V-Day: The Final Post (Director's Cut)

(Editor's Note(EN): I couldn't leave this on a conversation about Cheers, so here is the final post, three weeks in the making)

So I sit in the same Amsterdam airport casino where I sat some 21 days ago meeting friends from points beyond, nearly missing my flight to the great land of Bombay. It’s currently some time between 7am and 8am with the sounds of a happening blackjack table behind me. I’m feeling the first tinges of delirium on this journey back in time to the glorious land of the 935, which should greet me within about 14 hours. I’m unable to find an internet connection so this post probably won’t go up until Monday morning (EN: June 11th), but for the purpose of killing time I’m going ahead with it.

I’d like to tell you that my perspective on life is radically changed or that I’m one step closer to enlightenment, but sadly I don’t believe this is the case. My lasting impressions of Bombay occurred this morning while trying to successfully escape the Bombay International Airport amongst the varying chaos that I had come to except from the local scene. Luckily it only cost me 100rP to have a guide bypass all formal entry points for civilized airport security and straight to the “Preferred Travelers” section, which takes on another meaning in these parts.

As I lightly sip the sweet nectar of a “Dutch flavored water” my same Airbus is getting restocked and reloaded, much like myself, for its continuation onto beautiful Seattle-Tacoma International Airport(EN: I would soon find out in 3 hours that my Airbus from India broke down and that my final flight wouldn't be for another 27 hours).

It’s amazing the leap that I’ve made in a mere 9 hours from a 2nd world nation, where I never for a moment felt “in place” to an advanced 1st world nation, where I feel like just another cog in an amazingly clean Dutch wind-machine.

My final day, yesterday? Is remembered with amazing sadness about leaving the group of individuals that had become my community for the past three weeks. The names that I could hardly pronounce the first week were soon becoming memorable, and I couldn’t have been more satisfied with the decision to make this journey and develop these relationships. Ok, enough with the Hallmark closing post, but I seriously don’t have enough poor man's wit right now to make this a hall of fame post.

My mind wonders to what life is going to be like after a week, a month, a year, about how I will remember this trip and the experiences gained. Will there be any? I guess speculating at this time is worthless, when all I really want is the smell of the sheets of my own bed and to be able to make a meal with having to make a phone call. (EN: all of which have worn off by this point, and I'm fully prepared to setup a phone in my bedroom that dials directly to room service at the Meridian for a pot of tea and a club sandwich on white)

Barring a serious event (EN: I suppose this was the moment I sabatoged my planes health), I’m going to finish hydrating on “Dutch water” and pop some sleeping pills for aisle seat 39H, but before I do so I do have to send congratulations to our resident Blues fan for his team's deserving FA Cup Title in a game I caught five minutes before I checked out of the hotel(EN: still bitter about the match, but feel better so far in the transfer window, but back to the moment). Despite the first 45 minutes, the match was exactly as advertised and the better team in that setting got the hardware. That doesn’t mean I’m not a little pissed and not planning on taking it out on someone in the resumption of the Lodge World Cup Tourney, but that’s for another time(EN: like Thursdays).

My road back is at the half way point(EN: another dagger into the fate of the Airbus) and it can’t come soon enough, I’m laying all this out for Lodge members that Wednesday May 23rd will be an official gathering for the Champions League Final(EN: great gathering, decent card game, horrible match). Attendance is not mandatory, but recommended even though no teams of interest will be involved(EN: this can't be emphasized enough). You know what that means though? Gambling, on the game and off, so make sure you set aside some time and show some love for a weary traveler.

It’s been a pleasure to post for these past three weeks, and if I ever do it again I hope it’s for three weeks here in Amsterdam. (EN: I'm keeping this live and renaming it based upon any future travel that I happen to stumble across, if you know me and would like to use this space for travel posting, let me know and we'll change up the name/template or you can just create your own)

Cheers.

Post Script: A lot of things have changed since I became a US resident again, and my memories have started to fade regarding my time in the Curry Fiesta, but the reception I've received from everyone who read this while I'll was gone was great and thank you for all your support while I was gone.

