lack of investment. The tea plants are 120 years old, and every year some of them die. There seams to be little money made available to replace them.

After our trek we leave the estate, and head all the way down to the plains to have lunch with Paras. It's a relatively short journey, but the difference in heat and humidity from the tea estate is extraordinary. Fortunately Paras has some cool beer. We were introduced to his parents, and his wife and baby. He takes us out for a walk around his house. I had seen some strange fencing on the road to his colony, colony being the Indian equivalent of estate, he explained that it was electric fencing designed to keep elephants out. The houses were built on an elephant migration route, and were a major hazard. Indeed a local woman had recently been killed by one of the animals.

Paras told us that he BBC had been in the area filming elephants. Paras had arranged their permits and passes - if he could deal with a foreign camera crew, then it was no wonder that he could arrange such a smooth tour for the two of us! He mentioned that the locals were amazed, and at the same time very worried, at how close the cameramen got to the wild elephants. However, they never got into trouble, so they showed their expertise.

In the afternoon we headed back up into the hills to Kalimpong. This was a bit of a rushed finish, but Paras was not to blame. We should have been here on the first day, were it not for our airline problems. It was only Paras' last minute juggling that let us come here at all. We had a quick look around a cactus nursery before turning in for the night at another government run hotel.

Again the rooms were large, and the room service excellent. After eating San watched a Bollywood movies, and I read a book. In the morning we wanted to leave sharply, as we had a plane to catch. Unfortunately the staff at this hotel were as inept as the staff at the government run place at Jorepokhri. San ended up bossing them about to achieve results.

Eventually we headed off down the valley to the airport at Bagdogra. We arrived with time to spare, but rather less than I was comfortable with. Our plane landed a few minutes late from it's incoming flight, but then an Indian airforce transport landed and our plane was marooned on the edge of the runway whilst the military plane was emptied. We left just late enough to give us the slimmest of chances of making our connection in Delhi. You're never so late that you can abandon hope are you? There is always that tantalising chance dangling in front of you to keep the stress levels at maximum! We waited, and waited for our bags to appear on the Delhi carousel. We had learnt our lesson from the outward journey, and San stayed with me. We then had to race across to the departure building; the temperature was a cool 45˚C. Exhausted after a dew hundred metres of running in this heat, I made it to the X-Ray machine, and was told that the connecting flight was delayed. Hooray - we had made it!

Not so much fun for Andy in Bombay though. He eventually picked us up at 11pm. Even at this hour Bombay was hot and sticky, and the space outside the airport infested with touts. Safely in his air-conditioned car we set off in search of dinner. Heading out from the airport we passed a 737 on the road, which would become infamous a few days later. We reached Navi Mumbai, and found a restaurant that was willing to serve us after midnight. It was after 1am by the time we left. We headed the short distance to Andy's apartment and crashed out. All that was left was to drive back along the expressway to Pune in the morning.

Himalayan Holiday - Darjeeling Himalayan Railway

2007-05-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

Today we were due to travel on the Toy Train from Darjeeling to Kurseong. The proper name for the service is the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, but the narrowness of the gauge makes the nickname very appropriate. Trains have been running this route for 150 years, and it is rightly considered an engineering marvel. The track follows the road, hairpins included, for the most part. It only diverges a few times to tackle the steepest sections by using loops and z-reversals. It's amazing that the trains can tackle the route, and it is worth bearing in mind that they do not use a rack and pinion system to scale the gradients.

First we had to leave Jorepokhri. We had woken up early, and for the second time on our holiday were rewarded with views of Kanchenjunga. It was hazy, but after so many missed opportunities due to the unseasonal weather we were hardly going to let that bother us. Leaving was a bit more stressful than it should have been. First our vehicle didn't turn up on time. Eventually John went off to procure another. Eventually one turned up; I don't know if it was the original or one that had just been booked. Last evening the room service was excellent. However, the lodge revealed government run inefficiency when it was time to check out. First someone had to run into the back room to find a manager. He took an age to add up our simple bill for last night's meal. When he was done it took yet more time to procure 100 Rupees change. This was a stark contrast to the private hotels we had been staying in.

Eventually we settled the bill and headed off. We still had enough time, but a Darjeeling traffic jam could always cause a problem. Fortunately the road was clear, and we reached the station with time to spare. Paras was waiting, and provided us with some crisps for the journey. Our train was diesel rather than steam - less romantic, and as it would turn out, less reliable. We had first class tickets, and the carriage was decorated with bamboo dragons, and scary masks. We pulled out of Darjeeling on time, and made our way to Ghum, the highest station in the Indian railway network. As I mentioned earlier, the train follows the road for the most part, and on the busy urban stretch from Darjeeling to Ghum it is as involved in the local traffic jams as any other vehicle. We came to a stop at one point as a truck manoeuvred out of our path.

We reached Ghum and stopped. And stopped. And stopped some more. The news reached us that the locomotive had broken down, and required a new belt. Unfortunately no one thought to stock any belts in the hills, so it would take four hours to deliver one from the plains. San contacted Paras and he quickly came to the station. She had had enough, whilst I wanted to wait it out. Paras bought me some more junk food, and took San off to our next stop - a tea estate near Kurseong.

A more reliable steam train passed us. I had read a few days ago that they were running experiments on the old steam locomotives. The idea is to run them on oil, rather than coal. The experiment was unsuccessful, with the oil powered steam engine unable to ascend the hill. Still, at least it moved unlike our more modern diesel. We had a few false starts with the broken belt jury-rigged with copper wire. It always snapped apart when any demand was made of it.

By the time the replacement belt arrived only myself and two Bangladeshi sisters. They told me that they were doctor, and assured me that nothing like this ever occurred in Bangladesh. They both had much more faith in Allah than Indian Railways in reaching their destination.

Almost exactly after four hours had passed, a new belt arrived (from a steam engine) and we were off! At least the delays were on schedule. The euphoria was short lived; within minutes we ran into track works. There weren't meant to be trains running at this time after all. It took the best part of an hour to proceed past he red flags. The weather had closed in a bit by now, but the ride down was pleasant. Since there were only three of us in the carriage, we could sit anywhere we wanted. The delay meant that the train was descending at the same time as schools were finishing. Some pupils took advantage and grabbed a free ride. The train moves at barely a gentle jog, so it is easy to jump aboard.

The last straw occurred a few kilometres above Kurseong. We were so late that the up-trains were on there way, and we were pushed into a siding to make way. We waited, and waited. Eventually the railway staff hailed some taxis and put us out of our misery. I disembarked at Kurseong station, and called John's mobile. He replied, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. He then hung up, so I paid the shop fellow and turned around. Only to see John pick up my bags and lead me to a taxi. The poor guy had been waiting for hours.

After a twisty, bumpy journey in the dark we reached Selim tea estate, where San had been ensconced for hours. I couldn't see much in the dark, but was ushered to a comfortable living room. We were served a delicious, and welcome, dinner. Exhausted, we headed off to bed, but not before finishing the remaining wheat brew.

Himalayan Holiday - Jorepokhri

2007-05-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

For reasons unknown John is keen for us to leave Rimbick as soon as possible. We have our breakfast on the lawn, pack up and leave. My trusty bamboo stick that has aided my ascent and descent is left leaning against our room door. We then climb into the waiting jeep and head off on the twisty roads to Jorepokhri. We pass some keen Western mountain bikers who have legs that appear more than adequate for these hills. At one point we stop to donate our spare tire to a stranded jeep. I assume that their is honour amongst drivers, and the tire will be returned at some point in the future.

Jorepokhri is one of those Indian tourist resorts that cater to the local population. They aren't really my thing. The centrepiece is a slightly worn, concrete, multi-headed cobra sitting in a lake of honking geese. Apparently there are splendid views of Kanchenjunga, but once more we see nothing but cloud. We have to wait for room service to prepare out room, so the mystery as to why we were in such a hurry to leave Rimbick deepens. On the positive side, the room is enormous. We have a very large bedroom and an adjoining lounge to ourselves. The room service is also excellent, and we are well looked after at meal times.

With not much else to do in the gloom we worry about our bags which we left in the Viceroy in Darjeeling before our trek. We are also running short on cash; I should have taken more before leaving our last ATM in Darjeeling. John walks down with me to the nearby Jorepokhri town. It is only a couple of kilometres away, but my legs are aching from yesterdays downhill section. Just before the town we pass a group of monkeys that are eating carrots that a benefactor has provided. Once in the town we wait in a taxi. It will not depart until sufficient passengers have crammed in. After about twenty minutes our driver is happy, and heads off towards Darjeeling. We leave the vehicle at Ghum, and I get some money from an ATM. John establishes mobile contact with our agent Paras, who is on his way to Jorepokhri with our luggage.

John and I return in another taxi. This one isn't shares, so we leave immediately. We are greeted by Paras at Jorepokhri. He tells me that I shouldn't have gone to Ghum, he would have lent me some cash. He is disappointed that we are not so fond of the resort. I suspect if the weather had been better, and we could see the mountains, I would have had a better opinion. Ever thoughtful he asks if I want anything to drink. On hearing that I have sampled various local concoctions he knows what to do. Paras and John head out, and return with two bottles of caramel coloured gloopy liquid. This time it is made from wheat. It tastes alright, and is not at all strong.

Himalayan Holiday - Trek Day 4

2007-05-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

We went to bed with optimism fuelled by the starry night sky. It turned out to be false hope. The first light revealed thick cloud, strong winds, and a few snow flakes. There was a postcard pinned on the common room wall showing what we could have seen. It did look spectacular, but you can't rely on the weather in the mountains. With nothing much to see we finished our breakfast (more porridge) and bade farewell to the English couple who were returning back along the ridge by Land Rover.

Since we are on the highest piece of land in West Bengal the only way is down. We are heading to the village of Rimbick down in the valley. We were initially told that it would be a 14 kilometre walk, but our guides inform us that it will be 21 kilometres. San is worried. At least it is all downhill, but our guides say they prefer heading up - downhill strains the calves much more.

Before heading down I have to present myself at a final Indian army checkpoint. The guard is happy to inform me that England are out of the cricket world cup. I reply that they lasted rather longer than India. He laughs. Fortunately only the very top of the mountain is in the foul weather. We are soon below the cloudbase where the wind stops, and we have a reasonable view of the surroundings. Apart from the copious quantities of bamboo, the grassy slopes look rather European. Our guides spot a deer, but it leaps into the bamboo before we respond to their calls.

We pass an Indian group, but shortly afterwards a lone 'Aunty' powers past us in her flip-flops. Soon we hear the crack of thunder - is this why she has broken away from her group? Rain and hail follow. The larger stones give quite a sting when they hit. The path is getting muddier, and by this time we have overtaken flip-flop woman. San on the other hand has found a hitherto unexpected turn of speed in response to the inclement weather, and is rushing down the mountain at such a rate that it is hard to keep up.

We make it to a tiny village before the storm truly breaks. We find shelter in the house of John's sister's mother-in-law. There is another cat keeping warm by the stove; this time San joins it to dry up. There is also a dog, but it is getting wet outdoors. We have a nice meal - including cocktail sausages! We also have some local rice based brew; not the best source of alcohol I've tried. First the hail, then the rain, lashes down. It will stop and you can see clouds form at the base of the hill and rise up. Then it starts again. Meanwhile San thinks she can see a fly on my neck. I swat it an she says it's still there. Puzzled I rub my fingers along my neck, and feel what must be a tick. We call John over and he pulls it off. He proudly states that it is still alive as he chucks it outside. Being a Buddhist he won't kill any animal. I had seen this earlier when he flicked a caterpillar off the footpath lest anyone following trod on it.

The rain stopped again and it was time to leave. The guides said it would remain dry, but I decided to put on my fluorescent orange waterproof trousers. It turned out to be unnecessary as the guides were right of course. The village was at the head of the valley, so the gradient levelled out, and the vegetation became lush. We passed waterfalls, wild orchids and Alpine, or should that be Himalayan, strawberries. We also passed some ponies carrying supplies up the valley; even the Land Rover's wouldn't make it up these narrow paths.

We crossed the river at a suspension bridge populated with many camera snapping tourists. After that the last stretch towards Rimbick was comparatively tedious. We did pass some houses with beautiful gardens, but the scenery couldn't compare with the higher altitudes, and we were getting tired. Eventually we reached Rimbick at 5:30pm. The accommodation was better than the summit, but still fairly basic, as was the food. The ambience was not helped by the fact the two yappy dogs were tied up in the restaurant area. After dinner we realised the guides were right about downhill causing the most pain as we hobbled down the steps to our bedroom. At least it wasn't freezing any more, and tomorrow we would be a little closer to civilisation.

Himalayan Holiday - Trek Day 3

2007-05-22T08:01:00.001-07:00

The next day was a short seven kilometre, but entirely uphill, trek to the top of Sadakphu. At 3,600m it is the highest point in West Bengal, and of course offers splendid views of not only Kanchenjunga, but also Everest. We say farewell to our hosts, but meet the father and one of the daughters at the next checkpoint, they having overtaken us. Today the cloud has lifted from most of the nearby peaks, but the top of Sandakphu is ominously lost in the murk.

We reach the top after two hours of marching upwards. It is very windy, very cold, and the visibility is approaching zero. Splendid views indeed. We are shown to the accommodation and have some lunch. There is a stove inside, which could do with lighting. We are told that it will be in the evening. In the meantime our guides take us on a misty walk towards Phalut. This is the next stop on the trekking route, but we are heading downhill tomorrow.

When we return to the summit an hour later, we see two huddled masses. Under the blankets and wooly hats are two English tourists who have come up by Land Rover, and are staying the night. Cheating perhaps, but we didn't carry our own bags, so we can't talk! At five the fire is lit, which makes a big difference. We all sit around and warm ourselves up. One of the tourists has a guitar, which John offers to play. We then head off for dinner. They can't bring it from the kitchen because the weather is too foul, so we head off into the blackness to the dining building.

I mentioned that there is no electricity in the mountains, but that's not quite true. All the villages had solar panels on the roofs which charge up car batteries during the day. These then provide light in the evening. We sat down for our meal which included some yak meat. It was served diced and some chunks were tough, but others were very soft. Not too bad.

