As I’m sure is the case with most visitors to India, my first real impression of the country came on the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel; my first activities consisted of finding my way through the airport and getting my luggage; hardly an opportunity to stop and take in your surroundings.
I had heard countless times about the traffic and activity on Indian streets, but nothing can prepare you for what it is like.I’m in Bangalore on business, and I have been working with people from India for most of my professional career.In my experience, they have been intelligent and hard-working, but most notably, they have been very process-oriented.With this in mind, the complete chaos of Indian traffic is a paradox beyond comprehension.The only rules of traffic that I’ve been able to identify are (a) there is no incident small enough not merit the honking of a horn, (b) traffic signs and lights are for sissies, and (c) although the idea is that the flow of traffic is roughly split between left and right and, in general, one drives on the left-hand side of the road; lanes are meaningless.Even this last one seems to be more of a “guideline” than a rule, and there have been more than a few occasions where I was in the sole car going the wrong way through oncoming traffic because it was slightly more convenient for the driver.
As a pedestrian, the experience shifts from being nerve-wracking to utterly terrifying.I wouldn’t say that traffic tries to hit pedestrians; it’s more that it doesn’t really try to avoid hitting pedestrians.While it appears to be frowned upon, it doesn’t seem to be a major concern.My strategy is to shield myself in a crowd that I estimate is bigger than any driver is willing to hit.Twenty to thirty appears to be the magic number.
With the goal of having me survive my visit to India, my company has assigned me a driver, Murali, who drives me everywhere I want to go – day and night, 7 days a week – and who waits for me while I shop, or eat, or try to hopscotch my way across a street (and he probably also laughs at my ignorance, but he doesn’t get paid for that part).Murali’s charter includes showing me around Bangalore and the surrounding area, taking me to any kind of restaurant I like, and keeping me alive.
On my first weekend here in Bangalore, Michelle came across from Chennai by train.She arrived around 1:00pm, and after some minor confusion on how to meet each other, we met halfway around the world from where we’d last seen each other.
My driver took us around Bangalore, showing us some important government buildings and taking us shopping.Afterwards, he took us to a restaurant where we were going to have some drinks and dinner.
We arrived at the restaurant around 5:00pm, and were told that they won’t serve dinner until 7:00 because they had to fuck first, but we were welcome to have drinks while we waited.Michelle and I stood in stunned silence for a few very long moments while we tried to understand what the hostess could possibly mean.Finally we realized that they were planning to fumigate (fog, not fuck, apparently) the terrace to clear out the various flying nuisances that are common in the area.Relieved, we accepted and settled into a table and ordered some drinks.A few minutes later, we found ourselves in a suffocating cloud of DDT or whatever they fumigated with.Ever since, my elbow has felt funny, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m growing a second head there.Stupid DDT.
The next day, Murali took us to the city of Mysore, about three hours - 100 kilometers - southwest of Bangalore.On the way, we stopped at a Muslim temple where orphans were attending Karan school, we went to a Hindi temple where I was blessed by a holy man, and to a bird sanctuary where Murali arranged for a private, covered boat to take us around a lake where we saw a stunning array of birds and were much closer to crocodiles than I would care to ever be again.Oh, and we saw monkeys.
To recap: traffic is crazy, if you’re not honking, you’re doing something wrong, DDT makes my elbows feel funny, and monkeys and crocodiles are cool.
I mentioned to one of my team members the paradox of how process oriented the team is, yet how chaotic the traffic is. He laughed and said, “Yes, we are very process oriented only in the office. In traffic, we follow the Agile method.”
I’ve written about U2’s downhill trend before, and I don’t mind doing it again. The last album of theirs that I own features a song about beautiful days called “Beautiful Day” and another about elevation called “Elevation”. Despite the clever song titles, it has nothing on their 1987 release, “The Joshua Tree”, which had an entire National Park named after it.
Michelle and I were in California for the weekend, and if you ever have a chance to make it down to Palm Springs, make sure you stop by Joshua Tree National Park. We drove to the north end of the park and hiked the 49 Palms Oasis trail before driving from the north end of the park down to the south end. It’s an amazing place, with crazy wildlife. We were lucky enough to see some lizards and the guy from the Geiko commercials. He offered us pie and chips. For free.
