I've always loved travel, ever since that Christmas in 1976, when as a nine year old, I learned that we'd be flying to ffice:smarttags" /> There's a part of each of us that is forever young; a link to the child that we once were who still lives inside of us, dictating the emotional response to any given scenario, but it's the adult face that we show to the world. For me though, whenever a trip to a new country, a foreign land is in the offing, the sense of anticipation, the inescapable feeling that I'm off on an adventure returns as if the years have been brushed away and I'm no longer a 38 year old man, but the nine year old child I once was. After all the places I've been, the flights I've undertaken, you'd think the feelings would have evaporated by now - it's not like I don't know what to expect. Yet I could no more change the response that travelling elicits in me than change the colour of my eyes; it's a part of my personality fixed in childhood, just like those responses to fear, love, anger or frustration. I mention all this for no other reason than to try and put into context, how I felt when I found out that the immediate landscape of my life was to change in the manner that it did. Just seven weeks ago, I was sat looking at nothing more than a two-week holiday in the There's another aspect to all this that makes it seem a little unreal for me, and it's the fact that I don't work for anybody. Because of my previous life in the City, business travel is something that I think happens to other people - those who work for companies, travel somewhere overseas on their behalf, and with a clear objective at the other end. They have value because they have certain skills that are required elsewhere and it's cost-effective and necessary to get them there. Press trips on the other hand, are more free-form. There are potentially thousands of journalists or photographers to choose from - we all have similar skills, after all - and no clearly defined objective at the end other than for us to produce copy that is published somewhere. Businesses, PRs, or people we barely know pick up the tab, the end publication gets its copy and we - the journos, PRs and snappers - get to be ourselves. It's like going on holiday, only it's business class, five stars and fine dining all the way, and it's not unusual to come back from a trip to the other side of the world being out of pocket only for the souvenirs and gifts you bring back. If you've ever wondered why I do this - there's your answer. The Leila Kempinski, Bangalore: the sheer scale and opulence of the hotel is difficult to conceive, and the lush gardens that surround it seem to extend forever. It's the perfect introduction to India. So, We were seated in the Club World cabin on the flight out, and due to the time difference between The Constant Gardener: A woman takes a break from tending the gardens of a government building, Southwest of Bangalore. If there's one thing you can say about BA's press trips, it's this: They really go to town when they take you away. The Leela Palace was breathtaking, a 5-star deluxe business hotel, standing majestically amidst 9 acres of lush green gardens and a sparkling lagoon in the garden city of Bangalore. The hotel's website describes it thus: "The architecture evokes the rich heritage of the Vijaynagar empire, its gold leaf domes, arches and ornate ceilings reflecting the grandeur of palaces of a bygone era. Its attributes of comfort, technology and design, alongwith the regal ambience, combine to provide outstanding service". It wasn't my taste, but there's no denying the opulence, the art deco styling of the reception area, or the several first rate restaurants and bars. All that, though was for later - first, to our rooms where we had two hours in which to unpack, freshen up and dress for the day ahead. I unpacked in double-quick time and fell into bed at 06:00 local, setting my alarm for 90 minutes later. I didn't sleep so much as doze and was semi-conscious when the alarmed roused me. I drifted into the shower, dressed and wandered down to breakfast on autopilot, where we had a meeting with representatives from the department of trade and investment at the British High Commission. From there, it was straight into a presentation by them up in one of the hotel's boardrooms and from there to another fleet of taxis to take us through the melee of Bangalore's rush-hour traffic (it's mayhem!) to the offices of TCS, the consulting arm of Tata, one of Asia's largest conglomerates. Street Life: Shops ply their wares along the muddy 'pavements' of the main street that bisects central Bangalore, as pedestrians and cows share space to wander aimlessly. The drive across Bangalore was a revelation for me, and my first glimpse of life outside the rarified atmosphere of our hotel. The traffic on the streets has to be seen to be believed and one is left to wonder how so many vehicles can fit together one one piece of tarmac. India has a population of around 1 billion people, and it's as if 90% of them were inhabiting the space around our hotel. Cows wander freely amongst the pedestrians, which wander amdist the simply astonishing number of tuk-tuks, taxis, bicycles, cars, mopeds, trucks and busses that delineate the roads. Everybody drives with their horn perpetually sounding, a cacophony of noise that emanates from every direction, smothering your senses like a blanket. Tarmac gives way to dirt tracks and back again, butressed by dusty sidewalks which turn into rivers of mud when the rains come - as they did for our arrival and