After finishing dinner we head back to the accommodation building. The stars are visible, which gets our hopes up for the morning. We sit around the fire and talk some more about Bollywood, Hindi soap operas and songs. When a local, sitting on a bed in the main room, begins talking to himself we all decide that it is time for bed. We retire to our freezing rooms, and go to sleep. Will we see mountains tomorrow?

Himalayan Holiday - Trek Day 2

2007-05-22T07:05:00.000-07:00

It was another early start the next day. The cold made it fairly easy to wake up, as we were keen for someway of getting warm. There is no electricity up in the mountains, and no heating. There are some stoves, but they weren't in use. Probably just as well as they can be a source of carbon monoxide poisoning. Getting into bed last night was a challenge. We needed both duvets and blankets, and it was still freezing. You have to sleep close together to stay warm. John came with our tea at 5:30, and an hour later we moved back to the main building for our breakfast. I'm not the greatest fan of breakfast, but was glad to see a warm bowl of porridge on the table.

Heated up, we left at 7:00, and the French party looked like they were ready to follow. The clouds had returned in the night, but once again we were spared any rain. We stopped for some more tea in the next village, and left the faster French party behind, as they stopped for their breakfast. We then started on a downhill stretch which culminated in an army post and checkpoint. By now the French had caught us up once more, and their local guide was very interested in my PIO (Person of Indian Origin) card.

We had gone down as far as we would for the day, and the path headed steeply upwards from the checkpoint. The hill slowed San down quite considerably, but we were eventually back up on the ridge. We stopped for some more tea inside a hut in the next village. The woman there was huddled round her stove with a cat for company. John soon joined them there. Today we were heading for Kalpokhri, which means black lake. As the name suggests there is a lake near the village, which is at an altitude of about 3,200m. The rest of the walk along the ridge was cloudy, but there were occasional breaks, so we did get to see some scenery.

The lake is surrounded by prayer flags, and immediately afterwards, before you reach the village, is another army checkpoint. As I write my name in the book, I see that the French passed through an hour ago, and are heading onwards to the main summit at Sandakphu. We're taking it easy and doing that tomorrow. We are shown our room for the night, and we lie down. This room is lighter than the last one, but every bit as cold. The weather closes in, and whilst there is no rain, it becomes very cloudy. We venture out in the early evening, and I call my mum in Scotland from the ridge, surrounded by inquisitive yaks. Whilst we are outside my boots pass the waterproof test as I stick my foot into a deep puddle of cold water.

We go back into the lodge and sit round the fire with the owners and their family. I show interest in what the man is drinking from: a miniature keg filled with seeds from which he drinks with a bamboo straw. It is called Tongba, and is made from fermented millet. He described the process. It is quite involved, but involves fermentation, drying out and storage in the loft for six months. It is served by placing the dry mixture into the mini-keg and then you just add boiling water. the alcohol dissolves, and the bamboo filters out the seeds. When you have finished you just top up with more boiling water, until all the intoxicant has been consumed. Surprisingly, it is pretty nice, and the first flush is fairly potent.

He speaks to us about life in the hills. Unsurprisingly it is tough. We ask about hospitals: the nearest is in Darjeeling, hours away in an expensive, hired Land Rover. He says when someone gets ill the rich go down, whilst the poor go up... There are local schools up to the age of eight, but then the children have to go to boarding school in Darjeeling to continue their education. This is the busiest time of year for the tourist trade. In the wet season no one ventures up. In winter there are only crazy Europeans marching around in the snow, the locals stay down on the plains. Shopping too is done in Darjeeling. They hire a Land Rover, and buy in very large quantities, to minimise the number of times they have to make the expensive trip.

Himalayan Holiday - Trek Day 1

2007-05-18T07:34:00.001-07:00

Another early start, though not as bad as yesterday. We left he hotel at 6:30am and headed for the start of our trek at the village of Manebhanjan at 2,150m. Paras, our travel agent, had thoughtfully arranged for the Viceroy hotel in Darjeeling to hold on to most of our luggage, so we set off with a small rucksack full of gadgets, and a larger one with our clothes. Once at Manebhanjan I had to fill in some forms, and buy permits for our still and video cameras. For once I am charged the local Indian rate on account of my PIO (Person of Indian Origin) card, although one of the officials mentions that I don't look very Indian!

After a breakfast of meat momos, exactly which meat was never determined, we head off up the hill. It's a long and steep climb to the ridge, and San discovers that she doesn't like uphill that much. We are following an unmetalled road through the forest. Occasionally a stepped footpath can be used as a shortcut letting us miss a few hairpins. The downside of course is that the direct route is steeper yet. A couple of hours later we reach the ridge, and the India Nepal border. There is a low fence and a stone marking the boundary. There is no passport control as we go through a gate in the fence, and head off through the mist to a monastery. We are served tea and biscuits inside one of the monastery buildings - very civilised!

Our break over we head off along the ridge. It is still misty, but the gradient is much reduced to San's relief. John is with us again, and we have another guide, Kumar, for the trek. They are carrying our backpacks and the food supplies. Our backpack is quite light, so John marches ahead. Kumar is laden down with supplies, so heads up the rear. By late morning we pass a small village. John was there first of course, but Kumar has passed us too, and they have laid out some fruit, juice and chocolate. We take a rest and eat what has been provided. Then it is time to press on. We pass a vintage Land Rover that is parked in the village. We have seen a few of them today. Interesting that these old machines are preferred to the local 4x4s when the going gets really tough. There is less mist than earlier, but little in the way of views. John is quickly ahead of us, and invisible in the fog. Fortunately he writes his name in the ground with an arrow showing what direction he is heading at frequent intervals.

Today we are heading for Tumling at an altitude of 3,000m. Before we get there we have lunch at another village. The Nepali proprietor is asking a couple of Italians where they are from. He then asks if they can speak French. When they admit to some knowledge he starts talking to them. His French is better than theirs, so the conversation does not go far. After lunch we have a few more kilometres to cover before heading in for the night. Once we arrive we are shown our room and have a rest. Almost immediately we hear thunder, and the heavens open. We are lucky not to be drenched! Less lucky are the next party to arrive. They are French, so I hope they had a chat with the restaurant owner in the previous village. We leave our room and sit in the main building's living room. It is cold so we are around the fire, along with the drying clothes of the French party. As the sun sets, the French party's guide announces that the mountains are visible. We head out and walk to the top of the ridge, and we can see that the recent storm has cleared the air. Kanchenjunga is visible looking one way, whilst we can see quite some distance into Nepal when we look in the opposite direction.

The light is now failing so we head back to the warm fire. We read books to pass the time, and eventually we have our dinner. It's pretty basic rations, but we're hungry and eat up. We then have to head outside and to the accommodation building. It is very dark, and the clouds are still broken. Venus shines as bright as a diamond.

Himalayan Holiday - More Darjeeling

2007-05-17T09:22:00.000-07:00

We left the hotel for the second time shortly after nine. John, our guide, wasn't available as he was busy sorting out details for our forthcoming mountain trek. The replacement wasn't as good, not leaving the car when we were takeen somewhere, so John was missed. First of all we had to negotiate the narrow and crowded streets of Darjeeling. By now the trains were running, and they staked out there own claims to the roadspace. Our first stop was the zoo. It had a fair collection of local wildlife: leopards, snow leopards, wolves, deer, yaks and various birds. Unfortunately quite a few of the animals just paced up and down their enclosures. We also saw some red pandas; a native animal not related too the Giant Panda of China.

Adjoining the zoo was the Himalayan Mountain Institute. The museum had some interesting exhibits. These included the flags that Hilary and Tenzing took to the summit of Everest. There were also various items of equipment from expeditions past. More esoteric was the freeze dried carcass of an eagle recovered high up Everest by an Indian army expedition. Outside the museum was the last resting place of Tenzing Norgay - a black slab surrounded by prayer flags.

We left the zoo area and drove to Tenzing Rock. This small outcrop has a fixed rope for tourists to clamber up. San had a go and was soon at the top. She found going down a bit harder, as she wasn't too keen on leaning back as she descended the rope. A short distance down the road was a tea estate. There were a group of tea pluckers conveniently sited for photographs. After watching them for a while we had a cup of the estate's tea, and bought a small pack of leaves.

The race course was next on the bill. This is one of the smallest and highest race courses in the world, but it is currently under army occupation. Our guide showed us a nearby football pitch instead. We quickly moved on. This time we headed out of town and to the Tibetan Refugee centre. This part of India is home to many Tibetan refugees who have fled their homeland since the Chinese occupation. The refugee centre provides work and shelter for those without. It has a museum detailing the history of Tibet, and the centre itself. As might be expected there is a lot of China bashing, most of it deserved. We went to the shop where I bought a long sleeved stripey shirt, and San bought some miniature prayer flags and some incense.

Our local tour complete we headed back to the hotel. We decided to eat out at Glenary's, a nearby restaurant. The food was alright, but nothing special. After lunch we walked around the town and did some more shopping. We bought some traditional wooden masks. The faces look quite demonic, but apparently they're meant to be friendly. Shopping complete, we headed back to the hotel for another early night.

Himalayan Holiday - Tiger Hill

2007-05-17T07:53:00.000-07:00

We received our wake up call at 3:45am, and were out the hotel and on the way to Tiger Hill to see the sunrise, and hopefully the elusive Kanchenjunga. It didn't look too hopeful as we passed through the mist on the short drive to the summit. On reaching the car park we discovered that their was a choice of tickets: normal, deluxe and super-deluxe. Normal was standing in the car park, whilst the other two were in viewing rooms within a building. We took the deluxe option, and headed to the viewing room. Once there it appeared that the car park would have been a better option, as people were pressed against the windows making it hard to get a clear view. There was a wide ledge below the first floor windows, and a pair of young British guys clambered out the window to sit outside. I realised that this provided a good, unobstructed view and followed them out. the ledge was wide enough to sit down comfortably and set up my camera and tripod. The only downside was the temperature; before sunrise at 2,600m it is pretty cold!

As the sky began to lighten it became apparent that the weather was going to be kinder to us than it had appeared earlier. Whilst the valleys were full of cloud the peaks were poking through. As the sun rose the mountains looked very picturesque in the sea of mist. As the sun continued upwards the colours gradually shifted through various shades of orange. Up till now we had not seen Kanchenjunga, but San told me it was visible and pointed towards it. I was struggling to see it until I lifted my gaze from the horizon and looked up. The snow clad peaks were seemingly floating above the cloud, and were substantially higher than any of the nearby hills. Before George Everest's Great Trigonometric Survey Kanchenjunga was though to be the world's highest mountain. It is certainly a spectacular sight, and it was well worth the wait.

My window ledge companions were given some tea, and they asked me if I would like some too. I gratefully accepted; my fingers were pretty numb by now. Then there was a buzz of excitement. Apparently Everest was visible. We all looked westwards, but there was not much to see other than cloud. I peered through my binoculars, and did see a dark patch that could be a mountain, or a distant black cloud. We became more convinced that it was rock when the dark object failed to move. By now the crowds, unlike the western clouds, were dispersing, and it was time to leave. We entered through the windows, and before we left, we inspected a panoramic postcard which named the visible peaks. This postcard convinced me that I had seen a mountain, but Makalu rather than Everest. The shape on the postcard was an exact match with what I had seen with the binoculars.

We headed back to the hotel, stopping at a small monastery, and Batasia Loop. Batasia Loop, as the name suggests, is a loop of track that reduces the gradient that would otherwise need to be overcome. Inside the loop is the Gorkha War Memorial: a statue of a Gorkha and a cenotaph with Mount Kanchenjunga providing the backdrop. We were too early for any trains, which was just as well as a market was being held on the tracks. After admiring the view, we returned to the hotel. San had breakfast, whilst I had a nap before we headed out for the rest of the day's sightseeing.

Himalayan Holiday - Darjeeling

2007-05-15T09:48:00.000-07:00

The next day we woke up at 5am in order to see the sunrise. Unfortunately cloud had rolled in, but we went outside for the short walk to the sunrise view point anyway. It was very peaceful with prayer flags fluttering in the wind. The only other person around was a local doing his early morning yoga. We did eventually see the sun after it had risen over the thicker mist near the horizon. We then returned to our room for a cup of teas and a quick nap. After which we rose for the second time, and ate a breakfast as substantial as the meals we had been offered the previous day.

We set out on a walk to find the caves that we missed yesterday. We took the upper fork in the path rather than the lower one, and marched on for quite some distance without seeing any holes in the earth. We did see more of the pine forest, and some very large ferns. After quite some distance we came across some people working below us. San asked for directions, and they told us to go back a short distance and head down from the path. This led to a large rock surrounded by prayer flags. The caves turned out to be simple depressions around the rock. The rock itself was in a tea plantation. We picked our way through the shrubs, made it down to the lower path, and headed back to the village to leave.

We said our farewells and climbed into the jeep. It headed back along the route we had just walked, and it turned out that we had almost made it to the tarmac road. Once on the road it was about an hour to Darjeeling. By this time it had started raining, and the water continued to fall all the way to our hotel. En route we caught out first sight of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, otherwise known as the toy train. The tracks demonstrated that narrow guage was indeed narrow, so the nickname is apt. We saw one steam locomotive picking up water by the roadside. Our afternoon was free, so we had a buffet lunch at the hotel whilst the rain continued to pour, and then we went for a walk around the town.

Darjeeling is similar in some ways to Gangtok, as it is another hillside town. Gangtok felt a bit cleaner and calmer, but Darjeeling was very pleasant all the same. Darjeeling had a bustling population of monkeys - always a good think in my opinion. There were also many smartly uniformed school children walking around the town. Darjeeling is the major town in the region, and has many boarding schools where older children from the surrounding remote hillside are sent to study. We ended up at The Shrubbery, a park at the top of the town. Once more splendid views of Kanchenjunga were promised; one more we saw nothing but cloud. An evening of local dance was promised, and we watched two of the dances. The dancers were Gorkhas, but rather more svelte than the ones in Tinchulay. Perhaps they hadn't been eating their double helpings.