Day 19: God I love ‘Cheers’

“…makin’ your way in the world today…”

Came back to the pad a little earlier today and was treated with a full episode of Cheers. Not something that I would normally sit through at home, but for some reason it’s extremely comfortable, and it was a damn fine sitcom. Perhaps even so good, that it killed the potential for the entire genre following its finale, but that’s a drunken conversation for later.

Back again, with the usual suspects. My thoughts this morning drift to the work I’ve been doing the past three weeks. Initially I committed to this position with extreme trepidation, but as I count down the final hours I feel remiss not to comment on the glorious building and people that have made my stay memorable.

As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions, my day starts at 1600 with a pounding ring and female voice that let’s me know, “THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALL.” The only better voice I could imagine would be that of Cookie Monster Mutumbo. After the wake up call I order an overpriced and under made room service meal and head downstairs for my morning ride to the office.

At 1615 I settle in and catch up on the latest that BBC, The Lodge and Google News has to offer. Then for the next ten hours I try and find something to do, which usually works out. I’ve taken to discussing the social importance of the game of cricket to every Indian that I meet, and each one gives me there own personal story, which usually breaks down like this…Sunday was created by God for every male between 5 and 75 to play cricket wherever and with whatever means possible.

The occasional work conversation slips in, and the enthusiasm for learning the product and processes amazes and inspires me. Without sounding like too much of a corporate cheerleader I have to say that Bombay has hooked me up to the rejuvenation machine regarding what I do and who I do it for. Now, I normally hate anyone that takes time in their free time to promote the values of their corporate benefactor, but it comforts me to know that I’ve gotten to know the good people that are in the trenches and fighting the good fight on behalf of software lackey’s.

(Sidenote to at least four other Lodge members: Guess what American ISP company is also located has a major presence in the same building?...yeah…that one)

There’s a community atmosphere unlike anything else I’ve been a part of for a long time, well, since I was working for said American ISP. I’d like to say that I’m going to take that mentality back to the 935, but I’m fairly certain that this is a result of the both the business and the culture.

The “American Dream” is alive and well and it’s been outsourced to India. The drive to succeed and the willingness to commit to a life of working from 7pm to 5am demonstrates a drive that I’ve never been familiar with, but perhaps that is just me. One of my few regrets is that I don’t have an opportunity to examine this mentality further to understand why the American Dollar continues in rapid decline. Once again, another drunken conversation for another night.

(we’ve moved from a mediocre Cheers episode to the bottom of the 2nd with a “live” BoSox/Tigers match…have a announced my love for all things Jim Leyland? If not, this is a good time to state it…and yes, we’re getting the Fox Sports Detroit feed…not quantity…but quality)

I think I’ve run out of things to say about what I’ve been doing. It’s work. It’s never glamorous, but it’s been closer to the heart than anything I’ve done for a paycheck in a long time and for that, I have to give a Willy—Mo Pena size ‘thank you’ to my Indian brethren.

Thanks for reading.

Day 18: Morning Market Time

Back again…UEFA Cup Final on the Tele…Gold Label to my left and I do believe the captain has turned off the no smoking sign in stately manner 232.

For the past two and half weeks I’ve left my job on average at around 0445 everyday. Along the way from work to the hotel I cross what can only be described as Pike Place Market if it were really interested in selling goods and produce. I learned today the how-to’s of the marketplace from Sagar, my man with the wheel on the streets of Bombay.

The gist goes like this…the train brings in the goods from the country from the day before…the first drop-off comes at around 0415…last sell around 815…in between is simply pure unadulterated capitalism the likes of which even Jay Z would be proud of.

I stare in fear every morning of the pure rush of selling and potential damage some of this produce would do to the urinals of Bombay. This is the breeding ground of urinal social criminals. Despite my fear for the Rocamarket I realized today that my 1730 commute home on the viaduct will never deliver the same level of visual stimulation.

