There are many things that hit you when you arrive in Bangalore directly from Chicago – the different culture, the different language, the food, the different feel in the air – but hopefully a car, motorcycle, or an auto-rickshaw are NOT among the things that (literally) hit you…
First off, for all of you people who take driving on the right side of the road for granted, think again before coming to India . The Brits left their mark on almost everything you can think of during their rule in India , and of course, road rules are no exception. The question of does Indians actually follow the rules, is a completely different one. While Indian drivers are “supposed” to drive on the left side of the road, that is not always the case, especially in Bangalore . If it appears (“appears” is a key word here) that there is nothing coming the other way, many progressively thinking drivers (the majority of which reside in Bangalore ) chose to simply drive in the opposite line in order to avoid the heavy traffic in their line. Of course, things can become very extreme in a very short period of time, when for example, suddenly a huge TATA truck (TATA is like GM in the States, Lada in Russia, and Volvo in Sweden – i.e. India’s national brand for cars and trucks) carrying 40 people in its back magically appears from around the corner and speeds up towards the small auto-rickshaw you are riding in. The seemingly surprised rickshaw driver sounds his horn, which in reality sounds more like a broken dog whistle. In response, the TATA driver sounds his horn, which sounds more like an anti-aircraft attack alarm. By the way, remember, that all this happens in a 10-15 seconds time frame…The rickshaw driver, like a true Sandra Bullock in “Speed”, slams on the gas pedal (not on the breaks) and with the speed of light “plugs” the little three-wheeler into the right traffic lane. Phew. If you ever practiced any type of extreme sports (I haven’t), you probably have a slight idea what a moment like this does to your stomach and to your imagination…Of course, this is just a tiny example of all the exiting things Bangalorean traffic has to offer to its participants. The role of the TATA truck is too often played by an angry cow (or a bull, which is even worst). It is not uncommon to see a family of four or five riding on a two person motorcycle. Some of Bangalore ’s bicycle daredevils kick it up a notch by attaching themselves with their hands to a speeding auto-rickshaw (the speeding auto-rickshaw is by itself a pretty exiting thing to experience) and than releasing themselves into the congested traffic, trying not to hit anything or anyone in the whole process.
Traffic lights. All over the world, or at least in its western parts, red means stop, green means go, and yellow means something in between. Well, in Bangalore , red, green and yellow, all mean GO. It’s very important that you learn when red really means stop, and when it means go (especially if you are a pedestrian). The rule of thumb is (as explained by a well educated and experienced rickshaw driver), in the morning and in the late evening (until about 9 a.m. and after 10 p.m.) everything means GO. Of course, you have to use your head and eyes and really sense when to stop and when to go. The art is in reading the other driver’s mind. What is his/hers next step…will they go, or will they stop, will they turn right, or left. That’s why, it is very important that you use your hands as much as possible when you cross the street (as a pedestrian). You MUST let the drivers know if you are actually going to cross the street, or if you’re just simply thinking about it. It’s a lot like chess, except that it’s a little more physical in case of a chess-mate.
Traffic control police is indeed present in Bangalore . There are quite few major intersections in the city lacking traffic lights that really benefit from the presence of a traffic controller (especially in peak traffic times). Dare you not to obey the traffic controller, and you risk being beaten with a wooden stick – traffic justice Indian style, baby. White people, don’t worry, they don’t beat up whites…they just politely smile at you and make a gesture with their hand that what you did was wrong and you should be more careful next time. Oh, by the way, the beating up part was a little over-exaggerated…nevertheless, I’ve actually seen this happen, but it is more the exception, rather than the rule.
Pollution is evidently a major problem, which seems not to be among the firs points in anybody’s agenda in Bangalore . When I go to work early in the morning (around 6-7 a.m.) it is somewhat tolerable. You can still slightly taste the heavy metals from the burned fuels in your lungs, but nothing to worry about (unless, of course you have Asthma, or any other respiratory disease/problem…if that’s the case, I would recommend that you stay where you are right now and don’t even think about coming to Bangalore). At night, when the city has experienced 8 or more hours of heavy fuel burning and the smog over the city is so heavy and dense, it looks like a dark-grey blanket on the sky, taking a breath feels like breathing out of a truck’s exhaust pipe (even thou I haven’t done this, I can very safely say that the feeling is very close to that). A good way to “clean” the air you’re breathing at night is to wear a wet cloth with you and simply put it over your mouth until you are in a place away from the traffic where you can safely take a deep breath and continue experiencing !ncredible !NDIA.