subsequent stay in the country. The cloud is so thick, barely any light seems to come through, the rain lashing down upon people dressed in everything from business suits to rags - there are no barriers between haves and have-nots here, and nature makes no distinction. TCS' headquarters are situated in a science park no more than two or three miles from our hotel, yet the drive takes the best part of 90 minutes to cover, a terrifying journey in which the rule amongst anybody piloting a vehicle is 'every man for himself'' By now, the group had broken up into various sub-groups, as hapens on most press trips. I'd allied myself with Myles and Sarah, both from one of the business-to-business titles, although there was a pretty good bond forged between all of us in the party, born out of the fact that we were all on the verge of falling asleep. It's a strange feeling, this degree of tiredness. You feel as though you're viewing the world through six degrees of separation and a veil over your eyes. Every cell in your body feels like it's complaining, a strange 'buzz' emanating from each and every one. Your movements are leaden, as if moving underwater, and you become intimately acquainted with microsleep as you struggle to stay awake. It's a sight to be seen - eleven journalists, dressed to kill, chins falling inexorably to chests with eyelids shut for a few seconds before sudden wakefulness. Let's be honest - Powerpoint presentations are not the most communicative medium at the best of times, but for this group of eleven or so journalists, fresh from an eleven hour flight and existing on barely no sleep in the previous 36 hours, it was verging on an alternative description for the U.S' interpretation of extraordinary rendition. I've no idea how we sat though the following three hours of presentations and video conferences, but we ate a delicious lunch which recharged us - albeit temporarily. We were given gifts before leaving and as we departed, it felt as if we were on the edge of some kind of collective hysteria. Sacred Cows: Two cows rest amongst roadside during the morning commuter madness that is Bangalore. English signs selling everything from furniture to food to saris, litter all available space in a bright cacophany of colours You can't underestimate the impact of Computer Services on the Indian Economy, and the cost advantage for both UK and U.S companies can't be overstated. If you ring a UK bank, insurance company or retail group these days, the chances are your call will be routed to somebody at a call centre in Bangalore - the expertise, quality of service, and cost mean it's a no-brainer for most U.K businesses over a certain size. The Indian Software and Computer Services (SCS) sector is one of the fastest growing sectors of the Indian economy, growing at over 30% per annum. In the past year, the revenues of the industry crossed US$ 22 billion of which US$ 17. 2 billion came from exports. The industry employed just over 1 million people directly and over 2.5 million indirectly. The sector contributes about 3.4% to the Indian GDP and fifth to India's export earnings. The Indian SCS industry is a priority for the UK, with the aim of our becoming a as a leading source of software tools and solutions, e-business solutions, applications, R & D and cutting edge technology. The UK is also the leading investment destination in Europe for Indian software. India's software companies lead the overseas investment charge, mostly by the way of Mergers and Acquisitions. The Indian IT industry is well on its way to becoming India's first truly global sector. The Chief: Phiroz Vandrevala, Executive Vice President of Tata Consultancy Services, one of India's largest companies. From TCS, the taxis arrived to take us on the short journey to the offices of Logica CMG, another computer services company. Here, they really made us feel welcome, laying out red carpet for our arrival and greeting us with a bevy of beautiful girls in saris, who placed flower garlands upon our shoulders, dusting our foreheads with red powder in the traditional manner. A photographer was on hand to record the event, after which we were ushered inside for another series of presentations, followed by a tour of the call centre. It was here, some three hours later, that Myles, Sarah and myself saw an opportunity for escape! I joined the two of them on a smoke break (even though I'm a non-smoker) and as we stood outside, reason departed us altogether. We collapsed in uncontrollable laughter at the merest provocation, and after receiving gifts from the girls, we made good our escape, commandeering a taxi to return us to the hotel. Myles and I had planned on grabbing a couple of hours sleep before the planned 19:00 meet in reception for dinner, but Sarah had other ideas and suggested 'a quick drink in the bar'. Yeah, right! I was past caring, and the prospect of a Martini in the sumptuous Library Bar did hold a certain appeal, so we eschewed sleep in favour of getting to know one another a little better over pre-dinner drinks. Somehow time ran away with us, leaving just 20 minutes for me to get the elevator to my room on the 7th floor, shower, dress and return to reception where a fleet of taxis were once again waiting for us. We were driven a mere three miles through the night to a restaurant and bar, a journey that took another ninety minutes. Here, we met up with Soujanya, a girl we'd met earlier at TCS, and a couple of fellas from the company. We were plied with drinks and taken to a private room where the "seventh most famous contemporary dance