tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78139611703445503942024-03-19T05:51:15.998-07:00Transoceanic DrivelA comprehensive account of our adventure of moving, living and working in India.2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-8682284311073267022012-07-14T07:44:00.000-07:002012-07-14T07:54:14.237-07:00Bangladesh (March)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the last couple blogs, you must be saying to yourself
“hum, that doesn’t sound so bad.
What is all the fuss about?”
Right? Well, life always
looks good out of the window of a 5 star hotel. It is the arrival back to reality that tends to hurt…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And my arrival back into Delhi life was not exception.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">March was shaping up to be a busy month. We had already traveled to Udaipur, but
I still had trips to Indonesia and Bangladesh to get through before the end of the month. Indonesia was not an
issue, as Singapore airlines bars no expense to ensure that your life is
splendid for the time you are with them and generally speaking, Jakarta is a
pretty cosmopolitan city.
Bangladesh, though, always proves to be interesting. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had been to Bangladesh for the first time in January and,
to be honest, it is not unlike India.
I mean, at the end of the day, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis and Indians are all basically cur from the same cloth. It was only the haste to get out of the region (which I now completely understand), that the British divided them up. Interestingly,
though, I found Dhaka to be more tolerable than Delhi. Traffic is less aggressive, it is
actually cleaner and, since it is a Muslim country, rather than Hindu, they
serve beef! The problem with
Bangladesh is that you can only fly an Indian airline, Jet Airways, to get
there.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Indian Airlines are the most poorly run airlines in the
world – and that is saying something considering the existence of Air
Italia. Like most Indian run
businesses, there is no real business model; no vision for the company and definitely no investment for the future. In India, companies are all about today's profit... while there are still profits to be had. Unfortunately, most of the Indian airlines now operate in a state of bankruptcy, including the national airline, Air India. How fitting! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, as always, while checking in, I specifically ask the desk if the
flight is on time. “Absolutely,
sir,” was the answer accompanied by the head bob that indicates anything from "yes" to “I will tell you anything you want to hear.” I then proceeded to the lounge where the screen tells me the
flight is delayed. Ugh! In Delhi in the winter, delays are very
common due to fog/smog/haze/blowing dust, but when they do not give an estimated boarding time, this
indicates something far worse than weather.
Eventually I meandered down to the gate and the gate agent tells me that
there is no set time for departure, but I should take a seat and wait. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, nobody, especially me, is in any hurry to get to
Bangladesh. More importantly, no
one, particularly me, is wiling to sit and wait endless for the privilege of a second rate airline to shuttle me to Bangladesh. After about 2 minutes, I decide that
enough was enough and that I would go home and catch tomorrows flight to Dhaka. I was all so simple in my head - I would have an agent rebook my flight, call the driver and after 30 minutes waiting for him, head home. Oh,
how wrong I was. So, so wrong. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The one element of Indian life that crushes your soul faster than all others is the
amount of non-value added bureaucracy and paperwork there is. It is incomprehensible. To be fair, most governments are run by
idiots that would not last 10 minutes in the private sector. – would you hire
Barney Frank or Joe Biden to run your company? But in India, they take incompetence and elevate it to the
level of functioning morons. Worse
yet, you don’t even have to be a professional bureaucrat to be a bureaucrat, you just have
to be associated with one. Case in
point at the highest levels - Sonia Gandhi (yes, of those Gandhis). Here you have a woman that just because of her last name, is
the head of the ruling party. The best
part is that she is not even born into the family, but married into it. To add insult to injury, she is not even Indian – she is
Italian! So think about this, basically some random foreigner is running the ruling party of India simply because she married the right guy. At the lower levels, it works roughly the same way with generation after
generation of incompetent Dillweeds holding coveted positions that allow them to suck the populous dry and line their pockets. To be honest, I have little issue with this, as it is the nature of public servants everywhere, but in most places public servants at least make a small effort to improve the life of those in their charge, if only marginally. In India, they do not even pay lip service to it. The narcissistic ethos by which the country lives eliminates any need to be apologetic. I saw a statistic the other day that said that if Indian
government officials returned all the money that has been stolen and was
currently sitting in Swiss bank accounts, Indians would not need to pay taxes
for 50+ years. So, the result of
this, is that the bureaucracy continues to expand to support the bureaucracy. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I digress.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I find an agent sitting quietly at an empty gate and tell him what I want to do. He points me down a few gates to a gentleman also sitting around doing nothing. The gentleman then escorts me to another desk where I am handed off to a woman. She and I then walk back to the security check point where I am ask to sit. She than takes my passport and boarding card and disappears ... for 1.5 hours. Yes, for 90 minutes, I am left sitting in a chair next to the metal detectors watching the circus of airport security.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A man finally returns with a document that states I have voluntarily removed myself from the flight. There are three copies. I sign all three. We then proceed to a high counter at the end of the hall where we must find the customs exit form I filled out when I passed through customs. Yep, the actually form. The man from the airline and the man from customs dig through what must be thousands of forms until they find finally find it - another 45 minutes gone.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We then proceed to the other side of the hall and sit and wait outside an office. The is the office of the guy that will take the signed documents and the form, verify that they are corresponding and stamp the documents, form and passport. By the time he finishes his tea, chatting with his friends and reading the newspaper, we have waited another 30 minutes. Finally the documents are signed, my exit stamp voided and a special stamp that I "Have been removed from a flight" placed in my passport. That stamp, unbeknownst to me, will prove to be a serious pain in the ass during future flights.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are then escorted into the main terminal where you check in for your flights. Now remember, in India to enter the airport, you must show your itinerary and passport to the crack security guard policing the entrance. To get out, it is much more difficult. I must show all the approved documents to two guards sitting inside the door at a card table, After they verify the documents, I must sign a log. Then, and only then, may you approach the exit door. But if you though that was it, you would be wrong. The outside guard, 5 feet away, cannot directly communicate with the guard sitting at the card table in the entry way, so I am now pig-ponged back and forth between the two until in an apoplectic fit, blow past the outside guard and make a run for the road and my waiting driver.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All in, it took over 4 hours to get from the gate to the road - a distance of roughly a football field. The flight to Bangladesh, just so you know, left at the 2 hour 45 minute mark.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The best part is that I got to go back the next day and do it all over again!</span></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-33023597197393754332012-07-08T10:32:00.000-07:002012-07-08T17:33:41.057-07:00Udaipur (March)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After Singapore, it was difficult to get back
into the life in Delhi. The winter weather made it even worse.
Although one thinks of India as stifling hot, the winters in Delhi are quite
cold and damp. It will get down in the mid-40s – which does not sound too
bad except that everything here is built to stay cool – marble floors, cement
walls and no heat - nothing like stepping out of the shower into 50 degree
cold. To make matters worse, the city wraps itself in a gray smoggy
blanket that smothers any chance of direct sunlight heating your damp
bones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To escape this misery, we decided to really treat
ourselves with something special.
We broke our usual pattern of leaving India, because we had discovered
that one of the 5 best luxury hotels in the world was located just a little
over an hours flight from here in city of Udaipur, “The City of Lakes,” in
Rajasthan, the “State of Kings.” It
sounded promising!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the things that you quickly understand
after spending time in India is that, although it is a desperately poor
country, the Indian wealthy (acquired mostly through corruption) enjoy being
pampered. I guess they feel it
keeps them separated from the people from whom the stole. So although you can live on $1 a week
here (and the majority do), the high-end resorts will charge a king’s ransom
and provide an experience that middle-east sultans would envy. The Udaipur Udaivillas is no exception.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Udaipur airport is more of a weigh-station,
than an airport. It is located
about 45 minutes outside of the city and in Rajasthan, 45 minutes outside the
city is in the middle of the dessert.
As we exited the one-room airport, we were cheerfully greeting by a
traditionally and colorfully dressed Rajasthani man who took our bags and
escorted us to our large, black BMW.
We were received in the car, by an immaculately attired driver dressed
in all white, who resembled more of a naval officer than a chauffer. He gave us the prerequisite cool,
perfumed face towels and bottles of water and asked us one simple question:
“Would you like to go the entire way by car or take the boat.” “Why the boat, of course,” we responded
and we were off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The car drove through the dessert brush for about
30 minutes before signs of civilization began to creep in. A building here, a shanty there – It
was still, after all, India. The
landscape was dramatic with sharp dessert hills covered in brush and tan
dirt. You could have mistaken it
for Arizona. As we approached the
ancient city of Udaipur, the roads became more narrow and crowded. The BMW weaved through the alleyways
until coming to rest on an embankment on the edge of town overlooking a large
lake. We were ushered out the
car and into a long thin wooden motorboat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The boat reminded me of a smaller version of the
transportation used on the Jungle Book Ride at Disney World. There was one seat on either side of
the central aisle that flowed between three rows. The area was shielded by a fringed sun-cover held up by thin
metal poles. We sat down, donned
our mandatory life jackets and settled in for the ride. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The boat ride was exquisite. It was 7:00am and the lake was
completely placid. The sun was
just cresting the surrounding mountains to the east and there was barely a
sound outside of the chugging of the ancient motor. Before us, the old city of Udaipur appeared replete with it
gates and palaces. It was an
unexpected surprise as I just assumed that the Indians had ruined anything of
beauty with corruption, trash and filth.
This city seemed different.
The centerpiece of the city, the City Palace, gleamed in the early
morning sun and city seemed peaceful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn_FDARIOoXelLE_wVJP8Pjlswi_Q7KwlzqlpPAlMD1nDiJ3aqJs-qE059M7ynuBDfru9Ca3ZSG7rFUjk_9td-ATVNBpvmhCtDmqe2AtLiV_VCV2nFcmrGHMVsGrKFIBY2Bh22l925qE/s1600/20120321_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn_FDARIOoXelLE_wVJP8Pjlswi_Q7KwlzqlpPAlMD1nDiJ3aqJs-qE059M7ynuBDfru9Ca3ZSG7rFUjk_9td-ATVNBpvmhCtDmqe2AtLiV_VCV2nFcmrGHMVsGrKFIBY2Bh22l925qE/s400/20120321_0087.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oberoi Udaivillas from the water</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2aOvowfHJNx_-a2hHpi1cS9PNf6UjpDnJeCJE5amZwka2BDaHwxPKHyxfYiwXHYiQA99Qmpyup3iIqeZsVZxThkZ5fsdayi-6Jed7UWgSn-NEkCo7HxsnwAV5vAwJnTlgE-nQapWFDE/s1600/20120321_0091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2aOvowfHJNx_-a2hHpi1cS9PNf6UjpDnJeCJE5amZwka2BDaHwxPKHyxfYiwXHYiQA99Qmpyup3iIqeZsVZxThkZ5fsdayi-6Jed7UWgSn-NEkCo7HxsnwAV5vAwJnTlgE-nQapWFDE/s400/20120321_0091.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monsoon Palace from the Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuDQ0vnb6cG80Kvc3LDfd7-F0YA99e39Q4sJJBx_rzyPf6AOsGimlD_3xcBNbUcBFbzqjEUvdgt8Exm3sVQ9CWzUmhcz0W3oxpTpz0Po37zJ9k-qugHfdFosdDGIiNi4IyZyHv8YDRAc/s1600/20120321_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuDQ0vnb6cG80Kvc3LDfd7-F0YA99e39Q4sJJBx_rzyPf6AOsGimlD_3xcBNbUcBFbzqjEUvdgt8Exm3sVQ9CWzUmhcz0W3oxpTpz0Po37zJ9k-qugHfdFosdDGIiNi4IyZyHv8YDRAc/s400/20120321_0096.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maharajah's Island Retreat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenXurs8XHyOzihqvDeltJBdixs-_8gmGOBz9WN2Dk4zwRzVtzTkwha7fyoj4gL95_q6ZrzEyC4ZZafwqKMjhgOfWfCHW_1tag4axdiaF2jMNmjE22vIazATlk92q81G9kRrTtPywjA-Q/s1600/20120321_0098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenXurs8XHyOzihqvDeltJBdixs-_8gmGOBz9WN2Dk4zwRzVtzTkwha7fyoj4gL95_q6ZrzEyC4ZZafwqKMjhgOfWfCHW_1tag4axdiaF2jMNmjE22vIazATlk92q81G9kRrTtPywjA-Q/s400/20120321_0098.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Udaipur from the Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You really have two choices of accommodations in
Udaipur to make it a special journey.
The most popular is the Lake Palace which is an actual maharaja’s palace
that has been converted into a hotel.
It sits in the middle of lake and the building is an island in and of
itself. Cool concept, but the
research says pretty run down – I think they call it shabby chic. The other option is our hotel, the Oberoi
Udaivillas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The boat chugged past the Lake Palace Hotel and
began heading towards a peninsula capped with a sprawling beige structure
resembling a timeworn Rajasthani fortress. As we motored closer, the forms of the domes and cupolas
began to emerge giving the impression of not just a single edifice, but an
enclave of buildings and structures.
Regardless of how you describe it, from the water, the illusion was
impressive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We arrived at a small docking area and were chaperoned
to a golf cart by another colorfully dressed Rajasthani man for the short ride
to the hotel entrance. Although we
found out later, the walk is quite short to the back of the hotel to the lake,
the stage-managed arrival through the main entrance was a part of an experience
you did not want to miss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not easily impressed by luxury hotels as I
have seen my share of great resorts and luxury accommodations, but I have to
admit that entering the through the doors of the Udaivillas, both Olga and I
understood immediately the difference between other 5 & 6 star resorts and
one that is rated as the 5<sup>th</sup> best in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Holy crap!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You arrive at the massive entryway of what could
easily pass as the ramparts of an ancient Rajasthani fortress. Beautifully decorated and flanked by
two stone elephants and reflect in a large pool, your initial impression is
simply “Wow!” You are greeted by
name by the lone traditionally dressed guard at the gate and shown through the
portal into the first of many courtyards.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This first courtyard is unexpected. It is a huge
area with a large decorative pool as the centerpiece flanked on all four
corners with traditional Rajasthani Chhatris. Spread across the top of the surface of the pool is an
intricate, marble flower pattern on which you can walk – though I image no one
does. To complete the effect,
traditional Rajasthani music floats over the dry dessert air. It is a perfect welcome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyZ0wDB1GoLF4TejVU61ZrkBFGzt8BhY7-YwXxjh4mIEFUDRaI5mA4f_ciYTeWi6H2iFH1rxb8XDhhieBjP2_rLTwwhPrmJ7kOXTpJXdxDd7D2bcw-ZsvzxFfClmo-MrsgfGQC5nDgi8/s1600/20120322_0245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyZ0wDB1GoLF4TejVU61ZrkBFGzt8BhY7-YwXxjh4mIEFUDRaI5mA4f_ciYTeWi6H2iFH1rxb8XDhhieBjP2_rLTwwhPrmJ7kOXTpJXdxDd7D2bcw-ZsvzxFfClmo-MrsgfGQC5nDgi8/s400/20120322_0245.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Entrance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCydkI5NAMBqZdDWqHB8SxYkTq6CQ8gJNzpDZzTNU6NggQbZ1TN1X-O8L7ixLHs5bBDD2W-Sp6SpelFiuZGggNQb7A8uaXc6IFgsuzZ5raHYE_0g9ZLEKLivvHnr8hjWSE8U_EwT7GVEM/s1600/20120322_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCydkI5NAMBqZdDWqHB8SxYkTq6CQ8gJNzpDZzTNU6NggQbZ1TN1X-O8L7ixLHs5bBDD2W-Sp6SpelFiuZGggNQb7A8uaXc6IFgsuzZ5raHYE_0g9ZLEKLivvHnr8hjWSE8U_EwT7GVEM/s400/20120322_0253.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The First Courtyard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You then enter the main building of the hotel through
another small open cupola accented by a small traditional fountain and are
finally greeted by name by your personal concierge. There is no front desk, just an ornate lobby poised under a
massive dome with several anterooms tucked away on the sides under domes of
their own. It feels more like a
maharajah’s palace than a hotel complete with hidden seating areas tucked away
in small corners for privacy and views of the lake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia80LyBHei8p_2B3HRvuX-4jrpPoXPRA10mTbD3GMT5jXoi-be2kRKSTiKmB26LGBcXUgC999IuC_MbuemOIxwT3kXncs6f4MRirL_zDeBMPUz5q7nNNzpmkeHGzi-xPMPTJ9OkOdVNmg/s1600/20120322_0203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia80LyBHei8p_2B3HRvuX-4jrpPoXPRA10mTbD3GMT5jXoi-be2kRKSTiKmB26LGBcXUgC999IuC_MbuemOIxwT3kXncs6f4MRirL_zDeBMPUz5q7nNNzpmkeHGzi-xPMPTJ9OkOdVNmg/s400/20120322_0203.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lobby</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a brief greeting, we are whisked away on
another adventure to find our room.
