Yue’s Yappings

Picking up from Part III.

On Friday morning, after another sleepless night, I got out of bed at 6 am and started working. I was planning on leaving Bangalore at midnight to Kuala Lumpur, on my way to Taipei. Considering what a disaster my trip had been so far, I flirted with the idea cutting it short and going back to Denver. While searching for flights to Denver, I called my Taiwanese partner, and floated the idea that I cancel my trip to Taipei and would instead return later in the month.  But he managed to convince me otherwise, so I kept with my original plan.

In theory, my lost luggage was now at the Bangalore airport but I hadn’t heard from anyone at the airline or airport.  So I went to the airport to find out what was happening.  I asked the hotel to get me a taxi to take me to the airport and return me back to the hotel. The taxi driver was a young, skinny Indian boy, wearing a dark pants and a white button down shirt. He dropped me off at the airport, and I told him to wait while I retrieved my luggage.  He said, “Mam, I can’t wait here. But I will come back in 10 minutes.”  That sounded ok to me.

I went straight to the passenger arrival gate, figuring the luggage claim office must be around there somewhere. When I approached the gate, two armed security guards stopped me.  “This is a restricted area, you come get in.”

“I am here to collect my luggage.  Here is passport and my lost luggage paper work, it was flown in from Deli last night.”

“Sorry ma’am.  I can’t let you in without a pass from airport director.”

“So where do I find the airport director?”

“If you go around the airport, back to the passenger check in area, you will see an aquarium.  The director’s office is right behind aquarium.”

“OK, I will be back.”

I found the aquarium, and the director’s office behind it. I knocked on the door, and a man in his 40’s wearing a business suit opened the door. He let me in and asked me to take a seat. I explained that I needed a pass to get into the passenger arrival area so I could retrieve my lost bags.  He asked, “Has anyone called you to let you know the luggage is here?”

“Well, not exactly.  The Lufthansa agent told me yesterday that my baggage was on the midnight flight to Bangalore.  So it should be here now.”

He took my lost luggage form, put a big stamp on the back, and handed it back to me. “You need to go to these different people at the airport, get their stamps, and then you enter the passenger arrival area.

I sat there, giving him my most evil stare.  Obviously it wasn’t very good, because he asked “Maam, do you understand what am I telling you? Do I need to explain it again?”

I answered, “No sir, I understand you completely. I just don’t believe what you are telling me.”

I took the form, left his office, and started looking for the first person at the top of the list he gave me.  After 20 minutes of running around, I had managed to collect all the necessary stamps.

Then I headed back to the passenger area. This time the guard let me through.  Since it was early in the morning, the luggage area was empty as well as all the airline luggage offices. So I started looking for someone to help me - when I spotted my luggage sitting in a corner against a wall, next to three other assumedly lost pieces of luggage.

I walked over, grabbed my bag and started walking towards the exit.  Of course, a man chased after me saying “Maam, wait!.  You can’t just take the luggage. I need to get an airline supervisor to help you.”

“Why?  This is my luggage, as proven by the tags on the bags. And here is my stamped lost luggage form.”

“No, you can’t take it.  Please wait here, and I will get some one from the airline.”

Then he disappeared. I waited for 5 minutes, surreptitiously look around to see if anyone was watching.  Finally, I had enough.  Seeing that no one was watching, I headed towards the exit with my bags.  The guards didn’t say anything as I passed by them.

With great relief I walked outside the airport. Now, I needed to find my taxi. As I searched for my taxi driver, I realized with a sinking feeling that I was going to have a hard-time recognizing him.  There seemed to be an official taxi dress code, white shirt with dark pants, driving a white car.

I started worrying that the man in the passenger area would realize I was missing and come looking for me.  But just then, I hear a voice calling “Hello Maam.  I’m over here.”

Looking around, I saw my taxi driver waving at me.  I rushed over, threw my luggage in the back of the car, and jumped into the front seat.  “Please take me back to the hotel,” which of course he did.