So as I dwindle down my days under the Bengal-Sun I reminisce on this delightfully odd period of my life in the year 2007. The lights flicker on and off in the 232 right now, which might be an indication that my Wednesday is coming to a close, much like Espanyol's UEFA cup chances and my last glass of Gold Label. Cheers.

Days 15-17: a Change for the Better, Gandhi, and Relegation

So here we are…Wednesday morning 0504 sipping Haig Gold Label, watching a Valencia v. Zargarvaeraevaouiouopqzu replay (50th, 2-0 Val) and trying to think of something that would make for even a semi-interesting read….

…Well, since I don’t have any of that I’ll go ahead and stick with my formula, so webmaster please….

1116 UTC // 13.05.07


Sunday morning, last full day off of the trip, good night sleep after shaking off the hang over from Friday night. After hitting up the world famous Meridian breakfast buffet I decide to that I really should get out of my 200 sq ft apartment and “see the city.”

Back-story:

The one continuous issue that has remained a constant since my arrival on Indian soil has been my turbulent relationship with the company that was pre-hired to drive my ass from one rock to another for three weeks. Long back-story short, 11 days of drivers averaging 1.9 trips a day and approximately 19 drivers, one failed pickup and many lost in translation moments.

End of back-story

As I type in the numbers to the original driving company from week one, I notice that no one has picked up the phone for them the last six times I’ve tried. Since, this was the original company and there was a sudden change to another company half way through that I did not posses the number too, I decided that good things come in threes so it was time for a change. Week three, driving company three.

After negotiating a 35% discount through the in-hotel travel agent, I agree to his charges even though I believe I could’ve worked 45.

1142 UTC // 13.05.07

Immediately I noticed a difference in class with my third company. A 2005 Toyota Camry awaiting me with a driver who anticipated my needs and soon became my Indian best friend for the next 4+ hours. Jah-red new the deal, I’m sure the new came down from HQ that another bloody westerner wanted to see the lay of the land, get the photos, haggle with prices and tip well. I think we eventually got most of these accomplished.

I wish I had an amusing story I could tell you, but Jah-red was 30, married with two kids and worked all the time, some things I guess are universally blue collar everywhere. He hooked me up with the sights of the beach, a Hare Krishna, Muslim and Ganesh temples respectively, which quenched my religious vibe for the next decade. I suppose all the synagogues were off the main road.

We progressed throughout the afternoon, hitting only one notable landmark.

1302 UTC // 13.05.07

The House of Gandhi

Knowing nothing more than the name, or that Ben Kingsley did a remarkable job of winning an Oscar for portraying an English version of him, I entered his former home to witness the amazing pictorial archive and library that is this modest three story home in the heart of Bombay.

If Friday was the pinnacle of my visceral experience in Bombay, then the House of Gandhi was my emotional heart of my experience. Despite the all of the things that I will never adjust to about the Bombay way of life, I believe ever human feels some sort of connection with the concept of power through peaceful actions and figurine narratives of his life (sorry, the zoom got the better of the focus for this pic)

The entire scene at the House of Gandhi was uplifting and peaceful, something that is hard to get on the streets of Bombay. I left thinking a little higher about the humanity of us all, until I got back to the car and had to evade three different street-capitalists trying to give me a good deal on “post cards”. I have now made it a priority that there will be no post cards from India that will invade the Seattle city limits.

I leave you with this final image of the House of Gandhi, yes; the room has been kept in tact with full maid service for almost 50 years.

1713 UTC // 13.05.07

Jah-red drops me off after a full day of touring; I thank him for his troubles and steady information on religious temples throughout inner-Bombay. I settle into my room and prepare for one of the biggest nights of the English Premiership.

1930 UTC // 13.05.07

YOU’RE LOOKING LIVE!!! At Wigan versus Sheffield United on channel 23 and West Ham versus the Glorious One’s on channel 24, we also have the two hour Tom Cruise Behind the Actors Studio finishing up on channel 27 for those non-football fans.