As the sun set we headed back towards the hotel; stopping off at some shops to buy some knickknacks, and some warmer clothes for out forthcoming trek in the mountains. Plastic bags are banned, so we headed back clutching paper bags. A police poster states that if you collect five items of plastic and hand them in you will receive a free chocolate! San dressed up in the Sikkim dress she had bought a few days ago, and we had an early dinner. We had to sleep early as we would be getting up at 4am for another sunrise, and of course splendid views of Kanchenjunga.

Himalayan Holiday - Tinchulay

2007-05-14T09:47:00.000-07:00

The next morning it was time to leave Gangtok and Sikkim. Our next night halt would be in the Gorkha village of Tinchulay in northern West Bengal. We left in the morning, so we could see the road we had arrived by in daylight. As we descended the valley more tropical plants such as bananas began to appear, and with the bananas came road side monkeys lounging on the stone walls that attempt to prevent vehicles from plummeting into the river below. A couple of hours later we were at the border post in Rangpo once more. We pulled over to hand in my pass to confirm that I was leaving Sikkim. That formality complete it was time to press on. However, the road had become jammed as a collection of 4x4s, trucks and buses were trying to squeeze through too small a road. To free the traffic, our driver had to jump down and start directing the battling drivers. Soon we were moving again; now in West Bengal with southern Sikkim on the opposite bank of the Teesta.

Our driver pointed out a large building across the river; it was a major Sikkim brewery. There were a few houses nearby, and we were informed that the village was called Malli. The village on our bank was also Malli; it is split by the state line and river. We stopped in the West Bengal Malli for a spot of river rafting. Although billed as white water, it was mostly a gentle affair with a manageable amount of splashes. Apparently it is much more exciting when the river is high after the monsoon.

We were introduced to our two river guides who gave us a brief lesson in paddling, and some life jackets. Then we entered the raft and pushed off. Our driver headed off downstream to pick us up once we were done. As I said, the water level was low, so we had a very pleasant drift downstream between the jungle clad hills. At one point one of the guides jumped in for a swim. Then the other motioned as if he was going to do the same and leave us. Fortunately he remained at his post. Once the other crew-member was back aboard he suggested that we too go for a swim. San went first with a rope tied to her life jacket. I followed, holding the same rope with my hand. Unsurprisingly the water was cold, and it took a few seconds to get my breath back. Once accustomed to the temperature, it was a pleasant cooling off. We were now not much higher than the plains, and the heat reflected the geography. We were called back on board for the final rough stretch. Then, after an hour on the river we pulled into the bank. The guides put the raft onto their jeep, and gave us a lift to our waiting driver. We changed out of our wet clothes in a room provided in a nearby shop, and then we headed off to Tinchulay.

Tinchulay is a small village high up on the hillside. The road was single track, and the jeep's harsh suspension made it hard going. As we headed up the plants changed once more; bananas giving way to bamboo, then ferns and pine forest. The local farmers take advantage of the situation and grow a wide variety of crops at the different altitudes: bananas, strawberries, tea, bamboo, potatoes, cardamom and much more. All this land was farmed by the Tinchulay inhabitants, and as we would learn later, it is completely organic, and all the food provided, including honey, is grown on the land.

Eventually we arrived, and our driver pointed out the honeymoon building with much nudge-nudge-say-no-more type chat. 'Not for you, just for newlyweds!' - he was suitably embarassed when we checked in to the very same place! We had arrived in time for lunch, and had the first of the hearty that the Gorkhas would serve. All local produce, and apparently their religion requires them to give guests two of everything. It makes for very generous hospitality, but also very full stomachs. Our hosts hoped that we would soon look as robust as themselves. I suspect that the daily working on the mountainside has as much, if not more, to do with their physique than the food. I can recommend pickled bamboo shoots: I had never eaten panda food before; it was very tasty.

We made an attempt to walk off the lunch and had a walk around the village. First we headed off towards some caves. We never found them, but noticed that there were two schools serving the population. Green and blue uniformed children were marching up and down the hill in opposite directions. The scenery was in some ways reminiscent of a forest walk in Scotland, with lots of ferns and conifers. Later we were informed that there were also leopards and bears, but not to worry as they only come for the goats and dogs. On our return to the village a young boy was appointed as our mini guide and he led us up the hill, past chickens and goats, and through the rest of the village. We returned past the playing field where a game of cricket was in progress.

We had a rest after our walk, and were woken up in the evening for some entertainment. One of the locals was singing songs with his guitar. The tunes ranged from local folk-songs, to Bollywood classics, to some very mangled Bob Dylan. We were served some of the local brew to see us through the cool night. It was a fermented millet based drink. Not the best, but as with most things alcoholic it slips down easily enough after the first few sips. Occasionally the clouds would part revealing a very starry sky, and at one point a fire-fly provided some extra illumination. Once the singing was over it was time for dinner, and our hosts made sure that we were as well fed as we were at lunch.

Himalayan Holiday - Lake Tsongmo

2007-05-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

The next morning we were heading to Lake Tsongmo. This is a high altitude lake not far from the Chinese border. The proximity to China meant that I was required to get a further permit in order to travel there. This was all arranged the day before by our travel agent whilst we were out sightseeing. As we left Gangtok and headed towards the border at Nathula we soon passed our first checkpoint. Forms presented, and the military satisfied, we pushed on.

Tsongmo is approximately 40 kilometres from Gangtok, and at 3,780m the road is ever upwards with constant bends. As the temperature dropped the windows were rolled up to keep out the cool air. As we gained altitude the sides became ever sheerer. You wouldn't want to fall off these roads. The vertiginous drops on the one side were matched by cliffs and waterfalls on the other. We stopped off at a couple of falls and took some pictures. As we neared the destination patches of snow began to appear. This was the first snow I've seen in India - distant mountain tops excepted. Unlike some of the Indian tourists we didn't stop to have our picture taken or write our names in the white stuff.

The snow cover increased from a few fast melting drifts to patchily covered north facing slopes by the time we reached the lake itself. No blue skies; indeed the mountain tops were poking into the clouds. The jeep was parked and we headed out. We were soon surrounded by yaks and their handlers. The yaks come with very fetching wooly horn warmers, and they are saddled up ready to ride. They reminded San of highland cows; although I'm pretty sure no-one has tried to put a saddle on one of those beasts.

San took a ride around the lake, whilst I headed up the mountainside on my Yak. It proved very capable at scaling a steep an narrow path, and we were soon above the lake and on the ridge. There the yak was parked, and we pressed on by foot. Not expecting this impromptu hill walk I was not exactly dressed for the occasion. At least I had a decent light weight jacket as I had been expecting it to be cool, but my shoes offered no grip on the snow that remained on the top. First we headed for a viewpoint a small distance up from our yak. Immediately I could feel the effects of the thin air, as I was breathing very heavily despite the gentle gradient. It wasn't just me, as the yak had been panting pretty hard when it took a couple of breaks on the way up, and I don't think I'm that heavy! The handler however bounded up the whole way without breaking a sweat. There wasn't much of a view because of the clouds so we pressed on for the summit. A few minutes of scrambling up a steeper section and we were there. There was company too, as we met a mixed group of Brits, Germans, Poles and Americans with their guide. They were a bit better equipped than I, and their GPS gave the altitude at a little over 4,000m. Their guide told me we were 15 kilometres from China, and 20 kilometres in the opposite direction would take us to Bhutan.

Going downhill was easier. At one point there was a flash of blue and orange, and a grouse sized bird lept out of the rhododendrons. The yak handler described it as some kind of jungly (ie wild) chicken. He did tell me the name, but it has escaped me. At one point on the ridge the clouds cleared enough to see a more distant hill. the yak handler told be that China was on the other side. The weather then closed in, and it began to snow. I followed the handler back to the yak, and we headed back to the lake. The yak was sure-footed on the steepest parts of the descent, but it was slightly nerve-wracking from my vantage point on its back.

I found San back by the lakeside. The snow had followed me down the hill, so we headed into a shack for lunch. I had my first taste of momos. They are a local dish, a bit like wontons, that I had wanted to try for lunch the day before. The fancy restaurant told us they would take half an hour to prepare, so we chose something else. The lakeside shack provided a delicious plateful instantly.

Warmed up, we headed back to Gangtok. We had some spare time once we got there, so we took in another waterfall and monastery. Our visit to the monastery coincided with prayers so the inner sanctum was full of chanting monks. We then went to a large indoor market that San had spied the day before, and had been eager to visit. There she bought some gum boots, something we've had difficulty finding in Pune, for Roshni to wear in the coming monsoon. She also stocked up on various items of Chinoiserie that she had been keen to purchase.

Himalayan Holiday - Gangtok

2007-05-12T11:07:00.000-07:00

Breakfast had a colonial feel to it, as we sipped Darjeeling tea in cane furniture in the hotel garden. It's always seemed strange to me that it is hard to get a good cup of tea in India. The locals brew a milky, sweet concoction that I find hard to find favour with. Of course this is a purely British viewpoint. A colleague at work had exactly the same problem, but in reverse, when he went to the UK. Breakfast complete, it was time to head off to Rumtek monastery.

Rumtek is a 1960s replica of the original monastery which was in Tibet. The 16th Karmapa Lama decided on the location after fleeing from the Chinese. He decided on the location because the mountains, streams and views were all auspiciously arranged. It's certainly a very scenic part of the world. Since the 16th Karmapa's death there has been controversy, as there are two 17th Karmapa Lamas in India. The Indian courts sided with Thaye Dorje, but the monks in Rumtek are followers of Ogyen Trinley Dorje. Matters are at somewhat of an impasse, and neither reside at Rumtek. The former is in nearby Kalimpong, whilst the latter stays in a monastery near Dharamsala, and the Dalai Lama whose endorsement he has.

The walk uphill from the roadside gate to the monastery itself was lined with prayer wheels. San counted 108, and your hands get a bit sore from all the spinning required of them. The monastery, in common with others we saw on our holiday, didn't shy from the brighter parts of the spectrum. Especially inside, where photography is prohibited, the walls, ceilings and hanging tapestries provide a dazzling array of colours. There were young novices in the courtyard, and some of them weren't quite as engrossed in their monking as they probably should have been, and would look and wave at the tourists. We then headed back down to the car. Before we reached the gate, we passed a shop, and the slightly surreal spectacle of three local women gossiping about the previous night's Ireland/Bangladesh cricket world cup match.

We headed back to Gangtok, and onwards to the Museum of Tibetology. There are two parts to this museum: the ground floor houses a library and a history of Buddhism exhibit; the upper floor is a photographic exhibit on the subject of Sikkimese royalty. The library contains a mix of modern Buddhist literature and ancient texts donated by the Dalai Lama. The Buddhism history exhibit gives a good introduction to a religion with which I am unfamiliar. The history was illustrated with painted silk panels illustrating various stages of the Buddha's life. There were also historical artifacts on display. These ranged from the secular, in the shape of old money, to the sacred. Many of the sacred articles, such as horns and drinking vessels were fashioned from human bones, including a few skulls. This was to remind the monks of their mortality.

The photography exhibit was also interesting. It featured the same amazingly coiffured Queen as seen in our hotel, and quite a few other well tonsured royals. The dynasty ended not with a firing squad, but a referendum, as the the people of Sikkim voted overwhelmingly to join the Republic of India. There are two extant children of the old King: the son lives a secluded life in deepest Nepal; the daughter married a rich British advertising executive and resides in New York City.

The afternoon was spent driving to various viewpoints so that we might see the splendid Mount Kanchenjunga. Sadly, the clouds had rolled in and rendered the worlds third largest mountain invisible. The silver lining was that the temperature was very pleasant, and a relief from the 40˚C we had left in Pune. Steve, if your reading, I recommend we follow the old British tradition of having an official summer residence!

Not being able to see far we took a close look at the local plant life at the annual Gangtok orchid show. There were some spectacular flowers on display, and although I am not that interested in matters horticultural, I really enjoyed the flowers.

Himalayan Holiday - To Gangtok

2007-05-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

Paras introduced us to our guide John who would accompany us for most of the trip, and then we left the airport for Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim. The journey is almost 100 kilometres, but the twisty Himalayan roads would mean that it would take about four hours. This would include a brief stop at the border town of Rangpo to collect an Inner Line Permit for me. Sikkim is a sensitive area being close to three neighbouring countries: Nepal, Bhutan and, most sensitive of all, China. For this reason foreigners are restricted when it comes to travelling in Sikkim. Fisrt you need an Inner Line Permit to enter at all; various other areas require further permits, and some locations are completely off limits. Fortunately Paras knew what to do, and we would experience no problems.

First we had to leave West Bengal, my first communist state, Ukraine having given up on that ideology some time before I went there in 1999. Bagdogra is on the plains at an altitude of 126m. The terrain changes swiftly to mountinous - Darjeeling is only 25 miles away as the crow files at an altitude of over 2,100m. The first stretch however is straight and flat, and the signposts warn of wild elephants. Soon the hills loom up and the bends start. The signs change from warnings of pachyderms to cute rhyming couplets urging drivers not to fall off the road: 'Don't be silly/The road is hilly' and 'Enjoy the valley/It's not a rally'. Paras had thoughtfully provided some beer in a coolbox which helped to soothe out the bumps.

We made a stop to take pictures of the arched Coronation Bridge over the Teesta river. Whilst I was walking outside the vehicle, a local asked me where I was from. He then wanted to know how rural England compared to our current location. In particular he wanted to know what crops were grown. He was concerned that we didn't grow rice or mangos, but seemed happy when I told him we import some from India. We didn't cross the bridge, as that would take us eastwards to Assam. Instead we pressed on towards Sikkim.

As we continued upwards the temperature dropped and the plant-life became a bit less tropical. Many hairpins later we reached the checkpoint at Rangpo. Sikkim is a relatively new addition to the Indian union, having been an independent, absolute monarchy prior to 1975. Border posts and passport stamps mean that there is still a feel of travelling 'somewhere else'. The Inner Line Permit was issued promptly and with minimum fuss, but we had to wait for our driver to finish his meal. This gave us an opportunity to walk around Rangpo's main shopping street. The obvious difference was the amount of wine shops. Wine shops tend to stock more whisky and beer than wine, but that is the name by which off-licences trade in India. Brewing is a major industry in Sikkim, and alcohol isn't taxed. That makes it a popular purchase for people on the other side of the state line: Rangpo is an Indian equivalent of Calais.