Finally a good day in India - I had my bags, my meetings went well, and my Indian partners graciously entertained me until near midnight when my plane was supposed to depart.

When I arrived at the Bangalore airport for the second time that day, I realized that a number of other flights also left a midnight.  And when I arrived at the gate, I thought for a moment that there was only one gate open, which didn’t bode well at all.  But then I realized that you don’t actually board planes from the gate, instead a shuttle bus takes you to the airplane parked on the tarmac. I looked up the departure board and, no surprise, my flight was delayed indefinitely.

After a few hours of waiting, things sorted themselves off and I left India on my way to Taipei via Kuala Lumpur.  We arrived in Kuala Lumpur around eight in the morning local time.  If you’ve never visited, the Kuala Lumpur airport is one of the nicest in the world. While sitting in the sparkling, brightly lit terminal at a fancy, western-style coffee shop, I took a deep breath and the last few days in India started seeming very far, far away.

Picking up from Part II.

I was relieved to finally step of the plane when we arrived in Bangalore. It was a  warm and breezy day, which felt great after leaving Denver in a blizzard.

Since I had a nice nap on the plane, I felt like a new person.   My business partner picked me up at the airport, and then we went for a late night snack at a trendy restaurant in downtown Bangalore.  Sitting in a big, comfortable chair, I ordered a local favorite - lime soda with sugar, India bread and vegetarian curry dish. Everything tasted very yummy, especially after my long exhausting trip.

It was very late when I made it to my hotel. I opened up my airline toiletry bag and found some facial cleanser, lotion and a white cotton t-shirt which I used as my pajamas. I took a shower and went straight to bed, but of course couldn’t go to sleep. Jetlag finally caught up with me, and I tossed and turned all night. India is on the opposite side of the glob from Denver, and thus the time is 12 hours different.

At 6 AM I gave up on sleeping and decided to try and get my luggage. I dialed the number that Lufthansa gave me and talked to the baggage department at Delhi airport. A friendly man answered the phone.  I gave him my name and asked if my luggage had arrived from Frankfurt.  He said yes.  But of course there was a problem.  Customs had x-rayed my bag and decided they had found something in it that required I pay a customs fee.

I figured it was probably the sample RFID modules I always carry with me when visiting customers.  The agent told me that Lufthansa can’t help with clearing customs, so I needed to personally go back to Delhi and open the luggage for customs.

“But I am in Bangalore right now. ”

“I know, Maam. Do you have any friends who can do it for you in Deli”

“No, I will gave you permission to open my luggage, the PCB board inside are samples, which have no commercial value”

“No, we can’t do that”

“What should I do then?  I can’t come back to Deli to pick up my luggage, and I have already wasted one day due to the delay”

“Yes, Mam. What we can do is send the luggage back to Frankfurt, and resend the bag directly to Bangalore.

“You must be joking. I’m leaving Bangalore in two days.  By the time you send the luggage back to Frankfurt and then to Bangalore, I will be on my way to Taipei”

“We have a problem, Maam”

“No kidding”

While I was thinking what I should do next, I looked at the calendar.  It was February 7, 2008, Chinese New Year. So I started calling my friends in China to wish them a “Happy New Year”. But I didn’t feel any happiness myself. When I told them about my so far disasterous trip to India, they all suggested that I need to call my local connections for help. I figured my other choice was to pray.

I finally decided to call my business partner, Mihir, for help. To my surprise, he had a friend in Delhi who can help me. I faxed him a copy of my passport and a letter of power attorney to represent me in claiming my bag. I was so thankful for this help - it let me stay in Bangalore and spend the day with my business partner - the whole purpose of the trip.

After a good, productive working day, I received some good news from Mihir.  His friend was able to clear my luggage through customs and it would arrive around midnight in Bangalore.