Our escort leads us out of the lobby through the candle room (a room
with no lights, just a massive amount of candles – in the US we call it a fire
hazard, but here, it is just decoration) and into yet another impressive
courtyard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLStHmBEkwtmdjiu4OE9ghZjo1t6ftJrRDP2mYibIOCmtibPsSxvuDeIn6SzULbaxV8eqx-0QNnL53CvazQYL-RTSdp827wkpmlm2OGXmxzplsZtO0eKgEG1d3f-kq3PgdkcdHOXS9b2U/s1600/20120321_0151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLStHmBEkwtmdjiu4OE9ghZjo1t6ftJrRDP2mYibIOCmtibPsSxvuDeIn6SzULbaxV8eqx-0QNnL53CvazQYL-RTSdp827wkpmlm2OGXmxzplsZtO0eKgEG1d3f-kq3PgdkcdHOXS9b2U/s400/20120321_0151.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second Courtyard</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This one is even more lavish than the
previous. Romanesque columns and cypress
tress flank the relaxed stream that rolls down a gently graded slope. The fountain is topped with another
traditionally domed building and is meet at the bottom with a reflecting pool
emphasized with the sun symbol of the Maharajah of Udaipur. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhr4YU0aFMLwXEDy1He9MrHixug8KplUGY0TcEZIbguU6u6zC-gLCIbPmDgZvO9dmC3QBVkYpTWjH0LLRBQvCJtaarsQVJRlZ44-FBx-iKUXR2xgQHe5p9QwqGVH9MeQZY5lRZm8LLXb8/s1600/20120322_0267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhr4YU0aFMLwXEDy1He9MrHixug8KplUGY0TcEZIbguU6u6zC-gLCIbPmDgZvO9dmC3QBVkYpTWjH0LLRBQvCJtaarsQVJRlZ44-FBx-iKUXR2xgQHe5p9QwqGVH9MeQZY5lRZm8LLXb8/s400/20120322_0267.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many open corridors</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We meander through what seems like endless
open-air corridors bathed in the morning sun. Every so often, another courtyard, garden or views of
the lake appear in the breaks. Finally,
we arrive at our room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The room is large and sprawls into a comfortable
bathroom centered with a claw-foot bathtub and a view of the lake. The overall effect is of a room from
the 1930s, but very well appointed and comfortable. There is a large sitting area to one side and an expansive window
seat in a nook on the other. The pièce
de résistance, though, is the patio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpx6NnuOP0klirVQfQ8wT1zOxdNGVaAHO2eEiRDGUwzZMLXKREHTEOK1EYIXKMIGI2eu53kmHYc2NUR0wrLwYWBWWBI0L3ysUY6uIhr1YqztXjc4YWGW1zazbx-RAGuwwy6CzhG4sX58/s1600/20120321_0120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpx6NnuOP0klirVQfQ8wT1zOxdNGVaAHO2eEiRDGUwzZMLXKREHTEOK1EYIXKMIGI2eu53kmHYc2NUR0wrLwYWBWWBI0L3ysUY6uIhr1YqztXjc4YWGW1zazbx-RAGuwwy6CzhG4sX58/s400/20120321_0120.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Room</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The room for which we opted is has a private
patio that faces the animal conservatory beyond which is the lake. The patio has two comfortable chaise
lounges, a table, an umbrella and a set of stairs that leads into a narrow, semi-private
pool that runs the length of that side of the hotel. It must be 300 yards with a submerged seating area every 100
yards or so as it twists to mirror the exterior curves of the hotel. Tiled with bright blue tiles, it plays
in contrast to the gray dessert brush the frames the lake beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWWqUAoHX4P3PqUOH1aQU3B1zvdndPrie1JtONXGBto-TowMJUSjpPOOfTCJJB5ImaC5TPYNiDKS3qe-E9T5jIaz2Jgi9eIDEDqPg0lu4qxt-LwsIWE9cT1_nR-qIVrWOSHwojMIgt-U/s1600/20120322_0271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWWqUAoHX4P3PqUOH1aQU3B1zvdndPrie1JtONXGBto-TowMJUSjpPOOfTCJJB5ImaC5TPYNiDKS3qe-E9T5jIaz2Jgi9eIDEDqPg0lu4qxt-LwsIWE9cT1_nR-qIVrWOSHwojMIgt-U/s400/20120322_0271.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Room as seem from the Pool</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNxru5bouqiKVk9olWhZcPGxKjexX53tJeaFNDqmZoE5JDpwFz_mC7Kq3LKnLwQ9taAlkq88LvW6rAy0WRqltpxq6LelcIxCayo-UQ9KHlfN1pLwEBC46udL8hjw80A1GCE5HrC9LkRo/s1600/20120322_0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNxru5bouqiKVk9olWhZcPGxKjexX53tJeaFNDqmZoE5JDpwFz_mC7Kq3LKnLwQ9taAlkq88LvW6rAy0WRqltpxq6LelcIxCayo-UQ9KHlfN1pLwEBC46udL8hjw80A1GCE5HrC9LkRo/s400/20120322_0294.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pool as seen from our Room </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslBpskGzpw9VAPxmXtQ15UrdTc_QWTUe9iSNbGoCwYkTgTPK0BFyIPfe5w1aqUOH2GGuWB953BTpXwkkZ5AFhUz1JK3M2mR6hyphenhyphenxnodFaRA2iBf_KgM-Fe4kJteR_mDtCCM9dta08oUGY/s1600/20120322_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslBpskGzpw9VAPxmXtQ15UrdTc_QWTUe9iSNbGoCwYkTgTPK0BFyIPfe5w1aqUOH2GGuWB953BTpXwkkZ5AFhUz1JK3M2mR6hyphenhyphenxnodFaRA2iBf_KgM-Fe4kJteR_mDtCCM9dta08oUGY/s400/20120322_0292.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer in the Nature Preserve</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By the time we settled in, it was rounding 8:00am
and we were hungry. We headed down
to the restaurant and began a ritual that would last the entire stay. Mornings were cool, but bright, so you
could opt to have breakfast outside in one of the curtained pavilions. You could enjoy the lake views while
the fabric danced on the gentle morning breeze blocking the sun. What a great
way to experience Eggs Benedict!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPozqJHnYWXFNVFLmhMA0CdKPfCtjm02pUGPf4AggZozPyQazFtiLzdXFpG13Ss2DzMOFX5bUcBYdDhusvSPSGejcDKtDEmmfZLpPGN5DjADey_dXnpH9QYwlUOwXnBXerrwJrNUwNVX4/s1600/20120323_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPozqJHnYWXFNVFLmhMA0CdKPfCtjm02pUGPf4AggZozPyQazFtiLzdXFpG13Ss2DzMOFX5bUcBYdDhusvSPSGejcDKtDEmmfZLpPGN5DjADey_dXnpH9QYwlUOwXnBXerrwJrNUwNVX4/s400/20120323_0619.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga reading the menu at Breakfast</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first day we explored the property and
realized that if not for our curiosity of the ancient city of Udaipur, there
would be no need to ever leave the hotel.
As we rambled through the property, it seemed endless. There were courtyards, attached to manicured
gardens adjacent to grassy expanses that led to boundless corridors leading to
hidden enclaves. All surrounded by the impressive Rajasthani traditional
architecture. There is also a
complete nature preserve that surrounds one side of the hotel (with peacocks
& deer) and two ancient Maharajah’s hunting lodges hidden on the property.
In addition to the semi-private pool that we had, there was another
semi-private pool on another side of the hotel, as well as two regular pools
for the rest of the hotel. There
was also a three story, impeccably designed spa and numerous shops and
restaurants. We were there for 4
full days and we are not sure if we saw everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixj-EWCDvi2H504vaClgazVYgYWR939ftJXfj_JD4WWx2HY3ZSNKnW2fcCmVAx_RDmpuMEUzm-nYVyd63dowWGshI69Lv5CrMqmwy25v8BIlgEZcIHkzXxDWmsKeqbss1iNTU9ArrlFuw/s1600/20120321_0182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixj-EWCDvi2H504vaClgazVYgYWR939ftJXfj_JD4WWx2HY3ZSNKnW2fcCmVAx_RDmpuMEUzm-nYVyd63dowWGshI69Lv5CrMqmwy25v8BIlgEZcIHkzXxDWmsKeqbss1iNTU9ArrlFuw/s400/20120321_0182.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reflecting pool and fountain</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7r4HLQlZbiJaNRro34_iXKrbrYbWSYwuC19DcZqqhIy2xJBNEKco9ZzOW7Bm_reQgJrJeCGA6Jn_McvcyBCTIb95hGm9GtwFi3jA6VfY6JXzpFiM8xv8zR5XUbh4KgN-JIquzeOrAus/s1600/20120322_0211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7r4HLQlZbiJaNRro34_iXKrbrYbWSYwuC19DcZqqhIy2xJBNEKco9ZzOW7Bm_reQgJrJeCGA6Jn_McvcyBCTIb95hGm9GtwFi3jA6VfY6JXzpFiM8xv8zR5XUbh4KgN-JIquzeOrAus/s400/20120322_0211.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking up from the lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fbcCvb9hzD4IIAwn7a-DmxTkh8D6IuAr_xFd3Qb3YWk4cuAdrEOptIcaBGSNLSSawaEX00Ox8kiM_WYD78iCrps51rPnxBsYlk03QUM6l1JnRZHRKwG3IOkr0P2up0sb-pW1uY-a3hA/s1600/20120322_0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fbcCvb9hzD4IIAwn7a-DmxTkh8D6IuAr_xFd3Qb3YWk4cuAdrEOptIcaBGSNLSSawaEX00Ox8kiM_WYD78iCrps51rPnxBsYlk03QUM6l1JnRZHRKwG3IOkr0P2up0sb-pW1uY-a3hA/s400/20120322_0215.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The city of Udaipur across the lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BdOAs6k-D9kBM6_yajYag1lpwsxXbxH9fLuoOvSwZtxa0J5d8EzcsCj5KxxT1kWm5UxK0Qn0n48RNgL-mCu5_6fTHJSpimxc-Q91oePbPUIdP8J1Ag-DV0tWqpVQAPoLEY0hPySwZgY/s1600/20120322_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BdOAs6k-D9kBM6_yajYag1lpwsxXbxH9fLuoOvSwZtxa0J5d8EzcsCj5KxxT1kWm5UxK0Qn0n48RNgL-mCu5_6fTHJSpimxc-Q91oePbPUIdP8J1Ag-DV0tWqpVQAPoLEY0hPySwZgY/s400/20120322_0233.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other semi-private pool</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-j_5D9FH8Ni5fgbKyj2LofMc0g3gIhHOPWgkEwTAeGQf4OL6i_PlRdJgeJnNS9sCCT4bJKP-a1x-DqjRS1l7MB9AYFlrUhcaYmsmgEuH_kDqZmeEW9082ZK59J9bNjroLvqkBzrxXrk/s1600/20120322_0239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-j_5D9FH8Ni5fgbKyj2LofMc0g3gIhHOPWgkEwTAeGQf4OL6i_PlRdJgeJnNS9sCCT4bJKP-a1x-DqjRS1l7MB9AYFlrUhcaYmsmgEuH_kDqZmeEW9082ZK59J9bNjroLvqkBzrxXrk/s400/20120322_0239.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fountain in the area between the first courtyard and lobby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1zxUSoUQULTywFcPKIDyt1I5IlpQwue0737w8NqZ8Htb-OvdEomkEs-ETAj4XsP4KSQzFlffp2ezbkfqiy5WvyWxsXZOWPC0MNvukaigpOuR1yc2PJcVWwbO7fId5SeucjSpVjPBLJU/s1600/20120322_0194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1zxUSoUQULTywFcPKIDyt1I5IlpQwue0737w8NqZ8Htb-OvdEomkEs-ETAj4XsP4KSQzFlffp2ezbkfqiy5WvyWxsXZOWPC0MNvukaigpOuR1yc2PJcVWwbO7fId5SeucjSpVjPBLJU/s400/20120322_0194.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another courtyard</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQN_q0WCF_AIe_vvixS6tLHe-Z5t5EzVA9lXm2j9w-tSAF74vJsMYkrC8Ck6N5Toy1Bg4BOZQeQ8YczW6U0gx_G5HtRcUU2Aa-Wjgik3EAMBZ4bf1i5JzNYW0mpjYDbIV21B3qcrk8Zgo/s1600/20120322_0216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQN_q0WCF_AIe_vvixS6tLHe-Z5t5EzVA9lXm2j9w-tSAF74vJsMYkrC8Ck6N5Toy1Bg4BOZQeQ8YczW6U0gx_G5HtRcUU2Aa-Wjgik3EAMBZ4bf1i5JzNYW0mpjYDbIV21B3qcrk8Zgo/s400/20120322_0216.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lobby from the backside</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0a2IyXkZnvEu7yGlRDh4VSXuBlBBbEGHtGQrTT3cBVmiu6cVP7Ktkoi9up3_k12ZGZmS3XmmO4yOm9BBcfCR0JkMy7Jngd9uuRAHp5dk6pMmQJLF_RD9Q8nR8TNlo1v1qvI8Jsac0iRI/s1600/20120322_0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0a2IyXkZnvEu7yGlRDh4VSXuBlBBbEGHtGQrTT3cBVmiu6cVP7Ktkoi9up3_k12ZGZmS3XmmO4yOm9BBcfCR0JkMy7Jngd9uuRAHp5dk6pMmQJLF_RD9Q8nR8TNlo1v1qvI8Jsac0iRI/s400/20120322_0192.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the two main pools</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidRvzpUUSlOsN4Y4SzAengUDzyAQsb2avhIQll5SzUL1ZdC9dNFYVSxvCc5pWgAdMIR7fbxayRlvYoWs572OawTu44OCq2HuvZ23YZ7zBGFD6pXBhmZA7mwiTSf_LWxZ74gW-ZD0ChNA/s1600/20120323_0513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidRvzpUUSlOsN4Y4SzAengUDzyAQsb2avhIQll5SzUL1ZdC9dNFYVSxvCc5pWgAdMIR7fbxayRlvYoWs572OawTu44OCq2HuvZ23YZ7zBGFD6pXBhmZA7mwiTSf_LWxZ74gW-ZD0ChNA/s400/20120323_0513.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Candle Room</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLoKj_iVACierEVNHO05Emm7OdeVw6FxVoKB4xi9afynItI3PcEQA0Ny63bypsnuvm-dwVRRiw9qObLBC4gC-VWzk4oCB8q40MOHYGKO25HqlFQ9dl3dJP-Lygiql6rzP8Jf9Ab01Niww/s1600/20120323_0515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLoKj_iVACierEVNHO05Emm7OdeVw6FxVoKB4xi9afynItI3PcEQA0Ny63bypsnuvm-dwVRRiw9qObLBC4gC-VWzk4oCB8q40MOHYGKO25HqlFQ9dl3dJP-Lygiql6rzP8Jf9Ab01Niww/s400/20120323_0515.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtyard at night</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcQdff2lBFLrVNHATWPXE6wr050zCg_y1tfKF8SsWIwHUu8xxGv-Ab9iAGkMijR6jAcA2AJ4fSzAj2b3nXtHMsPmIY2D54PvyIU94kGFdSA2IE6APADpQjq1ghmhVhltIQmahFqLmLSA/s1600/20120323_0627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcQdff2lBFLrVNHATWPXE6wr050zCg_y1tfKF8SsWIwHUu8xxGv-Ab9iAGkMijR6jAcA2AJ4fSzAj2b3nXtHMsPmIY2D54PvyIU94kGFdSA2IE6APADpQjq1ghmhVhltIQmahFqLmLSA/s400/20120323_0627.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other main pool - this one is attached to the Spa</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With all the aforementioned amenities, one would
expect the place to be buzzing, but in reality, there really are not that many
rooms. You rarely saw another
guest and you never saw the hotel staff unless you needed something. It was peaceful, relaxing and
completely stress free. You could
roam about on your own personal adventure, swim in your pool or just grab a
bench and read and no one would disturb you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Looming across the lake, though, was the city of
Udaipur and it would be a shame to come to this part of the world and not see
the old city. Often called the
Venice of the East, this 600-year old city sits in the dessert surrounded by
mountains. To supply water to his
people, the Maharajah constructed manmade lakes around the city. The result is a stunning landscape of
Rajput palaces, lakes and mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9Rn367dWbt4-0f3aOhGs9R6bZhvcJ108_jXJRaoBoazKXarZeh8XyKIOxCr4p-5en35_L0noE1boANbk-HgrF7tHN86uPo2QjnZDhHma-RNlSemfT36DHL6ewBB7u2Nd5shsUHUPTAQ/s1600/20120324_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9Rn367dWbt4-0f3aOhGs9R6bZhvcJ108_jXJRaoBoazKXarZeh8XyKIOxCr4p-5en35_L0noE1boANbk-HgrF7tHN86uPo2QjnZDhHma-RNlSemfT36DHL6ewBB7u2Nd5shsUHUPTAQ/s400/20120324_0707.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Udaipur looming across the lake</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When you live in India, you are not looking for
the quintessential Indian experience when you travel, but the best way to
maximize the positive and minimize the, well, Indian. No tuk-tuks (small covered scooters), no “local
guides,” no tourist shopping! I
get enough Indian “culture” on my way to work everyday. Nope, I am looking for the best way to
see the city sans the stink, garbage and hawkers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I figured the hotel concierge would understand
what I wanted and, true to form, she did.
