INDIA So much to see..... so little time!
Cows, water buffalo, horses, donkeys, camels, elephants, monkeys, peacocks, striped squirrels,
At a red stop light, everything suddenly comes to a screeching halt and jockeys for position, with total disregard for lanes and any type of order; trucks, buses, cars, taxis, tri-peds, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, pedi-cabs, donkey-, cow-, horse-, oxen-, camel-driven wagons; pedestrians, hawkers, beggars, people stepping off and getting on buses in the middle of the road; all come together in a chaotic mass at red stop lights so tight you would swear there’s absolutely no room left. Then, as the seconds tick down until green, they suddenly cram together even tighter than before, facing in all directions, continuously honking and shifting, until you think you can’t get a single atom into the mix, and then the light turns green! The incessant honking becomes even more frequent and louder, as everyone slowly shifts positions forward, smaller vehicles inching past larger ones, slower vehicles being nudged out of the way of faster drivers. The definition of Insanity!
Fatgpur Sikri or Fategpur Sikri
Agra
FROM PLANE
Leaving Delhi airport – boarding plane resembled vehicles at stop sign. No calling of rows, no boarding of women with children first, no preference for First/Business class. Just everyone cramming towards the door, rolling luggage and baby carriers, carrying bags and boxes, all running into each other in seething mass of humanity and detritus. But somehow it works and we all make it through.
Afghanistan? Mountains reaching seemingly as high as the plane, snowcapped and unbelievably steep. Arroyos and canyons rivaling the Grand Canyon.
Frankfort airport:
Upon arriving in Frankfort, we deplaned, and I was one of the first off the plane who, instead of proceeding to baggage claim, made a sharp right turn to the transit lounge for those passengers who would be re-boarding and continuing on the plane to Chicago.
“Meister” the young somewhat-Asian gate attendant announced after I gave her my passport. Her taller, blond German co-worker repeated my name, checking her list and highlighting my name in yellow on her list. “Herr Meister” she exclaimed, and it seemed odd, yet somewhat comforting to hear my name spoken in a German accent on this, the first time my feet had touched the land of my ancestors and namesakes. “Master” announced the Oriental attendant, and she seemed to chuckle under her breath at the English translation of a German name, not clear exactly which language she should use to address me. “Welcome” she said, and I did indeed feel welcome and somehow, deep inside, I felt at home.
Saw Creve Coeur on luggage and talked to nice Indian man who just took a job in St. Louis.
Clash of Teutonic and Indian cultures at re-boarding time. The boarding agent came on the PA and announced that boarding would commence in 5 to 10 minutes (only in English – no Indian translation). He asked that everyone remain in their seat and then calmly described the re-boarding procedure, a model of German efficiency, with wheelchair passengers re-boarding first, then First Class and Business Class passengers, followed by anyone with young children, then, beginning with the back of the plane, with rows 80 and upward, then the 70s, and continuing to the front of the plane. But everyone was to stay in their seat until their time to board, leaving all gangways clear. Well, he no sooner got his first words out, then a mass of people began to recreate the boarding process originally used in Delhi. The German gate agent got back on the PA system and announced that this was not acceptable, that everyone should stay seated until it was time for them to board! But either due to the difference in language or culture, this had little effect on the ever growing mass of people pushing towards the door. This would not be acceptable, and the German repeated the direction until compliance ruled.
Back on plane:
Sweet lamb’s oil? Steward knew I wouldn’t like it. What is it? Offered me coconut oil – clear as water but more like castor oil! Note to self – never drink coconut oil again! Maybe I'm happy I didn't take the sweet lamb's oil.
Newfoundland glaciers, mountains, pack ice, ice bergs, rivers, rocks below us.
Cows, water buffalo, horses, donkeys, camels, elephants, monkeys, peacocks, striped squirrels,
At a red stop light, everything suddenly comes to a screeching halt and jockeys for position, with total disregard for lanes and any type of order; trucks, buses, cars, taxis, tri-peds, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, pedi-cabs, donkey-, cow-, horse-, oxen-, camel-driven wagons; pedestrians, hawkers, beggars, people stepping off and getting on buses in the middle of the road; all come together in a chaotic mass at red stop lights so tight you would swear there’s absolutely no room left. Then, as the seconds tick down until green, they suddenly cram together even tighter than before, facing in all directions, continuously honking and shifting, until you think you can’t get a single atom into the mix, and then the light turns green! The incessant honking becomes even more frequent and louder, as everyone slowly shifts positions forward, smaller vehicles inching past larger ones, slower vehicles being nudged out of the way of faster drivers. The definition of Insanity!
Fatgpur Sikri or Fategpur Sikri
Agra
FROM PLANE
Leaving Delhi airport – boarding plane resembled vehicles at stop sign. No calling of rows, no boarding of women with children first, no preference for First/Business class. Just everyone cramming towards the door, rolling luggage and baby carriers, carrying bags and boxes, all running into each other in seething mass of humanity and detritus. But somehow it works and we all make it through.
Afghanistan? Mountains reaching seemingly as high as the plane, snowcapped and unbelievably steep. Arroyos and canyons rivaling the Grand Canyon.
Frankfort airport:
Upon arriving in Frankfort, we deplaned, and I was one of the first off the plane who, instead of proceeding to baggage claim, made a sharp right turn to the transit lounge for those passengers who would be re-boarding and continuing on the plane to Chicago.
“Meister” the young somewhat-Asian gate attendant announced after I gave her my passport. Her taller, blond German co-worker repeated my name, checking her list and highlighting my name in yellow on her list. “Herr Meister” she exclaimed, and it seemed odd, yet somewhat comforting to hear my name spoken in a German accent on this, the first time my feet had touched the land of my ancestors and namesakes. “Master” announced the Oriental attendant, and she seemed to chuckle under her breath at the English translation of a German name, not clear exactly which language she should use to address me. “Welcome” she said, and I did indeed feel welcome and somehow, deep inside, I felt at home.
Saw Creve Coeur on luggage and talked to nice Indian man who just took a job in St. Louis.
Clash of Teutonic and Indian cultures at re-boarding time. The boarding agent came on the PA and announced that boarding would commence in 5 to 10 minutes (only in English – no Indian translation). He asked that everyone remain in their seat and then calmly described the re-boarding procedure, a model of German efficiency, with wheelchair passengers re-boarding first, then First Class and Business Class passengers, followed by anyone with young children, then, beginning with the back of the plane, with rows 80 and upward, then the 70s, and continuing to the front of the plane. But everyone was to stay in their seat until their time to board, leaving all gangways clear. Well, he no sooner got his first words out, then a mass of people began to recreate the boarding process originally used in Delhi. The German gate agent got back on the PA system and announced that this was not acceptable, that everyone should stay seated until it was time for them to board! But either due to the difference in language or culture, this had little effect on the ever growing mass of people pushing towards the door. This would not be acceptable, and the German repeated the direction until compliance ruled.
Back on plane:
Sweet lamb’s oil? Steward knew I wouldn’t like it. What is it? Offered me coconut oil – clear as water but more like castor oil! Note to self – never drink coconut oil again! Maybe I'm happy I didn't take the sweet lamb's oil.
Newfoundland glaciers, mountains, pack ice, ice bergs, rivers, rocks below us.
posted by MEISTER-Blog | 2:05 PM
1 Comments:
You know what's funny is I had that same warm fuzzy feeling when I was in Germany. Looking around seeing all these women that looked like me!!
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