Tuesday morning was another early morning with us scrambling to get everything ready to hit the road to the airport. Our driver was meeting us at 7:00 am, and with a 10:00am flight, we wanted to be sure to be prompt. Allie woke up chipper, and feeling much better than the last three days, providing a tremendous relief to Natalie and I. We all got ready, grabbed a quick breakfast, thanked our driver for everything and headed off to the airport.
Upon arriving, our airline, Jet Airways, seemed to be in a bit of disarray. We joined the check in line, which didn’t move at all for a good 15 minutes. There were several employees walking around whom all seemed to have an elevated level of irritation. One informed us that we could go around the counter to the Premier Line. Once we got over there, we noticed the man in front of us was getting scolded for being in the Premier Line when he was not Premier status. He expressed frustration that he had been in the other line for quite some time, was told to come to this side, and had now been sitting here for quite some time. As one of the airline employees came our way, we preemptively explained that we were in a similar situation. We finally made it to the front of the line, and checked as much baggage as we could. Even while checking us in, the employee seemed very distracted.
Security at New Delhi is interesting. They require each carry-on bag to be tagged, screened, and stamped at security. We had attempted to combine our carry-ons as much as possible and had one smaller bag shoved inside another. When they went through the x-ray machine, they were apparently too dense and they needed to separate them. However they didn’t tag and stamp the smaller bag that was now on its own. Once we got to the gate for the plane, they had an officer checking all carry-ons to ensure they were tagged. They noticed this one wasn’t, and we had to sit and wait for them to call over a security officer to check the contents, while the rest of the plane passed us by.
Once we landed, we decided since we had so many carry-on bags to deal with, that we would wait for most other passengers to deplane before we attempted to do so ourselves. We later realized that this was not the best of ideas. As we exited the jet bridge, there was no crowd to follow. We came to a long glass wall running the length of the terminal with doors in it separating this half of the terminal from the rest. We could either try to go through the doors (which all appeared locked) or to go right, or go left. With the wall being glass panes it was difficult to see how long this barrier went down the terminal. We chose left and began walking. It was a very long walk down the length of the terminal, passed security, to the baggage claim. However, when we got to the baggage claim, there were no people, and certainly no bags. For a fairly large airport, there were only 6 carousels or so. It appeared we were in the wrong place. We had left a secure area, so we could not backtrack. We asked someone at an information desk, and when we told him we deplaned from a Jet Airlines flight, he looked at us with a mix of confusion and surprise, and said we were in the wrong area. He suggested we exit the building go to the right, and we would come to the right place.
Exiting the building required going passed another secure checkpoint, which made us a little nervous. Outside, there are dozens of people willing to “help.” Actually they insist on it, but then of course would like something in return. One such individual grabbed my cart, and I began to protest, but realized he likely could be helpful. I tried to explain the issue to him, which was clearly unusual, and these individuals typically only know the key phrases in English to help travelers around the airport. I was ultimately able to explain what happened, and he led us very far down a road, passed some construction to the exit area of the place we should have been. Unfortunately, there was a security guard at the door that would not let us reenter. As we stood there trying to explain what had occurred, my friend Kamalika, who we are staying with in Mumbai, came up behind us along with Minnie and Spiky. This was very welcome, as she was able to better explain the situation to the guard in Hindi, and get help more quickly. Eventually the guard talked to someone and sent them in to find the bags. However, he then also decided to let Natalie in by herself to go find them. After a couple minutes with Natalie gone, 2 Jet Airways attendants came walking down the hall with our bags. Now we had the bags, but didn’t have Natalie. The attendants said they didn’t see anyone looking for them, (and of course it would be fairly easy to have seen Natalie, with or without a crowd around her, simply due to our significant minority status here.) They started back in to find Natalie, at which point, she came walking down the hall towards us. Finally! Bags and Ziemanns reunited!
Now to get them to the cars Kamalika had waiting for us. Kamalika drove her Volkswagen and had a family friend drive a second one (a much older Tata). We packed both up to the hilt, and hit the road to her apartment. Mumbai traffic is always crazy, and always unpredictable. We didn’t make it much more than a mile or two when we hit quite a bit of traffic, and came to an utter standstill on a long stretch of road between a barrier and a flyover (elevated street). It was about 90 and sunny. Natalie, and Allie and I had jumped in the old Tata, which struggled greatly to cool us. As we sat in traffic, Kamalika, Minnie, Spiky, and Kalyssa, were directly next to us. Kamalika rolled down her window and offered to have some of us jump into the cooler car. So in the middle of Mumbai traffic we did a mini-“Chinese fire drill” and Alexandra jumped in the VW.
We continued to sit immobile for another 15 minutes or so, until traffic began to break up and we were able to continue on. Thirty minutes later or so, we arrived at Kamalika’s. Her and her family live in a highrise apartment development on the edge of Mumbai, so it actually has a decent amount of a view of some natural landscapes. As they showed us around, we realized that her and her husband had provided our girls their children’s room, provided us their master bedroom, and they have all been sharing a second bedroom. Only the first of an overly generous series of gestures as they have been hosting us.
