Back in Thailand now. The journey from Cairo to Bangkok was particularly arduous.
I left Cairo at 11pm (a creepy Egyptian flight attendant kept winking at me which made me want to throw up all over him) and got to Mumbai 6 hours later, having slept a total of 5 minutes.
Then, in Mumbai I had a 17 hour wait. S-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n hours. Fortunately I'd already made plans for this ridiculous layover, and I'd got a visa to visit Mumbai for the day. I was very lucky with getting my visa actually because the day after I'd got my passport back the streets of Egypt erupted into what many news outlets have termed a 'massacre' but what a lot of Egyptians I spoke to referred to as 'a much needed `attempt to instil order and security back into the country and rid it of terrorists' i.e. the Muslim Brotherhood.
Getting the Indian visa itself was quite amusing. The Egyptian woman at the Indian embassy sent me away twice because I didn't have sufficient proof that as a holder of an Irish passport I am entitled to 30 days in Thailand without a visa. On my third trip there I printed out a paragraph from the internet (which would have taken her 3 seconds to look up herself) that stated that EU nationals did indeed get 30 days in Thailand (for tourism purposes) on arrival.
Then she said the most audacious thing yet. 'Yes but... Ireland isn't in the EU'.
'For the love of God and all things good in this World (a rough translation of the Arabic that I almost yelled back at her) Ireland ISSSSSSSSSSS in the EU'.
She smiled at my use of colloquial Arabic, and ceased troubling me. 150 Egyptian pounds later I had my visa to India. My mum later told me that the woman was probably looking for a bribe of sorts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, I got to Mumbai and headed for the 'pre-paid taxi' stand. To be honest I had no idea whatsoever what I was going to do in Mumbai. I didn't even have a place name to tell the pre-paid taxi man where I wanted to go. But nevertheless I stood in that pre-paid taxi queue waiting for inspiration to hit me. And then it did. In the form of a shy Japanese boy.
Just as he'd paid for his taxi to take him to God knows where, I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him where he was going. I had no idea where the place he said was but I asked him if I could go with him. He agreed and with that I saved myself 250 rupees and the embarrassment of having the entire queue look at me as I confessed to having no idea where I wanted to go.
The journey from the airport to the boy's hostel was a long one. During the journey I found out that we were going to a very illustrious hotel - The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel and what a hotel it was! (The boy wasn't staying there, he was staying in a cheap hostel close by). I later looked up this hotel and learnt that it has hosted guests such as Michelle Obama, The Beatles, Angelina Jolie and Bill Clinton.
When we arrived outside the hotel I decided to go inside and ask for 'tourist information'. I had no idea how swanky it was inside. There was a huge reception with a waterfall feature and plush orange sofas lit in a dim, golden light. I went to the reception and was greeted by a smarmy, insincere man. When I asked for tourist information he obliged by showing me a map and pointing out the 'markets' that I'd asked to see. Clearly the guests of La Taj Mahal do not shop in the markets I had questioned him about. Then, when I asked him if he knew of anywhere that did yoga he lifted his nose high in the air, and through an undisguised grimace asked me if I was staying at the hotel. Just remembering that jackass makes me feel sick. I left the reception, that was filled most notably with Gulf guests, as gracefully as I could manage in my ripped trousers and batter rucksack and headed for India Gate, that was just in front of it, trying to shake off the cloud of inferiority the man's attitude had dumped on me. I later learnt that the Taj Mahal hotel had been one of the targets of the 2008 Mumbai bombings in which 164 people had been killed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now here comes the truly shocking and incomprehensible part of this tale. What happened next made me start thinking if there really is some universal intelligence that governs our lives, that we too quickly dismiss as 'co-incidence'.
On the plane to India I'd been thinking about a photographer that was making a film for the group I was part of in India last year. I remember thinking that I wished I'd gotten to know him a little better because he seemed like a really nice guy. But that was in Delhi, almost 1,500 kilometres away from Mumbai.