group in India" (Yeah, I know!) put on a show for us. Afterwards, we feasted on several different curries, drank too many Martinis, and drank the bar dry of Tequila. Sooo not a good idea! Garland: Two BA staff from London having received a warm welcome on arrival at Logica CMG's Headquarters in Bangalore. By the time I tumbled into bed at 01:00 that morning, I'd lost all track of time and I was beyond tired. I don't remember falling asleep, but the alarm at 07:00 seemed to come far too quickly, and as far as my body was concerned, it was the middle of the morning, so I felt barely awake even after a shower. This day was a little more straightforward for us, with a single meeting in the morning at the Society for Innovation and Science Faculty at the venerable Indian Institute of Science. The taxi ride here was interesting as Jay from BA and myself travelled together, and watched a motorcycle traffic cop, riding in front of our car, get taken out by an inattentive driver! He was uninjured, but the spectacle proved too funny! We fell asleep after that, waking on our arrival at the IIS. The most notable event here was the faculty's chief executive, an eminent professor of physics, being defeated by the door to the new science block. He pushed; he tried the numeric keypad next to it. He banged on the door to attract the attention of those working inside, and he tried using his mobile to call lecturers upstairs, that they might come and let us in - all to no avail. All this as eleven tired and hysterical journalists looked quizzically on. He pushed the door with all his might and then James, in a moment that couldn't have been scripted better, stepped forwards, and pulled gently on the door - which swung back in his hand, as we all collapsed into barely suppressed laughter. Sarah, Myles and I looked at one another and that was it; we lost it completely (fortunately, we were at the back and the prof was through the door and away by this time!) A Physics lecturer at India's foremost faculty for Scientific Innovation, defeated by the workings of a conventional door; the irony is just too sweet. Commuters: Vying for space on a slippery surface outside the entrance to the Indain Insitute of Science. Fortunately for the professor, the doors to the main building all open inwards! We had the afternoon at leisure, so after lunch back at the hotel, we scattered to the four winds, walking a local mall before several of us enjoyed a massage at the hotel's spa (Indian prices meant it was too good an opportunity to miss). Suitably rested and relaxed, we showered and met down in the bar where we were joined by Angelie, Priyanka and Ahmed, three locally-employed BA agents. We got chatting to them over drinks, and they joined us for a gala dinner that evening in the hotel's main restaurant where we ate yet more highly spiced Indian food (it was out of this world!). Afterwards, we retired to the bar, where Myles, Priyanka and I enjoyed a spirited discussion on our respective cultural differences (as ever, we concluded that we have far more in common than differentiates us). It was interesting talking with Indians who had never been to England, but yet have such an interest and understanding of the country. All speak English, the country's official language, and although many of the younger girls wear saris on certain formal occasions, western fashions like miniskirts, jeans and tee-shirts dominate. I found it particulalry interesting as Indian immigrants have had such a major influence on British culture over the past thrity years or so. What is particularly noticeable is how so many of the problems of the Indian communities that make headlines here, like honour killings and arranged marriages, are far less problematic back in India where society has moved on considerably from that which many of the first-generation immigrants here remember. Consequently, many of those in the UK exist in a social no-man's land - the cultural rules and dictats that they came from are no more, and many have failed to embrace the contemporary western culture, which appears to them to be one of promiscuity, underage sex, drinking, and moral tourism. India's Seventh Most Famous Contemporary Dance Group: No, I don't understand, either. We could have spent all night in the bar; it's amazing the way in which alcohol and good company seem to be the perfect antidote to jet lag and perennial tiredness, informing one's equilibrium with grace, good humour and energy. The crotchety, ratty persona that we might adopt with those we know best when under extreme pressure or tiredness flees in the face of people we barely know, to be replaced instead with a propensity to laugh - harder, more frequently and for longer than normal, injecting just the right note of informality to events, and acting as the glue which binds us together. There's a sense of achievement, too - none of us, at the time, felt we'd be able to make it through the day, let alone face the prospect of an organised dinner til late on the first evening. Yet in the event, back at the hotel after chucking out time, we were forced to curtail our activities and retire by the hotel bar's policy of shutting - even for residents - at 23:00. It was just as well, too - we had an alarm call at 05:00 on the Friday morning, ready for a run through the dark to the airport for an 07:00 departure. If I can offer you a piece of advice, it's this - however efficient and luxurious the flight that gets you to Bangalore, you're at the mercy of the airport and its locally employed security and immigration staff