This was your host at 4am (which was actually only 3am) this morning as Spike decided it was time to wake up for food since it was daylight. The little bugga decided the best way to wake you up if you ain’t stirring, is to dig his claws into soft parts of your anatomy.
Needless to say the odd rude word was muttered and one cat achieved momentary flight.
Oh thank goodness for early summer mornings!
So Mrs Fogg bought me a guitar, amp and lessons for Christmas (goodness knows why cos I is tone deaf). But here we are in March and I’m still trying to learn. I can just about do the smoke on the water riff (if you listen carefully), but it is difficult playing when you have crab claws where fingers are needed to get the right notes.
Still in a few more years I may actually be able to play something resembling a tune.
Mrs Fogg you have a while to wait before you can put my pretty guitar on the wall to gather dust.
I meant to post this yesterday. The company office in Kolkata has a number of helpful signs posted for guests.
The best one is to be found in the ladies toilet which requires visitors to flash after use. A most bizarre concept. Does one just lift your top or just pull trousers down when flashing?? And who is it appropriate to flash to?
I decided not to follow the instructions on this occasion.
I am currently sat by the pool at the hotel and it looks like there is a private pool party about to happen. There is lots of frantic activity setting White table cloths out and about 30 staff dashing about to make sure all is clean and tidy.
It is nearly 5pm here and the sun us setting on another day in India. The temperature is very pleasant being at maybe 31 but not overly humid which is good.
Tomorrow might just have to be a dip in the pool. I’ve done the toe test, the water is bath temperature so it’s looking good.
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This morning I should have been in a plane home. Should…However, conveniently for my company, we have a site (a steel mill) not far away that is having computer problems with staff from the UK working there. So muggins here gets to go do a PR visit.
Cue a short flight to a temple city in the jungle, an overnight stay there and then a 3 hour drive through the jungle to some remote place where we have stuck a mine and steel mill.
I am told that compared to Kolkata THIS will be a culture shock. I may see elephants, snakes and all sorts of critters. What fun…
Luckily I have my own personal guide in the form of a young man from our Kolkata office who will be my escort for the trip. This certainly was unexpected so I should make the most of seeing this country – ESP since I do not plan to come back anytime soon!
So this means I have Sat and most of Sunday to chill out in my 5 star luxury hotel – and of course to make the most of it since the 5 star stops on Sunday and I venture into the unknown.
I asked at the hotel today who advise me that the town i am going to is very famous for tourism. It is called Bhubaneswar and has some very revered temples that people travel far and wide to. To my mind this means hippy backpackers, so I’m intrigued what the hotels will be like.
One of my friends from the office last night kindly emailed me some helpful guidelines for travelling beyond the 5 star hotels. I thought I would share this:
Never eat salad or anything that has to be washed with water.
Try to stick to curry- cooking it tends to kill the germs
Avoid rice if it is sat out to cool- it could have been there for hours if not days
Buy and use sterile hand wipes- use after touching taxi door handles and any other surface
Eating with the right hand is normal practice- mash the vegetables and sauce into the rice with your hand and shovel into mouth- remember to sterile wipe hands before and after.
Every question and request will be met with a Yes- Indians do not have the concept of no (seen as rude)- even if they cannot do something they will say yes then just fail to do anything about it.
So that sums up the helpful advice. Enlightened yet? Me too.
I’ll be sure to take lots and lots of pictures to share with you all. Got to go, need to sterilise my hands for the fifteenth time…….
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Yes Wonder Woman.
So at present Mrs Fogg is working in Calcutta, ah sorry get it right, that’s the colonial British name, Its now called Kolkata by it’s Indian name (if your gonna change your name why not make it so totally different, eh). She is over at a quarterly IT conference enjoying all the spices and aromas that the place has to offer.
So Saturday night sees Mrs Fogg land back home, or does it. She has been asked to extend her stay to assist with technical and training issues onsite, because obviously India has a shortage of Techie bods!
So who knows when the Mrs will be returning, but afterall she is WonderWoman in every sense of the word, capable of resolving other people’s IT issues.
Now if only I can get her into the costume and also get her to put the lasso to good use, sorry lost deep in thought there for a second, ah …….
Just for Mrs Fogg in celebration of her curry love:
There’s a little cafe that they call the Gungha Din,
In a dark part of the city that’s renowned for vice and sin,
And all around the tables when the lights are growing dim
Walks the ghost of the Cafe Gungha Din.
He staggers round the tables with madness in his eyes,
Following the waiters. “Water, water!” is his cry,
But all the light-ale cavalry think he’s one of them,
As he walks in the Cafe Gungha Din.
They say he was a parson who came in drunk one night,
And that vicar, full of liquor, had his heart set all alight
When Fatima, the chef’s young daughter, he caught in his sight.
They fell in love in the Cafe Gungha Din.
Now, this Arthur curried favour with that girl called Fatima,
But that erotic cleric did not score with her papa.