We hired a hotel car for the day to take us into the city to see the
sights - air-conditioned, plenty of water and cool towels! India always looks a
bit better from the window of a BMW.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We started off with the City Palace which I have
been told is a “not-miss” site in Udaipur. Figuring everyone else has been told the same thing, we
arrived as the gates were opening and the crowds were low. The place was stunning. It is a massive series of buildings
built over the last 500+ years as each maharajah added his own touch and
personality, but left his processors’ vision alone. Each section has the unmolested look and feel of whatever
era in which it was built. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1pKY0GWmaHlhPfHNTRlTEB7e2Fp8fhEx7uyxbi3XhyphenhyphenJcnG404e4Z_mUz__B09WamOswHf86ygB-wek95E2DPts3uNRyXJULbR0rmeWAQ3F6ADRHg-FRF2_DvnNXTCXwQPHUUqUrBzZtA/s1600/20120322_0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1pKY0GWmaHlhPfHNTRlTEB7e2Fp8fhEx7uyxbi3XhyphenhyphenJcnG404e4Z_mUz__B09WamOswHf86ygB-wek95E2DPts3uNRyXJULbR0rmeWAQ3F6ADRHg-FRF2_DvnNXTCXwQPHUUqUrBzZtA/s400/20120322_0374.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The City Palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOasfQc_cJZVR7IlvlMnkMSbAiICAB1GcHykUUG2iaKs3KKPLWkeZG77q4Wyo8kdhyuk5-eb7dpJ7IHge7pROdYuqZ3vjvpHOyspM6B2_11at8BnPJySdGaaewdR7xmMHeX-yx_EDdbh4/s1600/20120322_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOasfQc_cJZVR7IlvlMnkMSbAiICAB1GcHykUUG2iaKs3KKPLWkeZG77q4Wyo8kdhyuk5-eb7dpJ7IHge7pROdYuqZ3vjvpHOyspM6B2_11at8BnPJySdGaaewdR7xmMHeX-yx_EDdbh4/s400/20120322_0423.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City Palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTneX-4QCxznG51_A1tbYUmbRp_nNyxYROvV-XQFWoOHY0NsJFPJCB33l0kkf9hGNMmKgw0km_4mZkAPboGRdHDN8Conw8cPfKMUo7HINSwWmOe9R9666MAW86Oag7fSr_4jTEvV_xv4/s1600/20120322_0428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTneX-4QCxznG51_A1tbYUmbRp_nNyxYROvV-XQFWoOHY0NsJFPJCB33l0kkf9hGNMmKgw0km_4mZkAPboGRdHDN8Conw8cPfKMUo7HINSwWmOe9R9666MAW86Oag7fSr_4jTEvV_xv4/s400/20120322_0428.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City Palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbVyJm5SDZF626ALQzvyWT4cCkdbb_oo261FtZytW0ZnXpuNB8npQZbqoXLszwoSnS68_Az-mmfNAAhaI7w7jpZPOp7EqTzK_qSP0i4uR0qdimpotp_RWjPPtL5152omONWjHOzwx0GU/s1600/20120323_0438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbVyJm5SDZF626ALQzvyWT4cCkdbb_oo261FtZytW0ZnXpuNB8npQZbqoXLszwoSnS68_Az-mmfNAAhaI7w7jpZPOp7EqTzK_qSP0i4uR0qdimpotp_RWjPPtL5152omONWjHOzwx0GU/s400/20120323_0438.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the sun symbol</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vlLlNDIbpt6NVLJLAtih76YAn2Z49S7opcKNRrZxM9NNPuvEtW4eOvLxNq9EFZCzbLoPEx5X_gsBPUd34GwMjwksF6BMTJeSl7AJudT9iF9Hd3AizaDNH3bkhOY-UrT_R3kiGGcUkr4/s1600/20120323_0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vlLlNDIbpt6NVLJLAtih76YAn2Z49S7opcKNRrZxM9NNPuvEtW4eOvLxNq9EFZCzbLoPEx5X_gsBPUd34GwMjwksF6BMTJeSl7AJudT9iF9Hd3AizaDNH3bkhOY-UrT_R3kiGGcUkr4/s400/20120323_0441.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front of City Palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6-kWsQK612vGx4L02VQvbjK67fk6nqeSbEyjcxIkKt6b82F5yj4jRhQm82drZuK4Ts-nXbkJbGAxOckQ2iVH5sxCr8drIJiVck7V0sfnw3enUdlEfXP0DrpaHLbsMIjKEmMNKG6N2A4/s1600/20120322_0413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6-kWsQK612vGx4L02VQvbjK67fk6nqeSbEyjcxIkKt6b82F5yj4jRhQm82drZuK4Ts-nXbkJbGAxOckQ2iVH5sxCr8drIJiVck7V0sfnw3enUdlEfXP0DrpaHLbsMIjKEmMNKG6N2A4/s400/20120322_0413.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lake Palace which is now a hotel as seen from the City Palace</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We spent the morning meandering through the
palace and then headed down to the one of the oldest temples in the city. I would have more to say about this,
but as we entered the temple grounds, there were the typical Indian “helpers”
trying to relieve you of your money.
Having no patience for this, we peeked at the temple and walked back to
the car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsq8W0MGkDOcrwpmTMXysm8n54AxT_lxgLrNROu7oi9SABlGSS5iEXHMIKTx4TLxCiXIzujXDKjBgtju3b3kgXZFYH53eDnP48jYiMBUybUkBdaq-rX3ngolYEDSz8tTofw2FvDo4O3aE/s1600/20120323_0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsq8W0MGkDOcrwpmTMXysm8n54AxT_lxgLrNROu7oi9SABlGSS5iEXHMIKTx4TLxCiXIzujXDKjBgtju3b3kgXZFYH53eDnP48jYiMBUybUkBdaq-rX3ngolYEDSz8tTofw2FvDo4O3aE/s400/20120323_0444.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Temple</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We still had a few hours left and asked the
driver what he recommended. He
told us that there was an abandoned palace that sat on the top of a mountain
not too far from the city. Apparently,
tourist go in the evenings to see the sunset, but in the afternoon is would be
deserted. Sounded like my kind of
place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sajjan Garh Palace or, as it is more commonly
know, the Monsoon Palace was built in 1884 for the Maharajah to have a place to
watch the incoming monsoon clouds.
It sits on the edge of a 3100- foot cliff and has a commanding view of
the valley below. Unlike the City
Palace which is still run by the Maharajah’s family, the Monsoon Palace was
donated to the Indian Forestry Department, so, like all things under the
responsibility of the Indian Government, it has fallen into a state of
disrepair. With a little vision,
though, you can see that this place must have been very grand at one
point. The views are breathtaking
and the architecture is stunning.
Inside, though, it is just a gutted building with all the former
adornments, no doubt, now hanging in the Indian Minister of Forestry’s vacation
home somewhere in Switzerland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZKQQ9GA_QZI3F_wRFcuNB1-ZapUTSs_GL2hUi8X7_F1o5HOhzz4pb08c7Wq0Q201vR8XnP-UZRXuNu85glRRN0DxW_GE6oQGwTufND_gR-XPW6qnUYdWOaq9SqM9VHDFUZffkmEl9_4/s1600/20120323_0451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZKQQ9GA_QZI3F_wRFcuNB1-ZapUTSs_GL2hUi8X7_F1o5HOhzz4pb08c7Wq0Q201vR8XnP-UZRXuNu85glRRN0DxW_GE6oQGwTufND_gR-XPW6qnUYdWOaq9SqM9VHDFUZffkmEl9_4/s400/20120323_0451.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Monsoon Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV_bHMtwrADsoXX4lWlk43lAzM_TP_aY6MS947bNfH6f0aGwc1CS-zGkz2dprCyq7PWLXZAP2v_UHK3FxBIN8sB7NKqyyMay-CiteZO-Eb_rC2qwrzMGm6KUZGv_lP8tWPZ6PtkkYWJQ/s1600/20120323_0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV_bHMtwrADsoXX4lWlk43lAzM_TP_aY6MS947bNfH6f0aGwc1CS-zGkz2dprCyq7PWLXZAP2v_UHK3FxBIN8sB7NKqyyMay-CiteZO-Eb_rC2qwrzMGm6KUZGv_lP8tWPZ6PtkkYWJQ/s400/20120323_0454.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Monsoon Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhI6hfdUodfzaBa4bSDJsZTZXqOwt_7vjCyd7OuI6KTnHOAiFh381P4ZJvN1AzRiAM7eoETZWYKyw8dHdp1YLb7U7XU3EUDz2OsVELhCvK4mQdE5-moWR4UwckKWB8IuDyJDpV0iGhFA/s1600/20120323_0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhI6hfdUodfzaBa4bSDJsZTZXqOwt_7vjCyd7OuI6KTnHOAiFh381P4ZJvN1AzRiAM7eoETZWYKyw8dHdp1YLb7U7XU3EUDz2OsVELhCvK4mQdE5-moWR4UwckKWB8IuDyJDpV0iGhFA/s400/20120323_0457.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXWVbUXCdXuDe0869eu4Da11NmiY-h46Zdz5qWnnjFKnF0StBSAZKKeJGBBsviwRYE9yRxQzRYgJkccaZ1m_sp2Septi5lujJYiOozSQuE3rg8mR5Be58gkxA5wfbHJSnfTLb0JW2PYE/s1600/20120323_0462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXWVbUXCdXuDe0869eu4Da11NmiY-h46Zdz5qWnnjFKnF0StBSAZKKeJGBBsviwRYE9yRxQzRYgJkccaZ1m_sp2Septi5lujJYiOozSQuE3rg8mR5Be58gkxA5wfbHJSnfTLb0JW2PYE/s400/20120323_0462.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What remains inside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmEp1zZAFdZWhjAduuEm_fXWK2Af4rKP4txkW-CuLLIIiiXwKYd4X6Tq6m5TboXoGAxzaU_qDnRRwdlXwu7DI8XGLnL-Ezz6P_n44k6rFtZ1DwQcvPu4ctQcaZZnjC1Q3F7RPm5ynWVs/s1600/20120323_0488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmEp1zZAFdZWhjAduuEm_fXWK2Af4rKP4txkW-CuLLIIiiXwKYd4X6Tq6m5TboXoGAxzaU_qDnRRwdlXwu7DI8XGLnL-Ezz6P_n44k6rFtZ1DwQcvPu4ctQcaZZnjC1Q3F7RPm5ynWVs/s400/20120323_0488.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entrance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We strolled around the pillage palace for about
an hour enjoying the views and the cool mountain breeze. It was a serene and lonely place with
almost no noise except the wind blowing through the empty windows and doorways.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a brief encounter with some monkeys, we
were back in the car, properly toweled and hydrated and cruising back to our
hotel. It was a great day out, but
I was looking forward to getting back and taking a dip in my pool. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-iIiNtZLIILwHIpzT-hT6fIzJilEXqwQhu9VGPvvlUrJXD-G9-lD2jWVSs9f_9MM2ffnQ_zHBKqu4J12KTj2IMm13d08LN550aFC3aEqUODJMchMFCeM992sMot8fkvGob3aBB1j4yg/s1600/20120323_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-iIiNtZLIILwHIpzT-hT6fIzJilEXqwQhu9VGPvvlUrJXD-G9-lD2jWVSs9f_9MM2ffnQ_zHBKqu4J12KTj2IMm13d08LN550aFC3aEqUODJMchMFCeM992sMot8fkvGob3aBB1j4yg/s400/20120323_0495.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monkey at the Monsoon Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The rest of the vacation was pretty much a
combination of spa appointments, swimming, eating and taking long walks around
the property. The highlight of
each day, though, was dinner.
Dinner was served on the same veranda as breakfast, but without the
curtained tents. The al fresco
dining was accompanied by a traditional two man, Rajasthani band consisting of
a drummer and a fiddle player. They
churned out the beats of the region providing a sublime background to the
illumination of the city of Udaipur at night reflecting off the lake. It was the perfect end to every
evening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHEdOgGFP0jfq4cKKuLB41-l8_prBgbX7uTlgdeVJ1P7DaggqLTZnk-Wr7_nhudHrvSJldeLJqyAvGbEhWHV9lZuC4czZbdSzlI28RPs7JaPDQ5DUGy99C7TVOFJ2xqNvQ-9zDxHXmXw/s1600/20120323_0552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHEdOgGFP0jfq4cKKuLB41-l8_prBgbX7uTlgdeVJ1P7DaggqLTZnk-Wr7_nhudHrvSJldeLJqyAvGbEhWHV9lZuC4czZbdSzlI28RPs7JaPDQ5DUGy99C7TVOFJ2xqNvQ-9zDxHXmXw/s400/20120323_0552.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga at dinner with Udaipur illuminated across the lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We loved our time at the Udaivillas and,
unfortunately, the end came much too soon. The downside of having a great vacation like this is the
reality of India tends to hit even harder. Upon returning to Delhi, it was even more difficult for us
to get back into a routine and conversations began to turn to
“alternatives.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next few months would prove critical to our
decision to stay or leave. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-40521683701929108332012-07-06T06:26:00.000-07:002012-07-06T06:28:44.365-07:00Singapore (February)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The story really starts in February with our trip to Singapore. A few months prior, Olga had attended a Charity function at the Australian Embassy where she won a weekend at the Singapore Intercontinental in one of their Shophouse suites. When you live in Delhi, free hotel rooms in another country is a gift from the Gods (which one of the 330 million, I cannot say).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We decided to extend our trip a few nights as the 6 hour flight to Singapore did not justify only two nights. We figured if we were going, we would at least go for 5 days, as just being somewhere that did not smell like human shit and body odor justified the additional expense!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We left Delhi, as always, under the cover of darkness and a blanket of smog so think you could actually taste it. Yum! We landed in Singapore, on the other hand, under the gentle, clear sunlight and the slight smell of the sea. Our hotel representative met us at the gate ushered us effectively through customs and into our black Mercedes limo for the ride to the hotel. Outside, the city was alive with rush hour traffic flowing orderly across the network of pristine roadways. Inside, the sleek, black car silently wove its way through the city streets as Olga and I admired the mixture of colonial architecture combining seamless with the new modern skyscape of Singapore. It was so different than the run-down, moldy favelas that pass for buildings in Delhi. We were happy!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The hotel is located in the Bugis district of Singapore. In the 1920s, this district was a thriving Peranakans merchant district. The shops were located on the ground floor and the living quarters of the owners and their family on the top. In the 1950s, the area declined and become a huge tourist spot known for its transvestite denizens rather than its merchants. Between the 1950s and 1980s, the area became a huge tourist attraction due to the concentrated transvestite population. In the late 1980s, the district underwent massive urban redevelopment that preserved the unique architecture, but added unique elements such connecting the rooftops with glass and creating air-conditioned, pedestrian shopping areas. The district is a shopping destination for tourist and Singaporeans alike.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NoKCjuaCezQdDSY0ThwlzTaxebQnpXCC_rppqMcRqrIB4C-5eaP-eCURRz40kB8-tuGx9xCidnxSQlRci29NYbwi0kCZE64kpGBziopgWiCeckJplmZ72tXSXLpXTBVEQAAihyphenhyphenRpkI4/s1600/imagesCAB8WR6K.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" sca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NoKCjuaCezQdDSY0ThwlzTaxebQnpXCC_rppqMcRqrIB4C-5eaP-eCURRz40kB8-tuGx9xCidnxSQlRci29NYbwi0kCZE64kpGBziopgWiCeckJplmZ72tXSXLpXTBVEQAAihyphenhyphenRpkI4/s320/imagesCAB8WR6K.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original Shop Houses</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBlME9-dQZHODtOpHiQQrVBZtsS_N8_oGZlnXeCAEGlu5k5yFviwtmbmjzD9DYNjxzpZW_ftPkclrylccSMaUIG0UbU_5S1BBCBqnBCzsWA-FmIGQLclzKTzDJemHZVi4TuQwzh9dMfg/s1600/NewCAB6AFO8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" sca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBlME9-dQZHODtOpHiQQrVBZtsS_N8_oGZlnXeCAEGlu5k5yFviwtmbmjzD9DYNjxzpZW_ftPkclrylccSMaUIG0UbU_5S1BBCBqnBCzsWA-FmIGQLclzKTzDJemHZVi4TuQwzh9dMfg/s320/NewCAB6AFO8.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Redeveloped Shop House</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The front of the hotel was indistinguishable from most of the other buildings, but when you drove into the courtyard away from the traffic on the street, you got a sense for the oasis it provided. Inside, it felt like a gentle combination of older building melded together to give a grand feel. We were escorted to our suite which was in a quiet, slightly segregated wing away from the main building in which the few Shophouse suites were aligned in narrow corridor. Inside the room retained much of the character that one would image the original house had. It had a foyer, a sitting room, a bed room and a large bathroom. The sitting room had the original French doors which led to a small balcony overlooking what was once the street, but was now a glass topped shopping thoroughfare. Even when you stepped outside the room onto the veranda, you were still inside. Brilliant!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After settling in, we set about exploring Singapore over the next few days. As always, our excursions were mostly anchored in food choices. In a city as diverse as Singapore, choosing which great restaurant to patron is a heart-wrenching choice of picking what you want more over just what you want. We choose steak, sushi and BBQ mostly. It may seem like a waste to choose such continental foods in Singapore, but when you live in a city where most of the native dishes look and smell like diarrhea, something recognizable is worth the sacrifice.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our dining was interspersed with activities that took us all over the city. We spent a glorious morning walking through the Singapore Botanical Gardens with the largest orchid collection in the world. We spent a night at the unique Singapore Night Zoo in which all the animals are nocturnal. We took a cruise and, of course, had the obligatory spa outing. Overall it was fantastic.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that was the problem…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Watching the Singaporeans shopping for refrigerated, non-toxic vegetables; eating in hygienic restaurants with a choice of food that will not incite your stomach to try and vacate your body; and just being able to go outside without have to scrub like a nuclear clean-up specialist before you can sit on the furniture got us thinking…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What the hell are we doing in India?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is not like we have not asked ourselves that question before, but this time it was different. There was a sense of disapprobation and indignation. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was the beginning of the end.</span></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-66987219688713384832012-07-04T22:53:00.001-07:002012-07-04T22:53:20.681-07:00I'm Back!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqBIkO_c0GpywiA5ns-U0SeXsZJiqAu34M5sAvO_IOAtrNC7QM_M6pbWrxLpN7RH0h59QOO7iqFjy7XKRRkcwJQGoEKB3H_ZMradnU7YPQKZVszmwV0ydlVNQ_h7syiyG9Ot6UD1MRVbE/s1600/imagesCA9JX3X1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" sca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqBIkO_c0GpywiA5ns-U0SeXsZJiqAu34M5sAvO_IOAtrNC7QM_M6pbWrxLpN7RH0h59QOO7iqFjy7XKRRkcwJQGoEKB3H_ZMradnU7YPQKZVszmwV0ydlVNQ_h7syiyG9Ot6UD1MRVbE/s200/imagesCA9JX3X1.