Passes acquired, and driver fed, we continued into the night to Gangtok. We were staying in the Sonam Palgey hotel. This was built for guests to the last king of Sikkim's coronation in 1963. The woman at reception was wearing the national dress, and the main foyer had some colourful tables and black and white photos of the ex-royalty. Some of the pictured women had hairstyles that would not look out of place in a Star Wars movie.

We then went to the restaurant for some food before bed. We noticed pork on the menu; very tempting as we hadn't had any in quite a while. Being used to spicy food a vindaloo held no fear, and nor did a mild beer to wash things down. How wrong we were. The beer was my first warning, an unfamiliar Sikkim brew, it was emblazoned with the words 'HIT SUPER STRONG' and promised a Yak felling 8% alcohol. I called over the waiter and pointed out that I had asked for mild, usually a respectable 5% in Pune. He replied that this was the mild version! Next came the food. As is common in India we were given some raw green chillies to munch. The ones in Pune, whilst hot, are quite edible. Amateurs beware: I can drink neat Tabasco with no ill effects. One bite was enough to demonstrate that the chillies from the north east are a breed apart. They were insanely hot. The north east is after all the home of the fearsome Naga Jolokia, aka the world's hottest chilli. The raw chillies set the tone for the rest of the meal. This vindaloo, with an authentic sauce rather than the British curry-house variety, was a scorcher. San eventually ordered some raita, which along with the beer provided some welcome relief. The curry conquered, it was off to bed; tomorrow we would be sightseeing in Gangtok and the immediate surrounds.

Holiday in the Himalayas

2007-05-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Last month San and I went on a holiday to Sikkim, and the Darjeeling district of West Bengal. Roshni had been sent to Hyderabad on the train with her grandparents. We were flying as the train would take the best part of three days to cover the route. Better than the three week journey, in the times of Empire, from the south to what is now Pakistan, recalled by a relative of mine, but still too long for me.

Instead we took advantage of India's booming budget airlines. As the linked article states there are absurdly cheap fares available. Ours were modest rather than absurd, however we did manage to grab a 79 Rupee (about £1) flight between Hyderabad and Pune for San's sister Kinu, so the really low fares are there. The downside of the budget airlines is that they consider timetables to be a rough guide rather than anything you can rely on. Our first leg was to have been from Pune to Delhi with GoAir, but that route was cancelled, and we were put on the Bombay-Delhi flight a few weeks before departure. Since it around five in the morning this would entail a stay in Bombay.

Fortunately one of San's friends, who like me is an expat UK working in India, put us up in his flat in Navi Mumbai, a suburb of Bombay situated on the mainland. We drove down on the expressway which finishes on the edge of Navi Mumbai itself, avoiding the busy roads of the city, if not the humidity. In the evening he took us for a tour of his workplace; the enoromous, and very impressive Reliance campus - officially named the Dhirubhai Ambani Knowledge Centre. We had dinner in one of the on-campus restaurants; no alcohol or meat to San's chagrin.

The following morning we were kindly dropped off at the airport to begin the holiday proper. The budget airlines had more mischief to wreck on their, and our, timetables. Because we were put on the Bombay flight at a late date, we were told that we would have to wait and see if we would get on. Rather unfair as we had booked the original Pune ticket long in advance. After a nervous wait we were allowed on the plane bound for Delhi. Unfortunately it left late, and we were delayed further at the 'quick' stop in Jaipur, and delayed once more waiting for a slot to land in Delhi. The upshot was that a comfortable connection was turned into a rush. The onward flight was with another airline; the infamous Air Deccan. San went ahead in an attempt to reach the check-in desk before it closed, whilst I waited for our bag to appear on the carousel. Once it arrived I went to find her, and realised that domestic departues is in a different, albeit nearby building, to arrivals. Since San had the e-ticket thay wouldn't let me in, but after some remonstrating I was accompanied into the hall with an armed guard. Once satisfied that I was legitimate he left me with San. Then we discovered that Air Deccan had over-booked the flight and we were stuck in Delhi for twenty four hours.

First we called Paras, who had arranged our itinarary, to inform him that we weren't on the flight. I want to point out that he had nothing to do with the flights, and that the delays we experienced do not reflect on him at all! Then we booked into a pricy, but conveniently close hotel that went by the original name of Airport Hotel. The staff sympathised with our plight, and led us to our room. As I've been to Delhi before, and it is hot at this time of year, sightseeing wasn't a priority. Instead we caught up on our sleep, and went out in the evening to Connaught Circus, a huge circular road in the heart of New Delhi. I was going to call it a roundabout, but it hardly seems right to take a trip somewhere and describe it as a piece of traffic furniture. It's much grander that that.

We passed close to India Gate, and hence various Government of India buildings. We also passed the local Bentley and Lamborghini dealer. Most of the roads in India would be impassible for the latter, but New Delhi has some impressive and wide streets. Indeed, a pie in the sky plan for an F1 Grand Prix in the city has even been floated. Despite all this talk of roads Delhi is a very green city; indeed the Times of India recently listed it as having the most forest cover of any Indian city. There is an underground market at Connaught Circus which San was keen to explore. It was underground in both senses of the word, with DVDs and computer software of varying degrees of authenticity available for knock down prices. San stuck to clothes, whilst I politely declined a DVD of sexy ladies. After the shopping we headed above ground and sat in the park for a while. We could catch glimpses of the shiny new Delhi Metro through windowed ceilings laid into the park's earth. After our break we took a walk around the shops and searched for a place to eat. A lot of places were pretty busy, with queues forming at the doors. We found somewhere a bit quieter and had a decent meal with Indian wine.

After that we retired to the hotel and bed. The next morning we were up early, determined to be first in line at the checkout counter. Successful in our mission, we were on the flight! As with GoAir, Air Deccan's flight was delayed so we had a bit of waiting in the departure lounge. Eventually the flight was called, and unlike GoAir there are no seat bookings on Air Deccan: it's a mad rush instead. Other differences are less cabin crew, and what cabin crew there are wear longer skirts. Important facts for the traveller to know. We managed the scramble on board and get a pair of seats on the port side of the plane, where me might catch an early glimpse of the Himalayas, and eventually we did see some mountains through the clouds. The flight was fairly long, and overshoots the final destination of Bagdogra to make a stop in Guwahati in Assam. In the end we arrived safely, albeit somewhat delayed, in West Bengal, and finally met up with Paras. Up till now we had been dealing with him solely by phone, fax and email. We were led to our 4x4 to begin the four hour journey to Gangtok in Sikkim.

To be continued...

Happy Birthday to Two

2007-05-05T05:11:00.000-07:00

Usually I don't post when there is nothing much to report. That hasn't been the reason for the present hiatus, rather there has been too much happening in April for me to keep up with. First of all, my two bedroom flat has been very full. San's parents came up with San's sister and her daughter at the beginning of April. We were also looking after the son of one of San's many cousins, as his school holidays didn't coincide with his parents work. Not much room then!

The first event was San's father's 70th birthday. This was a quiet affair with a few people from the appartment complex invited round. The next birthday would prove quite a contrast... As you can see from the pictures above, the chocolate cake was enjoyed by all, if somewhat messily. The sharp eyed will spot the jars of Marmite stored under the table, essential supplies for the Englishman abroad.

Next up was Roshni's third birthday. This was anything but a quiet affair. The main cause of excitement, and hence noise, was the long balloons we had attached to the walls. The children quickly saw their potential as swordlike weaponary, and a pitched battle was soon underway. You can see some of the balloons in the pictures below, but the static nature of the shots doesn't do the sword fighting justice. When the battle had subsided, mainly due to the majority of weapons having burst, it was time to cut the cake. Roshni is still an avid Winnnie the Pooh fan, so it was a similar cake to last years. Our maid was at the party, as her two children had been invited; the fullscreen webchat I was having with my parents amidst the chaos confused her. It took a while for her to realise that it was a live videochat, rather than a recording that she was watching. After everyone had left we had some local champagne (not bad), and went out for a meal at one of the nearby restaurants. As you can see, Roshni's cousin enjoyed her curried crab.

New Office - The Inauguration

2007-03-02T06:51:00.000-08:00

Late last year San and I went to see Delcam's new office, which was in the process of being built. At the time the outside looked fairly complete, but there was still work to do within. A few months have passed and yesterday was the time for the official inauguration. The timing of such events is determined by the stars, rather than more earthly concerns such as the building actually being completed. Still, two out of three floors are almost ready, and we hope to move there in a couple of weeks. We'll have much more space, and better electrical backup. This should been that the approaching summer will be more bearable than last year.
The desks themselves have some natty tartan highlights, and there are spider logos adorning some of the internal glass. The stairs continued up to the roof, which was open. The view from on high was better than you would expect having come up from the busy street below.

We all gathered there late in the morning and had a look around. There are far more desks than people at the moment. Then we awaited the Pujaris. They turned up somewhat later and took over a small meeting room. From within came much chanting, before a coconut was led around every corner of office space. This was a multi-faith inauguration, so the coconut was followed by a priest sprinkling holy water everywhere the coconut had been. I'm not sure what the coconut means, but I know that holy water renders us immune to vampires. If you've seen the size of the bats in Pune you would agree that this is a blessed relief indeed.

Meanwhile the Pujaris had returned to their room to continue chanting. We left them to it and took lunch on the unfinished floor, but not before ribbons had been ceremoniously cut on all three floors. Lunch was a vegetarian affair with some very tasty curries and some ice cream for dessert. After a couple of brief speeches it was time to leave; but not before we were all invited out for an evening meal at Tim's, who had come over from the UK for the occasion, expense.

The Beach

2007-02-26T05:50:00.000-08:00

Just over a week ago we headed to the coast for a long weekend. We chose to stay in Maharashtra, rather than Goa, partly because San and I have been to Goa a couple of times before, and partly because we wanted to see what the Maharashtra coast had to offer. The main attraction was the advertised lack of crowds; Goa at this time of year can be pretty crowded. We chose to stay at the MTDC (Maharashtra Tourism Development Corporation) resort in Ganapatipule.

Ganapatipule is a small town on the Konkan Coast about 100 miles north of Goa. Apart from the beach, it has a Ganesh temple, and not much else. It took us about six and a half hours to drive there, leaving shortly before sunrise. The first part, along the Pune bypass, was in the dark. Once we had turned off onto a road heading over the Ghats the first hints of light were beginning to appear. By the time we reached the lake at Mulshi dawn was imminent. It looked very photogenic, so we stopped to take some pictures.

From the lake onwards the road headed into the hills. Monsoon damage was evident, and the journey was somewhat bumpy. This, combined with more than a few hairpins, didn't agree with Roshni's stomach. Fortunately she slept for a great deal of the journey, and the Ghats were soon dispensed with. On the other side of the hills we joined up with NH 17; the main Bombay-Goa highway. this was a single carriageway route, but wide, straight and fairly traffic free for the most part. The width and traffic stayed more or less constant, but there were still some fair sized climbs to pass. good fun for the driver, less so for babies!

Most of the destinations were signposted in Marathi. This uses the same script as Hindi, except it has an extra 'l' equivalent: 'ळ'. This meant that I could read it without assistance. I still can't read that quickly, so it sometimes took a few signs for me to be sure where we were. Soon though, I could recognise our destination 'गणपतीपुळे'. However, since NH 17 wouldn't take us there directly it wasn't posted that often during the 200 kilometre stretch. Still, we noticed the turn off, but not quickly enough to avoid a swift u-turn. This led us on to a narrower, but still good quality road, that took us the remaining 25 miles to the coast.

The MTDC resort is right on the coast with the beach immediately accessible down some steps from our sea view cottage. The name was appropriate, as the main room had windows on two sides offering a great view of a palm lined and golden beach. As promised there were no crowds. Apart from a slight gathering near the temple in the evenings, there were vast expanses of empty sand to lay down your beach towel. The sea was warm, the coconut trees aesthetically pleasing, and the sun strong. How's February in the UK?

The resort had a restaurant where we went for most of our lunches and dinners. One evening we ventured out to see what else was on offer. Not that much! We had a decent chicken thali; but there wasn't a great deal of choice. Nights were warm, so we could eat outside, and then retire to our cottage and sit on the balcony until bedtime. The sky was very clear and, as the moon was new, it was very dark at night. The Milky Way was just about visible from our balcony, and I am sure it would be clearer still if we had taked a night time walk along the beach.

As well as sunbathing and swimming during the day, the beach was a good place to walk along in the late afternoon and early evening. There were horse and camel rides, much to Roshni's delight. She gives every impression of wanting a pony when she's older. I will look up the price of donkeys, I suspect they are pretty cheap! Whilst she was riding her horse, San and I could watch the sun set over the sea. Then it was time to drink the water from a coconut at one of the beach-side shacks near the temple.

All very relaxing, and a very enjoyable break. Sadly though, we had to go back to Pune. We headed back up NH 17, but turned off a bit earlier, in order to take an alternative route over the Ghats. This route, over Varandha Ghat, turned out to be higher and twistier. A long sequence of hairpins took us up to about 850 metres, and some spectacular views. We maintained altitude for many miles along a narrow, and very monsoon wrecked road, before heading back down south of Pune. The dual carriageway NH 4 took us back at high speed. Well 100kph feels fast in a Maruti 800.

Links:
More Pictures
Ganapatipule.kmz - Locations and route information for Google Earth.

Bhaje and Lohagad

2007-01-28T11:06:00.000-08:00

26 January was Republic Day. This is not to be confused with Independence day, India has cunningly separated these two events, thus guaranteeing two days holiday rather than one. Republic day entails much marching and showing of weaponry in Delhi, but for the rest of us it's a welcome day off. San, Roshni and I went to Lohagad Fort and Bhaje Caves, which are about 40 km west of Pune. We drove there along NH4, the old highway to Mumbai. The new expressway has replaced it, but it is a fairly decent quality road all the same. Dual carriageway for most of the journey, but the parked cars, pedestrians and numerous junctions with side roads mean that concentration is required.