Shortly after we arrived, Kamalika began scrambling around the kitchen a bit like a mad-women and quickly whipped up an Indian lunch for us with rice, a potato dish, a dish with hard boiled eggs and sauce, (and for those that know the quirks around my eating preferences, no I didn’t eat the eggs) as well as a few other side dishes. We devoured these quickly, and then jumped in a larger car arranged for us and went off to do some site seeing.
We went from the east side of town to the western coast, and toured a Hare Krishna temple. Many worshippers were there as we walked through, and a very eager parishioner (I’m sure that’s likely not the right term) began to show us around the temple and explained the history of the religion. It was started by the hippies in New York, who actually then brought it to India, where it seems to have become a bit of a split off of Hinduism. The individual was clearly in evangelical mode, and explaining the way of life of the Hare Krishna. Meanwhile on the floor of the temple various individuals layed themselves face down on the floor, as a continuous rhythmic chant was performed by the worship leaders.
Our “guide” offered to take us to a more restricted area on the second floor to allow us to take pictures of the temple, and then continued to give us a tour of the rest of the banquet and school facilities. Ultimately the tour was a little longer than we were looking for. At the end, he handed Kamalika a book about the history of the religion, and said that he thought that I should read it, and that I would like to read it. An interesting souvenir….
At the restaurant I got to sample an array of various Kingfisher Beer varieties (Kingfisher is a very commonly found local brew) as well as an Indian take on Italian food, which was also pretty good. After dinner, we returned to Kamalika and Jayant’s place, had a drink or two, and turned in for the evening.
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| Us with Pram, our Driver in New Delhi/Agra |
Upon arriving, our airline, Jet Airways, seemed to be in a bit of disarray. We joined the check in line, which didn’t move at all for a good 15 minutes. There were several employees walking around whom all seemed to have an elevated level of irritation. One informed us that we could go around the counter to the Premier Line. Once we got over there, we noticed the man in front of us was getting scolded for being in the Premier Line when he was not Premier status. He expressed frustration that he had been in the other line for quite some time, was told to come to this side, and had now been sitting here for quite some time. As one of the airline employees came our way, we preemptively explained that we were in a similar situation. We finally made it to the front of the line, and checked as much baggage as we could. Even while checking us in, the employee seemed very distracted.
Security at New Delhi is interesting. They require each carry-on bag to be tagged, screened, and stamped at security. We had attempted to combine our carry-ons as much as possible and had one smaller bag shoved inside another. When they went through the x-ray machine, they were apparently too dense and they needed to separate them. However they didn’t tag and stamp the smaller bag that was now on its own. Once we got to the gate for the plane, they had an officer checking all carry-ons to ensure they were tagged. They noticed this one wasn’t, and we had to sit and wait for them to call over a security officer to check the contents, while the rest of the plane passed us by.
Once we landed, we decided since we had so many carry-on bags to deal with, that we would wait for most other passengers to deplane before we attempted to do so ourselves. We later realized that this was not the best of ideas. As we exited the jet bridge, there was no crowd to follow. We came to a long glass wall running the length of the terminal with doors in it separating this half of the terminal from the rest. We could either try to go through the doors (which all appeared locked) or to go right, or go left. With the wall being glass panes it was difficult to see how long this barrier went down the terminal. We chose left and began walking. It was a very long walk down the length of the terminal, passed security, to the baggage claim. However, when we got to the baggage claim, there were no people, and certainly no bags. For a fairly large airport, there were only 6 carousels or so. It appeared we were in the wrong place. We had left a secure area, so we could not backtrack. We asked someone at an information desk, and when we told him we deplaned from a Jet Airlines flight, he looked at us with a mix of confusion and surprise, and said we were in the wrong area. He suggested we exit the building go to the right, and we would come to the right place.
Exiting the building required going passed another secure checkpoint, which made us a little nervous. Outside, there are dozens of people willing to “help.” Actually they insist on it, but then of course would like something in return. One such individual grabbed my cart, and I began to protest, but realized he likely could be helpful. I tried to explain the issue to him, which was clearly unusual, and these individuals typically only know the key phrases in English to help travelers around the airport. I was ultimately able to explain what happened, and he led us very far down a road, passed some construction to the exit area of the place we should have been. Unfortunately, there was a security guard at the door that would not let us reenter. As we stood there trying to explain what had occurred, my friend Kamalika, who we are staying with in Mumbai, came up behind us along with Minnie and Spiky. This was very welcome, as she was able to better explain the situation to the guard in Hindi, and get help more quickly. Eventually the guard talked to someone and sent them in to find the bags. However, he then also decided to let Natalie in by herself to go find them. After a couple minutes with Natalie gone, 2 Jet Airways attendants came walking down the hall with our bags. Now we had the bags, but didn’t have Natalie. The attendants said they didn’t see anyone looking for them, (and of course it would be fairly easy to have seen Natalie, with or without a crowd around her, simply due to our significant minority status here.) They started back in to find Natalie, at which point, she came walking down the hall towards us. Finally! Bags and Ziemanns reunited!