I'd been walking around for about an hour, not going anywhere in particular, just seeing the sights and remembering the distinct smell of India that I'd first picked up on last year. As I crossed a road I saw a large group of foreigners crossing in the opposite direction. 'It must be a school trip', I thought. Then they started speaking British English and something clicked. Maybe they were on the Study India programme. They were followed by a photographer holding a large video camera on his shoulder. Wait a second. It was him! I blurted out something that sounded like Study India and he turned round. He took a few seconds to remember me, but it was one of the strangest events of my life. How? In a city as big as Mumbai how could our paths have crossed? How?
For most of the rest of the day I was in a reverie, torn between trying to comprehend what had just happened and wishing I'd followed up on this strange event somehow. But my timidity took charge and I headed round the city once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The flight from Mumbai to Bangkok was at 2am. I was exhausted when I arrived into Bangkok and learning that my baggage was missing was the slimy icing on the mould-infested cake that was my journey. But I couldn't even go straight to the hostel because I had to pick up some documents the school I'm hoping to teach at in China, sent me two weeks previous to my arrival.
I walked as if in a zombie-trance to the post office and to my dismay the documents were not there. The next few days comprised of a cat-and-mouse chase of these documents until finally this morning I was able to retrieve them. The stress has not been good for my system.
To add to matters, yesterday my bag arrived. Minus a gold Nefertiti necklace my mum had bought me when I was younger. I had stupidly put it in the front pocket, without questioning the honesty of the Egyptian and Indian airport staff and of course it was removed. They'd also taken a small pair of travel scissors. Why? Don't they have scissors where they're from? They'd searched every pocket they could get there hands on minus one that I had put a pad lock on, at the last minute. If I hadn't I would have said good bye to the laptop I'm typing on right now, my camcorder and all of my other electronic items. I got off light I suppose.
Now I have to wait until Monday to go to the Chinese embassy and apply for my visa. Getting the documents this morning has lowered my stress levels slightly but I'm really anxious to start working. I feel like I'm no use to anyone at the moment, and I'm ready to be useful again.
I left Cairo at 11pm (a creepy Egyptian flight attendant kept winking at me which made me want to throw up all over him) and got to Mumbai 6 hours later, having slept a total of 5 minutes.
Then, in Mumbai I had a 17 hour wait. S-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n hours. Fortunately I'd already made plans for this ridiculous layover, and I'd got a visa to visit Mumbai for the day. I was very lucky with getting my visa actually because the day after I'd got my passport back the streets of Egypt erupted into what many news outlets have termed a 'massacre' but what a lot of Egyptians I spoke to referred to as 'a much needed `attempt to instil order and security back into the country and rid it of terrorists' i.e. the Muslim Brotherhood.
Getting the Indian visa itself was quite amusing. The Egyptian woman at the Indian embassy sent me away twice because I didn't have sufficient proof that as a holder of an Irish passport I am entitled to 30 days in Thailand without a visa. On my third trip there I printed out a paragraph from the internet (which would have taken her 3 seconds to look up herself) that stated that EU nationals did indeed get 30 days in Thailand (for tourism purposes) on arrival.
Then she said the most audacious thing yet. 'Yes but... Ireland isn't in the EU'.
'For the love of God and all things good in this World (a rough translation of the Arabic that I almost yelled back at her) Ireland ISSSSSSSSSSS in the EU'.
She smiled at my use of colloquial Arabic, and ceased troubling me. 150 Egyptian pounds later I had my visa to India. My mum later told me that the woman was probably looking for a bribe of sorts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, I got to Mumbai and headed for the 'pre-paid taxi' stand. To be honest I had no idea whatsoever what I was going to do in Mumbai. I didn't even have a place name to tell the pre-paid taxi man where I wanted to go. But nevertheless I stood in that pre-paid taxi queue waiting for inspiration to hit me. And then it did. In the form of a shy Japanese boy.
Just as he'd paid for his taxi to take him to God knows where, I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him where he was going. I had no idea where the place he said was but I asked him if I could go with him. He agreed and with that I saved myself 250 rupees and the embarrassment of having the entire queue look at me as I confessed to having no idea where I wanted to go.