With its phenomenal economic growth in the past 5-10 years, and it’s phenomenally corrupted city government, Bangalore has unsurprisingly missed the opportunity to upgrade its infrastructure (including roads and everything that has to do with traffic). The result is an ever increasing traffic and consistent maintenance of the status quo of the deteriorating road infrastructure. Many Indian people share their thoughts that if the government doesn’t do something about the roads in Bangalore , the title “Silicon Valley of India” might very soon be lost to cities like Chennai and Mumbai. While many Western and Indian companies truly benefit from the cheap labor cost and the high concentration of computer geeks in Bangalore , the infrastructure problem is beginning to hurt the bottom line for many of them. The day of Bangalore turning into the American Detroit due to “intra-country offshoring” caused by poor city infrastructure (my term for the process of companies moving out of a certain city to a different city in the same country) might not be too far away.
Anyway, if nothing else, participating in the traffic in Bangalore is never passive. Even when you are the passenger, you still look out and provide valuable intelligence to the driver who might’ve just missed an approaching car. As they say, there’s never a dull moment in Bangalore , and this applies more than anything to the traffic!
Cheers to all of you until the next time.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
The journey has begun!
I left from Chicago not knowing what really to expect from India . The "Incredible India" ads promised a country full of rich culture, spiciness, and friendly people.
I boarded the plane with this feeling in my stomach; the same feeling you get when you first flight a plane, and the plane is about to take off, the engines are roaring, your safety belt is tightened (hopefully), and you are about to s**t your pants. It's fear. Even thou I've been to many different countries before, lived away from my family and friends for substantial periods of time, and challenged myself in some quite unconventional ways, this one was going to be different. Something in India scared me and at the same time tickled my excitement. The fact that the biggest challenge in my life was few thousand miles and about 30 hours away from me on the other side of the world, made me wonder what the next big challenge would be…I wasn’t really able to answer this question, but I know there will be one.
The flight from Chicago to Amsterdam was pleasant. There were no little TV screens on the seats, but the food was good and there were no babies to cry and disturb my attempts to sleep. Amsterdam was sleepy at 7 in the morning local time. The weather outside seemed nice from inside the airport. I got ripped $10 for a 24 hour wireless internet pass – I wanted to let my parents know that I’m in Amsterdam and also to check my e-mails and see if there was anything important that required my immediate attention.
My first flight to Asia was full of good food, healthy sleep, Indian people eating with their hands (no utensils), and old school Indian movies which I was able to watch from the comfort of my own seat. I was one of the 4 white people in the plane from Amsterdam to Mumbai (total # of passengers was about 200 – 250). I was also the only one who preferred chicken over some vegetarian Indian “thing” (which I later found out is called Dosa and it’s the most eaten “thing” for breakfast by Indians.)
We landed in Mumbai on schedule. I had a 4 hour scheduled stay in Mumbai before it was time for my last flight of this long journey to Bangalore .