After the meeting, a woman named Anitha, who worked for my partners, offered to show me around Bangalore. Anitha is a beautiful Indian woman with bubbly English and and Indian accent. Instead of taking a taxi, we took a moto taxi which looks more or less like a rickshaw with a lawnmower engine.  It can fit two passengers in the back.

Anitha and I hopped in the moto taxi, told the driver where we going, and negotiated for a good price.  Then the driver pulled a cord that started the engine and away we went to Gandhi Blvd, the main shopping district in Bangalore. It was rush hour, so the streets were packed with moto taxis, cars and scooters. Looking outside the auto-rickshaw, I saw people walking, women pumping water from the street, women wearing saris and carrying huge baskets on the top of their heads and men sitting on big rocks meditating next to the road.  Along with the sights was noise of all sorts - car engines, cars hooking, and above all, loud modern Indian pop music - all mixed together in a very dynamic world.

Lacking any changes of clothes without my luggage, Anitha suggested I should buy a Sari, a traditional Indian dress. She took me to a one of the best Sari shop in Bangalore. Walking in the store, I was surrounded by many beautiful saris, in a wide range of colors,  embroidery patterns and price ranges. The sales clerk asked for me how much I wanted to spend, and then picked a few out for me to try.   They were all beautiful - I finally settled on a saffron color one in georgette fabric.

I learned that when one buys sari, you also need to take it to a tailor so they can cut small piece of fabric to make a matching blouse. Since I was leaving the next day, I needed to pick up my blouse in less than 24 hours. Anitha took me to a tailor in another part of town. The tailor did a quick measurement and said he’d be done the next day before 5pm. Amazing service. I only wish Lufthanza luggage team can do the same.

After shopping, Anitha took me to a traditional Indian restaurant for dinner.  The first thing I noticed was that the restaurant was full of men, there were only a few women. After we got seated, we walked to an area where you wash your hands.

Anitha ordered two vegetarian meals, that came with two types of curries and rice and several side dishes, including yogurt, soup and chutney. Since India food can be spicy sometimes, drinking the yogurt help settle your stomach.

The food was served on a banana leaf.  I  have to admit I was confused at first, I thought the banana leaf was going to be my placemat, not my plate!  My meal was simple, light and delicious. And it was all you can eat.  After 3 servings of rice and curry, I was stuffed.

Exiting the restaurant, we decided to get an auto-rickshaw to take me back to the hotel. Anitha started negotiating the price with the drivers nearby.  But at the end, she decided they were all drunk and didn’t like any of them. I suggested that we walk back to hotel since it was close. Walking on street in Bangalore at night was an adventure. The sidewalks aren’t evenly paved, and there are plenty of in-between there sections of nothing but dirt.  So you have to watch your step. We passed by a number of vendors selling snacks, women washing their clothes next to a water pump and many moto taxis and scooters zipping by.

It was late when I got back hotel and I was exhausted. I put my cotton t-shirt back-on and fell asleep quickly. But two hours later, jetlag reared its ugly head and I found myself wide awake again.

Picking up from Part I.

Frankfurt to Munich is a short flight. After arriving in Munich, I was reminded how nice its airport is - there are lots of fancy shops and cafes. Its much better than Frankfurt. But I was too tired to for window shopping, and instead, went straight to the Lufthansa business lounge.

With my United 1 K membership card, I was able to enter the lounge without problem. But when I asked for an upgrade on my flight to Delhi, then a problem appeared. The agent told me that they don’t accept electronic upgrade vouchers, but instead need paper vouchers from United at least two weeks in advance. Absurd. I am really beginning to hate Lufthansa.

It is a 10 hour flight from Munich to Delhi. Having no status with Lufthansa, although its part of the Star Alliance, they put me in a middle seat towards the back of the plane. Squeezing between two huge middle eastern looking men, complete with turbans, I lost the heart to argue and prepared myself for a miserable flight.