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me apologize for my lengthy hiatus from the blogosphere, but I was told many times “if you do not have something nice to say, do not say anything at all.” Those of you that know me well, know it is not usually a philosophy to which I adhere rigidly, but in this case I calculated that it may impact my job longevity and personal security, so I opted to follow it – if not just this once.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is not like things have not been happening and I have not had comments. Actually, Olga and I have been monstrously busy. We went to Singapore in February, Udaipur in March, and Shanghai in April. Outside of that, I have been to Dhaka, Bangladesh and Istanbul, Turkey twice, as well as Jakarta, Indonesia, Shenzhen China and Hong Kong. This is all over the last 6 months. Each time transiting through the Delhi Airport which I now refer to as my own personal hell!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Within Delhi, there has been much transpiring. After a year and half, the chaos here becomes predictable which means your tolerance is greatly reduced. Before, it was a surprise when something stupid happened – now it is just a predictable conclusion. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Through all of this, I have made notes and reminders of the good, the bad and the truly Indian. I have also many times put hand to keyboard, but in the end decided that the stories were simply drowning in negativity and were more personal venting than entertaining blogging. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let’s be honest, it is not like I have ever been a beacon of optimism and sunshine, but this was a whole different level. My glass half empty philosophy had digressed into a true loathing of my surroundings and more importantly, of the 1.4 billion people that contributed to the majority of my misery. Some of the perspective stories made Edgar Allen Poe’s works look upbeat and cheerful. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Realizing that all this stress was taking a toll not only on my mental & physical health, but on the person about whom I care the most, I tendered my resignation with my current employer to escape the madness. This was last Friday and, to be honest, I feel a tad more positive. So positive, in fact, that I will go back and pull out the highlights of the last 7 months and put them in words. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So welcome to the retrospective journey that led to my decision to quit my job!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-29255594394171206412011-12-09T02:39:00.001-08:002011-12-09T03:07:28.482-08:00A New Expereince in China<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the last 16 years, I have been to China many, many times. I have seen China before highways and western hotels and when the only English tourist-vendors knew was a high, screeching "Cheaper, Cheaper." China is now a modern, dynamic country now that has no resemblance to the old days of of closed boarders and intrusive police, so when I have a new experience in China, it tends to be a little jolting.<br />
<br />
For the last week I have been shuttling between Hong Kong and Shenzhen China. I spent 3 nights in Hong Kong, 1 night in China and then returned yesterday to Hong Kong for the final day of work. It is not as cool as it sounds as I spend most of my time facilitating meetings around riveting subjects such as Vendor Accountability and Goals & Objectives. <br />
<br />
Typically, when we are transferring from Hong Kong to Shenzhen or back again, we hire a car service to ferry us the distance. It is not far, about an hour, but you need two licence plates to do it legally - one for Hong Kong and one for China. These plates are expensive and hard to get, so car services that have them are in demand. <br />
<br />
On this particular trip, we were en route back to Hong Kong when our vehicle, which consisted of the driver, a Indian living in Hong Kong and an Indonesian, were stopped in the middle of the road by the police. In a split second, the driver we pulled out of the car and a plain-clothes policeman jumped in the driver's seat and roared off with us sitting shocked in the back. About 100 yards down the road, we pulled off the road and the policeman began to interrogate us ... in Mandarin Chinese. This was a problem due to the aforementioned make up of the group - none of us were Chinese! <br />
<br />
Between all our broken and spotty knowledge of Chinese, we were able to piece together that the line of questioning was about the payment for the vehicle. The policeman was very interested to know if we were paying for the car ourselves. Since it was a hired vehicle through the company, we were, in fact, not paying directly for it and answered accordingly. There were some follow up questions that exceeded our language ability and so, after 30 minutes, he either got what he needed or realized he was never going to get it and returned our driver.<br />
<br />
What had actually happened, as we pieced together later, was that the Chinese Government was cracking down on privately registered Hong Kong cars being used as commercial vehicles. Our answer of "no we are not paying, the company pays," must have been interpreted as "no, this was a company owned car" and therefore met the requirement. In fact, as we found out later, it was in clear violation of Chinese law and if we had fully answered the question, the results may have been different. <br />
<br />
The life lesson I draw from this is that apparently clear and concise communication is <u>not</u> always the recipe for success. Sometimes leaving a bit of ambiguity is the difference between a night in the Peninsula Hotel and a Chinese prison. </div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-16751194276786318092011-11-29T03:55:00.001-08:002011-12-09T02:39:10.205-08:00Making Change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the unique aspects of living in a cash based society like India is the value that is placed on change. Not change in "let's make society better," but change in "do you have change for a dollar." There is a strange attachment to smaller denomination bills, like a 10 Rupee note (roughly $0.20) and getting a storekeeper to part with one is sometimes more complicated than the US tax code. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the United States, if you go into a store and buy something for $2.75 and hand the cashier a ten dollar bill, the cashier, without hesitation, reaches in, counts the change and off you go. In Delhi, if you had the same purchase, the processes takes on a very different tone. Firs, the cashier will slowly look at the bill and then, as if you have somehow annoyed them by making the purchase, ask if you have change. When you respond "no," the cashier will then stare down at the register for about 30 seconds as if waiting for Lakhshimi herself to make the change for him. When the God of Prosperity does not appear, he will let out of series of sighing breaths culminated with finally reaching into the register and pulling out your change. Painfully, as if giving over his own flesh, he will hand the change to you. This all take approximately 3-5 minutes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even Indians find this "dance" to be a little absurd and when Indians finding something absurd, you know you are in a hole different league of strange. </span></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-31174125014872672562011-11-24T18:48:00.001-08:002011-11-26T21:40:06.999-08:00Thanksgiving with the Wrong Indians<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">t is Thanksgiving again and like the Pilgrims, we,
too got to share our Thanksgiving dinner with Indians. Dining with
Indians always brings its unique challenges, but in a buffet situation during
an American holiday, in an American setting, things are downright bizarre.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The American Club tried to host events to celebrate
the major American holidays. It is, after all, the American Citizens
Support Association. The 4th of July is a huge outdoor BBQ, while Easter
and Thanksgiving tend to be buffets. In theory, this should be good as
the main foods for these celebrations, hamburgers, ham and Turkey respectively,
are not readily available in Delhi and is suppose to serve as a slice of home.
In reality, since the Club is managed and staffed by Indians (with loose
Embassy oversight), it usually digresses into weird interpretation of what
Indians think the holiday should be. Feature in the Easter brunch, for
example was a large plate of, not ham, but ham fat. Who eats ham fat and
what book explained this as an American Easter delicacy? Anyway, you get
the picture - not always executed well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This Thanksgiving, the team down at the club
actually got the food correct. The Turkey meat was good, the stuffing,
albeit bland and institutional, was passable and they actually had cranberry
jelly - you know the kind that comes out of a can with the ridges. Having
spent half my life eating institutional food (let me clarify - boarding school,
college, Navy), this type of grub is a walk down memory lane. I had no
complaints and woofed down two plate-loads in the tradition of Thanksgiving! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There were issues though. The first is the ubiquitous
presents of the American passport-holding Indian. Regardless of the
event, these Indians, usually extremely wealthy and with a sense of entitlement
that would shame a middle-east dictator, show up in force. They bring
their non-American passport holding Indian friends to show them how American
they are. This means that when they show up there are usually about 20
of them. The burst through the door and expect the entire restaurant
staff to drop what they are doing and accommodate them. As well, they
treat any buffet like a black Friday 70% off event at Wal-mart and jump the
buffet like with the alacrity of a pack of pumas. They are rude, ill
mannered and generally disruptive and I am thinking about getting some
pepper-spray to keep my place in the next line. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To give some perspective, I saw an article in the
Indian newspaper explaining Thanksgiving. I am paraphrasing, but it
basically said that this the day that we, Americans, give thanks for all our
material wealth - nothing about family, health, or friends, just the money.
This is how Indians understand all things and it is why simply working 10
years in the United States and returning to India does not make you an
American. It makes you an American passport holder - nothing more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The second issue with the event was that through
the entire meal, we were loudly serenaded by a live Indian band whose lack of
talent was only eclipsed by the lack of taste in music. For hours, we
were tortured by the Indian scalping (excuse the pun) of hits from ABBA and Crystal
Gayle, to name a few, in harsh Indian accents. The real musical
equivalent of water-boarding, though, came when the duo broke out into their
rendition of the Grammy Award-winning Roberta Flack's "Killing me
Softly with His Song." Yep, everything you need to drive your
average American ex-pat to the brink of insanity on this day of Thanks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, as I write this, four days later, the memory of
turkey and stuffing has faded from my mind, the sweet taste of cranberry jelly
has faded from my lips, but the haunting sound of Indians singing
"Killing Me Softly" continues to ring in my head!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy Thanksgiving!</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-14809323187077440482011-11-20T01:09:00.001-08:002011-11-26T10:21:32.424-08:00New York in November<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I said in the last blog, one of the upsides to the new
gig is that I will be visiting the US more often. A couple weeks ago, I had the chance to go the New York for a
week of strategy meetings. A very
long week of very intense strategy meetings!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Meetings aside, it was great to be back in the Big
Apple. The last time I was back in
NYC was about 10 years ago when Olga and I decided to visit over Easter
weekend. Before that, the last
time I was in the city was roughly 1984 during parents weekend at Avon Old
Farms School. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took my usual flight from Delhi to Newark which arrives at
4:00am. Usually, I have to sit in
the Newark airport for a few hours, but this time, I was whisked away to the
city in a comfortable black Lincoln to start my day off adventure. We arrived at the hotel, a trendy
little boutique hotel called the Eventi, around 5:30am and since I slept a good
5 hours on the flight (thanks to seats that completely lay flat and are
actually comfortable), I was ready to see the sights. I unpacked and headed out to a dinner around the corner for
a wickedly greasy diner breakfast – it was awesome!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A very good friend of mine from Chautauqua, Roland, who I
had not seen in 20+ years, was coming into the city to meet me for lunch, so I
had to combine our reunion with some important shopping tasks. About 10:30am, I headed uptown to
Columbus Circle to meeting Roland. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I jumped into a taxi outside the hotel and was quickly acquainted with a talkative Bangladeshi. For the 15 minute taxi ride, we covered all the usual sub continent topics including corruption, politicians and the future of Bangladesh. I paid the driver,
jumped out, walked across the street and realized my phone had fallen out of my
pocket in the taxi. Shit! I scanned the landscape for the yellow,
non-descript car I had just exited and, if it were still on the circle, it
blended pretty well with the 500 other yellow, non-descript cabs driven by
Bangladeshis. Double Shit! Maybe I was too tired or just simply realized it was completely out of my hands, but I actually did not really care
and wondered over to the statue by which I was meeting Roland.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I often joke that no matter where I am or what language is
spoken there, strangers always approach me when they need something. From
Moscow to Krakow to Delhi, people are always asking me for directions. Olga tells me it is because I have a
kind face, but I think it is the same laws of metaphysics that drive cats to
people who do not like cats.
Anyway, there I was minding my own business, when an elderly man
approached me and asked me in Russian if I would take a photo. Now, this guy spoke no English, so the fact that he picked
me out of a crowd of 1000 people on a Monday morning in the middle of New York
was, well, astonishing. I had some
time, so he and I conducted our own little photo shoot. When Roland arrived, he was mystified.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He was mystified for two reasons. Not only had I managed to become a photographer for an old
Russian, but a few minutes earlier he had called to say he was almost there and
a Bangladeshi answered my phone.
The cab driver was on his way back to Columbus Circle to return the
phone. No shit! This is New York, for Christ sake. I guess there is something to
Karma. The elderly Russian man got
a few great pictures of himself in Columbus Circle and I got my phone
back. Well, there you have it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Roland and I had a great time. He helped me shop for the critical items and then we went to
lunch where I gorged on a huge hamburger.
We then walked over to Central Park where Roland once worked as educator
and I got the insiders tour. It
was 70 degrees, sunny and I had a great time. Thank you, Roland. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The week, after that, went by in a flash - meetings from the
early morning that ran into long dinners.
One dinner that was memorable, though, was Thursday night when we dined
at the Four Seasons Pool Room (which is not actually in the Four Seasons Hotel). This is New York dinning at its finest and really captures the quintessential New York restaurant experience - not a place for the 99%, if you will. The dinner culminated with a huge pile of cotton candy placed in the middle of the table. You can't beat a large, pink pile of sugar for impact!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Saturday arrived and it was time to go. My flight did not leave until 8:00pm,
so at 7:30am, I hailed a cab to take me to the Manhattan Target to finish my
shopping. The Target is located in
Harlem, so I had to be strategic on when I wanted to go. Calculating for traffic, I figured, I wanted to be there and back as early as possible. At 8:00am on a Saturday, New Yorkers
are not really up and about, so the cab ride was short and cheap. The opposite side of that is that since no one is up, there are very few taxis roaming about that far up town. This looked like it was going to be a problem. After my shopping, I meandered about moving towards the more active streets until finally an off-duty limo stopped. For a few bucks more than the cab, he was willing to take me back to the
hotel.