When he caught them having a rogan josh, he thought they’d gone too far,
Behind the coats in the Cafe Gungha Din.
“You cassocked Casanova!” he said. His eyes were full of hate.
Then Fatima saw her papa had hands chock-full of plates.
She shouted out, in Bombay, “Duck!” but it was too late.
Now he’s the ghost of the Cafe Gungha Din.
“Oh, what’s my papa done?” she said. “That poor chappati’s dead,
‘Cos a flying bowl of mulligatawny’s cracked the back of his head!”
And he swallowed a gallon of vindaloo. That’s what the coroner said.
Now he’s the ghost of the Cafe Gungha Din.
So, if you go into that cafe that they call the Gungha Din,
Where the drunks fall asleep in their dinners, you might catch a glimpse of him.
He staggers round the tables with madness in his eyes.
His parson’s nose is all aglow. “Water!” is his cry,
And from out his Khyber Pass you can see the hot sparks fly.
He’s the ghost of the Cafe Gungha Din.
And the prize for the least amount of food eaten today goes to me! This was the food from the company canteen where I am working. All vegetables and all in a burn your mouth sauce. Served delightfully on prison trays.
The place is immaculately clean but unfortunately for me mild sauces here are our version of hot in the UK.
I can feel my waistline shrinking. I have started daydreaming of chocolate, crisps and pizza already.
While my colleagues all munched through the sauce I am ashamed to say I merely munched on dry rice and pancake bread.
However I can say that the little ball for desert is wonderfully sweet. They would only let me have one though. Rations are strictly dished out by a troop of servers.
You cannot even make a drink in the office, a young man pops up to do it for you.
I am witnessing so much poverty here just from the taxi as we weave by. Shocking, and yet the overall feel is of a very upbeat and vibrant city, lots of people on the go all the time and all smiling.
Starving, we are off for a specially organised meal tonight. I am hoping it is mild…this evening will be rude to not eat with our hosts.
Milk ordered.
[Posted from Mrs Foggs super cool iphone]
It is early evening here and I am sat by the pool resting and feeding the midges. This is the view of the hotel from the pool and of my room (open curtains half way up).
Temperature is delightful with a nice breeze too.
Next stop food- Italian pizza here I come
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Ah the luxury of air con. Our expert driver promptly loaded us into the surprisingly posh car for the hotel and set off on the 45 minute journey to the hotel. Mr Italy found it hilarious that I buckled up instantly telling me that Italians are of course aggressive drivers so this should be Childs play. Wow. There are no lanes to drive in. You look in the direction of travel and aim for it. Buses crammed with people, little put put taxis, cyclists galore, cows, pedestrians, old cars, new cars, old men and men in tatters with battered and shredded pedal taxis, all aiming somewhere. The trick, according to our driver is to be clear where you are going and inform everyone else by using your horn. All you can hear are horns blaring. Vehicles weave toward each other, cows pick the odd blade of grass in the middle of the main road, sellers peddle their wares at the edge of the roads- a makeshift outdoor restaurant, mobile phone shops made from tarpaulin and two bits of string. The poverty and squallor here us visible just from the car.
Bumper to bumper we sped along towards the hotel and it is clear that there is a lot of development underway here.
We passed clapped out old 50s cars, then sparkly new shopping centres wedged next to shanty towns, bamboo scaffolding at times seemingly holding the structures together.
How we got to the hotel with no scrapes or bumps absolutely amazes me.
The entrance to the hotel in contrast is a fortress of tall gates and security guards. All vehicles have a full security check, including under the hood. Once approved you are transported into a different world of service and luxury.
This afternoon I have been invited on a sightseeing tour with my Austrian colleagues. Should be an eye opener.
[Posted from Mrs Foggs super cool iphone]
Greetings from Kolkata. I arrived this morning at 7.30 to the grubbiest airport I have ever seen. Arriving was a simple affair and my colleague
and I located the single baggage carousel to await my luggage.
How many people can you get around a luggage carousel is not a question I have ever considered, and yet I can now confirm that it takes all the passengers from an A380 plus about 100 other bodies – oh and it makes perfect sense to ALL stand in one spot so that when you want your luggage you need to physically climb to the belt to get it. Wow do Indians stand close to each other. Lucky my chivalrous Mr Italy colleague offered to do the luggage krypton factor so he got to enjoy all those sweaty bodies up close and personal while I supervised from afar. He tells me that the mix of curry and sweat is a particular delicacy which appears a common fragrance.
We were met at the arrivals area ( see pic, yes this the front of the arrivals shed) by a chauffeur from the hotel and walked to a “waiting area”- roughly translated as large Tarmac area with a million taxis, bikes, porters and stray dogs while he got the car. At 7.30 the temp was already 27 degrees and climbing. In a short 5 min wait I have learnt that cows roam the city freely, use of the horn when driving is not just common it is obligatory and it is important to shout at each other even if you are stood on top of the other person.
An interesting first introduction to India. It meets all initial expectations so far.
[Posted from Mrs Foggs super cool iphone]