The 49 Palms Oasis hike was crazy and led to an actual real-life oasis. You hike through the desert in stifling heat for a few miles and suddenly - out of nowhere - are all these palm trees, standing in pools of water. It’s absurd.
It was a beautiful day; we didn’t let it slip away.
I’ve been back from the Netherlands for about a week now, but have been too busy to put together the photo album from the trip. Thankfully, I had some procrastinating to do today and was able to get right to it.
Apart from us both getting sick, we had a great time running around my home country. It is always a pleasure to be in Europe, but to have the chance to show Michelle my favorite places and spend time with family that we see all too infrequently was a real privilege.
Here is a high-level overview of our trip:
Day 1: After delayed flights and the usual confusion brought on by being in UnAmerica, Michelle and I finally met up at our hotel in Amsterdam. Thrilled to see each other, we popped out for dinner and enjoyed a nice bottle of wine. After dinner, I brought Michelle over to a Snackbar that I had spied with my little eye while trying to find a parking spot. Michelle was introduced to the almighty Croquette. And it was good.
Day 2: My cousin Jochem, who lives in Amsterdam, met up with us in the city center and took us around to his favorite places in town. Amsterdam is a wonderful city and, although it is a small city by many standards, it has so many distinct neighborhoods and such a diverse culture that it feels larger than it is.
Day 3: We traveled a sixth of the way across the country (about fifty kilometers) to Delft, my favorite city on Earth. We started the day by popping down to the market to score some fresh stroopwaffles. Michelle’s life will never be the same. After that, my Uncle Gijs and Aunt Vibeke took us to the Kinderdijk, which is a windmill museum in the province of South Holland. We had lunch in Schoonhaven before returning to Delft to have dinner with my cousin Barent in Leiden.
Day 4: We kicked around Delft and took Gijs and Vibeke out to dinner.
Day 5: We went to Amsterdam to meet my cousins Deborah, Folkert, and Coen and spent the day walking around town, visiting cafes, and shopping. The big event of the day was taking a boat tour of the canals in Amsterdam with a racist boat captain who was so thrilled to have actual Dutchmen on the boat that he spent the boat ride spewing racist jokes at us.
Day 6: We had a ‘rest’ day at my Aunt Doortje and Uncle Max’s house in Utrecht. My dad is knowns as a bit of an over-packer, and traditionally takes up a minimum of three rooms while repacking suitcases. Not one to disappoint family, Michelle and I arrived with the maximum number of suitcases allowed by the airlines, and proceeded to occupy the requisite number of rooms while trying to figure out how to get all our things packed into the right suitcases (this goes to India, this goes to Seattle, etc). My cousin Welmoed, who has since moved to New York City, Jochem, and his girlfriend Anette all joined us for a wonderful dinner in town.
There’s something strange about taking a few short days to make a big trip. Growing up, we used to do that kind of thing all the time: leave by car over Thanksgiving weekend to drive to Winter Park or Grand Targhee for two days of skiing before heading back in time for school Monday morning. When we got back, it always felt like we’d been on a long vacation even though we had only been away for a few days.
That’s exactly what our trip to San Francisco felt like; we were gone only five days, but it felt like we had been on vacation for weeks. We drove this route along the Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco, spent three days there, and drove back. The drive down the coast was staggeringly beautiful - I can’t believe this kind of thing exists in our back yard. If you haven’t done it and have the opportunity to, do yourself a favor and make the trip. Just don’t try to read in the car - the road is a trifle twisty.
We drove from Seattle to Crescent City, California Wednesday night. Then, we started out along Highway 101 at about 7:00am Thursday and arrived in San Francisco around 11:00pm. There we spent two days kicking around town before meeting up with Pat and Val on Sunday who coincidentally were in San Francisco the same weekend for a wedding.
Pictures are posted below, but make sure you click the Full Screen button to view the photo album in all its glory.