After two meal services, and 4 movies, the plane finally neared Delhi. But, instead of preparing for landing, our plane was circled for a long time. Everyone started getting anxious to get off this plane. Finally the pilot came on over the intercom:

“Due to the heavy fog in Delhi, we can’t land. We’re now headed towards Mumbai to refuel and will then return to Deli once the fog lifts.”

For a moment I was happy, since Mumbai is much closer to Bangalore than Deli. In addition, Mumbai also has also a big airport, where I should able to get a flight to Bangalore easily.

An hour later, our plane landed in Mumbai. Still enjoying this turn of events, the pilot came on the intercom again and burst my happy little bubble:

“We have arrived in Mumbai, but no one can leave the plane. We will wait until the fog clears, and then return to Deli.”

Drats. So we all waited patiently for over an hour, at which time we took off and headed back to Delhi. When we arrive, it’s the February 6th, around noon. As this point, I have spent over 30 hours traveling.

My first impression of the Delhi airport was how old it looked. After passing through customs, I said goodbye to Steve, who had his luggage with him. I headed to the baggage claim, fearing that my luggage would be no where to be found. And of course it wasn’t there.

I walked to the luggage help desk, where a very pleasant Indian man greeted me. After I told him my name, he looked at a piece of paper, and said “yes, Mrs. Savage, we were notified by the Frankfurt airport that you luggage is still in Frankfurt and will be on the next flight to Delhi arriving at midnight.”

“But I am going to Bangalore right now, and I won’t be here at midnight.”

“No worry, mam, we will get your luggage through customs, and send it on the next flight to Bangalore. All you need to do is go to Bangalore airport tomorrow to collect it.”

“Can’t you just send the bags directly to Bangalore from Frankfurt?”

“No, mam, it’s policy. We always ship the luggage with the passenger.”

This didn’t sound at all good to me, and as you’ll see, it wasn’t. But I wasn’t getting anywhere arguing with him, and took the 2000 India rupees (about $50) he handed me as well as a plastic toiletries bag.

Next it was time to get my flight to Bangalore. I started walking around the airport looking for domestic flights. Not finding them, I headed back to the security gate and approached a guard. He asked for my identification and tickets. I showed him my confirmation e-ticket to Bangalore. He then told me I was at the wrong airport - all domestic flights leave from a different airport across town.

Uugh. Next I headed outside, looking for a taxi stand. Of course there were no signs anywhere, but plenty of locals hanging out around the outside of the airport. Some were even lying on the ground taking naps.

Not sure of my next step, I called my partners in Bangalore, told them I was in Delhi and needed to catch a flight to Bangalore. I asked them how I should get to the domestic airport from international airport, and they said look for the prepaid taxi stand.

Then, a man approached me to see if I needed to go anywhere. A bit wary, I asked him if he could take me to the domestic airport, and he of course said yes. I gave him some rupees and hopped into his tiny car. In the front passenger seat was a very skinny, young boy. I rolled down the window as we left the Delhi International airport. The air was dusty, and we passed by a number of run down buildings, dirt roads and people working on the road shoveling dirt. During the entire trip, I kept wondering why isn’t the young boy in school and why aren’t people working on the side of road using machines?

Having thought Delhi’s international airport needed work, I was shocked by the domestic airport. The best description is that it looked like a Chinese bus station (never mind a US bus station). It’s very old and very small. And it teemed with security guards.

I found the check-in counter for the local airline I am flying. The agent told me that I had missed my flight, and due to the heavy fog in the morning, many flights were canceled. Thus, there were no seats available for me but she would put me on the waiting list. I then was supposed to come back ever hour to check my status.

I dragged my tote, containing my laptop, wallet, passport, an Atlantic Monthly and the toiletry bag I received from Lufthansa. I looked around for a seat…and saw none. My options were either sitting on a stair case, the sidewalk curb outside. or the floor. And of course I had to stay awake for the next few hours.