We turned off and took the road to Malavli, which is the nearest train station to the fort and caves. We continued on and parked our car at the foot of the steps to the caves; a short climb and we were there. The caves are not natural, they were carved out of the rock some 2,000 years ago by the Bhuddist inhabitants of these parts. It's not quite on the scale of Petra, but still mightily impressive. There were many rooms carved out of the cliff, some were for living in, others contained stupas - bell shapes stones containing the ashes of the deceased.

After admiring the stonework we retraced out steps back to the car and drove across the valley towards Lohagad on what may generously be described as an un-metalled highway. It started off OK, but swiftly degenerated into loose stones on a steep incline. Soon we abandoned the car and set off on foot, grateful that we had avoided a few kilometres across the valley in sweltering heat. It was still pretty hot as we started our ascent, Roshni was not helping at this point. She kept demanding to be carried by whomever wasn't carrying her at that particular moment in time. Fortunately she was pretty tired and ended up being carried over my shoulder. This moment coincided with the first of the steps.

Compared to the caves, the fort is a sprightly 500 years old, and was one of many in the area belonging to Chatrapati Shivaji. As is common with many of the forts it is situated on the top of a formidable hill. A hill with a sheer cliff-face. This is where the steps enter the story. The steps are many, and they are large, and I carried Roshni up every single one of them. It was exhausting. The views on the ascent, and from the summit itself, made it all worthwhile. We had our picnic at the top in one of the ruined fort's rooms. The room was open to the blue sky, on one side was the doorway by which we had entered, the other three walls served as watch-posts for several monkeys to gather and eye up our food and possessions.

We had a walk around the summit area and encountered some local lads having their picture taken sitting crudely astride a cannon. Students: they're the same everywhere. There were some splendid views of the Western Ghats, and remains of various fort structures. After that we headed back down. I hoped that this would be easier, but as I was now carrying Roshni and a backpack it was every bit as hard as the ascent. Roshni was awake by this time and sitting on my shoulders, and I was worried that I might slip. The effort in making sure that every downwards step was solidly planted took its toll. Fortunately there was a café at the foot of the steps where we all stopped off for refreshments. By now the sun had lowered into the top of the horizon's haze, which reduced the direct heat considerably, making the remaining gentle downhill walk to the car much more pleasant.

Pictures:
http://web.mac.com/weatherley/iWeb/Site/Lohagad.html

Where on Earth:
Bhaje Caves 18˚43'11.22''N 73˚29'08.64''E (Caves are at the bottom of the hill, Visapur fort is at the top)
Lohagad Fort 18˚42'32.20''N 73˚28'37.41''E

Meanwhile, 100 Miles North

2007-01-18T10:39:00.000-08:00

This was a picture from one of the newspapers yesterday. Nashik is a sizeable town, about 100 miles north of Pune. A reminder that the local fauna can be on the exciting side. However, I only see donkeys on my walk to work. Fortunately, both the man in the picture, and the leopard, lived to see another day.

Sankranti

2007-01-15T10:55:00.000-08:00

Last weekend our apartment complex celebrated Sankranti. This involved the construction of a bonfire in the grounds, which was lit up at night. Sweets, nuts and popcorn were handed out, and were thrown in the fire as we circled seven times. Actually, many people gave up early, myself included, because the fire was burning fiercely by now, and the walls within the complex grounds forced us a bit too close to the flames for comfort.

After our roasting, the remaining sweets were consumed by the spectators, rather than the conflagration. There were lots of sweets to eat, and any attempt at avoiding them was hampered by Roshni insisting that San and I took hers. After she had eaten a few herself, of course.

The next day we went for a walk to the top of the hill to watch the sunset. We met one of our ex-maid's on the summit. Her party were there to perform puja at the small temple located there. She gave us some sesame seed ladoos, traditional Maharashtra Sankranti fare, along with the words: "til gul ghya, ani god god bola" (let us be sweet to each other and let friendship prevail between us).

The sunset was fairly impressive - Roshni thought it looked like a lollipop. No sign of Comet McNaught though. Unsurprising as it would be close to the sun, the horizon was pretty hazy, and the geometry meant that from our latitude that the comet would barely be higher than the sun in the sky. Still, the sunset was worth watching, and we saw Venus shortly afterwards.

NH9

2006-12-28T04:59:00.000-08:00

We spent Christmas in Hyderabad this year. The intention was to travel by train, but the Indian Railways habit of selling tickets on a waiting list caught us out. Often when you buy rail tickets you will be put on a waiting list rather than receiving a confirmed berth. We had booked a fair while in advance and had a low waiting list number - normally not a problem. Unfortunately we didn't check our status, and because we were travelling at a busy time of year, we didn't get our seats. A quick call to the cab company who took us to the station and we had a 4x4 and driver.

The road to Hyderabad from Pune is NH9, where the NH stands for national highway. The road is not as grand as the stretch from Pune to Mumbai, being single carriageway for most of the route. Still, the carriageway is quite wide and the road surface was in good condition. Easily accommodating the Indian habit of overtaking in the face of oncoming traffic. A typical manoeuvre goes like this: pull out, if there is oncoming traffic then flash your headlights. Unlike the UK where flashing headlights either indicate that you are giving way, or showing displeasure, here in India it means 'I'm coming right at you'. The oncoming traffic will reply by flashing their headlights, acknowledging your intent, and informing you that they're going to hold course. The horn can be used to inform the vehicle being passed that they should pull over (at minimum to the edge of the tarmac, but ideally beyond) to let you squeeze between them and the oncoming traffic. It works for the most part, but a few serious wrecks along the way show the inherent flaws in the system.

The drive down was at night so I didn't see much. I made my return during the day which let me see the scenery. The land is pretty flat, as befits a plateau. Not as scenic as the Ghats between Pune and Mumbai. Still there was plenty to see: fields of sugar cane and cotton; jungly dogs and hogs; deer and one monkey. The highlight was Naldurg Fort (17°48'56"N 76°17'4"E), near Solapur, on the Karnataka border. Unlike the forts near Pune, this one didn't belong to the Marathis, rather it was an outpost of the Nizam of Hyderabad's domain.

New Office

2006-11-25T02:17:00.000-08:00

We're moving offices in a couple of months. Currently we're using a house, but it has been a bit cramped, so we will be moving to a proper office building with more space. The outside is more or less complete, we're just waiting for the inside to be finished off.

This weekend we drove over to take a look. It's about five and a half miles from home, so no more walking to work once it's finished. In the absence of a road map I use Google Earth to plan my route. The route I came up with turned out to me non-optimum: at one point we ran out of road and continued under a railway bridge on a muddy track. Once we reached the main road, on which the building is situated, we were unsure which way to turn. I chose poorly and we had a scenic drive up the old Pune-Mumbai highway as far as Pimpri. After one U-turn, and some further driving, we spotted the office and took some pictures. I bag a desk with a balcony, preferably without a cow. We then had lunch in the vegetarian restaurant on the ground floor. The return journey proved to be simpler as our destination was sign-posted from the highway.

Diwali

2006-10-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, 21 October, was Diwali, a major festival in India. That meant two days holiday and lots of fireworks. I took the whole week off and went to Hyderabad to stay with the in-laws. I travelled down on Diwali itself, this was nice as the roads, airport and plane where all quite empty. A bit like travelling on Christmas day in the UK. It did make for an exciting night time landing with lots of fireworks going off alongside the plane on its final approach. I can only imagine the terror panic that would ensue if such a colourful simulation of low intensity conflict was carried out near Heathrow.

No pictures again as San still has the camera. She's back on the first of November. Instead, here's a map of India so those unfamiliar with its geography can get their bearings. As you can see there are two Hyderabads. The northern one is Hyderabad, Sindh, and is in Pakistan. The one I went to is Hyderabad, Deccan, and is about 315 miles from Pune as the crow flies.

The festivities kept on coming. Diwali is a Hindu celebration, but later in the week it was the Muslims' turn for Eid ul-Fitr, which marks the end of Ramadan (or Ramzan as it is referred to over here). There was some confusion over the exact date. It all depends on the first sighting of the new moon: the consensus was Wednesday in Hyderabad, but other parts of India had decided upon Tuesday.

Hyderabad has a large Muslim population so Ramzan is a big deal there. As it coincided with Diwali this year, lots of businesses had banners and lights celebrating both. My daughter saw one illuminated crescent moon and confidently declared it a banana. We had some Haleem, a traditional Ramzan dish, served from a vast roadside cauldron. Back at San's parents house we were given a traditional Ramzan sweet dish, the name of which escapes me, prepared by one of the neighbours. This and my mother-in-law's cooking ensured that I was fed well for the week.

I like driving in my car

2006-10-18T07:25:00.000-07:00

It's certainly not a Jaguar either. Nor is it mine, it is in San's name in order to keep the bureaucracy to a minimum. Regardless, I've been driving about town in a white Maruti 800, not unlike the one in the link. Except mine has bull bars for maximum carnage potential. It's cheap and cheerful so it won't matter if it, inevitably, acquires any bumps. No pictures because San has taken the cameras to Hyderabad to stay with her parents for Diwali, I'm heading off on the weekend myself.

It's mighty 800cc engine is fine for the local driving conditions, speed is ill advised here. Having said that I have seen two Porsches recently: one Boxster and a Cayenne. How a Boxster copes with the potholes I don't know. The Cayenne shouldn't have too much trouble, but a Porsche off-roader is just fundamentally wrong. I find driving here more entertaining than I thought I would. The lack of rules is quite liberating. You can drive like Mr Toad without upsetting anyone, because everyone else drives the same way. Red lights are advisory, give way is a foreign concept, and overtaking can be carried out anywhere. The main trick is to assume any vehicle will attempt to pass you, cut you up, or drive straight at you at the earliest opportunity. Once you know this, the crazy logic required for driving begins to fall into place. Someone described it as a real life game of Tetris - got to fill those gaps.

I've mainly made a few short drives to local shops and restaurants, but last Saturday I drove to the town centre. I impressed myself by flawlessly navigating the route from memories of auto-rickshaw journeys and a quick look at Google Earth before I left. The drive took me past the five star hotel where Angelina Jolie and some bloke called Brad, who's tagging along with her, are staying. Pune, on grounds of security, is standing in for Karachi, Pakistan, in a Hollywood film about Daniel Pearl. Considering what happened to Mr Pearl in Pakistan it's probably a wise decision. The Times of India newspaper has devoted endless column inches to their, and their retinue's, antics. A picture of a Sun paparazzo being throttled by a bodyguard being my personal highlight. The return journey was less successful as a road closure forced me off course. After about five minutes of hopeful solar navigation I spotted a sign to Aundh indicating that I was getting closer. Bonus marks are deserved because the sign was in Hindi - औंध.

Frogs

2006-09-22T08:29:00.000-07:00

The monsoon is coming to an end, but we're still getting some fairly heavy showers. However, there is noticeably more sun about too, which means that the pool is looking more enticing. Not just for humans, for this is the time of year when tadpoles become little frogs. The frogs seem to find the pool quite agreeable. They're mostly arranged around the edges just above the waterline, but the waves created when swimming knock them into the water. If you stand near the edge one will sometimes jump onto your shoulder. Fortunately they appear to be harmless, unlike their Amazonian brethren, so I don't mind swimming with them. After all when you swim in a river, or the sea, you are sharing the water with a host of other beasties. I'm a bit less keen on the expired ones though - watch where you tread! San is less tolerant of amphibians altogether, she had one of the building staff picking them all out with a net before she would venture into the water. We've also seen a kingfisher perched atop one of the pool ladders, so there is a natural cleaning system too. More alarmingly a snake has been reported...

Ticket to Ride

2006-08-31T07:25:00.000-07:00

Last week we decided to get Indian driving licences. Rather than take the rigourous driving test we qualified by dint of having UK licences. We paid for the services of an agent to ease the form filling. This turned out to be well worth the money as there was plenty to fill in, and the forms weren't in English. There were also lots of people to see to get the requisite stamps, so the agent's knowledge of the office's geography was invaluable. After the agent filled in the forms we first had to satisfy the head man that we met the requirements. After a few long looks at our UK licences and accompanying documents he signed the form. On his desk was a voluminous tome entitled Driving Laws of Maharashtra. So there are driving laws, who knew? After that it was off to another desk, we just sat and waited as the agent handled it. Next up was the brave new world of biometrics. A webcam mugshot, thumbprint scan, signature on a graphics tablet, further form stamping and we were done. All that was left was for the forms to be taken for a final round of stamping and the agent said that he would courier the licences in a few days time.

As you can see a few days have passed. As you can see it is a smart card with photo id and a spot for your signature - or thumbprint if you're illiterate. The interesting bit is the vehicle category: LMV is a light motor vehicle otherwise known as a car. MCWG is a motorcycle with gears. Can I drive one? No comment other than that I am properly licensed. Anyway, I've had a look on the internet and know what all the levers and pedals do: what more do I need to know?

Roads

2006-08-15T00:10:00.000-07:00

Now that the waters have receded it is possible to see the roads, or what is left of them. The picture here isn't Pune, our roads are in a much worse state. The problem is a recurring one: monsoon destroys road, contractors 'fix' road, monsoon destroys road. It's a combination of poor management by the local government and incompetence bordering on fraud on the part of the contractors. The newspaper has found no shortage of road related articles to fill its pages. Today we learn that almost £7m has been allotted this year for road projects of which less than £350,000 has been spent. £300,000 of that has been used up as an advance, so precious little has been spent on actually fixing stuff. The contractors seem to have little incentive to do a good job since they'll get paid again when it needs fixing next year. They are meant to provide free repairs for an agreed number of years after laying the road, but there seems to be an absence of enforcement in this particular area of policy. The end result is terrible roads and, with the amount of two wheeled traffic, more accidents. Travelling in an auto-rickshaw, with its minimal suspension, is a bone-shaking experience. It's also a wallet lightning experiences as the rickshaw-wallahs, not known for their fair and honest attitude towards fares, are hiking their prices even more. They do have a point though, the state of the roads means journeys take longer so their fuel costs are increased. As with most grim scenarios, humour is used to lighten the mood. I liked this joke from the paper: In India we drive on the left of the road, in Pune we drive on what's left of the road.