Life is is full of serendipitous gems that add a great deal to your experience. These can come from anywhere, but you have to be ready for them and appreciate them for what they are when they happen, otherwise they’ll slip by unnoticed. It has something to do with not taking anything too seriously and being ready to laugh at any time - often at ourselves. It’s very confusing.
Our trip down the Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco was such an experience. Somehow, we found ourselves hearing or saying ridiculous things at every turn, and it made the trip that much more enjoyable. Here’s a sampling some of those moments:
Garberville, California. I was waiting to buy a cup of coffee while Michelle waited in the car. Some dude nearby was saying something about police somewhere in Montana being militia. He suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned to some random guy walking by and yelled, “Did you just call me ‘Commie Pinko Fucker’? Because that’s what they used to call me when I moved here…”
True Sake, San Francisco, California. We were buying a bottle of Sake, and I foolishly asked the woman working the counter if we should heat the Sake up before drinking it. With a look that betrayed a deep personal offense she said, “No, James Bond doesn’t know anything about drinking Sake. You can have it at room temperature if you want, but never hot.” She went on to tell us that when Sake first came to the United States, they only imported bad Sake and the importers told the servers to heat it up to mask the bad taste. I don’t really care whether it’s true or not; I just like the fact that she assumed my question was based on watching James Bond. Which it was, of course. Most of my “cultural knowledge” is based on Bond movies. (So are my fighting moves, come to think of it.)
Rage Against The Machine Concert, San Francisco, California. Insanely cool show. We got there just in time to buy t-shirts and head to the beer garden before the show started. In the beer garden, we were trying to decide between the $8.00 beer or the $7.00 glass of wine, not convinced either was a sound investment. We decided to go with the wine. The guy pouring had clearly been sampling too much of the product, and poured the first plastic cup all the way to the rim. I said to him, “I like the way you pour.” He replied, “You mean, ‘All the way to the fuckin’ top?’” Yes, I suppose “all the way to the fuckin’ top” was exactly what I meant.
During the show, there was a mosh pit just to our left with a bunch of dudes jumping around and getting hurt. This is college code for “fun”. Apparently, Michelle and I are not into “fun” anymore. We demonstrated this by being concerned about our personal safety and being upset that their “fun” was impacting our ability to enjoy the show. Frank’s number one post-show quote: “That fat guy was a hazard.”
Absinthe Brasserie, San Francisco, California. After spending the afternoon in Hayes Valley, Michelle and I decided to relax and enjoy a light meal and a bottle of Rosé. Michelle was wisely keeping her eye on the buses driving by, knowing we would have to catch the 21 line back to our hotel.
Michelle: “You know what’s weird? I’ve noticed a lot of 21’s go that way, but I haven’t see any go back.”
Frank: “Do you think it has anything to do with this being a one-way street?”
the airport to the hotel; my first activities consisted of finding my way through the airport and getting my luggage; hardly an opportunity to stop and take in your surroundings. 
tries to hit pedestrians; it’s more that it doesn’t really try to avoid hitting pedestrians. While it appears to be frowned upon, it doesn’t seem to be a major concern. My strategy is to shield myself in a crowd that I estimate is bigger than any driver is willing to hit. Twenty to thirty appears to be the magic number. 
but we were welcome to have drinks while we waited. Michelle and I stood in stunned silence for a few very long moments while we tried to understand what the hostess could possibly mean. Finally we realized that they were planning to fumigate (fog, not fuck, apparently) the terrace to clear out the various flying nuisances that are common in the area. Relieved, we accepted and settled into a table and ordered some drinks. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in a suffocating cloud of DDT or whatever they fumigated with. Ever since, my elbow has felt funny, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m growing a second head there. Stupid DDT.
beautiful days called “Beautiful Day” and another about elevation called “Elevation”. Despite the clever song titles, it has nothing on their 1987 release, “The Joshua Tree”, which had an entire 
had some procrastinating to do today and was able to get right to it.
kind of thing all the time: leave by car over Thanksgiving weekend to drive to 
for them and appreciate them for what they are when they happen, otherwise they’ll slip by unnoticed. It has something to do with not taking anything too seriously and being ready to laugh at any time - often at ourselves. It’s very confusing.
