Travel Memories Archives - The Canny Traveler

Travel Memories: Mumbai, India

The Canny Traveler — Tue, 22 Sep 2020 03:43:46 +0000

In early 2011, the company I used to work for acquired a major project from a very large and important client. In order to keep costs low it was decided to utilize employees at our India facility. However, because the project was highly complex someone needed to go to Mumbai to train the team to perform the required tasks. Thus, I found myself first on a flight to Istanbul and then onwards to Mumbai. I had never been to India before and never really had a desire to go either so I was definitely feeling excited but also apprehensive. During the flight I spent most of my time either dozing or preparing final training schedules for the large team I was soon to meet. Arrival in a strange place Like most large airports, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport is an isolated bubble of convenience and cleanliness. I have never taken airports to represent the country or city they serve since they have one purpose and one purpose only, namely to greet passengers with a smiling face of superficiality. I knew someone would be there to meet me and take me to the apartment that had been arranged for the trip. Exiting the baggage collection and customs area I saw a fairly tall man holding a sign with my name on it. Unfortunately, he only spoke a few words of English. We exited the main terminal and I was immediately struck by the smell, poor air, and pervasive humidity. Welcome to India I thought to myself. From the airport to Navi Mumbai It was monsoon season and the roads were filled with holes. Rusty shacks lined the highway as taller, more modern buildings pierced the skyline. I could feel the humidity, I could feel the dirt and pollution. It was overwhelming in its stickiness and clung to me in a way I was never able to get rid of no matter how many times a day I showered. I had seen poverty before in the slums of Mexico City or the townships surrounding Johannesburg but somehow this was different, somehow it was more disturbing to my senses. Like many Third World countries, the stark contrasts between rich and poor, developed and undeveloped were very much present that night as we drove the 2 hours or so from the airport to Navi Mumbai. Taken with a pinch of salt, Navi or “New” Mumbai seemed to me to be just a large collection of residential buildings interspersed with office blocks, shops, and restaurants. But the same smells, the same pollution, and the same overbearing humidity was everywhere. Work and play As I said, I was there on business. I spent 10-12 hours a day in an air-conditioned office (unless there were power outages, which was a frequent occurrence) and had little time to explore my surroundings. Nor did I have any real desire to do so. There was not much to see in Navi Mumbai though I am sure if one had a guide there might have been parks or other areas worth seeing. One of the senior managers offered to show me around Mumbai and I was glad for the chance to see something other than the office or apartment where I was staying. As we wandered around some of the older parts of Mumbai I felt as if I was wandering through parts of central London. The buildings, the architecture, the atmosphere reminded me of places I was familiar with and it seemed even more incongruous with the slums I had seen as we approached the city. Such start contrasts are common in developing or under-developed countries. Perhaps I am too sensitive, but I doubted I would ever get used to it. I must admit I was very impressed by Mumbai Train Station and Gateway of India. It was also fascinating to see the street vendors with various types of goods for sale, the food stands with many options on offer, and of course the markets with fruits and vegetables I had never seen (or heard of in some cases). Good to know The taxis are usually air-conditioned but fairly expensive. Traveling in an auto rickshaw is very cheap and lots of fun but be prepared for a bumpy, crazy ride. Trains are an experience no matter how you look at it and while relatively affordable be prepared to squeeze in where you can and know that there are separate carriages for men and women. Food prices in India are, for a foreigner, ridiculously cheap. I ate three course meals in some very nice places for less than $8 in some cases. But, check the menu prices carefully because you pay more to sit in the air-conditioned part than outdoor seating or areas where there is no cooling. I knew India was going to be hot and humid so I went with sandals. As it turns out that was a huge mistake during monsoon season. Not only are the potholes in the roads and pavements often deeper than you might think, but the mud is so thick that even with washing my sandals a few times in the shower I could not get them clean. Eventually, I gave up and threw them away and went and bought closed shoes the next day at a large shopping mall. Final words India was a shock to the system for me and, though this may sound like a cliché, it grew on me. Imperceptibly and surprisingly I began to grow accustomed to the surroundings and found myself even starting to like what I saw. In total, I spent 6 weeks spread over two trips working in Mumbai and by the time I came back for the second trip I found I was becoming enchanted with the place. I even considered going back at some point, not on business, to explore other cities and parts of the country. I never did return nor am I sure if I ever will but my impressions of this magical, mysterious country will remain with me for a long time. Safe journeys! if you enjoyed this article, check out my other travel memories post here.