The short stay in Mumbai was my first reality check with India . The airport was nothing like what you imagine when I say “airport”…it was more like what you imagine when I say “a Bulgarian train station from the 80s” (if you don’t imagine anything, go to Bulgaria .) Of course, like everything in India , the airport was under construction/renovation. Walking trough the long, full with hot stiff air airport walkways, you could see brand new LG air-conditioners waiting to be put into exploitation. I kept thinking to myself how nice this airport will be by the time I leave India . At the baggage claim conveyor belt the other 3 white people immediately took advantage of the services of the local baggage careers. Smart move, considering that the conveyor belt was about 10 meters long and the number of passengers waiting for their bags was about 200-250 - that’s about 4-5 centimeters of baggage claim space per person. I, of course, decided to try and fight my own way to the conveyor belt, and ultimately to my bags. You could say I was successful since I got my bags before the other 3 white people got theirs. Once I was done with the bags and passed customs, a group of guys (airport employees) approached me offering to carry my bags to the next flight and to show me the way to the check-in desk, where I was supposed to get my boarding pass to Bangalore . Being a Bulgarian, which implies extreme self confidence and an I-can-do-it-myself attitude, I said to myself “Ha, why would I pay those guys, since I can do it myself.” Right…my attempts to refuse their services and be consistently ignorant towards their repeated proposals didn’t quite work. This one particular guy kept grabbing my bags and jumping around me trying to get my attention, while I was looking for signs that I could understand and that could ultimately get me to the check-in desk. I guess it is obvious by now that I completely abandoned my I-can-do-it-myself attitude after few minutes of unsuccessful attempts to learn reading Hindi signs, and ultimately surrendered to the jumping Indian guy. I just stopped, looked at him, and said “OK.” It was like a scene from a soap opera, where one lover is trying to win the love of another back. The guy’s eyes filled with joyful tears, he grabbed my bags and rushed in the direction of the check-in desk (which was the complete opposite direction of where I was headed.) Of course, I’m making up the soap opera part and the guy’s joyful tars…just want to make things a little more engaging here. It took about 30 minutes for the check-in lady to scan my passport, print my boarding pass and weight my bags (in Chicago, this process took about 2 minutes.) After all this was done, I was taken to the waiting area by my guide, I was told to wait there until it was time for my flight, and that when the time for my flight came, a bus would stop by the doors of the waiting area, I would board the bus, and the bus would take me to the plane. After these instructions, the guy said “Give me 10 dollars tip.”
- What? 10 bucks?
- Yeah, gimme 10 bucks!
- Don’t you get paid by the airport? (He had this badge on his shirt saying that he’s an airport employee.)
- Yeah, yeah, gimme 10 bucks…
- I’ll give you 1
- Give me 5
- I’ll give you 2
- OK, gimme 2
- Deal!
And there was my first successful bargain in India .
So, as I was instructed, I waited, and waited, and waited and no bus came in…There was an older Indian guy sitting in the waiting area, so I decided to ask him about the bus.
- Oh, you’ll have to first take the bus to the other airport and than from there you’ll take the bus that will take you to the airplane.
- Other airport?
- Yes, this is the international airport that we are in, you need to go to the domestic airport.
- How far away is the other airport?
- Ah, about 20-30 minutes with the bus? But some of the buses tonight are canceled. You don’t have much time. (I had exactly one hour before the scheduled departure of my flight to Bangalore .)
- Where do I catch this bus?
- Oh, don’t worry…it’s just right over there.
There was a huge line of people and baggage where I was supposed to take the bus. I lined at the end of the line as it is expected by pretty much all social laws all over the world. One of the guys in the line, a passenger waiting the same bus as me, asked me to see my ticket.
- Oh, your plane leaves in 40 minutes…you have to go now…you’ll miss your plane…
The whole line of people started shouting in Hindi and pushing me to the front of the line. At the front of the line, there were 3 cops:
- Let me see your ticket - said one of them – oh, you’ll miss your plane…it’s too late…just run into the bus when it comes in and hopefully you’ll make it on time.
When the bus came after about 20 minutes, I was about to start running insight it, when 2 of the cops grabbed me under the arms and while the other cop was holding the crowd from entering the bus, they took me into the bus and seated me. They sat beside me. After about 15 minutes the bus reached the domestic airport – I had exactly 10 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave. The two cops took me straight to security and from there to the gate. While running from security to the gate, I realized that the domestic airport was thousand times better off than the international one. Air-conditioning, big flat-screen T Vs everywhere, nice leather seats in the waiting areas, moving walkways…
The flight from Mumbai to Bangalore was short and pleasant. The flight attendants were the first hint of the beauty of Indian women that I was going to be exposed to for the next 6 months.
We arrived in Bangalore early in the morning. The first thing I saw from the little oval window of my seat was a palm tree. It felt really exotic (we don’t have much palm trees in Wisconsin .) Considering the fact that Mumbai is perceived as a better city than Bangalore in terms of infrastructure, it is needless to describe the airport in Bangalore . After collecting my bags from the “conveyor belt”, I headed out. I really needed a smoke, but I was looking for the AIESEC people. There was a huge crowd of taxi drivers and other people outside the airport. It was hot and humid in 6 a.m. in the morning. After few minutes I spotted 2 AIESEC shirts! I felt a huge relief. Now I know how trainees feel when they come to the States and when they see something that says AIESEC…the bigger this AIESEC “thing” is, the better! They took my bags and we headed to the car. It was a 5 minute walk, but I can say with absolute certainty that these 5 minutes were the most extreme 5 minutes in my life. The traffic in Bangalore is crazy…even in 6 in the morning! I will have a special posting later on especially focusing on traffic in Bangalore .