when you leave, and it's here that the system falls down quite spectacularly. I've flown to and from some pretty distressed places over the years - Baghdad and Basra spring immediately to mind - but none compares to the chaos, delays and madness that is Bangalore International. I lost count of the number of times we were searched between departures and boarding the aircraft itself; three times for me, more for some, yet the airport building is little more than an aged warehouse, and it looks to be the easiest thing in the world for the determined, or the stupid to circumvent procedures. It was a relief to get airborne. Locals: Ahmed, Priyanka and Angelie pose for a picture at the end of our final evening in Bangalore. Perhaps unsurprisingly, we slept most of the way back to London. As if to illustrate the brevity of our stay, we had the same crew for the return flight as we did on the outbound - they'd spent the alloted time downroute and were working the flight back to Heathrow, but they'd had rather more sleep than us, and spent their time in Bangalore kicking back and taking in the sights. Two things made the flight back memorable - the fact that we flew back with a routing over Docklands and along the A4, gifting those of us on the right hand side of the 777 a perfect view of some of London's most high profile buildings. The second was when Susanne, who had once again engaged James and I in conversation, proffered her phone number upon James via a steward as we made our final approach into Heathrow. My memories of India - aside from being heightened due to the short time I spent there - are a mixed bag of old and modern,; a land where clean and opulent nestle juxtaposed with dirty and poor; where jacaranda, incense, sweet perfume and lush green dominate the senses, and noise assails the ears. A land redolent of a long ago England, steeped in British values and formality, yet elongated, morphed into something new and strikingly different. It's a fusion of East and West, of beautiful girls with perfect English and dark skin wearing saris and miniskirts; of men in suits and men in rags. Nothing in my life prepared me for India, but whatever I saw there has me hooked; there's a land to explore, a country as diverse as it is populous - as diverse as its size, and 1 billion people can make it. Kerala, Amritsar, Mumbai and Chenai all await, each with their own take on what it is to be Indian. And one day, I shall return, better prepared, to drink up all that India has to offer. We touched down a touch after 12:25, and I made my way home to prepare for the next leg of my journey - to the U.S and Japan...
LOST IN TRANSLATION, PART II: LONDON TO INDIA AND BACK
More than 400 of the Fortune 500 companies now develop software in India, either at their own captive development centres or outsource work to third-party Indian service providers. Many of the worlds’s leading IT and Telecommunications companies have set up their own software development and BPO centres in India. Indian software is now exported to more than 112 countries. This year saw the increasing maturing of the industry with three of the top Software companies cross the $1 billion revenue mark. 
18.12.05 21:01
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(18.12.05 21:31) That bit about the Physics teacher not being able to open the door made me laugh so much. I've always been so baffled regarding how the streets of a poor country can be overloaded with advertising and billposters for things that more than 75% of the population would not be able to afford. Like in Morocco in the tiny villages I visit, you see adverts for the new Apple iBook with integrated Airport wireless reciever and Bluetooth when most of the humble farmers of that village have not even heard of the internet, let alone wireless! A different matter in the cities though.. Great pictures and recapture (as always).. |
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(18.12.05 22:57) Rawr: That story about the Dean of the Physics Faculty and the door is the stuff of Press Trip Legend. I'd sort of forgotten about it until I sat down earlier to write this blog entry y and when I remembered it, I could barely see for tears of laughter rolling down my face. I laughed so hard, I couldn't catch my breath and so alarmed my wife, she rushed to see if I was ok! I've spoken to Sarah, from this trip a couple of times since we got back, and it's the first thing we talk about, almost as if nothing else of note happened out there; it's truly one of the funniest things I can recall this year! I know what you mean about the ads for products that are out of reach of the local population, like some tantalising nirvana forever just out of reach. Quite a culture shock, but something that's as ingrained into local culture as the sacred cows that wander the streets and the 'quaint' and bizarre local laws that baffle us. Thanks for stopping by - and for the kind comments x |
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GrrlScientist / Website (19.12.05 01:29) wow, fascinating adventure! i am jealous. i laughed while reading the story about the physicist trying to open the door .. i have also done this, although no one was around to see it (thank the gods for small favors, eh?). |
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GrrlScientist / Website (19.12.05 01:31) incidentally, i forgot to mention that i nominated your blog for a 2005 Koufax Award .. a "Sandy" as they are also known. i have no idea if these awards are open to those who are not americans, and i have no idea if you are a political "lefty" either, but so what. i nominated you anyway. |