Independence Day

2006-08-14T08:16:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, 15th August is a holiday, to celebrate independence from those nasty British types. There is a bit of a security scare here, heightened after the recent events in the UK, regarding the day itself. Sadly, it's not too hard to imagine some group planning such an event. Hopefully all will be well. On a lighter note the sports channel ESPN was advertising an independence day special during the recent England-Pakistan match. The advert was quite odd: it started off with black and white footage with a serious voiceover stating that on this day India had shaken off the imperial yoke. It then became much more cheerful and the footage shifted to cricket in colour. ESPN were going to celebrate the day with replays of famous thrashings of England at the hands of India. Good stuff I'm sure - I'll choose to remember the most recent match between the two sides though.

Roshni's nursery will be on holiday tomorrow too so they celebrated today and she came back with an Indian flag. I wanted to send her with one of these. It's the flag of British India for those who don't know - myself and San included until quite recently. However, San wasn't too keen on the idea and started muttering darkly about the Koh-i-noor.

Party

2006-07-29T06:38:00.000-07:00

Last week we had a party at the office in the evening. We've had a few in the months that I've been here, no particular reason for this one, we just hadn't had one for a while... I opted for a beer rather than the more popular whisky and soda or rum and coke. The others were worryingly impressed - it turned out to be strong beer. Beer in India tends to be lager and comes in two varieties: mild and strong. Mild is 4-5% alcohol by volume - strong enough by UK standards. Strong is the 8% stuff favoured by gentlemen of the road. I went with whisky and soda afterwards. As usual the food was good. There were some plates with bite sized pieces of chicken and mutton to start with and a crab curry for the main meal. All were delicious. I was then presented with another beer, obviously my work-mates thought that one bottle was inadequate. This time the brew made no attempt to conceal its strength: both the name and graphical design strongly suggest the intended purpose. Click for a larger view.

Censorship

2006-07-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

If you can read this post today, 18 July 2006, you're probably not in India. In their infinite wisdom the government have blocked access to various blogging sites and blogspot is one of them. As is the fashion nowadays a wiki and a Google group have sprung up for discussion and further information on the situation. I think this post from the Slashdot article on this matter is probably the correct summary of the situation: Never attribute to malice what is explained by incompetence, especially in India.

The government either has evidence, or just as likely has just decided, that terrorists are communicating via public blogs - so they have provided ISPs with a list of blogs to block. The ISPs took the easy route and just blocked access to entire domains. Now it's hit the newspapers and television news I expect the situation to improve sooner rather than later. I guess the ISPs will get their act together and only ban the sites the government asked them to. Not that I think that will achieve much. There are too many fora on the internet to leave messages on, you'll never block them all. Worse, if the bad guys are daft enough to use public websites to plot and plan, they'll eventually get the hint and start using strong encryption and anonymous proxies to communicate with each other.

As you can see I can still write posts. That's because you write your posts on www.blogger.com and it's only *.blogspot.com that is blocked. Incompetence indeed.

(Edit 20 July 2006) As expected the government and/or the ISPs have found a clue; *.blogspot.com is no longer blocked from within India.

Mumbai

2006-07-01T01:12:00.000-07:00

Recently we had a long weekend in Mumbai arriving on the 23rd of June and leaving on the 27th. It's been at least six years since I was last there, apart from the airport, so it was interesting to return. The last time I had been there was 'winter'. The problem with Mumbai's climate is the humidity - it is not any hotter than Pune but the humidity really makes things uncomfortable. The relatively cool temperatures of winter provide little respite. This time we were there for the monsoon and it was much better. Still humid when it wasn't raining, but not too bad, and positively pleasant when there was a light shower. Heavy showers were another matter...

After checking into the hotel Roshni carried out the important business of testing the hotel beds for bounciness. That took about quarter of an hour. Next up was lunch high up in the Hotel's tower. The restaurant served Arabian fare, it was good enough if not as spectacular as the view from the twentieth floor. Later we went for a walk in the streets of Colaba, the district we were staying in. The hotel was on the coast and the main street was a couple of blocks behind and parallel to the sea-front. Hordes of hawkers selling various items of tat. Brass was big: items included mock antique gramophones, telescopes and swastika key-rings. Other big sellers were wooden elephants, enormous balloons and saffron of dubious quality. We managed not to buy any of that, but San did get some clothes for herself and Roshni. Those who have read 'Shantaram' ought to be familiar with Leopold's Café. It was on the street, but adorned with World Cup posters it looked far from the den of iniquity and shady deals depicted in the book. We finished off with a meal at a Chinese restaurant. The food here was good but suffered the typical Indian problem of being over generous. My fried crab claw starters would have sufficed for a table of six! Fortunately doggy bags were provided and would keep us fed for most of tomorrow.

The next day we took a boat from the Gateway of India to Elephanta Island. It takes about an hour and the weather was kind. Embarking was slightly exciting as you had to time your step on to the boat with the swell of the sea. The other end was easier as the boat was moored much tighter alongside another boat against the quayside. There was a toy train service from the quay to the steps leading up to the island's main attraction - the caves. The caves are manmade chambers carved out of solid stone with some large statues. Sadly the statues tend to be missing various limbs as they were used for target practice. Not by the British but the Portuguese who were the first Europeans in the area. The old name Bombay comes from the Portuguese for 'good bay' rather than being an English corruption of Mumbai. The place is a UNESCO world heritage site, making two in the Mumbai area. The other is Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus also known as Victoria Terminus and still commonly referred to as VT. You can see panoramas of both here and here - QuickTime required. The other attraction on the island are the monkeys. They expect food and will not feel shy about attempting to steal a bag from the tourists. Here's a picture of the initial stages of an attempted raid.

The next day we took a taxi to see some more of the city. There are some splendidly grand, if faded, buildings in Mumbai and we saw some on our ride. Marine Drive, as it's name suggests, runs along the coast and has a number of good looking buildings in varying states of wear. At one end of Marine Drive is Chowpati beach where Roshni has a ride on a toy car. These cars blare out Bollywood hits using the most distorted speakers I have ever heard. When three of them surround you trying to sell a ride you just want to disconnect your ears. Still, Roshni enjoyed it.

One evening we went to a restaurant behind the hotel for a European meal. It was quite a fancy place and the prices reflected that. Still. the food was excellent and the Australian wine an improvement on any local varieties. There is talk of good wine in Maharashtra - I haven't found it though!

We intended to visit some markets the next day, in particular Crawford Market and Choor Bazaar (literally Thief's Market - a comment on the dubious provenance of some of the wares). Sadly Roshni was very ill and vomiting continuously so we had to stay in the hotel. It was so severe that we had to call out a paediatrician who gave her an injection to stop the vomiting. The hotel staff did an excellent job in continuously replacing soiled bed sheets and towels. The injection did the job but she was still unwell for the next few days. Happily I can report that she has made a full recovery now.

The journey home was back along the expressway I mentioned in my very first post. This time the hills were surrounded by dark clouds hurling down torrents of water. Waterfalls were cascading down the sides of the hills and the road was awash. It all added to the fun. I encourage you to take a look at the Google Earth link below, it gives a good feel for the road.

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Google Earth Links

Expressway - this is a three lane motorway remember!
Taj Palace Hotel and Gateway of India
Elephanta Island
Chowpati Beach

Photos are here

Sinhagad Fort

2006-06-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

Today we hired a car and driver and went out for the day, but first here's a picture of some bees. They're hanging off the ceiling of the top floor of our apartment block. Not any more though as they met an unfortunate end, leaving a scene of apiarine carnage in the entrance lobby below.
Back to the fort: it's about a 30km drive south of Pune on top of a 1550m hill. Luckily we didn't have to climb it all, especially so for me as I was lugging Roshni too. Still, there were a fair few steps to navigate but the view was worth it.

After wandering around the summit we left for a nearby reservoir. The levels are low as we are still pre-monsoon despite my recent drenching. Still, there was enough water for boating and we had a brief ride around in a motorboat. There was a café between the water and car park so we had lunch there. Simple food but very tasty. Roshni followed her meal with a horse ride around the car park. Once dismounted she immediately demanded a ride on a cow. We told her to get in the car and we would find one.

Heading back towards Pune we passed another reservoir. This one had camels which made an acceptable cow substitute. Acceptable for Roshni but allow me to inform you that camel's are the transport of last resort. The angles and movements they create when rising or sitting are more alarming than any roller coaster. The lack of any restraint when the beast has angled its back seemingly vertically adds to the fun. Things don't improve much once in motion as the suspension is lousy leading to the rider being bounced into the air with alarming frequency. To enhance the experience our camel joined in a game of waterside football whilst we were on its back.

Roshni hadn't had enough sitting on animals. She pointed at an unclaimed water buffalo rushing through the crowd and requested a ride. It kept on running so a horse had to do, this time with Mum on board too.

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For those with time on their hands or bored at work here are some co-ordinates to stick into Google Earth.

Sinhagad Fort: 18˚ 21'57.53"N 73˚ 45'14.36"E
Boat Ride: 18˚ 22'50.99"N 73˚ 36'22.38"E
Camels: 18˚ 26'08.57"N 73˚ 46'15.21"E

Rain

2006-05-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

The Monsoon approaches. The last week has seen some thunderstorms, the electric fireworks accompanied with a modest amount of precipitation. This evening was no exception and there were a few flashes and rumbles after our swim. After getting changed we popped out to the corner shop, all of five minutes walk away. There were a few spots of rain, but since it is warm rain nothing to worry about. We were in the shop for about ten minutes, paid for our supplies, and headed off. The skies looked perfectly normal looking out of the shop door, overcast and grey as they were ten minutes earlier. Turning around and heading towards home revealed a different story: a wall of black lit up with violet lightening bolts. The only cloud I've seen as dark was last year's Birmingham tornado which passed fairly close to the UK office. That was wind, this was rain and this was bigger. Within a couple of minutes it was upon us. The picture shows the aftermath of walking for three minutes through the deluge. What it doesn't show was that we were soaked through within seconds. Only three or four months of this to go.

Budget Flights

2006-05-24T07:24:00.000-07:00

I flew down to Hyderabad for the weekend taking advantage of the rise of low cost airlines in India. Like the UK, India has seen large growth in this area. It makes sense, there are large distances to be covered and the alternatives are slow. In my case the distance to be covered was 325 miles as the plane flies. The plane, an ATR 72-500, covers the distance in an hour and a half; whereas a train would take about twelve hours. India's trains are well worth the experience but are not so good for a flying visit. As with the UK the train doesn't always win on price - the first class air conditioned carriages in particular.

As the picture above suggests I flew with Air Deccan. They were one of the first low cost carriers in India, and happily my flight went better than this one of theirs from a few years ago! Many more carriers have sprung up: Spice Jet, Go and Kingfisher to name a few. Yes, the beer company now have an airline.

We were delayed an hour on outward journey. Pune airport is a military base with a civilian airport stuck on and the air force were playing with their toys. This was unfortunate as the delay meant Roshni woke up from her sleep and could see the planes through the glass wall of the departure lounge. The planes drove her to a high level of excitement and she kept trying to make a run for it past security and on to the tarmac. She nearly made it a couple of times. The return journey was on time and still during daylight hours. There's not a great deal to see between Hyderabad and Pune, but on landing I did see the Su30s responsible for the outward delay lined up and ready for action.

Hyderabad itself was fun. We went out to a restaurant for a meal followed by a quick drink at a neighbouring pub. It was more of a night club, but the addition of TVs showing the cricket and hookahs added some Indian flavour. We were staying with San's parents and it was my neice's birthday so Biryani was on the menu. San's parents have a mango tree in their garden, and as they are currently in season we got to eat some of the fruit. Much nicer than any mangos I've eaten in the UK. Waiting outside the domestic departures entrance to Hyderabad airport was a cow - very Indian.

High Noon

2006-05-11T06:59:00.000-07:00

The Sun is now more or less straight overhead at midday. That's not midsummer - that's when the Sun reaches the Tropic of Cancer. Since Pune is between the Equator, where the Sun is at the Vernal Equinox, and the Tropic it gets the Sun directly overhead sometime in between too. Shadows fall right underneath the object casting them: here's a photo of me and another one of a lamp casting a pool of shade.

As I've mentioned before it's pretty hot right now, here's how Roshni deals with the heat!

Happy Birthday Roshni

2006-04-22T08:56:00.000-07:00

Roshni had her second birthday on the eleventh of April. Her cousin was up from Hyderabad and lots of neighbouring kids came along for the party. Roshni took little time to gasp the concept of presents, by about the third guest she was greeting them with arms outstretched chanting 'present! present! present!'. Birthday fare was the traditional British jelly, cake and juice which was enjoyed by all. There now follow some pictures of cake, pretty frocks and pressies.

Hot

2006-03-31T06:43:00.000-08:00

Another brief post. It's Saturday tomorrow, take a look at the forecast temperature! This is when air conditioning and swimming pools come in useful.

Holi-Day

2006-03-15T07:43:00.000-08:00

Today was Holi: a festival and national holiday in India. Wikipedia has tells you all about it. Well, it tells you the significance of the festival but not so much about what actually happens on the day. And no, there weren't any special drinks, only sweet chai.

So, what does happen? I'm happy to inform you that the main activity of the day was chasing women around the lawn and pouring buckets of water over them. This is a fun festival. As well as buckets there are various water propelling weapons that come into play: pistols, pressure guns and plunger devices that work on the bicycle pump principle. Water on its own is a bit clean so lurid dyes are added. The colours are mostly water soluble but I have a few pink, yellow and blue stains despite showering and swimming. A chemical analysis of the dyes would no doubt prove amusing.

The apartment complex has some water points at the bottom of the flats. Today they were used for refilling the buckets. Since people coming to a tap were out of ammo the taps proved a useful ambush point. To avoid a soaking from armed opponents one had to rush in and control the tap. The taps had a length of hose attached and if you could grab this the enemy could be held at bay. These taps are very high pressure and provided excellent deterrent value once control was seized.