The post Travel Memories: Mumbai, India appeared first on The Canny Traveler.

Is the Art of Hitchhiking Dead?

The Canny Traveler — Tue, 21 Apr 2020 03:19:59 +0000

Is hitchhiking dead, a long-lost forgotten art relegated to the annals of history and traveler’s memories? When I first started traveling around Europe in the mid to late 80s it was quite common to see both travelers and locals hitching rides along the highways and byways. I want to share some memories and experiences here that may help provide an answer. Ostend to Duisburg In the old days, I used to take the ferry from Dover to Ostend in Belgium. I remember standing by the side of a cold, wet road in the late afternoon wondering how on earth I was going to get a ride somewhere, anywhere. I had hitched rides before, in Scotland, but it was only short distances and I knew the roads and the language. Here, things were different, new, even scary. Signs in a language I did not understand at the time, car license plates I did not recognize, and no real clue as to how to start. I made a sign because I had heard this was the way to do it and stood there thumb out, sign in the other hand and waited and hoped. I don’t recall how much time passed. It might have been minutes; it might have been hours. I wondered whether I should make my way back into Ostend and take the train. But that would be self-defeating I thought to myself. The whole point of standing here was to try something new, to experience something different, and to test myself. Could I really get a ride and where would I end up? A large truck stopped and the driver asked in German where I wanted to go. I apologized and said I only spoke English. He said he was going to Duisburg and asked if that would help me get where I wanted to go. I had no clue where Duisburg was but I just wanted to get moving, to feel the kilometers roll away as I headed somewhere new. I climbed in, put my rucksack to the side, closed the door and off we went. As it turns out, Duisburg is about 294 km from Ostend and we chatted the whole way about life, work, family, the weather. We arrived in Duisburg towards evening and quite unexpectedly he invited me to come meet his family and then go for dinner at a local restaurant. After dinner, he took me to the train station where I caught a train to Bonn, a city I knew fairly well from previous travels. What did I learn from this particular experience? Well, firstly hitching is about being patient. Secondly, expect the unexpected. This was not the first nor the last time I would meet people who extended hospitality and kindness while on the road. Lake Garda to Bolzano People told me that Italian drivers are erratic. I also knew that hitching in southern Europe is not quite as easy as other places but I remained determined to do what I could. I was traveling at the time with an American girl I met working in a hotel in Germany. Hitching with a girl has its pros and cons (but more about that later). A couple of days earlier we had been in Verona and were now working our way along Lake Garda. The intention was to make our way to Bolzano and then back over the Brenner Pass into Austria and onward back to Garmisch-Partenkirchen where we both worked. We stood and waited. Nothing. We made signs in English and the German equivalent of Bolzano. Still nothing. No cars, no ride. Just empty roads. At least the weather is nice we agreed. We walked along a bit, staring back down the road from time to time hoping to see a car. Nothing. We weren’t in a hurry but still… Time takes on a different meaning when you are on the road. It stretches, it bends, it takes on new meanings you might not have thought about before. And so we walked a bit, stopped to eat, walked a bit more and time, like the road, stretched out before us. Finally, a car! We saw it in the distance, the sun glinting off the metal. We put our rucksacks down, got into position, thumbs out, and put on our best smiles. Did I say erratic? The car was going at quite a speed and at first it seemed the driver had no intention of stopping. Brakes screeched and suddenly he was reversing back towards us. In broken English he asked where we wanted to go. Bolzano, we told him. Get in, he said. Gratefully, we put our stuff in the small car, squeezed ourselves in, and off we went. He drove fast, even faster it seems when there was a curve in the road. Suddenly, he stopped the car and said he had to go visit his grandmother. She lives in that village down there, he told us. Wait here and I will come back for you soon, he said. Somewhat perplexed, we grabbed our things, got out, and stood by the side of the road again. We waited and waited. But as I said, time can take on a different meaning when you are on the road. We discussed our situation, whether we should try looking for another ride or just wait it out. It was indeed a dilemma. There we were, on a small side road in the middle of an area we didn’t know just waiting. We wondered if we had been taken for a ride, figuratively speaking. But then, the unexpected happened again. We saw the little car speeding up the road erratically towards us. Get in, he said, we go now. Not long after we were at the train station in Bolzano. We thanked him profusely and both breathed a sigh of relief that we had made it and in one piece! Munich to