It was a great find. I ended my New York experience cruising back downtown in the back of a limo enjoying the sunny autumn morning. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With all my shopping done, I packed up the huge suitcase … barely…,
had lunch and troddled off to the Newark Airport for my flight back to India. I look forward to next year!</span></div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-80171323773899993372011-11-20T00:11:00.001-08:002011-11-20T00:17:37.302-08:00Promotion – Congratulations or Condolences?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is a story about a bird that got a late start flying
south for the winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along the
way, it got so cold, that it could not longer fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cold and exhausted, it landed in a farmer’s field where he
was unable to go any further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
the cold began to drain the life from the little bird, a cow walked by and,
seeing the cold bird, pooped on the bird.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The warm, fresh pooped began to heat the bird and after a
few hours the bird had enough strength to fly again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem was that the bird was stuck in the huge pile of
cow dung and was unable to free himself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The bird began to sing hoping that someone, anyone, would
come to his aid and pull him out of the cow patty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as his hope was waning, a cat came along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing the helpless bird, the cat
gently reached into the pile of dung and pulled the bird to freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cat attentively cleaned the shit
off the bird. The bird was so grateful that he would finally be able to finish
his journey south, that he belted out a jubilant thank-you song for the cat …
and then the cat ate the bird!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The moral of the story is that not everyone that shits on
you is doing you harm and not everyone who pulls you out of the shit has your
best interest!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This promotion for me is a bit like the bird story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the beginning of the month, my
company asked me to take on the role of Regional for the Middle East and Indian
Sub-Continent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a huge
promotion in both position and responsibility, but as they were enthusiastically
giving it to me, they slipped in that this would mean staying in India a bit
longer and, oh, much more travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ah, the cat had arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The scope of the job is large and a little
intimidating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be
responsible for all operations and teams in India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh,
Pakistan, Egypt and Turkey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
country list reads like an itinerary for a Jihad recruiting trip. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As of now, I cannot travel to Pakistan
and, depending on the elections in Egypt, I may never see my team in Cairo
which although reduces the travel, makes remote managing even more difficult –
again with the cat!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The one bright spot is that Turkey is now within my
responsibilities and Olga and I love to go to Turkey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see many extended holidays on my quarterly trips to
Istanbul and eating great Turkish food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To this, I have no complaints, but I am not sure it offsets such garden
spots as Bangladesh and Egypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other upside is that I will travel back to the US more
often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At my level now, I am
included in organizations strategy meetings, as well as many of the corporate
leadership meetings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is good,
as the more time I get in the US, the more goodies I get to bring back for my
patient and understanding wife, as she continues to weather through life in
Delhi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other upside is that for those of you that are tired of hearing about life in Delhi, the blog is bound to get more interesting. I mean, seriously, do you have any idea what Dhaka, Bangladesh is like? So, like all good stories, my pain is your entertainment. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Congratulations or condolences?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time will tell.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-18016830085912202242011-11-09T17:00:00.000-08:002011-11-09T17:00:39.772-08:00Luck<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Luck is an interesting thing. Some people are simply born with good luck, while others are destined to live out their lives watching others win. Me, I have tons of luck … it just happens to be all bad. My wife, on the other hand, is the queen of luck. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the years, she has had great streaks – Once in Vegas, after I had blown almost all our designated money on the craps table, she stepped up and won it all back and then some. At one point I refused to even touch the table for fear of my bad luck offsetting her good. When we moved to Oregon, my wife returned from the grocery store one day with a DVD player given to her for, well, being there. Finally, and most poignantly, she got me which make her the luckiest woman in the world … or not. Perspective may be more important than luck on that last one. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, the other day, my wife attended a charity event held at the Australian Embassy around the Melbourne Cup. The Melbourne cup, for the uninitiated, is a massive horse race in Australia on the magnitude of the Kentucky Derby, but with a much larger following and much larger hats. One of the benefits of being an expat is you get to experience a lot of different cultures. One of the downsides is that you usually experience them at strange hours. This being an Australian event, the party started at 8:30am.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Olga arrived in style and immediately upon stepping into the party, her entrance ticket won her an iPod. This was awesome, since I had just left mine in the Maldives and I am sure by now, Muhammad the security guy had converted my collection of Earth, Wind and Fire to the “Greatest Hits of Ramadan.” </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next there was a raffle drawing in which my lovely wife purchased two tickets. Half way through the drawing, one of her numbers hit and she was the proud new owner of a beautiful necklace. Her whole table was jealous… but they had yet to experience the full power of Olga’s luckiness.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A short time later, the big prizes came up. There were trips to Bali and weekends in Dubai, along with a few excursions around India. A few days prior, Olga and I had discussed a trip to Singapore as neither of us had been there and, yep, you guessed it, she won several nights at the Singapore Intercontinental in one of their luxury suites. I believe at this point, the rest of her table simply got up and walked away. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She called me on the way home and the both of us basked in the warmth of good luck that comes her way every now and again. If only they would raffle off new places to live, life would be perfect! </span></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-57444883322809507812011-11-04T19:45:00.000-07:002011-11-04T19:46:38.287-07:00Running With Scissors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last week was Diwali.
As you may remember from last year’s explanation, Diwali is the ultimate
holiday in India along the lines of Christmas and New Years combined into one
night of celebration. It is quite
the spectacle. You may also
remember from last year’s blog entry, I was awash with newness and naiveté when
it came to India, so in my description of the holiday, I may have missed out on
a couple points that I now find salient. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Diwali is the quintessential Indian Holiday. Being an absolutely materialist driven
society, Diwali fits perfectly as it is entirely geared for gaining prosperity
for the individuals and families of India. Unlike Christmas, which has roots in charity and
giving, Diwali makes no pretense about this. In true Indian fashion, it is simply about greed!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The idea behind the holiday is that the god of wealth,
Lakshami, visits your house on the night of Diwali and bestows upon you
prosperity for the upcoming year.
Not peace for all mankind; not food for the poor; not even prosperity
for the general population - she grants it to you and you alone. Now obviously, she cannot give everyone
this gift, so you spend the few days leading up to Diwali doing things that
will gain you favor with this god. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Firstly, you must buy gold and silver. Luckily, to facilitate this, there is a
day designated as auspicious to buy these metals. During this selected day, the population floods the jewelers
like sailors to free booze spending a large percentage of their savings on
gaudy gold bangles, necklaces and other assorted pieces of jewelry. The markets are clogged with consumers
and traffic around the most popular shopping areas is completely gridlocked. I actually believe that, for Jewelers,
this day is their actual Diwali, because they are able to make on one day what
they make the rest of the year.
Now that is prosperity delivered with a bow!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Secondly, you must decorate your house. This consists of stringing huge
quantities of lights up and down the façade of your home, apartment building,
etc, again not unlike Christmas. They
must be bright and bold, but unlike Christmas, there is no color coordination,
so the overall effect feels less like a festival and more like someone recreated your neighborhood on a light-bright! Just to add to the confusion, the need for Indians to display
their wealth causes them to over-decorate their homes to show their neighbors
how important they are. This turns
the more affluent neighborhoods from quiet, conservative places into looking
like a huge, outdoor Philippino strip bar. What could be more festive than that!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lastly, and most importantly, you must light off
fireworks. This, apparently, is
essential to attracting the favor of the gods. The rockets take to the air with screams, bangs and booms
even before it gets darks sending loud burst into the sky. But this is not like New Years or the 4<sup>th</sup>
of July in which coordinated firework shows are punctuated with a few homegrown
launches. This is 1.5 billion people armed to the teeth with every type of
firework made in Asia randomly setting them off throughout the entire night. These are people who walk out into a
highway never acknowledging the danger of being hit by a 2–ton truck lighting
off explosives and, worst yet, encouraging their small children to do the same.
It is truly like running with scissors – eventually someone will get hurt … and
they do.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with any Chinese-made, $1.00 item, there are bound to be
some misfires and, in this case, these misfires take off people’s hands and
blind them, but what the heck, it is a holiday! As well, with fireworks streaking up, down and sideways, the
person launching is not the only potential victim. You are regaled the next day with stories of starbursts
being shot into washing machines (many people have their appliance on their
back porch) and exploding, garbage surrounding homes being set ablaze and
people getting shot with roman candles and other high-velocity fireworks. In a country in which personal accountability
is low and strategic thinking is virtually non-existent, it is truly remarkable
that entire cities are not wiped out on this night. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the end, my wife and I barricaded ourselves in our
apartment and listened to the booms and screeches until finally drifting off
into a shallow sleep – always keeping one ear open for the fire alarm. </span></div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-31812505519863529952011-10-22T23:51:00.000-07:002011-10-22T23:51:34.434-07:00The End of Vacation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So the days rolled by pretty much as described in the last
blog. … Lazy and relaxing. We
began to spend more time in the villa as we had our own pool, our own ocean and
we discovered that there was no charge for food delivery! It was paradise.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbp-Ig0RUY2bsd8geoede3BWf5E2855t6E1kknzgNm1sL5rpEWbwZ_IQHUPke_of1utccBm6RFZovSLjP38fup5F5asbYR_oofK9do2IBmn3ZfuJeUmL9Ws4WQTTQKlB4zPHENmHaDZtM/s1600/IMG_4368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbp-Ig0RUY2bsd8geoede3BWf5E2855t6E1kknzgNm1sL5rpEWbwZ_IQHUPke_of1utccBm6RFZovSLjP38fup5F5asbYR_oofK9do2IBmn3ZfuJeUmL9Ws4WQTTQKlB4zPHENmHaDZtM/s400/IMG_4368.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full Moon over the Maldives</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7o6pkb_mo6AnQHFZP5JQTU570Qcb8WoIkEY6RyIX18bpZCye0wBhlhRoQxHAWcEHidc2-nOAXabHigWwNuFqMT6P-P_QsXBE9fxivCwt4R6Sif79RvXtljO45xE4B4mXwzkKsanu5Ek/s1600/IMG_4393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7o6pkb_mo6AnQHFZP5JQTU570Qcb8WoIkEY6RyIX18bpZCye0wBhlhRoQxHAWcEHidc2-nOAXabHigWwNuFqMT6P-P_QsXBE9fxivCwt4R6Sif79RvXtljO45xE4B4mXwzkKsanu5Ek/s400/IMG_4393.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga relaxing at the villa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHEyoZ6YKB9K5DavQswETXGSuTJ_VwkZX9G9TWllOXG0wAfxOLQ1ul0iAUUlGO0vULqIkRm1uZZo1DQN8a_xXQdn8gNR_OZxx2SjBGoPJRvUHcxY_zelCoclFIZsCK63cm_hfxA-2uLU/s1600/IMG_4411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHEyoZ6YKB9K5DavQswETXGSuTJ_VwkZX9G9TWllOXG0wAfxOLQ1ul0iAUUlGO0vULqIkRm1uZZo1DQN8a_xXQdn8gNR_OZxx2SjBGoPJRvUHcxY_zelCoclFIZsCK63cm_hfxA-2uLU/s400/IMG_4411.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga preparing for snorkeling off the villa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkKRkgohWZDvyuG8Yy_2GENresQEPa1bqDcKelT4uRCKYKUv5BoR1RJODVNEiPIb9brB-iFx5yGfMXd-OyEMHvEnLK_p-GjGibZ6aFV0JSVRRGKeZQd0a60r6GTonGaC_NHLAVdjsZRY/s1600/IMG_4475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkKRkgohWZDvyuG8Yy_2GENresQEPa1bqDcKelT4uRCKYKUv5BoR1RJODVNEiPIb9brB-iFx5yGfMXd-OyEMHvEnLK_p-GjGibZ6aFV0JSVRRGKeZQd0a60r6GTonGaC_NHLAVdjsZRY/s400/IMG_4475.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trip preparing for snorkeling off the villa<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Despite Doctors orders to stay out of the water </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2s7jYxaGmtjF35VgzRj3kycYqeRFftw6XHcqnm30W9z1eErxMIZbNFdWiRaLPS-O5hCBGSNcAZykyJ6hHqHh0xiylVtAeBA4NTI__5WphXKqhoseYlBgCOMcXHLhih5eRzUNDXbgjxTI/s1600/IMG_4494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2s7jYxaGmtjF35VgzRj3kycYqeRFftw6XHcqnm30W9z1eErxMIZbNFdWiRaLPS-O5hCBGSNcAZykyJ6hHqHh0xiylVtAeBA4NTI__5WphXKqhoseYlBgCOMcXHLhih5eRzUNDXbgjxTI/s400/IMG_4494.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga on one of the many jungle paths </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trip on the way to Breakfast</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once we learned there was no additional charge for villa delivery,<br />
this was pretty much the lunch scene every afternoon!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friendly visit to the villa from a Manta Ray <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and Dad squid</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEtg-YVf7AY2N9JFupFbpkJt7lThtfUUI8U8gF1-vkYoe_g55ZMPC5d5jToaFNtb2BwP6zmBWSKE4_-O_0aVBLOX7OLAXe813rGHpliL0pFXi0e44-pPHFUeAv5zXBXejQibb6nfSksU/s1600/IMG_4511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEtg-YVf7AY2N9JFupFbpkJt7lThtfUUI8U8gF1-vkYoe_g55ZMPC5d5jToaFNtb2BwP6zmBWSKE4_-O_0aVBLOX7OLAXe813rGHpliL0pFXi0e44-pPHFUeAv5zXBXejQibb6nfSksU/s640/IMG_4511.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole squid family<br />
I walked down the latter of the villa and was standing next to them<br />
They did not seem to mind</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjrk1xpfA-F5CXTlLuMbrTOewgSG_XbCcCJxmdtMO5FD4fD4O_9Brj1vuPUXi04kqb1vCIjGkVXt-WWa7KvKmbGTXPMc50OGBovTRiqA6UlyapULS9VGe-7hCbQgDAx1TR221MtckMdg/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjrk1xpfA-F5CXTlLuMbrTOewgSG_XbCcCJxmdtMO5FD4fD4O_9Brj1vuPUXi04kqb1vCIjGkVXt-WWa7KvKmbGTXPMc50OGBovTRiqA6UlyapULS9VGe-7hCbQgDAx1TR221MtckMdg/s400/IMG_4536.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from the Villa<br />
It is low tide, so you can see the reef poking through<br />
the surface of the sea in the distance</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can tell you that in my adult memory, I cannot remember
any time when I simply did nothing, but recharge. Every now and again there was a bit of excitement as a Manta
Ray swam past the villa or a family of squid came by to say hello, but overall
it was naps, punctuated by brief meals and long swims. Other than the gash in my finger and
the absence of hearing in my right ear, I felt great. But like all good things,
this too had an expiration date and on Saturday, we were marshaled across the
island for the boat that would begin our journey home. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JVydbM72_GY8W7X1pSYMbuMNfrkkoh00HLeGr6bIpTd4lrBOBJ246CF8uMKuVdwnfW2KASxpLtFuy6URPJ_e-iP8ZXWsoaqjComZLCYqpO-0_-ZbtXE5O5pjZlIwEIopx_Mqpu1siIM/s1600/IMG_4640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JVydbM72_GY8W7X1pSYMbuMNfrkkoh00HLeGr6bIpTd4lrBOBJ246CF8uMKuVdwnfW2KASxpLtFuy6URPJ_e-iP8ZXWsoaqjComZLCYqpO-0_-ZbtXE5O5pjZlIwEIopx_Mqpu1siIM/s400/IMG_4640.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga on the boat with the villas in the background<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWkQ4nUvckkoJCNCJs7rHZQTW0TQ8F__efGdwqqTKgbHO5KYPvkKTVH6BWP9s8Be21SHJoLAb1l-kNW_g-LNOXxqA55IGY8NtlLa0wr8W2Z4oO5jHZS6jLUzOFMFssPcO8CP4PHQJLZM/s1600/IMG_4642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWkQ4nUvckkoJCNCJs7rHZQTW0TQ8F__efGdwqqTKgbHO5KYPvkKTVH6BWP9s8Be21SHJoLAb1l-kNW_g-LNOXxqA55IGY8NtlLa0wr8W2Z4oO5jHZS6jLUzOFMFssPcO8CP4PHQJLZM/s400/IMG_4642.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our plane awaits</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvwvj-JcZGTwUN95gWGTV2PGyCh6rltZvEMK98BM0gz3gX2d3plHqnI-RNnzDjZPCBoNg8zBx14VHvdBrSw11WJmcI04PctNFaJEgKSd8Ta5x6O2P0usTC2WqZNGggvEYPtk00SXJpRc/s1600/IMG_4649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvwvj-JcZGTwUN95gWGTV2PGyCh6rltZvEMK98BM0gz3gX2d3plHqnI-RNnzDjZPCBoNg8zBx14VHvdBrSw11WJmcI04PctNFaJEgKSd8Ta5x6O2P0usTC2WqZNGggvEYPtk00SXJpRc/s400/IMG_4649.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulling up to the floating platform</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYST4jUGHoY3nS7yuB7CrWr8S_wkIRGfaMHdXsZuTyzeXYWHukuVMq1t-NIKRJbsfNIfJ5g0J1SzVmxe6J4BGOseX49w5D9CAd-o7q3Ef1dluBzRk52jhXmDMRsQPOkmbKsaEFOHSd08o/s1600/IMG_4653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYST4jUGHoY3nS7yuB7CrWr8S_wkIRGfaMHdXsZuTyzeXYWHukuVMq1t-NIKRJbsfNIfJ5g0J1SzVmxe6J4BGOseX49w5D9CAd-o7q3Ef1dluBzRk52jhXmDMRsQPOkmbKsaEFOHSd08o/s400/IMG_4653.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last look at the Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVd-f2-8PJlHK7r0nJODHjI7-mwU4hGZo_6cqzlMd8LCmCqubb4EWQY3ApQTkee74Y-9UeAtYYxvc_GkN62ZXe5KcnkQOSOtuzizrD5ettfXPBdKf9vbHN5ZwY8Ojl0ySUApoTzak6u8/s1600/IMG_4658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVd-f2-8PJlHK7r0nJODHjI7-mwU4hGZo_6cqzlMd8LCmCqubb4EWQY3ApQTkee74Y-9UeAtYYxvc_GkN62ZXe5KcnkQOSOtuzizrD5ettfXPBdKf9vbHN5ZwY8Ojl0ySUApoTzak6u8/s400/IMG_4658.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The villas from the air<br />
If you count 7 from the left, that was ours</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our trip out of the Maldives was less of a magical journey
than our trip in. The seaplane
arrived in Male without incident, but unlike our arrival, we were not
chauffeured in a private car between the seaplane and main terminal, but placed
on a bus with the rest of the island vacationers and driven back to the main
terminal. Our bags were placed in
a different van and driven in the same manner. When you arrive at the main terminal, it reminds you more of
an open market, than an international airport. There is a huge expanse of concrete with a tin roof above
under which vans of people and bags spill out randomly. This time, we spilled out, but our bags
seem not to have made the same, simply straightforward trip. Our bags had been
mislabeled at the resort as Mr. Lu’s bags and were being stacked for the Cathay
Pacific flight to Hong Kong.