Interestingly circle strafing works in real life. Keeping a pressurised water gun trained on a bucket wielder, whilst running around them usually avoided a soaking and simultaneously drenched the opponent. DooM and Quake skills find a real world use - they're not a waste of time!

Here's some photos to finish up with. There are more here.

This is us after the festivities.

Here's the neighbours.

Some very colourful people.

Even the flowers were not spared.

2006-03-09T04:31:00.000-08:00

A short entry: it rained today. Nothing spectacular in that for those reading in the UK, but it's the first rain I've seen since I left for foreign shores back in October. Just a few drops on the way to and from work and a proper shower for a few minutes in the morning. Thunder and lightening too. The forecast suggests that normal service will be resumed shortly. At least that will let us test the air conditioner: as soon as it was fitted the night time temperatures have plumetted.

We're off to a house warming party tonight. Apparently the house in question is not fully complete yet, but today has been determined to be auspicious so ready or not...

UPDATE: Back from the housewarming. The apartment block wasn't finished but the flat itself was more or less complete. Food was served outside under the building itself. This was on account of the enormous electrical storm that was raging around us. The storm had knocked put the power in the vicinity so illumination was provided by candles until the generator was bought online. Eating outside at night in a thunderstorm certainly makes an event that bit more memorable!

Summer

2006-03-01T00:52:00.000-08:00

It's the first of March, and that is officially the start of summer in India. The temperature has been heading upwards for a while already, the past couple of weeks have seen maximums around 36C. Nights are warmer too. In the middle of the cruel winter the mecury would dip as low as 5C, now it remains in the teens.

We've been air conditioner shopping. We're getting a unit fitted in the bedroom today, but the living room will have to wait a while. Since it is fairly spacious, and the cooling will be required during the hottest period of the day, two beefy (aka pricier) units are required to provide cooling. In the meantime the swimming pool makes a useful cooling device.

Like all electronic gadgets air conditioners come with their fair share of gimmickry. Ionizers that, according to the salesman, provide more oxygen. If true this would be worrying, stuff starts spontaneously combusting if you raise the oxygen levels too high. Fortunately ionizers in India are as effective as their brethren in the much missed innovations catalogue. Other interesting features are multiple setting memories: each family member can store there own favoured temperature and fight it out with a convenient 'one button' action. As opposed to just tapping in a new temperatue to annoy everyone else instead.

The India-England test series has begun. I'm not too hopeful of England's chances after the recent spate of injuries. They're currently 157-4 at tea on the first day - that's the kind of score that can go very wrong with a few quick wickets. Let's hope they reach the end of play without too much drama...

The picture is of my mum and dad's garden yesterday. It wasn't summer in India yesterday, it doesn't look like it was summer in Aberdeenshire either.

Haircut!

2006-02-05T23:15:00.000-08:00

I went for a haircut yesterday. Nothing unusual in that - other than the fact that I'm usually pretty lax when it comes to matters tonsorial. I have been needing a trim for a while, but have been putting it off. My main fear was that my lack of communication skills would result in an overly short cropping. After the event I realised that I shouldn't have been so concerned: my last haircut, a bargain Tesco value trim, was the very short cut I feared.

The local ATM has been down for the last few days so I walked to the next nearest one. ATMs over here often have a security guard in attendence. This one is no exception. Slightly less usual is the guard at my second choice ATM is sometimes accessorised with a shotgun. Not today however. On leaving with my money I realised that there were a couple of barbers opposite and steeled myself for the cut.

The nearest was Saddam's but it looked a bit busy so I went to the other one. Some hand gestures confirmed that haircuts were indeed available at the shop with barbers, scissors, barber chairs and people in the process of getting their hair cut. I sat and waited my turn.

Entertainment was provided by the Panasaonic [sic] radio blaring out Hindi tunes. It is always fun to examine the branding on goods in India. A previous entry mentioned the unlikely combinations on erstwhile couture clothing. Electronic goods don't escape the Indian treatment either. In this case we have the mispelling - a common occurrence. I can't decide whether it is a cunning tactic to keep Panasonic's lawyers at bay or simple ineptitude. Other variants I have seen are Panascanic and Shrap. We even have an example at work. Like the barber's Panasaonic it's a cassette/radio. This time the manufacturer is Nokina, whose logo coincidently uses the same font as a certain mobile phone company. Correctly spelt fakes are available too; cameras being a common example. Go into a camera shop and be dazzled by the array of cheap Canon and Nikon machinery on offer.

Back to the barber. Once it was my turn I sat in the chair and with more waving of hands and some limited use of actual vocabulary (bahoot chota nahene) I was reasonably confident of maintaining some length on top. The confidence was well placed, as a short time later I had a perfectly acceptable cut.

Next he asked if I wanted a shave. OK. Lathered up with whatever passes for badger hair over here I awaited the cut-throat. No namby-pamby safety razors over here. I was expecting this, but still kept very still whilst he attacked my stubble. What I didn't expect was that my stubble was so Desperate Dan-esque that it required a two pass attack. The end result was closer than my Gilette Mach 3 manages.

This wasn't the end. Did I want 'the machine'? The machine resembled a hand whisk - but with a rubber blob in place of the whisk. It would undoubtedly be marketed as a personal massage device on the UK high street. Usage involved my face being smeared with various potions and the vibrating rubber thing applied to my face. It felt very odd when jammed up against my nose and ears. Once finished with the machine the barber proceeded to whack me on the top and sides of my head a few times before giving me a few vigourous slaps to the back. And that was a haircut Indian style.

Happy New Year

2006-01-10T07:01:00.000-08:00

It's 2006. The last day of 2005 was spent on the magnificently named Jungli Maharaj Road. The translation is loosely Wild King: I would be very interested in learning where the name originated. This is another shopping thoroughfare, however it contains a healthy complement of restaurants and cafés too. Like MG Road there are also some old buildings, and here's a photo of one.

As I was accompanied by my wife and her sister the shopping was predictably clothing orientated. This gave me an opportunity to reacquaint myself with India's genuine fake merchandise. Genuinely fake goods are T-shirts, jeans and jackets with designer logos splashed all over them. They are genuinely fake because it is obvious that they have only the most tenuous connection to a Parisian or Milano salon. My favourite examples are where multiple brands are plastered over a single item of clothing. Yes, you too can have a Chanel-Gautier-Lacroix-Versace T-shirt for a couple of hundred Rupees. They also had children's clothes and Roshni and her cousin Sharon did well. Not so many designer labels, more tawdry unlicensed Barbie and Mickey Mouse. Fortunately, the brand free clothes can be very nice.

Next it was time for a bite to eat. The first café we entered was an Indian greasy spoon: fries and burgers in lots of fat - no thanks! (There was a McDonalds across the road - so you can go wrong eating here). Fortunately there were many alternatives, and we settled on the Iranian Café Sunrise. It served a mix of Indian and Iranian dishes, dates appear to figure highly in Iranian cuisine. It was all very delicious. They also had hookahs, which my dining companions were eager to use. An older gentleman seemed a bit shocked at the sight of them puffing away!

After lunch there was still shopping to be done, so we hopped into an auto-rickshaw and headed for MG road. San bought an all black chiffon sari. All her other saris are fancy silk and gold outfits: good for parties, but otherwise impractical. We shall see if this one is worn more often... The shops at MG road are open late on account of a four hour siesta between noon and four o'clock. As the sun went down stalls selling snacks began to open. We shared a cone of berries, the genius here was that they were sprinkled with salt. Yum. San got herself Henna'd up via a speedy process that was new to me. Rather than the normal painstaking process of tracing out a design by hand she was stamped with wooden blocks. It did smudge a bit though, so perhaps the slow method is still better.

Before heading home we got a surprise phone call - we'd been invited out for a New Year's Eve dinner at a restaurant near our flat by Andy, Sujata and her family. More great food and some bottles of Kingfisher too. The dining has been pretty good these last few days. The devvies at work had organised a lunch out at a place nearby. I'm sorry to the curry restaurants of Brum - you were outclassed. The next day there was a do at the Delcam offices to round off a two day sales partner event. Whisky, bingo, endless snacks, a biryani and some crazily intense dancing - a night to remember! Well, the whisky made remembering a challenge...

Christmas Passed and Presents

2005-12-29T05:19:00.000-08:00

Well, that's Christmas gone for another year - now we're into the birthday season. I had mine yesterday, today is my mother-in-law's and San's is on the second of January. It will be interesting to monitor the cake situation: previous years have seen the same cake recycled for all three of us. When I was younger it was not unheard of to see a half eaten Christmas cake with the 'Merry Christmas' plastic signage replaced by a 'Happy Birthday' version. This year things look hopeful: I have not one, but two cakes. One even has my name on it.

San and I went out for dinner for my birthday. Soup, chicken and mutton currys, rotis, poppadoms, salad and lassis all for a programmer pleasing 256 Rupees. Splendid. I had a salt lassi whilst San had sweet. They like their sugar over here, and that brings us to the subject of tea. It's sounds strange but I find it hard to find a good cup of tea in India. Good meaning one that I like - the locals seem to be quite happy with their chai. The desi brew always has plenty of milk and a couple of teaspoons of sugar. Sounds not too bad? After all, some misguided people in the UK are known to like a sweet cup. Make that two teaspoons in a demi-tasse cup - ew! Anyway, after making enough fuss I got a box of darjeeling leaves and a teapot for my birthday. Much better. Intriguingly the tea leaves came with a free bar of soap attached - a money saving combination that I believe even Tesco have yet to discover. I intend to travel to Darjeeling at some point in the future: it looks very scenic.

As for Christmas, it was Roshni who received all the presents. She made sure to open them in strictly descending order of size, the largest one eliciting a 'wow!'. The bulk of the presents made up a wooden jungle safari set comprising of: a base, jeep, four dolls and various wild beasts. It did not take long for the dolls eviction. The base was soon swarming with lions and giraffes, whilst elephants had taken over the jeep. Happily the dolls regained control in time for bed and Roshni tucked them all in, and despite the obvious problems of scale she wanted to join them there.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-21T08:11:00.000-08:00

Last weekend we went to the city centre to buy our christmas tree. Obviously christmas isn't so much of a deal over here: I'm only getting the day off because it's on the weekend. Even so, quite a few shops had some decorations in the window. Buying was proving slightly harder, until we found a lane off the main MG Road (Mahatma Gandhi, but everyone calls it MG) that had speciality christmas shops. We left laden with a fake tree plastered in equally fake snow, tinsel, baubles, other gaudy trinkets and of course the multi-program blinkenlights. As you can see, it is all set up and flashing away.

These natty stars are a traditional thing over here. It looks pretty good when the ceiling fan is cranked up...

So we await the day. Presents still need to be wrapped, and hopefully they will prove popular. As always there is the danger that the boxes turn out to be the most popular item.

The neighbours are organising an appartment complex get together on christmas eve. It's a bring you're own food and drink event, so we'll get to sample some more Indian home cooking. We had a small meeting in one of the flats today to discuss preliminary planning: things are looking hopeful. We're having the soirée in the common entrance hall to one of the flats (entrance hall is gilding the lily - under the flat would be more honest). Concern was expressed as to the drinking of alcohol lest it upset the puritans. Immediately a senior lady retorted that they're our flats and we'll do as we please! There is a serious point here: some appartment complexes in India can suffer the tyranny of the majority. It is not unheard of for vegetarians to expel the carnivores. The wise woman advised that us hedonists lay down the ground rules before anyone else gets a chance. On hearing that lights were banned, as some people may object, she asked 'Who said that?'. On hearing it was the site manager she responded firmly 'Let me speak to him.' - I don't envy him.

On the subject of potential offence, an American woman (the same strident one from the earlier hot water posting - she's Texan which I suspect explains the stridency) asked if it would be alright to play some christmas music in the background during the dinner. All the Indians were perplexed as to how this could possibly be a problem. Some right-on councils in the UK could learn a thing or two - as could those who are quick to percieve a slight wherever they look.

Read With Daddy

2005-12-13T10:33:00.000-08:00

First of all: apologies and congratulations to my mother in law who bought the fine books I am about to reveal to you. They really are appreciated and Roshni's going to love them. OK, Indian picture books to read with baby. Harmless enough titles.

Let's take a look at Indian domestic animals then. First of all we have the chicken:

Fair enough. When I go to the shop to buy my dinner one of these will be placed on the scales, live and clucking, for my approval. A few minutes later the still warm flesh is returned to me. I had heard that Jamie Oliver had outraged Daily Mail sensibilities a few weeks ago by slaughtering a sheep. Where do these people think their meat comes from? It's honest over here.

Next is the cow. Not to be eaten in India! Indeed, our milk is from buffalos and not Bovis domesticus. The BJP party are busy pushing through anti-cow-slaughter legislation in their fiefdoms: surely a top priority for Shining India.

But what is this? It looks awfully similar...

And another bovine substitute:

My wife justified its inclusion on the basis that they are used for milk up in the northern mountains. Fair enough I suppose; although the creature does wear a very disturbing expression. I've not seen a yak in the flesh, perhaps they all look like that. Turning the page allowed me to use San's previous domestic justification to allow the following as a reasonable domestic companion.

I always knew they made sense. It gets better though. How about a 'Cynx'? No, I'd never heard of one either; I guess they meant Lynx. Even so, I checked on Google Images to make sure I didn't expose myself as a complete fool: the number one hit was some German Goth girl, so I reckon I'm safe.

I hope real Lynxes are prettier than that chimera (the image above, not the German Goth). Whatever they look like, I don't want one in my house (chimera or German Goth). What other examples of domestic husbandry does India have to offer? Well, how about a pet Giraffe?

Nah! Once the height novelty wears off they're no fun. Good job that the Lion is considered domestic by my reliable guide.

But, if the king of the jungle does not provide enough of a thrill then fear not, for no Indian home is complete without an Apatosaurus:

Now, I didn't know what an Apatosaurus was. Fortunately Wikipedia, the reliable online encyclopedia of fabricated Kennedy assassination libel, knew the facts: 'Apatosaurus, often mistakenly refered to as Brontosaurus'. What? When did borontosaurus change its name? When did we realise that it didn't like it's original moniker? At least the book has taught me something. Still, don't have room for a bronto^W apato in the house.