Frankfurt I have to say that I loved hitchhiking in Germany. I never waited that long, always met nice people, and you just can’t beat the feeling of flying down the autobahn at more than 200kmh. Scouring the map of Munich I looked to try and determine the best place to stand. Where you choose to start can be one of the most critical decisions when hitching. Choose the wrong place and you could wait for many hours or even not get out at all. Choose a place with competition and you might face a similar situation. Despite what some may tell you, I found that the entrance ramp to a motorway was not always the best place to start. Sometimes, you need to pick a place further back, but not too far. Ideally, you want somewhere easy for a driver to stop, easy for them to recognize in which direction you want to go, and easy for you to plan an exit strategy if things don’t work out. The last thing you want is to be stuck somewhere late at night on the edge of a large city. I know that many hitchers swear by signs but to be honest I never found them to be that useful. My thumb certainly got plenty of practice over the years and I developed my own techniques and tricks, so to speak. A squeaky-clean luxury BMW slowed down and stopped. An impeccably dressed man in a business suit, probably in his mid-30s, asked where I was going. I told him in the direction of Frankfurt. He told me to put my rucksack in the boot of the car and I came around and got in the passenger seat. As we sped along the autobahn at more than 220kmh we spoke about politics, art, culture, history and everything in between. He told me he had a successful business and was settled down with a wife and family, but in his youth had also traveled and hitchhiked his way around. I found this to be a not uncommon occurrence amongst drivers who give rides. Many had done the same thing when they were younger and wanted now to return the favor. Driving at high speed along the autobahn talking time just flies by and soon I was where I needed to be. He got out of the car and helped me with my rucksack. We shook hands and then he reached into his wallet and handed me 20 DM, about $12 in today’s money. It may not seem like a lot but at the time it was a small fortune to me, certainly enough to buy a meal and some cigarettes. He told me it was a pleasure meeting me and wished me luck with my travels. I met many people like him; complete strangers who gave me money on the road and thanked me for my company during the journey. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly To be honest, even though I met others who sometimes encountered less than pleasant experiences on the road I never had any bad experiences at all unless you count erratic driving as a bad experience. I met some wonderful people along the way, kind people, generous people. There are many reasons someone stops to take a hitchhiker along. Often because they hitched when they were younger. Some people offer rides just to be nice and help someone out. Loneliness is another factor; many drivers told me they were just looking for someone to talk to along the way and for no other reason. Fast & Furious Aside from my experience with the erratic Italian driver I also had other interesting moments. For example, a ride with a Greek who lived in Germany in a fast sports car charging through the mountains of the former Yugoslavia on the way home to meet family. And I mean he was speeding; at one point I watched as the speedometer crept up to nearly 280 kmh! My legs were wobbly once we finally stopped and I got out. Or the driver who gave me and my brother a ride from Stuttgart to Munich late one night. He drove at an average speed of close to 250 kmh the entire route. But that was not all; he never spoke one word to us, neither at the start, during, or end of the journey. Even after we thanked him, he just nodded and drove off into the night. But the weirdest part of the whole experience was during the ride he had a cassette tape playing “Great Balls of Fire” by Jerry Lee Lewis. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the song but he had the tape looped and it kept playing the same song over and over again for 2 hours! Why did he give us a ride? I have no clue nor do I wish to know. Tips & Tricks Stay safe at all times. Trust your instincts and never take a ride if you are unsure. I had a rule to never take a ride if I was outnumbered in the car. Exceptions to the rule were in the case of families or females Pick your hitching spot wisely. I used maps to guide me and look for the best places, not always closest to the main route I wanted to go on but certainly the most strategic Dress as nicely as you can and smile. I used various tricks during my time including hand and thumb movements, little dances, and more to attract attention. I might not have always been given a ride but I definitely got a lot of smiles from drivers Be open and honest about where you are going and be friendly during the drive. Most people want to talk, so talk and be pleasant to be with Final words In the nearly 7 years I spent traveling and working in Europe I was fortunate to have only good experiences when hitchhiking. Do people still do it today? I have no idea. It has been many years...

The post Is the Art of Hitchhiking Dead? appeared first on The Canny Traveler.