Realizing that our bags were not in the right place, Olga set about
inspecting other piles until she found ours while I “motivated” our man from
the hotel to do the same. The bags
were located and we were handed over to the men from our Male hotel.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were loaded on to the Traders Hotel’s boat, just like
when we arrived, and taken to Male where we would spend the next two
nights. Here is a traveler’s tip,
if at all possible, do not spend any more time than necessary in Male. Imagine the South Indian Ocean
equivalent of Long Beach, CA. The whole purpose of the island is to move
incoming supplies from freighters to smaller local vessels for the resorts with
a secondary mission of fishing.
Cargo and fish do not make for a tropical paradise!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRaFwAj3D5VxFGqpkeoIeAQesdO5KWl1ZmQSmZ5NbxJtoyOnjEkG8zgOCXFAdevo4nPA5Wtgb7Ps4HbHe76LPsDD5ovxeRdwIfxmHwmFYCXowL10QvKfAbkq_PRs2gLnp7pZjNc1QTic/s1600/IMG_4668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRaFwAj3D5VxFGqpkeoIeAQesdO5KWl1ZmQSmZ5NbxJtoyOnjEkG8zgOCXFAdevo4nPA5Wtgb7Ps4HbHe76LPsDD5ovxeRdwIfxmHwmFYCXowL10QvKfAbkq_PRs2gLnp7pZjNc1QTic/s400/IMG_4668.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Male Fish Market<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGGnHLIec4QguSVM2Z3EAW67sQwtjGdhMem5rrDa18Bzm0pAex8MYhHuppL7EHjdl-lzSrrNYW98R26oE_rgffD8cqTDelRgsS1NO8RY2zLUlOHQc0N-oONskn0KZSLXN7-KuaEWFm0E/s1600/IMG_4670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGGnHLIec4QguSVM2Z3EAW67sQwtjGdhMem5rrDa18Bzm0pAex8MYhHuppL7EHjdl-lzSrrNYW98R26oE_rgffD8cqTDelRgsS1NO8RY2zLUlOHQc0N-oONskn0KZSLXN7-KuaEWFm0E/s400/IMG_4670.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Male Harbor</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0g4EWJhvEhTe3F4G_VeqQPsXhQuhnRRKE8rlgikLH1S89tUqGSh2yHjrgJdcIZmY1FzsDqB9KPEJB-LfyMCXqDo3ZjqgcG2N-9bCLPnaDO6sSuIPIsEirM2nrwq8eJRtx45gPIKVNcs/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0g4EWJhvEhTe3F4G_VeqQPsXhQuhnRRKE8rlgikLH1S89tUqGSh2yHjrgJdcIZmY1FzsDqB9KPEJB-LfyMCXqDo3ZjqgcG2N-9bCLPnaDO6sSuIPIsEirM2nrwq8eJRtx45gPIKVNcs/s400/IMG_4671.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Male Sea Front</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I said, we spent two nights in Male and by the time the
stay was over we were ready to get on a plane and head home. Isn’t funny how life tends to balance
out the good and the bad? After an
excellent vacation during which I felt like a new person, the flight home
turned into the flight from hell.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After arriving at the airport, checking in and passing
through passport control, I discovered that I had left my faithful iPod
companion of 5 years at the back of the safe in the hotel room. This was disconcerting for several
reasons. First, I loved that
iPod. It was an older model and
was the perfect combination of size and functionality. Secondly, I had a very cool iPod cover
for it. Lastly, and most
importantly, iPods are extremely expense in India, so I would not be replacing
it until my next trip to the US and I have no earthly idea when that is going
to be. I use that iPod all the
time – for music in the car, music in my office and especially to drowned out
loud, obnoxious Indians on planes.
This was a critical loss for me. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We boarded the plane, which left slightly early again (kudos
to Sri Lankan Airways) and set about on our hour flight to Colombo, Sri
Lanka. The flight was relatively
peaceful, but every now and again, I would hear commotion from the seats behind
me. As we were deplaning, the
cause of the commotion pushed itself forward and made themselves know to all of
us. An Indian family of roughly
12, including what seemed to be the grandparents, their children and their
childrens’ children were all traveling back to India. They were loud, pushy and, well, a little smelly, but the
flight was over and they were not my problem. Or were they?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we boarded our flight to Delhi, sure as shit, the
aforementioned family crammed aboard.
My first encounter with them was in the jetway when apparently they felt
that the queue did not apply to them.
In my authoritarian voice, I stepped out, stopped them and sent them
back to their position at the end.
We boarded, got settled and the family once again appeared in the
aisle. This time, though, we had
the misfortune of being seating with a third in front of us, a third behind us
and a third across from us. We
were surrounded. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first thing that became apparent was that this was one
of the first times this family had ever been on a plane. I would venture to say
by their lack of hygiene and ignorant behavior, it might have been the first
time they have been outside their village. Boarded was an absolute melee. They would not sit where they were assigned and when the
stewardess (we still have stewardesses in the part of the world) finally got
them in the right rows, they refused to sit and buckle in. Even as we pushed back from the gate,
these freak’n nutjobs were running to talk to each other 3 rows back. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As soon as the wheels left the ground, they were all up
again. The stewardesses tried in
vain to get them reseated, but they rushed out of their rows in twos and threes
and overwhelmed even the staunchest resistance. For the next three hours they screamed at each other across
rows of passengers, ran up and down the aisle and generally caused mayhem the
likes of which I have never seen on an airplane. The flight crew was helpless. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">About 2 hours into the flight, the crew made a disastrous
decision to sell duty free. As the
cart emerged, it was besieged by the family. They thrusted the duty-free catalogues in the steward’s face
and screamed and yelled for more stuff.
When they realized that not everything in the catalogue was available,
they bought more of the stuff that was. The cart never got past the family the
entire flight as they bought everything that was stocked. Everything!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This group of animals left no air-travel faux-pas
untouched: they yanked themselves
to their feet by pulling on the back of your seat; they ensured they bumped
into you when they passed, which was roughly every 3 minutes; they yelled
across several rows; and, of course, they had babies – screaming, crying
babies. In addition, because they
could not sit for more than a few minutes, they dumped their food trays in the
aisle so everyone could walk through the mess and treated the bathrooms on the
planes like they were their personal outhouses. They were, by all definition, the worst airline passengers
ever! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we approached Delhi, the announcement came on to return
to your seats and fasten your seatbelt.
This had no impact. As the
wheels touched down, there was one member of said family standing up in his
seat. Before the engines were out
of reverse, the entire family was up in the aisles getting their bags and stood
there until we pulled into the gate.
It was unbelievable. As we deplaned, the beleaguered crew bid us a
defeated “good-bye.” I have never seen anyone so happy to have landed.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I could surmise that grandpa received a pretty large cash
settlement for his farmland as developers continue to expand the greater Delhi
area. He had treated his once farm
restricted family to a luxury vacation in the Maldives. This is India’s new money! I wish I
could say that this family and their outrageous behavior is the exception, but they
are not. This is simply how they behave – this time, we had the misfortune to
experience it on steroids. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am, though, truly thankful that we did not have this group
of miscreants on the island with us, as I am pretty sure many of them would not
have made it off alive.</span></div>
<br /></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-88021590038471906912011-10-13T10:16:00.000-07:002011-10-13T10:17:09.372-07:00The Chinese<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the interesting things about this resort, and
apparently a large portion of the resorts here in the Maldives, is that they
have been overrun by the Chinese. It
appears that the Maldives in general and Anantara Kihivah specifically is a
huge honeymoon destination for young Chinese couples who use all their wedding
money to come here, stay for a short period of time, 2-3 days, and return
home. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For the few non-Asians, we are here to relax. We lounge beside the pool, on the
beach, snorkel, dive and generally enjoy all the island has to offer fully
exposed in the sun. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Chinese,
though, have an entirely different agenda during their stay in this tropical
paradise.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For many Chinese families, the Maldives are a bit of a
stretch, so when the young honeymooners are sent to a place like this, they
feel an obligation to document the experience through photography and video for
their families and friend back home. This manifests itself with the newlyweds using every
available moment to take pictures of virtually everything. They pose with their cereal at
breakfast; they videotape the entire buffet at lunch and dinner simply turns
into a photographic bonanza with photos of everything including the silverware
and furniture. We have actually
witnessed a couple taking a photo of an empty plate – just the white
plate. Yep! I’ll bet that slide show will be
riveting! It borders on the
absurd, but it is harmless enough and provides a certain level of entertainment
to the non-Asian guests.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During the day, it is very common to come across a young
Chinese bride in complete wedding get-up standing in the middle of the jungle
while her new husband, dressed in shorts and a “Life is Good” T-shirt snaps
shots of her in 93-degree heat next to a standard banyan tree. She poses and does her best to look
beautiful all the while trying to keep her overly applied makeup from turning
her wedding face into a clown face.
The other day, we came across one such photo shoot where the young bride
was posing simply with a run-of-the-mill sign that outlined which villas were
ahead. Another slide show through which I am glad I am not obligated to sit. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other aspect of all this which is amazing to watch is
that these Chinese couples have no desire to actually participate in the many
activities that are afforded the guest here. There are two reasons for this: the first, and most obvious,
being that they are too damn busy taking photos of sticks and rocks to show
their soon-to-be bored family back in China and the second is that they are
really, really adverse to the sun.
The second reason is a distinctly Asian characteristic. Asians associate beauty with lightness
of skin, so while we, Westerners, are splayed out on a chaise lounge soaking up
the sun to cancerous levels, the Asians are hiding under umbrellas avoiding
even the slightest touch of Earth’s largest star. Medically, this is a very prudent approach, but if I were so
hell-bent on staying out of the sun, I sure as hell would not drop the kind of
cabbage it takes to be in the Maldives. I am thinking Seattle or Finland in December would be a
better spot. I’m just saying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The combination of the sun-avoidance and obsession with photography
makes watching the Chinese an interesting experience. In order to get the picture they need, they have to put
themselves in situations like swimming or snorkeling, but their abhorrence to
the sun makes this a serious dilemma.
The compromise is to pretend to do all the fun things the rest of us are
actually doing by doing them briefly enough only to capture it on film (or
disc). I watched this afternoon as
a young Chinese husband donned a wetsuit, gloves, fins, a mask and a snorkel and
ventured to the water’s edge for just long enough for his wife to get the requisite
30 pictures. After she snapped enough
to satisfy the quota, he quickly peeled off the entire ensemble - never actually
touching the water. This is a
pretty extreme example, but not unusual.
Usually, they will actually swim around for about a minute or two before
climbing out of the water and darting inside to take refuge. At the pool, young couples arrive,
quickly close their umbrellas, take the shot and shuttle back to the shade of their
villa in record time. It is truly
aberrant behavior. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Such is the pace of life here. Between naps, we watch the Chinese taking photos, avoiding
the sun and dressing up in wedding dresses in 95-degree heat. It is a little funny, a little strange
and now, very predictable. </span></div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-49885899502717336782011-10-13T00:51:00.000-07:002011-10-13T00:51:50.650-07:00Day ... Whatever, I've lost track<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The past several days have been more of the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breakfast, morning diving, early
afternoon at the main pool sleeping, lunch, back to the villa for more sleep,
dinner and bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, that about
sums it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I wrote a book about
this vacation it would be entitled “Eat, Sleep, Poop!”</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfuWtK1r1oIZ2pG04oxvfv8xtm6dhIIcl8pq2zbX3XTRIPfvcuMiDfaUKU3toGDw70nAEVi05fBI5_vBsIl8o2JUuoheJgNVGk_fE9hyphenhyphen8JykUoK-iKMFHhGhzTdIRFFEZ-KZcZCho6vQo/s1600/IMG_4210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfuWtK1r1oIZ2pG04oxvfv8xtm6dhIIcl8pq2zbX3XTRIPfvcuMiDfaUKU3toGDw70nAEVi05fBI5_vBsIl8o2JUuoheJgNVGk_fE9hyphenhyphen8JykUoK-iKMFHhGhzTdIRFFEZ-KZcZCho6vQo/s400/IMG_4210.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afternoon ritual of sleeping at the Main Pool on the swing</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOs5noRgtdP488rog2gpVLRM2m0guIztVCFip2oqzSq8UJiM7igtoobuaoI0z8D_sZozFd-cpXn3C6kjPO0UB6_MM2SxkbvvQX9stcbzS-uml7YBhjpum3su_BhdHIGOIWrAKt7gHRW6E/s1600/IMG_4230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOs5noRgtdP488rog2gpVLRM2m0guIztVCFip2oqzSq8UJiM7igtoobuaoI0z8D_sZozFd-cpXn3C6kjPO0UB6_MM2SxkbvvQX9stcbzS-uml7YBhjpum3su_BhdHIGOIWrAKt7gHRW6E/s400/IMG_4230.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Later in the afternoon - the standard after lunch nap in the villa hammock</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGC0k0dBOzn1KZd2ap0im4ljyop_85owsxGnLumgU6akW6hs-ZGjDEPl8rmOs7cMQsgfYEnV88oeeJl_0QX-8B2JyYTCzLdbb7h9U0VNFIg2D4ONUXHHtjTXbFmdsMcUDAcHHGmB93G0s/s1600/IMG_4274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGC0k0dBOzn1KZd2ap0im4ljyop_85owsxGnLumgU6akW6hs-ZGjDEPl8rmOs7cMQsgfYEnV88oeeJl_0QX-8B2JyYTCzLdbb7h9U0VNFIg2D4ONUXHHtjTXbFmdsMcUDAcHHGmB93G0s/s400/IMG_4274.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It can get hot, so in the late afternoon, the napping moves to the villa pool</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The diving has been great, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On diving day 2 (day 3 here), we did more drills and
exercises to hone my diving skills and dove the reef wall again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time we went down to 15 meters (50
feet) and drove the length of the wall. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a pretty productive dive with the spotting of
a few huge sea turtles. 45 minutes later, we surfaced in the middle of the
ocean with a small dive boat ready to retrieve us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took one look at the small speedboat and thought, you must
be joking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a good day with no
equipment, those little retractable ladders are a pain in the ass, but in the
middle of the ocean with 60lbs on my back?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I poked my
knee between the last two rungs and heaved with all my strength – apparently
swimming must be great for upper body strength, because I shot up the ladder
and into the boat landing elegantly on the back seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No one was more surprised than I was!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The last diving day was a bit of a change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We left around 8:30am and were ferried
in a proper and fairly luxurious dive boat about 45 minutes to a deserted atoll
where we would perform our last two dives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped about ½ mile off shore and jumped into the deep
blue water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was spectacular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We dropped to about 25 meters (82 feet)
and poked around a very lively reef.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We saw more Morey eels and thousands of fish the names of which I have
no clue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The highlights of this
trip were seeing a field full of hundreds of garden eels, which look like twigs
swaying in the current – that is until they detect you and disappear - and
seeing a leaf fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a rare
sighting, even here, as they blend perfectly with the coral and are almost
impossible to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The literally
look like a leaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Very cool!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We surfaced in what seemed like the middle of the ocean and
awaited pickup by the dive boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once on board, we removed our gear and relaxed with cool scented face
towels and assorted fruits on a stick for an hour as we transited to another
awesome location.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once we arrived,
we changed our tanks and set out for the last dive which once completed, would
grant me certification.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dive
ended up being the best of the four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again, it was a reef wall, but this one was full of caves into which we
poked for the good part of an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We saw all sorts of unusual creatures and even saw a giant shrimp called
a Mantis Shrimp which I am told is quite rare to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also saw clams as big as your head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a beginner diver, the caves were a
bit intimidating as you had to control yourself both up and down which is much
easier said than done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the
requisite time, we surfaced, boarded the boat and sat back and ate fruit on a
stick for the ride home.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we got back to the dive center, we completed the
paperwork, filled out my dive logbook and received my temporary PADI Open Water
Diving Card! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thrilled, but
the thrill was short lived as, with my 4 dives, I also got a slight ear issue
that would prevent me from diving for the rest of the vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, it is not my week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the end, though, I achieved what I
set out to achieve and that was all that counts!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As my sister so aptly commented on the previous blog, the
injuries “must be hard to take with all the scenery.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is right - it’s all good!</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-78362022846785998572011-10-12T05:36:00.000-07:002011-10-12T05:37:03.808-07:00Maldives - Day 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Note to reader, these are a bit late as my
motivation for typing is about zero)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Olga and I woke up around 7:00am and trundled
across the Island to grab some breakfast. Breakfast is served near the
main pool in an open restaurant directly along the shoreline. We grabbed
a table next to the sea and attacked the buffet like we had a tip on a famine. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtU_raxXLpXQT1mi20EQ4uveAM_JIoPZrCJEtjL3xqSfJYshao0Bb6JV9NzGmYWqIUeE98m75UUz7p3xbH7DnxkKxT5oUvbOBBHsNtjyWEzBM1XppCkPABhi4CgcD9fHzxo0MMm8YRUI/s1600/IMG_4294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtU_raxXLpXQT1mi20EQ4uveAM_JIoPZrCJEtjL3xqSfJYshao0Bb6JV9NzGmYWqIUeE98m75UUz7p3xbH7DnxkKxT5oUvbOBBHsNtjyWEzBM1XppCkPABhi4CgcD9fHzxo0MMm8YRUI/s400/IMG_4294.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After breakfast, we went back to the villa where
I gathered my diving gear, bid the wife good-bye and set out for the dive
center. My appointment was not until 9:00am, but I thought I would get
there a few minutes early to make sure I had everything I needed. I was a
little anxious, a little excited, but mostly curious on what the morning would produce. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My instructor is Lilli. Originally from
China, she has been at the resort since January. Pleasant enough, she set
about to teach me the finer points of diving. We learned the equipment,
what it does and how to put it on. With that short briefing, we were
suited up and off to the water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOT7zbmCI0uUtoqSyKdCPT-LH2r2mjdMU3yuC6Q6Oxyz2cf-DsJqIngYsm70xXGGO262xwt5mzYJ2O7LMmGjf_AClRO6Yrl8mv4JsnyT440O_RAx70SP6xzJMHp8HJb-h-vUO0_TnW77g/s1600/IMG_4246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOT7zbmCI0uUtoqSyKdCPT-LH2r2mjdMU3yuC6Q6Oxyz2cf-DsJqIngYsm70xXGGO262xwt5mzYJ2O7LMmGjf_AClRO6Yrl8mv4JsnyT440O_RAx70SP6xzJMHp8HJb-h-vUO0_TnW77g/s400/IMG_4246.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilli helping me with my equipment</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me just insert here that although divers look
graceful in the water, the equipment actually weighs quite a lot on land and
the walk to the water across the sand was looked easier from the comfort of the
dive center. Also, a wet suit is great for keeping the chill away in the
water, but, again, on land and in 90-degree heat, it makes for a very hot walk.