Now to get them to the cars Kamalika had waiting for us. Kamalika drove her Volkswagen and had a family friend drive a second one (a much older Tata). We packed both up to the hilt, and hit the road to her apartment. Mumbai traffic is always crazy, and always unpredictable. We didn’t make it much more than a mile or two when we hit quite a bit of traffic, and came to an utter standstill on a long stretch of road between a barrier and a flyover (elevated street). It was about 90 and sunny. Natalie, and Allie and I had jumped in the old Tata, which struggled greatly to cool us. As we sat in traffic, Kamalika, Minnie, Spiky, and Kalyssa, were directly next to us. Kamalika rolled down her window and offered to have some of us jump into the cooler car. So in the middle of Mumbai traffic we did a mini-“Chinese fire drill” and Alexandra jumped in the VW.
We continued to sit immobile for another 15 minutes or so, until traffic began to break up and we were able to continue on. Thirty minutes later or so, we arrived at Kamalika’s. Her and her family live in a highrise apartment development on the edge of Mumbai, so it actually has a decent amount of a view of some natural landscapes. As they showed us around, we realized that her and her husband had provided our girls their children’s room, provided us their master bedroom, and they have all been sharing a second bedroom. Only the first of an overly generous series of gestures as they have been hosting us.
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| Handcrafted Swing Chain |
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| Mini and Kalyssa on Traditional Indian Swing |
Also, we quickly learned that we needed to plan carefully for something we’ve always taken for granted---water. Most water in Mumbai comes from gathered rainwater. With the significant population of around 20 million in the metropolitan area, this can be a challenge. Therefore, water is only available for a few hours in the evening and a few hours in the morning. Showering/laundry needs to be planned around this schedule, and buckets of reserve water are kept on hand.
Shortly after we arrived, Kamalika began scrambling around the kitchen a bit like a mad-women and quickly whipped up an Indian lunch for us with rice, a potato dish, a dish with hard boiled eggs and sauce, (and for those that know the quirks around my eating preferences, no I didn’t eat the eggs) as well as a few other side dishes. We devoured these quickly, and then jumped in a larger car arranged for us and went off to do some site seeing.
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| Our Welcome Lunch |
We went from the east side of town to the western coast, and toured a Hare Krishna temple. Many worshippers were there as we walked through, and a very eager parishioner (I’m sure that’s likely not the right term) began to show us around the temple and explained the history of the religion. It was started by the hippies in New York, who actually then brought it to India, where it seems to have become a bit of a split off of Hinduism. The individual was clearly in evangelical mode, and explaining the way of life of the Hare Krishna. Meanwhile on the floor of the temple various individuals layed themselves face down on the floor, as a continuous rhythmic chant was performed by the worship leaders.
Our “guide” offered to take us to a more restricted area on the second floor to allow us to take pictures of the temple, and then continued to give us a tour of the rest of the banquet and school facilities. Ultimately the tour was a little longer than we were looking for. At the end, he handed Kamalika a book about the history of the religion, and said that he thought that I should read it, and that I would like to read it. An interesting souvenir….
After leaving the temple, we took a short jaunt over to Juhu beach which faces the Indian Ocean. The beach was excessively crowded vs. what you’d experience at a typical American beach, but did offer a nice cool breeze vs. the summer heat inland. A very popular place for many of the locals, the beach was swarming with people. For the most part, the beach is used as a place to relax and listen/watch the waves, and there are food and novelty vendors all over, as opposed to a swimming venue. The water itself is fairly polluted and therefore doesn’t make for good swimming. Unfortunately there are also some very aggressive beggars who tend to join the group, quietly but repeatedly asking for money. One such woman was very persistent and took a good 20 minutes for her to finally leave. Every time we were in a circle talking, she would join in and stand there incessantly, even after repeated rejections from us. We did purchase some small twine tethered airplanes that had wings that spun but flew like kites against the strong breeze coming in off the ocean. The kids had a great time flying these. Kamalika attempted several times as well, but as the injuries of innocent bystanders began to accumulate she decided it best that she watch instead of participate.
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| Spiky |
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| Minnie and Kalyssa |
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| Kamalika and Kalyssa Flying Their Planes |
After the beach, we headed to a nearby Gloria Jean coffee shop, and cooled off by enjoying some iced coffee. While we were there, Jayant, Kamalika’s husband met up with us as well. We then headed back to their neighborhood on the other side of Mumbai for an Italian dinner at a restaurant appropriately named Spaghetti. Natalie and I joined Jayant and his son Spiky for the hour long ride, and Natalie, Kamalika, Minnie, and Kalyssa jumped in the other car. Spiky, who is an absolutely adorable 4 year old (whom Kamalika was pregnant with the last time I was here) and has more energy than the Energizer bunny was literally bouncing off the walls of the car. Jayant attempted to focus his energy on some more productive things, such as singing a song about the postman and a song about the policeman in English, as well as some other song in either Hindi or Marathi. He speaks all 3. (Many Indians generally learn English, Hindi, and their local language of which there are scores of different ones.)
At the restaurant I got to sample an array of various Kingfisher Beer varieties (Kingfisher is a very commonly found local brew) as well as an Indian take on Italian food, which was also pretty good. After dinner, we returned to Kamalika and Jayant’s place, had a drink or two, and turned in for the evening.
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