After more searching, I finally found a place that looked like an airline lounge in the very back of the building. A sign at the door said I needed some sort of voucher to get in. I didn’t have an energy to find out how to get the voucher, so I sneaked in while the hostess was busy with another passenger. I found a seat in the back of lounge, in front a big TV, and sat down.

Hours passed by, and no one come bothered to ask for a voucher. On the television was a program recapping the results of Super Tuesday in the United States as Obama and Hillary continued their primary battle. There was also a snack bar near me, which had a variety of Indian food that I couldn’t name, but happily ate.

A few Indian business men sat next to me, and when I told them my situation, they said:

“Pray to God, he will help you.”

Not quite what I was expecting. I had never even thought of praying in a situation like this before, but maybe it was time to change my ways an pray more. But I figure it might degenerate into “please God help me with my sale quota for this quarter” - which I figure God has better things to worry about than that.

Eight hours come and go, people come and go, but the Super Tuesday show is still going strong. I finally got up the courage and went to the check-in counter, practically begging agent to clear me off the wait list. She looked me , took pity, and handed me a boarding pass for the next flight to Bangalore. When I finally arrive it was near midnight, 45 hours after I had left Denver.

To be continued a bit more…

February was an awfully long month. And not just because it had an extra day! It also included my fairly disastrous trip around the world.

The trip started from Denver and then wound its way for two weeks through Frankfurt, Munich, Mumbai, Deli, Bangalore, Kaula Lumpur, Taipei and finally back to Denver.

On the day of departure, a snow storm hit Denver just as I was leaving for the airport. I called Lufthansa to make sure the flight was on time and they assured me it was. So Charlie and I went off to the airport in a snowstorm, which wasn’t much fun and took twice as long as usual.

When Charlie dropped me off he wished me luck, but it clearly wasn’t meant to be. After being delayed in Denver for an almost two hours, my flight finally took off for Frankfurt. When we arrived, I had five minutes to catch my connecting flight to Bangalore. But since I’m a nobody on Lufthansa, I was stuck in the back of the plane. When I finally got off, I ran as fast as I could to the gate and was relieved to see a giant Boeing 747. I showed my ticket to the gate agent, but she didn’t even bother to look at me. “Sorry, the gate is closed, we have booked you to the next flight.” When I asked her when that was, she answered indifferently, “I don’t know, you have to go to ticketing counter, they will help you.”

Also at the gate was a man named Steve, who was on my Denver flight and also was trying to get to Bangalore. Steve has a very noble job - he is VP for Denver Rescue Mission, a local charity that provides shelter, food, clothing and education to families who need help. He was going to India to meet with an Indian Nursing school that could take young women who can’t afford nursing schools in the US.

We both walked over to the Lufthansa ticket center to see what flights they had booked for us. After waiting for an interminable hour, we finally spoke to an agent. She looked our original boarding pass, and a minute later looked at us and said, “Sorry, all other flights to India are fully booked, there aren’t any other flights leaving for India today.”

Steve and I weren’t happy - and demanded Lufthansa come up with a better option. After five minutes, she looked at us again and said, “Well, there is one option that you can fly to Munich, and take a flight to Deli. Then you will need to be on a local connection flight to Bangalore”

“We’ll take it”.

“What will happen to our luggage”

“It will be rerouted to follow you”

“OK”

I found a coffee house to rest for a bit, and then went to the gate for my next flight to Munich. Of course it was in another terminal, so I had to go through customs. I picked the shortest line, and when it was my turn, I walked up to custom agent.

The agent, a young, blond German with a cold face took my passport and stared at me. Then he asked, “can you please tell me what the sign above you says?” I looked and saw “EU passengers.” So I said, “EU passengers”. I immediately knew where this was going. “Can you tell me if this is an EU passport?” I said, “no sir.” He shrugged his shoulders, handed over my passport, and said “Next”. What a jerk. So I walked over to the “non EU passport” line, which of course was twice as long.