On the way to the house of an AIESECer, where I was staying at for the first 2-3 days, I saw the majority of Bangalore in hyper fast motion. The temples, the people, the streets, the animals…We almost hit a cow on an intersection…it would’ve been a double loss, because there was a monkey on the cow…
So kids, bottom line from this story:
One-way airfare from Chicago to Bangalore : $1040
24 hour wi-fi pass card in Amsterdam : $10
Tip for airport guy in Mumbai: $2
Almost hitting a monkey on a cow on the streets of Bangalore : priceless
Welcome to !ncredible !ndia
I boarded the plane with this feeling in my stomach; the same feeling you get when you first flight a plane, and the plane is about to take off, the engines are roaring, your safety belt is tightened (hopefully), and you are about to s**t your pants. It's fear. Even thou I've been to many different countries before, lived away from my family and friends for substantial periods of time, and challenged myself in some quite unconventional ways, this one was going to be different. Something in India scared me and at the same time tickled my excitement. The fact that the biggest challenge in my life was few thousand miles and about 30 hours away from me on the other side of the world, made me wonder what the next big challenge would be…I wasn’t really able to answer this question, but I know there will be one.
The flight from Chicago to Amsterdam was pleasant. There were no little TV screens on the seats, but the food was good and there were no babies to cry and disturb my attempts to sleep. Amsterdam was sleepy at 7 in the morning local time. The weather outside seemed nice from inside the airport. I got ripped $10 for a 24 hour wireless internet pass – I wanted to let my parents know that I’m in Amsterdam and also to check my e-mails and see if there was anything important that required my immediate attention.
My first flight to Asia was full of good food, healthy sleep, Indian people eating with their hands (no utensils), and old school Indian movies which I was able to watch from the comfort of my own seat. I was one of the 4 white people in the plane from Amsterdam to Mumbai (total # of passengers was about 200 – 250). I was also the only one who preferred chicken over some vegetarian Indian “thing” (which I later found out is called Dosa and it’s the most eaten “thing” for breakfast by Indians.)
We landed in Mumbai on schedule. I had a 4 hour scheduled stay in Mumbai before it was time for my last flight of this long journey to Bangalore .
The short stay in Mumbai was my first reality check with India . The airport was nothing like what you imagine when I say “airport”…it was more like what you imagine when I say “a Bulgarian train station from the 80s” (if you don’t imagine anything, go to Bulgaria .) Of course, like everything in India , the airport was under construction/renovation. Walking trough the long, full with hot stiff air airport walkways, you could see brand new LG air-conditioners waiting to be put into exploitation. I kept thinking to myself how nice this airport will be by the time I leave India . At the baggage claim conveyor belt the other 3 white people immediately took advantage of the services of the local baggage careers. Smart move, considering that the conveyor belt was about 10 meters long and the number of passengers waiting for their bags was about 200-250 - that’s about 4-5 centimeters of baggage claim space per person. I, of course, decided to try and fight my own way to the conveyor belt, and ultimately to my bags. You could say I was successful since I got my bags before the other 3 white people got theirs. Once I was done with the bags and passed customs, a group of guys (airport employees) approached me offering to carry my bags to the next flight and to show me the way to the check-in desk, where I was supposed to get my boarding pass to Bangalore . Being a Bulgarian, which implies extreme self confidence and an I-can-do-it-myself attitude, I said to myself “Ha, why would I pay those guys, since I can do it myself.” Right…my attempts to refuse their services and be consistently ignorant towards their repeated proposals didn’t quite work. This one particular guy kept grabbing my bags and jumping around me trying to get my attention, while I was looking for signs that I could understand and that could ultimately get me to the check-in desk. I guess it is obvious by now that I completely abandoned my I-can-do-it-myself attitude after few minutes of unsuccessful attempts to learn reading Hindi signs, and ultimately surrendered to the jumping Indian guy. I just stopped, looked at him, and said “OK.” It was like a scene from a soap opera, where one lover is trying to win the love of another back. The guy’s eyes filled with joyful tears, he grabbed my bags and rushed in the direction of the check-in desk (which was the complete opposite direction of where I was headed.) Of course, I’m making up the soap opera part and the guy’s joyful tars…just want to make things a little more engaging here. It took about 30 minutes for the check-in lady to scan my passport, print my boarding pass and weight my bags (in Chicago, this process took about 2 minutes.) After all this was done, I was taken to the waiting area by my guide, I was told to wait there until it was time for my flight, and that when the time for my flight came, a bus would stop by the doors of the waiting area, I would board the bus, and the bus would take me to the plane. After these instructions, the guy said “Give me 10 dollars tip.”