I have never been so happy to be submerged in a body of water. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASqulp5AJQo1BrTQ-A1XWOmMP2cVFK5B7_Cmeiyh7rZP8z5k0X8L8YqLINMNGejGNG6H76FZy4b0VgRhT3JO1w2Bbet2eAKHQvu8NJzXAIsgWPOya8_F-SOakSXkCRaAOf2AmiRSx2IE/s1600/IMG_4249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASqulp5AJQo1BrTQ-A1XWOmMP2cVFK5B7_Cmeiyh7rZP8z5k0X8L8YqLINMNGejGNG6H76FZy4b0VgRhT3JO1w2Bbet2eAKHQvu8NJzXAIsgWPOya8_F-SOakSXkCRaAOf2AmiRSx2IE/s400/IMG_4249.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drinking my last water before the plunge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instructor and student ready for the water</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6k9IAz-Vs-yJSIGdMwsAtOh0nOjrXGYOMHRHQ6weeoT6mAEOIfN_9JpLHT7zi8GOwjMMB6XAhgv2oqVX1wVmt7NwBIUM9rYA8H2T3FuPDOoDM54PchEJGPB-DmbwXAzHFLs3Xcu3_b2Y/s1600/IMG_4251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6k9IAz-Vs-yJSIGdMwsAtOh0nOjrXGYOMHRHQ6weeoT6mAEOIfN_9JpLHT7zi8GOwjMMB6XAhgv2oqVX1wVmt7NwBIUM9rYA8H2T3FuPDOoDM54PchEJGPB-DmbwXAzHFLs3Xcu3_b2Y/s400/IMG_4251.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long walk to the sea!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thanks to having completed all the theoretical
work beforehand and having a private instructor, we blew through the exercises
in record time. The only evolution about which I was nervous was the
removal of my mask and opening my eyes underwater. I have never actually
done this in a pool, let alone the ocean, so I was bit nervous. When the
time came, I cowboy'd up and completed the task. Interestingly, opening
your eyes in salt water is not too bad … that is until you put your mask on
again and reopen your eyes. Apparently it is not the salt water which burns
your eyes, but air mixed with saltwater that really stings. Anyway, with
enough exercises passed, we set out on our first dive on the local reef.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The islands in the Maldives are all basically the
same. A clump of sand surrounded by a reef which then drops off to
create a huge wall under the surface. Up to this point, we had been in
roughly 5 meters (16 feet) of water, but as we swam over the end of the wall,
the ocean floor dropped straight down to about 40 meters (130 feet). This
was a bit daunting, but Lilli had already begun descending, so what choice did
I have. Descending, mind you, is easier written than done.
Every meter you go down, the pressure increases and your ears begin to block –
like at high altitudes. You must go down slowly and remember to clear
your ears frequently or it can cause serious ear issues. Not hard to do
when you are standing still at the top of a mountain, but the exercise of
clearing your ears gets a tad trickier when you are floating by a large
drop-off in the middle of the ocean. I eventually got the hang of it,
descending to about 10 meters (32 feet) and began my first real dive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We swam the wall of the reef for about 30 minutes
and it was awesome. First of all, you are completely surrounded by
hundreds of fish. Big fish, small fish – all types colors and
variants. We saw huge Groupers that were around 4 feet long and small
Indian Ocean Lobsters hiding in their hideouts. There were little blue fish
that swam like tiny manta rays and large dark fish that were none to happy to
see us. The highlight of the dive was seeing a Morey Eel, although he
made it clear we were not the highlight of his day. It was all over too
soon, but rules are rules and soon we were back on the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQgM9XMMscGKiUPYmwPa3umE49E98BZxfuDjtZQpqdZDMSrDrvgHpnh5jNbS9VG5RLr0YtxChk-9z5KK0Ws1XFixuKU0LqKaj-nEshKE3CyyEekBuek3s_9tRtpmit0Tb_1l_9RQQM2H0/s1600/IMG_4252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQgM9XMMscGKiUPYmwPa3umE49E98BZxfuDjtZQpqdZDMSrDrvgHpnh5jNbS9VG5RLr0YtxChk-9z5KK0Ws1XFixuKU0LqKaj-nEshKE3CyyEekBuek3s_9tRtpmit0Tb_1l_9RQQM2H0/s400/IMG_4252.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The triumphant return!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I dismantled all my equipment (part of the
certification), dried off and trundled over to meet Olga at the main
pool. She had been there for a few hours and had secured a one of the
bed-swings that hung over the pool water under a Maldivian hut. It was
comfortable, cool and out of the relentless sun. We ordered some lunch
and within about 6 minutes of the last bite, I was out cold! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEZcUJVknwIp5zwwRBwp7c_aPFChyr6qCP1xFTqWiEL0srzVgKVBBpVBabOVFHlaocl-7wWEo76Pc3k4wC5yT9khdvOBFxHETF4hjzVPhLHa6DKdTv7XsmSFnoxdGlVJGJoOXRHnrnjk/s1600/IMG_4253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEZcUJVknwIp5zwwRBwp7c_aPFChyr6qCP1xFTqWiEL0srzVgKVBBpVBabOVFHlaocl-7wWEo76Pc3k4wC5yT9khdvOBFxHETF4hjzVPhLHa6DKdTv7XsmSFnoxdGlVJGJoOXRHnrnjk/s400/IMG_4253.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does it get any better than that? <br />
Seriously?</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I spent the remainder of the first day floating
in and out of one long nap on my swinging bed enjoying the sounds of the ocean
rolling up on the beach just feet from me. Every now and again, I would get
warm, roll off the bed, splash around and climb back in for another 40-minute
nap. Now that’s living!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That evening, we walked across the island, a
20-minute walk, and had dinner in their overwater restaurant
"complex". The have 3 restaurants, Sea, an underwater
restaurant, Salt, an Asian restaurant and Fire, a Japanese restaurant, as well
as a bar with rocking chairs outside in which to relax and have your evening
cocktails and snacks. Sea and Fire, we were told, require
reservations well in advance, so we had a nice meal next to the ocean at Salt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKniBZQjdCY-lixzwjTFVY-Ylu-Twu7wA4x2w6f2eImGuUtSf6-yCk3_MZ9QCxkNr-_El2gSzk9Vg5idC9G5o2SAfbGtFThMBDWnMRtx51pV-zQhrxkI1zaCXd8Sjqga0p_VJwEC3U6w/s1600/IMG_4229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKniBZQjdCY-lixzwjTFVY-Ylu-Twu7wA4x2w6f2eImGuUtSf6-yCk3_MZ9QCxkNr-_El2gSzk9Vg5idC9G5o2SAfbGtFThMBDWnMRtx51pV-zQhrxkI1zaCXd8Sjqga0p_VJwEC3U6w/s400/IMG_4229.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The spa is the left and the restaurant complex is on the right<br />
The thatched roof on the left of the complex is Salt and Fire is the tall structure on the right<br />
The bar is the two tiered structure in the forefront of the complex</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The restaurant is spread out both under a huge
wall-less grass hut with a 40-foot ceiling and on the open-air deck over the
ocean. We choose the outside seating over the ocean. The restaurant is
called Salt as they have many different types of salt that they recommend to
bring out the flavor in the food. The catch is that since you have been in the
salt air and salt water all day, you are already bloated like a beached whale,
so added anymore salt into your system seems a bit redundant. Overall,
though, the food was excellent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One last note about the restaurants on the
island. There are about 130 villas, beach and overwater combined and they
have 5 restaurants, each with a different theme. I addition to the 3 mentioned
above, there is also an Italian restaurant and a buffet style place. This
is great, because you never feel crowded, but the downside is that since
you are on an island and a run to the Kwicki-Mart for a burrito is out of the
question, they have jacked the prices in these eating establishments to
extortionate levels. I suppose someone has to pay for the logistics costs
of getting the food to an island. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the first full day came to a close, we
returned to the villa and despite spending the majority of the day asleep, went
immediately to bed. I guess napping really does take a lot of energy!</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-32645258234351545782011-10-09T10:38:00.000-07:002011-10-09T10:38:38.032-07:00Tragedy Strikes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we had decided to stay in the villa and enjoy our pool
and piece of ocean, it was only natural that we would make our way into the
clear, blue water surrounding our villa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After a quick dip in the pool, I donned my fins, snorkel and mask and
darted about in front of our villa like a hyperactive fish, while Olga slowly
swam around, basking in the sunshine and generally enjoying the peace and quiet.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Roughly 20 minutes into my adventures, I decided to come
back to the villa and take in the scenery from the pool and surround myself
with the relaxing feeling of bubbles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made my way near the villa and as I stood to remove my fins near the
steps, I lost my balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As you
typically do in 3 feet of water, I flailed my hands through the water to regain
balance, but to my left was a small coral just under the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I flapped around trying to regain my
balance, I dragged my finger across the top of said coral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was bad, very bad.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, this may not sound like a big deal, but if you know
coral, those little bastards are like razors and cut deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worse yet, since they are living
organisms, they leave a little something behind that if not removed immediately
can cause serious infections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After a series of explicatives, I looked down to see the blood draining
from my finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked Olga to
grab a towel and call Hushy, as I knew that this cut was deep, already infected
and would need a professional.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we waited for Hushy and the Doctor, I began to feel
really depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the cut
needed stitches, I would not be allowed back in the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not only would it suck on a major scale
to be in the Maldives and not be allowed to swim, but I could feel the diving
experience slipping away, as well.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The doctor arrived and confirmed that the cut would need
dressed and treated properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She,
did, though, say that I could swim again as soon as tomorrow, but she rather I
did not for a couple days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dressed it the best
she could to keep it safe in the water and I promised to stay dry for the rest
of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxksCNRUB7Mok_LSFWuCw9RS_Rt28hcDR9TOSCdocnXNBMKIopry4Y5vppImBvemGBbCXQfwuf0C99B4Uhm7xB74PgDtVmSiZgpBxGmVYRCnHqLgBxM_sRQVFO4ImGSBnHdCMxZhNc1I/s1600/IMG_4218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxksCNRUB7Mok_LSFWuCw9RS_Rt28hcDR9TOSCdocnXNBMKIopry4Y5vppImBvemGBbCXQfwuf0C99B4Uhm7xB74PgDtVmSiZgpBxGmVYRCnHqLgBxM_sRQVFO4ImGSBnHdCMxZhNc1I/s400/IMG_4218.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the end, I have a huge white bandage on my finger, which looks
rather ridiculous and is a huge inconvenience, but all said, I am cleared to
dive, so I am not too upset! </span></div>
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2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-74652728207191802812011-10-09T10:18:00.000-07:002011-10-09T10:18:54.062-07:00The Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today started out with hope and optimism. The day was breaking beautifully as we
awoke at 6:30am in preparation for our final leg to paradise. We fueled up at the breakfast buffet
and put the finishing touches on the suitcases. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like children on Christmas morning, we rushed down to the
lobby eager to begin.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The journey to the airport was the exact reverse of the
night prior. Car, then boat. This time, though, it was in the
daylight and we could see, for the first time, the beauty of the Maldives. As the boat pushed off, you could see
right through the cerulean, clear water directly to the bottom. It looked as if the boat was floating
on glass. Between Male and the
airport, the water was turned a deep, calm blue by the depth and struck a dramatic
contrast with the shallower, clearer coastal area. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a perfect backdrop!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We arrived at the open-air, airport terminal and were
greeted by the resort guide who stewarded us through the check-in process. Said check-in process consisted of a makeshift
desk with a guy and a van parked behind him. The guy issued the ticket and loaded your bags onto the
van. Hum? If we had not been accompanied by the resort
rep, I may have been a tad more skeptical. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were then given to a driver who loaded us into a very
nice minivan and briefly shuttled us around the backside of the airport to the
seaplane terminal.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Passed off again, we were now in the capable hands of
another resort employee. The
resort smartly runs a private lounge in the terminal to ensure their guests are
made comfortable throughout the journey.
It was smallish, but has a nice bathroom and the attendant brought you
any non-alcoholic beverage you liked.
The lounge faced the harbor of seaplanes and one had the option of sitting
outside on the veranda and watching their comings and goings. Finally, though,
our plane was ready and we were beckoned to board.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h4NQGiU1_UBJMpe3cquBj27YTrYa7gbVu8HEfSz8YAqBGhq9zHguuuXY5BsluTcWrI5RD26-UNtSdGQM7J8ro6X04V-DRKwKequadA3gSDXhlEtwfACHCgDU1y7K3en4_VoMGglpWUs/s1600/IMG_4104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h4NQGiU1_UBJMpe3cquBj27YTrYa7gbVu8HEfSz8YAqBGhq9zHguuuXY5BsluTcWrI5RD26-UNtSdGQM7J8ro6X04V-DRKwKequadA3gSDXhlEtwfACHCgDU1y7K3en4_VoMGglpWUs/s400/IMG_4104.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olga waiting in the Resort's Airport Lounge</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The plane was small and sat around 15 people. It was slight cramped, relatively hot
and really, really loud. That
said, the views were spectacular en route since it flew at a relatively low
altitude. You got a grand view of
the entire archipelago ensemble. We
made one stop at a neighboring resort to offload some passengers and then
finally, we touched down into the azure waters of Anantara Kihavah.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNXRoxUuweFzOaQJv1qQ8n9N5RVfGRokkZQ0uNHVeOXAgegAXt8OkJsbmEI2jr5s4IZBX1gyQXwAEgSslH5Qh9aXqmCHOnQG-GiawuavDo7A9ZI4GhO0xthsq_AkWoTaOwrGs8Mntvh4/s1600/IMG_4114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNXRoxUuweFzOaQJv1qQ8n9N5RVfGRokkZQ0uNHVeOXAgegAXt8OkJsbmEI2jr5s4IZBX1gyQXwAEgSslH5Qh9aXqmCHOnQG-GiawuavDo7A9ZI4GhO0xthsq_AkWoTaOwrGs8Mntvh4/s400/IMG_4114.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Island</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The plane pulled up to a floating platform roughly 200 yards
offshore and unloaded the remaining few passengers. We were promptly met by a boat and greeting by our
personal concierge, Hushy (pronounced Who-Shi). We boarded the boat and after cool, scented face towels and
water, were treated to an overview of the resort. I heard nothing.