After such magnificent domestic animals will the wild fauna be eclipsed? It appears so, none of the initial beasts can match a lion, let alone a renamed brontosaurus. An elephant comes pretty close though.

Normally a tiger would beat a lion in top trumps - stripe count would be the best category to play. However, this one loses points - surely they could find a realistic tiger image in India!

The wild beasts could provide a last minute challenge. For they had sauropods of their own, Behold the stegosaurus - still roaming the plains of India to this day.

Scarier yet the mosasaurus

The image appears to be a Mozilla fluffy marketing toy made flesh by overactive Indian imaginations. Wikipedia to the rescue once more: it's a real crocodile like dinosaur, but with even more powerful jaws. Who knew what lurked in Indian rivers.

Language

2005-12-08T00:46:00.000-08:00

My previous post makes mention of conversations. Of course it was San doing the talking, whilst I held the baby and picked out words: 'Hyderabad....busy......Pune......retired'. The good news on the language front is that the freight we shipped from the UK had finally made its way out of the port at Mumbai and to our house. Amongst the many toys (very happy baby), and equally numerous pairs of shoes (happy wife), was my neglected Hindi Linguaphone course.

The hope is that a combination of: an incentive to learn; the aforementioned OS X vocabulary tester and a currently nebulous thought of shifting the Linguaphone tapes onto iTunes and iPod will result in somewhat better communications skills. The last two options are important since involving gizmos will enhance the learning experience. Or maybe just give me a chance to play with the gadgets rather than learn. Either way it's a win-win scenario.

Telephony

2005-12-08T00:40:00.000-08:00

Still no ADSL, or for that matter calls outside of the local area and abroad: a trip to the telephone exchange was in order. BSNL is the state owned telecom company in these parts, and the exchange which serves our line is conveniently nearby. My father-in-law had done some prior research on ADSL by phoning up his exchange in Hyderabad. Apparently they can sort you out in a day over there. Not so Pune! A few weeks is the suggested time frame, and we're heading into months territory...

The public face of the exchange was challenged on this temporal disparity. The answer provided was a peculiar one to my non-native understanding of matters telephonic. Here's the gist:

You see Hyderabad is a busy place so things happen quickly there. Pune on the other hand is a retired, relaxed place. Therefore, you must expect things to take some time.

Right. Into the next room (they all have KEEP OUT signs but no one seems to mind visitors), and a chat with an engineer. He expressed surprise at our problems and said it should all be quite straightforward. Indeed after the weekend we received a phone call informing us that the line was checked and ADSL will be available shortly. I won't believe it until the bytes start flowing but things are looking more positive.

The international dialing issue was simpler. We had filled out a form to get our current service, but international dialing requires a separate form to be filled after you have the basic service. It requires a list of countries you're going to be calling, how often you'll be calling, signed photos and a further proof of identity. Quite a bit to get '00' working.

Edit: update - we have the internet at home - yay!

Wreckers!

2005-11-28T09:50:00.000-08:00

I love Indian newspapers - I only read the English lanuage ones because my Hindi isn't up to much. However, I am trying to do something about that: I've written an Objective-C app for OS X to test me on the Devanagari (Hindi) alphabet. It displays a Devanagari character, and I have to type in the English phonetic equivalent. I wasn't too bad at the alphabet before, but a few of the less common characters kept catching me out. This simple app has helped me learn the gotchas, and increase my recognition speed for all the characters in general. My next step is to write a simple vocabulary tester... Whether this keeness is an eagerness to learn Hindi, or a fondess for Cocoa coding in OS X is left to the reader.

Back to those newspapers. We get the Times of India - it has a terrific logo consisting of two elephants shoving a shield with their trunks. I'm sure the college of heraldry has a specific name for that: two pachyderms passant opposing a heraldic crest, or some such. But it's the stories rather than mastheads that are the real entertainment. A typical day is not complete without at least a few pages laying into politcians; both local and national. Lalu Prasad, the notorious Chief Minister of Bihar, got ousted the other day which provides a font of stories. Similarly, on a more local level the Maharashtra nationalist party Shiv Sena party are imploding: the leaders nephew has quit, and his mob were most effective at stoning the car of the leader's son. It's all a bit more ribald, not to mention internecine, than the Westminster yah-boo.

In the past couple of weeks though another story has grabbed the headlines from the politicians: the successful extraditition of Abu Salem. He was apparently a player in a Mumbai blast about ten years ago. At the time he had the second lowest price on his head, but now he has been deported from Portugal he is being built up as some sort of kingpin. There seems to be little concept of sub judice over here: the press are full of colourful stories about the crores (10,000,000) of rupees he has amassed. Not only that, plenty of rumoured confessions are printed daily. His companion, Monica Bedi, an erstwhile Bolywood actress was arrested alongside him: great delight was made in describing the rigours of a Hyderabadi women's prison in great detail. They even had a Bollywood vox pop article: possibly uncharitably, everyone who voiced an opinion said that they never really spoke to her, or for that matter knew her at all.

But politics and gangsters aren't the main attraction for me. The other day the Times published just the kind of article that I scour its pages for. The eternal struggle between the Pune-Mumbai-Pune taxi drivers association and their bitter enemies: the Mumbai-Pune-Mumbai taxi drivers association. Apparently they've been at loggerheads since 1974. Admittedly that's less than eternal - but still. It's not even a tale of deep intrigue: just seemingly petty moans about pitches and passenger stealing. I'm sure it's important if you make you're living driving a taxi between these two neighbouring cities, but keeping the feud open for three decades is a supreme achievement by both sides.

Some Pics

2005-11-24T09:54:00.000-08:00

Still no ADSL, so suffer the little mobile... I'm not going to say much - so here goes. BTW if the pics look a bit gloomy that's beacuse they're using the one true gamma: 1.8. Turn up your brightness on Windows boxes :)

The living room - complete with a mini chaos generator.

Here's San climbing the hill behind our flat - best attempted in the early morning before the temperature hits 30C.

And here's me on the summit watching eagles eating the rest of the fauna. The ridge extends quite away around Pune. The whole city is surrounded by hills.

There's a temple on the summit, and another further along the ridge in the opposite direction to the previous photo.

Further afield in Mahabaleshwar. A very contorted landscape.

It's a whole geography lesson: we've had a hill, so now a valley...
The concrete in the bottom right is where I'm standing, so the camera is more or less pointing straight down. A steep valley.

...a ridge...
...and a cliff.

Panorama
It's not all wandering around hills - here's the office.
My desk.
The balcony/verandah where we have our lunch. Not yet been disappointed, or bored, by the solely vegetarian curries.
Five o'clock - time for a swim. :)

Mahabaleshwar

2005-11-19T23:28:00.000-08:00

Another week. Work is going better than expected: it appears that I can pretty much do everything remotely that I could sitting at my desk in the UK. Obviously writing code can be done anywhere, the bonus has been in submitting work back. I work on a somewhat out of date codebase, as a result of being somewhat distant from HQ. I get new ones sent to me on DVD every now and then (this being the best available bandwidth, although the latency is hell), which means I tend to have to merge with what's happended since my DVD was burnt. Through the magic of VPNs I can not only merge with the current top level codebase, but also with items in the current putback queue. This means I can pretty much work without any special assistance from the good folks back home - good for me and them!

It's not all work though, last weekend we went to a hill station called Mahabaleshwar. This is located to the south of Pune, amidst some spectacular scenery, in the Western Ghats. Travelling there involved more exciting roads. Being in quite a hilly part of India there are lots of hairpins. Being in India, the drivers think nothing of overtaking around said hairpins. The first such stretch of twisty tarmac turned out not to be as bad as I first feared. The road was in fact one-way: on the return journey I discovered the other carriageway took a huge shortcut under the hill. However, the final stretch of road to Mahabaleshwar was definitely two way, yet the driver kept on overtaking as if there was no possibility of any traffic coming in the opposite direction around the blind corners.

Mahabaleshwar needs more than a single day to visit. Our lack of time was compounded by the hire car turning up late. Normally they turn up at least half an hour before you ask for them and make you feel rushed. When we really did need to leave early it was of course an hour and a half late: kismet. For all the reckless overtaking the journey is a slow one - about two and a half hours to travel 50 miles. The bends didn't agree with Roshni (19 month daughter) and we were further delayed cleaning up vomit. Actually San, my wife, did most of the cleaning on account of most of the ejecta ending up on her. Some pretty amazing forsight on her behalf saw, not one, not two, but four changes of clothes for Roshni. This turned out to be just the right amount to get her there and back in clean clothes - well done!

Mahabaleshwar town has a shopping street that appears to consist exclusively of stores offering the following: cute leather slippers, strawberries and mulberries, chikki (Indian toffee/nut thing of tooth destroying titanium hardness) and gaming emporia. The games were low level village fair gambling and some oldish arcade cabinets. Strange to see a Ridge Racer cabinet living out its retirement up in these Indian hills.

We eventually left the town (I had a good look at a 100 year old building in the carpark - now used for table tennis and billiards - whilst my wife was off buying the aforementioned cute slippers) to see one of the nearby viewpoints: Monkey Point complete with obligatory monkeys - these ones were eating sweetcorn tossed to them by the tourists. Monkeys are always good, but the views were better. Still no ADSL so the pics will have to wait, and it's hard to describe just how hilly the surrounding area is. The hills are not well spaced out rolling mounds of Scotland, nor are they rocky crags. They are densely forested all the way up - I believe the technical term is jungle - and densely crammed into the landscape. It is all sharp ridges and deep valleys with the hills seemingly contorted to fit into the available space.

From there we moved on to Tableland, a plateau featuring: a neon-tube bedecked Ferris wheel, people offering horse rides, parascending (parachute+rope+Indian Jeep racing across the dusty plateau). We passed by here on the way to Mahabaleshwar earlier in the day and left pretty sharpish after being absolutely mobbed by offers for horse rides. Coming back at dusk was much better: not only cooler, but people had started going home for the day so it was much more relaxing. We opted for a horse and cart ride around the plateau at sunset, Roshni was very interested in the horses and we could all go together this way. It was a fair trek to the far end, and the sun had well and truly set by the time we could see the view. The hills and lakes were still visible though, and very nice it was too under the moonlit twilight. On our return journey we passed a lake in which Ganesh statues are placed for one of the festivals. No elephant headed gods today, just lots of enormous bats flying over the water. These bats were big, at first we thought they were eagles returning to roost, until the silhouette of their wings revealed their identity. There were still waterfalls, forts and temples to see but time had run out. We will definitely be back here to stay for a couple of days so that we can take more in.

Back to Pune. The central region of town is quite interesting. There are a lot of old buildings still standing, albeit mostly is a state of some disrepair. Still, it makes a refreshing change to see the old rather than a relentless swathe of concrete as you do in so much of India. We live on the outskirts and the roads to and fro are in a bit of a state as a result of a very intense monsoon season. Repairs are beginning to start now that dry weather is more or less assured. The weather forecast from 'The Fast Show' will be as accurate as any for at least six months.

Yesterday there was an appartment meeting regarding hot water so we got to see a few of the neighbours. The hot water issue raised some temperatures. The problem: 3,500 litres of solar heated water per appartment block, water only heated during daylight (solar you see), people use hot water, used water is immediately replaced by cold water (well, ambient water - hardly cold). The resultant mixed water is soon no longer hot. The buliding management solution is that everyone showers, bathes and in general carries out all hot water activities from 6am to 9am. This lets the water heat up during the day, store at night and it will be there for the three hours in the morning. The residents' were having none of this. There was widespread agreement that the immediate replacement of hot water with cold is stupid. It means that you don't get full usage of the 3,500 litres that the sun has heated up. After only a third of the water has been used the mix is going to be too cold. This view was expressed by a variety of people along with the unacceptability of the management's scheme: Indians pointing out that no mention of a three hour hot water period whne they bought their flats; an American couple arguing in typically forthright style 'there's a problem, what are you going to do to fix it?', and everyone pointing out that people need to shower in the evenings after coming back from work. We left to go shopping before the meeting finished, but an impasse appeared to have been reached. I suspect further activity on this subject...

I'm in India!

2005-11-10T05:37:00.000-08:00

Another blog about to get thoroughly lost in the forest. What's this one about? Well in a stunning bout of originality, this one is about ME! The reason for starting this is that I'm an English software engineer who has reverse-outsourced himself and I finds himself in Pune, India. And I'm vain enough to think that's interesting.

Pune is a pleasant city a couple of hours from Mumbai (ne Bombay) via an exciting three lane motorway that passes through the Western Ghats. Exciting? Well, the road is a pretty good quality three lane toll road that starts off as your standard highway. Then the Ghats happen. Think of an alpine road full of hairpin bends - now make that alpine road a motorway but leave in the hairpins. Add some steep inclines - your car will cope alright but the Indian trucks will be crawling up at walking pace. High speed differentials, Indian motoring discipline, hairpins and chicanes: told you it was exciting.

Pune itself is rather quiter. Surrounded by hills, at a reasonable altitude (560m) and away from the coast it has a much more pleasant climate than Mumbai. Still pretty hot, around 30C at the moment, but not humid and sticky. My flat has a small hill behind it and it is well worth the climb. Eagles soaring around the top eating unfortunate furry things and the whole of Pune and surrounding countryside is visible. There's also a small temple and tree picturesquely perched on the summit.

I've been at work for almost a week now and am getting along just fine so far. The office is quieter than the UK one - more heads down and work than the UK! Lunch is much better: vegetable curry, chapatti, rice and possibly a sweet is simply in a completely different league from a crummy sandwich from ASDA and even cummier service.

Home's not too bad either. A ten minute walk from the office beats rush hour driving between cities in the Midlands. The appartment's shared swimming pool is a nice touch too. Whisky at £4 a bottle goes down a treat, and of course nice sunny days in November are a welcome change to the grey rain of England. Not that homesick then.

That's enough for now. I'm writing this on my work laptop connected to the internet via a mobile. A home broadband connection has been ordered but things can move slowly here. Once that arrives my Macs will be online and I'll start adding some pictures to liven up the page.