Greetings from Mumbai airport. Where today is Independence Day in India.
Last week I was telling you about the Chapatti Redeye flight from Shanghai to Delhi.
Since then I have bumping around India trying to complete a few missions. In Delhi with the help of our agent, Amit the Poet (yes he's really a poet - more later) we found a supplier of pretty cool block prints. Little hand carved wooden blocks, originally made for the sari industry, but now sold as beautiful craft items, you can decorate cards and letters with little owl, or yin-yang stamps.. Coming soon.
People kept telling me about the Delhi metro, how modern, clean and smart it was. Just like Shanghai metro. So off we went, Amit showing me the ropes. From Nehru Place to Grand Bazar. We bought a pass card it's mine for life. Pretty slick system, you just top up your card from time to time. Wave them at convenient machines and it tells you your balance. As you enter or leave stations it reduces your balance. It's scary cheap, just penny's per station.
Well it might have been state of the art two years ago, but like anything else run by the state here it has degenerated in to a state of glorious squalidness. Really the ticket booth is a den of badly written signs cracked glass and disinterested staff. Paint work is a splash job, and I can't say anything looked particularly clean. When I tried to take a picture, two security guys were on me in seconds. No pictures sir.. Why? Terrorists apparently.
The privately run airlines, five star hotels and top restaurants are the finest you can find. The contrast between the excellence of young private businesses and the rotten corruption of old establishment government is one those Indian culture shocks.
The train journey was predictably jolly. In the crush we quickly made friends, everyone asking me lots of questions, where are you from, how many children do you have, how much do you earn, do you know David Beckham? those sorts of things.. Then someone recognized Amit the Poet, and a large circle opened up in front of us in a kind of awe. For here amongst them is a very large man, with an impressive mustache and a big booming voice. Very soon we have a poetry rendition underway.
We get off the train at our stop and now have a following. This is India.. I love it.
More tales next week.
Take care.
David