For the next 50 minutes we have cut-ins from both games on both channels showing missed goals and goals alike as the excitement in both matches reaches…umm…ahh…fever pitch. After a few glasses of the Haig Gold Label I’m into the relegation battle between Wigan and the Blades, and as the rain continues to pour my emotion rises as I try to sway the results of the match with my whiskey soaked cheers from stately manner 232.

As all know now…Wigan captured the flag and won the all important Premiership millions and then…the coach quit. Only in English Football.

2130 UTC // 13.05.07

After the match I got to watch the Boys in Red prance around and raise the trophy, props to Wayn-o for the hat…nice touch.

So that was Sunday and following that “monumental” day I’ve been back in the grind with nothing really to report other than Sportcentre India is in Hindi, which is actually surprising.

A few days to go and probably only a final recap post remaining, unless of course something “major” goes down on Lower Patel road between now and then.

As always, thanks for reading.

Days 11-14: The Pinnacle and The Bill

After stating continuously that I have nothing better to do than type two page posts for both the Lodge and Fiesta, it might strike regular readers as odd that we’ve gone almost a half week without any sort of content, not even an amusing photo of dogs in heat on the side of the freeway, well worry no more friend: (sorry for the poor focus, but it’s hard to keep the camera steady in a situation like this)

Well without further ado, let us get to the timestamps, the quote and the recommendations.

“I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the fear."

Following my last communication where I confessed my utmost affections for all things Will Wheaton I found my week playing out almost exactly the same as that which preceded it, the monotony, the night, the 55 degree hotel room. I’ve tried to replicate my mentality to mirror Andy Dufresne, (minus having to deal with the Sisters) and just get my time done and attempt to “do it like a man.”

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, they were all the same day just altered by the room service and completely random B movie from the 80’s or 90’s, until Friday night at about….(queue the block timestamp please)

2125 UTC // 11.05.07

I progress through my Friday shift thinking mostly about how I’m going to kill the nest 48 hours of R&R at the Meridan and keep myself sane, when I get the heads up that 0200 is the witching hour at the call center, what this entails I’m not exactly sure, and at this point any break in the action is welcomed, even if it means being stranded in a remote Bombay with a couple of hundred rupees in my pocket. Hey, at least it would make for a good post!.

0325 UTC // 12.05.07

The 0200 departure time fell prey to the hindrance of work, but “go-time” was finally amongst us. The journey begins with trepidation, normally risk taking involves heading out to a bar outside of the 935, but tonight I was placing faith in people I had known for the small side of 8 days and confirmed only by the conversation about the finer aspects of Kingfisher.

The mission begins in the back of non-descript Ford Claire heading back north along the same path I’ve now traveled approximately 23 times. We pull up to a boarded up corner stand that resembles a corner “wine shop” during the day, but doubles for a bootlegging shack “after hours.” Order are placed, I wait in blur of nervousness and sleep deprivation, but maintain a consistent optimism.

After a further thirty minutes of driving, half of which include back roads without lights or pavement, we arrive at the set destination, somewhere along the northwest coast of Bombay far away from corner cricket matches and signs of the impending Z-apocalypse.

0406 UTC // 12.05.07

The mood initially was a tad bit uncomfortable as we setup two car trunks back to back and began to poor mixed drinks for approximately a dozen people. Luckily I had an American brother with me to commiserate the oddity of this late night Indian tailgate, but as I soon found out, I had all of my Indian brothers with me too.

The drinks included whiskey (scotch as they know it), rum, vodka and Kingfisher regular and strong (8%). I believe I impressed the bunch (or at least that is my recollection) with my taking of Indian Scotch straight without mixers to open up the Indian tailgate. I followed this with my first taste of Kingfisher Strong and shortly after that I met “Bob”(name changed to protect the guilty).

Bob had been keeping the same pace as me (this data is purely speculative) and quickly I found his inflections of Hindi jokes hilarious. He politely translated for me and my American brother so that I would fully understand that he is the type that would always be welcomed at any tailgate of mine.