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(19.12.05 08:33) GrrlScientist: We've all done this; what sets the prof's attempt apart was the sheer bloody-mindedness with which he attacked the problem, trying some of the most obtuse and unlikely methods over the most obvious. It spoke volumes about is powers or reasoning and did nothing to dispel the myth that some of our most powerful intellects are left wanting in the common sense department! Long live the prof - and those like him! |
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(19.12.05 08:34) GrrlScientist: A 'Sandy' nomination, eh? Thank you! |
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(19.12.05 12:06) But did you drink the water? "it's not unusual to come back from a trip to the other side of the world being out of pocket only for the souvenirs and gifts you bring back." Ahhhh.. I've never got to grips with the raid the lader service. I always feel like I am being naughty.. I love the fact those Cows are just lumping round the streets. |
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(19.12.05 12:15) 'Lad: Of course not! And no Dehli Belly for me, either (I studiously avoided tap water, ice, salads and the like, although I know people who have stayed at the hotel who said the water is perfectly clean and drinkable). Surely that's the whole point of the Raid the larder service - even the name makes it feel slightly illicit. I love the stuff they have their - it's all deliciously wicked - crisps, nuts, cookies, chocolate. Even the pilots and the cabin crew creep down to take advantage! And those cows rock! There's something utterly incongruous about bovine creatures wandering at will through busy city traffic. Perhaps that, more than any other single thing, brought home to me how far removed from home I was. Just writing up my blog on Japan which should make some sense to you; it's all 'Pocari Sweat' and stuff ;-) |
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(19.12.05 12:18) I've started to drink a small glass of the hotel tap water every where I go... Just to see what happens.. |
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(19.12.05 12:23) 'Lad: I drank the hotel water in India too (it was bottled though, and sealed - does that count?!). Still couldn't bring myself to drink Pocari Sweat though; the name does kinda out you off, as does the cloudy colour of the bottle contents. The unusual size aluminium bottles of coke I bought in Tokyo were pretty cool though! |
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(19.12.05 12:30) You are braver than me for actually opening a can. I only took it from the Mini bar as it was in the way of the last can of Hite. |
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Megan / Website (19.12.05 15:06) The thing with the door? I would have laughed so hard I would have peed in my pants right there in front of everyone, which would of course diverted attention away from the poor physicist! The only thing that would have made that better would have been if there was a sign on the door that said "Pull." I've seen that happen many times... |
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(19.12.05 16:16) 'Lad: Do you know anybody that's actually drunk Pocari Sweat? I'm beginning to wonder if it's all a myth! And I may appear brave, but I have to put my hand up - the Pocari Sweat in my minibar was sold in 500ml clear plastic bottles. Fortunately, they were on a shelf on their own, and all the bottles of Asahi were placed on their own shelf one row down for me to grab hold of without worry. |
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(19.12.05 16:18) Megan: There may indeed have been a sign there that said 'Pull' - given his mind set though, it's unlikely he would have bothered to read it! To me, if a door won't 'push', 'pull' is the next thing on the list to try - not bang, shout, kick and phone, in that order. It was the way in which it all unfolded, and the quiet, understated way in which James stepped forwards to oh-so-quietly pull on the door. The film of that event will stay in my mind forever. x |
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pixeldiva / Website (19.12.05 17:25) I was in the midst of sniggering at the poor professor, until I remembered that recently, twice in quick succession, I tried to push a pull door... ...that had "PULL" in large letters on it, and big red shiny handles. *cringe* |
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(19.12.05 18:49) PixelDiva |
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(4.1.06 14:43) Noticed a story about the Institute of Indian Science and Technology last week which imparting shocking news; the place was came under submachine gun attack last week and at least one professor was shot dead, with several other people seriously wounded. Story here for anyone interested. Hope Professor NotVeryGoodwithDoors is ok. |
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nicos (28.11.06 21:29) i hope see alot of pic about all subjects every thing |
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nicos (28.11.06 21:31) Noticed a story about the Institute of Indian Science and Technology last week which imparting shocking news; the place was came under submachine gun attack last week and at least one professor was shot dead, with several other people seriously wounded. Story here for anyone interested. Hope Professor NotVeryGoodwithDoors is ok. |
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