Having passed through customs, I finally made it to the Munich gate. After sitting down, an old, middle eastern looking man walked over and sat next to me. He asked if I lived in Munich, and I said I was just passing through on my way to India.

He told me that he just came from Iraq, where his family lives, and his home town isn’t the same as it used to be. Normal life no longer exists in Iraq - there is no electricity, no clean water, people are miserable - all thanks to America. I felt the resentment in his voice and as well as deep sadness.

To be continued.

Today, I received a wonderful surprise email from my best friend in grade school, Zhang Ying. We were classmates 26 years ago in Beijing, but had long ago lost touch. She found me by Googling my name and came across my blog.

It was amazing to hear from her after 26 years. Since I moved to the US, I have lost touch with most of the people I used to know in Beijing. I often wonder where they are, especially when traveling through China.

In 1999, Zhang Ying decided it was time for a change, packed her bags, and immigrated to the United States. Since then she’s earned not one, but two, master’s degrees, gotten married, and now lives in Washington, DC. I can’t wait for my next trip to DC, so we can see each other again after all these years!

This year nature brought a treat - a white Christmas in Denver. The streets are quiet, no one is moving about, and I’m taking this week off. It’s so great to get to relax.

On Thursday I arrived in Tokyo, after spending the last week in Shanghai. After spending two days in Tokyo, I left for Seoul on Sunday.

Thankfully this is my final stretch of my four week trip to Asia. However, I still have two more cities to visit - Hong Kong and then back to Shanghai. After spending over 20 days traveling alone, I am feeling tired, lonely and more than a little home sick. China’s polluted air has hardly helped matters. To try and avoid getting sick, I’ve been popping Airbone, which is a pill designed by a school teacher to help build your immune system every day.

Arriving in Tokyo was a relief - it is so much richer and cleaner than Shanghai. Unfortunately, it rained most of the time I was in Tokyo. The sun came out on Sunday morning, just as I was leaving to Seoul. Although Seoul seems awfully close to Tokyo on a map, it took me most of the day to travel between the two cities.

One more week to go before heading back to home to Denver. I’m bummed I missed the big event of the year - the Rockies making the World Series. I hear the town went nuts, as Denver always does for its successful sports teams, with purple (the Rockies color) everywhere:

Listening to mp3 joe dassin (Multimedia Center Windows Plugin)

Yesterday was the first snow day in Denver this winter. Here’s a picture from Washington Park, a few blocks away from our house.

Sadly, I missed it since I’m still in Asia. Its hard to believe its snowing in Denver when I’m here in a light sweater and capri pants.

Listening to mp3 metallica mp3 (Multimedia Center Windows Plugin)

Everyone knows that the US imports a large number of goods each year from China. On the flip side, China buys high tech items such as airplanes, cars and turbines from the US.

And chicken feet. An amazing number of chicken feet. All my Chinese friends love chicken feet, and Dim Sum is simply incomplete with out them.

With a population over one billion people, China consumes 400 million chicken feet a month. Over a year, that is equal to 500 million kilograms of chicken (mostly feet and wings), 50% of which come from the US.

Maybe I’ve lived too long in the US, but I simply don’t love chicken feet like my friends. Nibbling the skin off the tiny bones in chicken feet isn’t my thing.

Now, if we’re talking pigs feet, one of my favorites, that is a whole different story!

Listening to mp3 moby mp3 (Multimedia Center Windows Plugin)

After attending the Taipei International Electronics Show last week, I left Taipei for Shanghai. Since there is no direct flight from Taiwan to China, I had to go through a very scenic Korean island called Jeju. It looks like a nice place for vacation.

Taiwan airlines and  China East airlines seem to have mastered the handoff of passengers.  Taiwan airline drops us at Jeju and China East Airlines picks us up and takes us to Shanghai.

I’ll be in China for the next two weeks, and then I’m on to Korea to attend the annual Seoul RFID exhibition.