The drunken banter remained for the next several hours as we listened to 80’s Metallica followed by 90’s Eagles, followed by Nirvana until the Sun peaked its head over the horizon. I quickly realized that tailgaters across the world only differ in language and mode of transportation, but the enjoyment is universal. As the sun continued to rise and the bottles continued to stack up I realized that I had reached the pinnacle of my journey on the other side of the world from my home. The sense of familiarity and collective enjoyment made it a little bit easier to be so isolated from the things I’ve been missing so dearly.

0812 UTC // 12.05.07

The night/morning ended with a game of football played on the beach by a group of drunken brothers using beach trash for goal posts and a flat volleyball as the necessary equipment. The game ended 0-0 after a solid 10 minutes and all of us realizing it was too hot and we were too gone to complete the match.

This is the point were I tell you about certain memories will last with you forever, and that’s true.

1617 UTC // 12.05.07


“Our room service tabs had been running somewhere between $29 and $36 per hour, for two consecutive weeks. Incredible. How could it happen”

I finally pulled the eyes open around the timestamp and realized that I have nothing to do for a long time and my only goal for today is to stay up until around 0200 to prevent the Monday crash during work. What to do when you have time and no Premiership on Saturday?...Well you pop on disc one of Firefly (lent to me from yet another American brother) on the laptop and put the Real Madrid Athletico Bilbao on mute.

Prior to my slack marathon though, I woke up to a letter under my door requesting a call to the front desk. Immediately I thought the worst. The gig is up. I wonder how long I can exist on the streets of Bombay. How does Western Union work? Fortunately this was just a check up on my bill (and for financial purposes the number will not be disclosed), where I broke down my per hour rupee count at the hotel and laughed. Yes, I’m still in the hotel, for now.

As I mentioned in my comments on MCP’s overly long previews post, this series is better the second time around and the guy playing the captain has actually grown on me, much like overly long travel diaries. Anyway, I by the time I finish this post I’m probably going to be done with the series, and I have to say, I think I’m finally ready to give the movie a go. I feel like I’ve crossed a line that I may never have a chance to go back from, or maybe it’s just the frickin’ water around here, but “when I’m wrong…I say I’m wrong”, and I may or may not be wrong about this, I’m still not sure.

I’m going to cut this now to save space. Thanks for reading.

Day Ten: Mumbai Wildlife, Will Wheaton and the Hight Water Mark

I really don’t have much and I have even little since being distracted by Stand by Me that started the moment I got back to my hotel room. So I leave you with a photo before I turn in for the day…and remember the age old question:

How do you know if a Frenchman has been in your backyard?

Cheers

Day 8 and 9: So I Lied

“The best-laid schemes of mice and men oft go awry”

Ok, so I’m not posting everyday, since I refuse to comment about the mundane existence of traveling in a cab the same 15 mile stretch to and from work. I will comment however that I did experience my first Indian mall experience yesterday and I can honestly report that my disdain for shopping utopia on the other side of the world matches that to my own corner.

It did make me feel a little comfortable in a perverse capitalistic way, but it quickly evaporated. I would like to report that there were unique elements to major chain stores, or Indian replicants, i.e. Foot Locker is now Shoe Zone or something, but alas globalization has painted this corner of the organized shopping world with the same beige tone that exists in Tukwilla, not that I really have a problem with that and to prove it, please view exhibit A.(The pear is for artistic freedom)I would like to report that my experience has been taken to another level after the adventure that was Elephanta Island, but that would be like saying MCP is a casual comic fan, (p.s. I’ll see what I can do about the Bollywood FC, I was unaware such a thing existed, you better not be f’n with me.)

I sit here with the sun coming up watching a “live” showing of the Nets/Cavs game, (forty-something to fifty-something at half) enjoying a nice Kingfisher wondering what the next several days will bring. I have to say, as sad as it sounds I’m actually enjoying my work now more than I have in approximately 16 months, for whatever that’s worth. There’s a level of community and hospitality amongst the residents-of-Mumbai-that-work-at-this-particular-call-center that is warm and welcoming to an outsider from the 935.

That’s all I got until next time.