- What? 10 bucks?
- Yeah, gimme 10 bucks!
- Don’t you get paid by the airport? (He had this badge on his shirt saying that he’s an airport employee.)
- Yeah, yeah, gimme 10 bucks…
- I’ll give you 1
- Give me 5
- I’ll give you 2
- OK, gimme 2
- Deal!
And there was my first successful bargain in India .
So, as I was instructed, I waited, and waited, and waited and no bus came in…There was an older Indian guy sitting in the waiting area, so I decided to ask him about the bus.
- Oh, you’ll have to first take the bus to the other airport and than from there you’ll take the bus that will take you to the airplane.
- Other airport?
- Yes, this is the international airport that we are in, you need to go to the domestic airport.
- How far away is the other airport?
- Ah, about 20-30 minutes with the bus? But some of the buses tonight are canceled. You don’t have much time. (I had exactly one hour before the scheduled departure of my flight to Bangalore .)
- Where do I catch this bus?
- Oh, don’t worry…it’s just right over there.
There was a huge line of people and baggage where I was supposed to take the bus. I lined at the end of the line as it is expected by pretty much all social laws all over the world. One of the guys in the line, a passenger waiting the same bus as me, asked me to see my ticket.
- Oh, your plane leaves in 40 minutes…you have to go now…you’ll miss your plane…
The whole line of people started shouting in Hindi and pushing me to the front of the line. At the front of the line, there were 3 cops:
- Let me see your ticket - said one of them – oh, you’ll miss your plane…it’s too late…just run into the bus when it comes in and hopefully you’ll make it on time.
When the bus came after about 20 minutes, I was about to start running insight it, when 2 of the cops grabbed me under the arms and while the other cop was holding the crowd from entering the bus, they took me into the bus and seated me. They sat beside me. After about 15 minutes the bus reached the domestic airport – I had exactly 10 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave. The two cops took me straight to security and from there to the gate. While running from security to the gate, I realized that the domestic airport was thousand times better off than the international one. Air-conditioning, big flat-screen T Vs everywhere, nice leather seats in the waiting areas, moving walkways…
The flight from Mumbai to Bangalore was short and pleasant. The flight attendants were the first hint of the beauty of Indian women that I was going to be exposed to for the next 6 months.
We arrived in Bangalore early in the morning. The first thing I saw from the little oval window of my seat was a palm tree. It felt really exotic (we don’t have much palm trees in Wisconsin .) Considering the fact that Mumbai is perceived as a better city than Bangalore in terms of infrastructure, it is needless to describe the airport in Bangalore . After collecting my bags from the “conveyor belt”, I headed out. I really needed a smoke, but I was looking for the AIESEC people. There was a huge crowd of taxi drivers and other people outside the airport. It was hot and humid in 6 a.m. in the morning. After few minutes I spotted 2 AIESEC shirts! I felt a huge relief. Now I know how trainees feel when they come to the States and when they see something that says AIESEC…the bigger this AIESEC “thing” is, the better! They took my bags and we headed to the car. It was a 5 minute walk, but I can say with absolute certainty that these 5 minutes were the most extreme 5 minutes in my life. The traffic in Bangalore is crazy…even in 6 in the morning! I will have a special posting later on especially focusing on traffic in Bangalore .
On the way to the house of an AIESECer, where I was staying at for the first 2-3 days, I saw the majority of Bangalore in hyper fast motion. The temples, the people, the streets, the animals…We almost hit a cow on an intersection…it would’ve been a double loss, because there was a monkey on the cow…
So kids, bottom line from this story:
One-way airfare from Chicago to Bangalore : $1040
24 hour wi-fi pass card in Amsterdam : $10
Tip for airport guy in Mumbai: $2
Almost hitting a monkey on a cow on the streets of Bangalore : priceless
Welcome to !ncredible !ndia
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