The journey from the airport to the boy's hostel was a long one. During the journey I found out that we were going to a very illustrious hotel - The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel and what a hotel it was! (The boy wasn't staying there, he was staying in a cheap hostel close by). I later looked up this hotel and learnt that it has hosted guests such as Michelle Obama, The Beatles, Angelina Jolie and Bill Clinton.
When we arrived outside the hotel I decided to go inside and ask for 'tourist information'. I had no idea how swanky it was inside. There was a huge reception with a waterfall feature and plush orange sofas lit in a dim, golden light. I went to the reception and was greeted by a smarmy, insincere man. When I asked for tourist information he obliged by showing me a map and pointing out the 'markets' that I'd asked to see. Clearly the guests of La Taj Mahal do not shop in the markets I had questioned him about. Then, when I asked him if he knew of anywhere that did yoga he lifted his nose high in the air, and through an undisguised grimace asked me if I was staying at the hotel. Just remembering that jackass makes me feel sick. I left the reception, that was filled most notably with Gulf guests, as gracefully as I could manage in my ripped trousers and batter rucksack and headed for India Gate, that was just in front of it, trying to shake off the cloud of inferiority the man's attitude had dumped on me. I later learnt that the Taj Mahal hotel had been one of the targets of the 2008 Mumbai bombings in which 164 people had been killed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now here comes the truly shocking and incomprehensible part of this tale. What happened next made me start thinking if there really is some universal intelligence that governs our lives, that we too quickly dismiss as 'co-incidence'.
On the plane to India I'd been thinking about a photographer that was making a film for the group I was part of in India last year. I remember thinking that I wished I'd gotten to know him a little better because he seemed like a really nice guy. But that was in Delhi, almost 1,500 kilometres away from Mumbai.
I'd been walking around for about an hour, not going anywhere in particular, just seeing the sights and remembering the distinct smell of India that I'd first picked up on last year. As I crossed a road I saw a large group of foreigners crossing in the opposite direction. 'It must be a school trip', I thought. Then they started speaking British English and something clicked. Maybe they were on the Study India programme. They were followed by a photographer holding a large video camera on his shoulder. Wait a second. It was him! I blurted out something that sounded like Study India and he turned round. He took a few seconds to remember me, but it was one of the strangest events of my life. How? In a city as big as Mumbai how could our paths have crossed? How?
For most of the rest of the day I was in a reverie, torn between trying to comprehend what had just happened and wishing I'd followed up on this strange event somehow. But my timidity took charge and I headed round the city once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The flight from Mumbai to Bangkok was at 2am. I was exhausted when I arrived into Bangkok and learning that my baggage was missing was the slimy icing on the mould-infested cake that was my journey. But I couldn't even go straight to the hostel because I had to pick up some documents the school I'm hoping to teach at in China, sent me two weeks previous to my arrival.
I walked as if in a zombie-trance to the post office and to my dismay the documents were not there. The next few days comprised of a cat-and-mouse chase of these documents until finally this morning I was able to retrieve them. The stress has not been good for my system.
To add to matters, yesterday my bag arrived. Minus a gold Nefertiti necklace my mum had bought me when I was younger. I had stupidly put it in the front pocket, without questioning the honesty of the Egyptian and Indian airport staff and of course it was removed. They'd also taken a small pair of travel scissors. Why? Don't they have scissors where they're from? They'd searched every pocket they could get there hands on minus one that I had put a pad lock on, at the last minute. If I hadn't I would have said good bye to the laptop I'm typing on right now, my camcorder and all of my other electronic items. I got off light I suppose.
Now I have to wait until Monday to go to the Chinese embassy and apply for my visa. Getting the documents this morning has lowered my stress levels slightly but I'm really anxious to start working. I feel like I'm no use to anyone at the moment, and I'm ready to be useful again.
Good Luck Amoora & keep us posted .
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