I was completely memorized by the surroundings. The view from the boat looked like
something out of a Hollywood movie … a really good Hollywood movie. The boat ride cleverly took us around ½
of the island just to get the full effect – They had me at hello. We eventually pulled up to a long,
stately, wooden pier and were guided off the boat. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had, in fact, arrived!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_O2fG5aZBjXQOT8aZfq_f3OUDUR9fqgyyvP_nat35vv1AWgkDUgbfICRLTkkJWDDUAc6tVuEEJ65hphPlGAmf-xZ7V8n_sgSdzIvz34cM1CoOKfJMrkh8IjGxaxJk8MA7Prk_QAdc7E/s1600/IMG_4120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_O2fG5aZBjXQOT8aZfq_f3OUDUR9fqgyyvP_nat35vv1AWgkDUgbfICRLTkkJWDDUAc6tVuEEJ65hphPlGAmf-xZ7V8n_sgSdzIvz34cM1CoOKfJMrkh8IjGxaxJk8MA7Prk_QAdc7E/s400/IMG_4120.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The floating platform and the plane loading people on their way home</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaq9fn2viuvx1SZfTxZYGocr_-3oeryssTDvdr6KVX7bczTAoviJs6uikUJmGFldw8m3nMGqPTc5Rwfkgfx1tySyZlxlVoQ1Pg8onSgprgV0R44g7wxYKUPE0ixFvPuU9cw4NJSVlRPk/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaq9fn2viuvx1SZfTxZYGocr_-3oeryssTDvdr6KVX7bczTAoviJs6uikUJmGFldw8m3nMGqPTc5Rwfkgfx1tySyZlxlVoQ1Pg8onSgprgV0R44g7wxYKUPE0ixFvPuU9cw4NJSVlRPk/s400/IMG_4119.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The boat coming to pick us up</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXCSSIWS2rpvPumjIhNtfZwIG15xmKUdd6toHcbVi0Ld-vIxPsmKPd6UoGnTuLBjwWW_K4AEBheDYibNHzix-bnZMI5t7inI-9XNhCClsHNN3Nqx8_QP2Z5uZ4YCmubDbNxh_YRk4viI/s1600/IMG_4118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXCSSIWS2rpvPumjIhNtfZwIG15xmKUdd6toHcbVi0Ld-vIxPsmKPd6UoGnTuLBjwWW_K4AEBheDYibNHzix-bnZMI5t7inI-9XNhCClsHNN3Nqx8_QP2Z5uZ4YCmubDbNxh_YRk4viI/s400/IMG_4118.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Island as seen from the boat</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We troddled down the gangway and on the sandy shores where
Hushy drove us through a sandy network of narrow byways that stealthily cut
through the lush jungle. We
emerged from the brush at the entry to the water villas. The villas sit on an oval shaped
dock-way that splits in the middle with villas on either side. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hushy led us to ours, about half way
down the right side.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjxI5l6yZQVTNgL261lRFo6mT4SEUdCws5Qpqn1BsZAtYsGFTXHIhSaD4DfVmxzgiBkZW0S65BMz_W4-s8G3BVXVXcYDDns3ZhJEdPupMuNFK-OCPVrPYSL7-CU3ckH0xCQ6hndYgRxk/s1600/IMG_4122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjxI5l6yZQVTNgL261lRFo6mT4SEUdCws5Qpqn1BsZAtYsGFTXHIhSaD4DfVmxzgiBkZW0S65BMz_W4-s8G3BVXVXcYDDns3ZhJEdPupMuNFK-OCPVrPYSL7-CU3ckH0xCQ6hndYgRxk/s400/IMG_4122.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First steps on the Island</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQnU4QOKwgvl1z-oxZ8gYgPS8ZCirwajxqBvIvYMXCPBxhy_hE2HUp5hc4EJp1qQyErrzjNWcUhYSkOVe8STzw3z8IGrxXwfN_bPcZEYxaoUOnDYIpzuOqvbiDEUBqW9Ln1WRZFGQiVI/s1600/IMG_4163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQnU4QOKwgvl1z-oxZ8gYgPS8ZCirwajxqBvIvYMXCPBxhy_hE2HUp5hc4EJp1qQyErrzjNWcUhYSkOVe8STzw3z8IGrxXwfN_bPcZEYxaoUOnDYIpzuOqvbiDEUBqW9Ln1WRZFGQiVI/s400/IMG_4163.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving the jungle and on to the dock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQIdfZwBTANZ9QzpjmjetQmYHpo01vi38kF08U0EwqTVlx2DO0bDkKGs0FRRoXPBr1G9icTvMYcp03TllY72-cO3Xlb9IRaST1dC25mD6unQa_5CMVS1ehwt_6WknPc50NMpJ_LgYphg/s1600/IMG_4164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQIdfZwBTANZ9QzpjmjetQmYHpo01vi38kF08U0EwqTVlx2DO0bDkKGs0FRRoXPBr1G9icTvMYcp03TllY72-cO3Xlb9IRaST1dC25mD6unQa_5CMVS1ehwt_6WknPc50NMpJ_LgYphg/s400/IMG_4164.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The villas</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From the front, the villas look quite plain with darken
wooden facets and an imposing double door, but once inside … Holy crap! You enter into a large arched-ceiling foyer
which, behind a beautifully crafted sideboard, contains your full stocked wine
refrigerator, your regular mini-fridge and your cupboard of goodies – none of
which we could afford. It also had
a coffee maker and an electric kettle for tea – which we could afford, because
it was complimentary. This
area also served as your junction between the large bedroom and the enormous
bathroom & changing areas.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4YGDEr_mzZYWzPiYRLyIFDZQ4u62tM1AW0xwvWQMtgtlbZBwgul0jqHMD0LOMdUzuCxP3w3KUXX9zURMebvmS9hSCZ3zQD33DTs3k0zfbnPcutyKm-l3UBhlylQCgyodIwFGNJCqOjE/s1600/IMG_4141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4YGDEr_mzZYWzPiYRLyIFDZQ4u62tM1AW0xwvWQMtgtlbZBwgul0jqHMD0LOMdUzuCxP3w3KUXX9zURMebvmS9hSCZ3zQD33DTs3k0zfbnPcutyKm-l3UBhlylQCgyodIwFGNJCqOjE/s400/IMG_4141.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entryway - to the left is the bathroom<br />
Straight ahead the bedroom and ocean</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Straight ahead through an arched doorway is the
bedroom. This is a huge room with
a 20 foot cathedral ceiling and a king size bed right in the middle. The bed is surrounded by other
furniture, TV, desk, etc, but they are all done in the dark wood of the
Southern Indian Ocean giving the room a particularly exotic feel. There is also a comfy daybed flanked by
stained glass windows in a bumpout just in case you wnt to take a nap inside. As
hotel rooms go, it was splendid, but the bedroom, believe it or not, was not
the real attraction. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What
surrounded it really that made it spectacular.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-im_s1bvw5bGfOrcOiivAbH7Z59NMuvdt1RqfDCWjBpNAcAok0z5kDR9-2TeXFMOrCmXcuebpnBwj6GMBx4uNdVHHq9USHSlfRUkMFypfnOP3t-AqKAuyGpcCeQUdGfotIVNRnkiiHQs/s1600/IMG_4143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-im_s1bvw5bGfOrcOiivAbH7Z59NMuvdt1RqfDCWjBpNAcAok0z5kDR9-2TeXFMOrCmXcuebpnBwj6GMBx4uNdVHHq9USHSlfRUkMFypfnOP3t-AqKAuyGpcCeQUdGfotIVNRnkiiHQs/s400/IMG_4143.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entering the bedroom and standing behind the bed<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hLCund3kbEzHkVdS9V0hEGf4QaCS_clvorfJ8PUPt-7qAy59_4x9MG_8wxRtGoctBPDHZzfrlNQjtnph9_ExfObYz7RdY75QApkEV5wEbMu3XVyBrzY2TBYXGd4MJgBlONowWHL0Hb8/s1600/IMG_4144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hLCund3kbEzHkVdS9V0hEGf4QaCS_clvorfJ8PUPt-7qAy59_4x9MG_8wxRtGoctBPDHZzfrlNQjtnph9_ExfObYz7RdY75QApkEV5wEbMu3XVyBrzY2TBYXGd4MJgBlONowWHL0Hb8/s400/IMG_4144.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at the two sliding doors<br />
Ocean in front and pool to the left</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfG5aiAGEZUazxdPpbo9dPCX43dtGZexXaBdrlZP9pMTZJ0QNf44pw2gJMAPJQCy6hRc0Rtkj9Pi0GP_RbAO7jPXIsFVVGGSccNw6fg3izm-5Lat-J3Lbv3NQ6D5c6KJhmd3Cip1RahI/s1600/IMG_4145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfG5aiAGEZUazxdPpbo9dPCX43dtGZexXaBdrlZP9pMTZJ0QNf44pw2gJMAPJQCy6hRc0Rtkj9Pi0GP_RbAO7jPXIsFVVGGSccNw6fg3izm-5Lat-J3Lbv3NQ6D5c6KJhmd3Cip1RahI/s400/IMG_4145.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pool from the bedroom<br />
No sleepwalking here!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-AKvCYW9AIL6a23EHREwpSKdQ01IEu2agBuWf1xURTcyLHmdi67EZ4_pot7DA5KmVGNLHJtwEaJn_qOJveCDDQmO1_e4qwXZvAhZjRqEOSKuThfzMy_bAdpT-xGTWTyrGhfhy2S9lrU/s1600/IMG_4146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-AKvCYW9AIL6a23EHREwpSKdQ01IEu2agBuWf1xURTcyLHmdi67EZ4_pot7DA5KmVGNLHJtwEaJn_qOJveCDDQmO1_e4qwXZvAhZjRqEOSKuThfzMy_bAdpT-xGTWTyrGhfhy2S9lrU/s400/IMG_4146.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the bed looking out at the sea<br />
Note the giant bed-swing - great for napping!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the left side of the room, through a pair of large,
wooden sliding doors, was a private, infinity pool sparkling in the sunlight. The
pool abutted the doorframe, so you were either in the room or in the pool (more
on the pool later). Facing forward,
there were two more large, disappearing, sliding doors through which spilled
forth a large veranda, complete with a huge bed-swing, table and chairs and
three hammocks which hung out over the water. This veranda then led to another veranda about 4 feet below
which housed your lounge chairs and umbrella for sunbathing. Behind the lounges was the aforementioned
pool, but the level with the lounges was low enough as not to impede your view
if you were floating in the pool.
To tie it all together, there, then were stairs the fed into the sea
another 4 feet below. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The stairs
ran to the lower veranda and then along the far side of the pool terminating at
a glass door into the bathroom behind it all</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzS5gr1fwN-b2doDaPSwhuGiQontvGG4_A4zxQHyKKoYE7n44Ph11COnYM8e1Q_XxloO5dyJ2ZCiPfxDRBceCEw0ghh7OhndGuCFNQE-pEeUBM-pfLg1Cyhhyphenhyphenprglsg-_FyEWDExj2F3o/s1600/IMG_4129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzS5gr1fwN-b2doDaPSwhuGiQontvGG4_A4zxQHyKKoYE7n44Ph11COnYM8e1Q_XxloO5dyJ2ZCiPfxDRBceCEw0ghh7OhndGuCFNQE-pEeUBM-pfLg1Cyhhyphenhyphenprglsg-_FyEWDExj2F3o/s400/IMG_4129.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lower vernada</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ePMUclHSvbxCYuPAwQOGUu8n2szzN3jwDjfzOEiNb0gaNGuWqgkIfZcAcWLDse_Qq9We3F6cl4daTMERULz58txa2ejx_AszQ_l5i9uYAAqzJ61c4FYKLczXwJZZ7xu5kjKiLvCqMGU/s1600/IMG_4131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ePMUclHSvbxCYuPAwQOGUu8n2szzN3jwDjfzOEiNb0gaNGuWqgkIfZcAcWLDse_Qq9We3F6cl4daTMERULz58txa2ejx_AszQ_l5i9uYAAqzJ61c4FYKLczXwJZZ7xu5kjKiLvCqMGU/s400/IMG_4131.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking up from the lower veranda</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bedroom and veranda from the pool</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second veranda in front of the pool</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilykUAk2zSdDyHqwcmmU0lKqWbPPDGaL_FDDouduIPIjFKriVaCj-FqxD_oN67eUv3yFkCBIsBN2MNzdjsMsyXoJDjnMXduMBzoRAkrhf7sm-2sHQ3VwvqPXfLgu7CSqQI16gH6gf1Oes/s1600/IMG_4153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilykUAk2zSdDyHqwcmmU0lKqWbPPDGaL_FDDouduIPIjFKriVaCj-FqxD_oN67eUv3yFkCBIsBN2MNzdjsMsyXoJDjnMXduMBzoRAkrhf7sm-2sHQ3VwvqPXfLgu7CSqQI16gH6gf1Oes/s400/IMG_4153.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the three hammocks the jut out from the top veranda</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrdlMQWQCxyJlqm3vkwwspvNgQtzFi3JI9DWzvP2F08kf47DxI-l22X__lQEcjhoBIrmpeF-el-yKr28NF3kxaz9anLeVBytah0IYx4xi5cmlARV5WR__X5Wxm04U0PjgMg_EnmbLgHM/s1600/IMG_4154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrdlMQWQCxyJlqm3vkwwspvNgQtzFi3JI9DWzvP2F08kf47DxI-l22X__lQEcjhoBIrmpeF-el-yKr28NF3kxaz9anLeVBytah0IYx4xi5cmlARV5WR__X5Wxm04U0PjgMg_EnmbLgHM/s400/IMG_4154.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The verandas from the pool</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ah, the bathroom!
Leaving the entry foyer to the left, you pass through a small arched hall
with separate his & her dressing rooms on either side. You enter the bathroom through a huge twin pocket door,
arched ingress and step into a massive space with a 25 foot cathedral ceiling. There is a lounging couch in the middle
of the room with separate toilet and shower rooms at the back. There are two separate vanities on
either side of a large glass door that leads to a second shower … outside! But
really, the outside shower is a side show compared to the tub. Sunken into the floor, it is located
directly in front of yet another wall of sliding glass doors that completely
disappear giving the bather a full view over the pool and out into the sea. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The most amazing part is that the tub
has a glass bottom, so you can see the ocean directly beneath you (I know, so
many questions about seeing the other way).</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQavaSUnQ5FI4fQHKhBUF72Yjei3Ry5oiqLvBthGyUf64VyNAlTzEFKvluXD1LHr6pDmqzp0rIJtDC4gBPFAA0tr_v6qX7ieUfTm5S7lZvjdWa7_7V9kkmveqP78KgHMWVZC2joWE0m60/s1600/IMG_4130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQavaSUnQ5FI4fQHKhBUF72Yjei3Ry5oiqLvBthGyUf64VyNAlTzEFKvluXD1LHr6pDmqzp0rIJtDC4gBPFAA0tr_v6qX7ieUfTm5S7lZvjdWa7_7V9kkmveqP78KgHMWVZC2joWE0m60/s400/IMG_4130.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking over the pool to the bathroom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiVEZTDc3roV_trcqgVhMu46kKPZC4qCyB3rnFSCFgd4Vt5ORar4jV3kZrI51AIrkGURUyHJ9gLhvfgJmgMX3n-JCEbQpLnZqgW87DfuPPRAj7fJf5ed2Pi8iRx2yt0CS5Co7KoXYnm0/s1600/IMG_4155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiVEZTDc3roV_trcqgVhMu46kKPZC4qCyB3rnFSCFgd4Vt5ORar4jV3kZrI51AIrkGURUyHJ9gLhvfgJmgMX3n-JCEbQpLnZqgW87DfuPPRAj7fJf5ed2Pi8iRx2yt0CS5Co7KoXYnm0/s400/IMG_4155.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bathroom<br />
Note the sunken tube right inside the door and the shower with a view on the right</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr89Uw9HV6AHFIKROpNMzbEtom6i3Ss6L-2pWfMIYAxMw6jpJ3Mav6O70mmfm24GO1iG512JpqQTBKmMEF2QQsMV7RvBgxUkL__pGQwISsmVa4Ch1sNRa2KkzZhQbPwiX5JCkHEq838HA/s1600/IMG_4136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr89Uw9HV6AHFIKROpNMzbEtom6i3Ss6L-2pWfMIYAxMw6jpJ3Mav6O70mmfm24GO1iG512JpqQTBKmMEF2QQsMV7RvBgxUkL__pGQwISsmVa4Ch1sNRa2KkzZhQbPwiX5JCkHEq838HA/s400/IMG_4136.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bathroom as entered from the foyer<br />
Toilet on the left and shower on the right - The divot in the ceiling is a shower head</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuAMLfLGY65t6O9TyI4_CMINLJIM3vQ0aTxS3GRuGcT-fXXY7kLlFnhGkClO0OXeVuFS08toinmKyX9DJhyphenhyphenZmBQY5kxAD85X_kmAKUb50Yexmaq2f8dimRb3scnTP3ik6qlcq8Hui-XQ/s1600/IMG_4134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuAMLfLGY65t6O9TyI4_CMINLJIM3vQ0aTxS3GRuGcT-fXXY7kLlFnhGkClO0OXeVuFS08toinmKyX9DJhyphenhyphenZmBQY5kxAD85X_kmAKUb50Yexmaq2f8dimRb3scnTP3ik6qlcq8Hui-XQ/s400/IMG_4134.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the left are the vanities and outdoor shower<br />
beneath the shower is the sea - note the glass panel on the floor<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tub</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The glass bottom of the tube<br />
What you see there is the ocean bottom - what the fish see is your bottom!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The shower is also unique in that the rain showerhead is in
the ceiling of the shower enclave… 15 feet above you and is fronted by a
ginormous glass window, so you can continue to enjoy your views even whilst
showering. The toilet room next
door also shares the same view thanks to a huge pass-through between the
two. The toilet also benefits from
having a glass floor, so you can enjoy both views!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lastly, there is the pool that is tucked into the corner that
the bedroom and bathroom create.
It is about 15 feet by 26 feet and about 3 feet deep. On the backside, next to the bathroom
and facing the ocean, there is an underwater bench equipped with soothing
massage jets, so if sitting on your private lounge chair or on your bed-swing
is not enough to take in the views, you can submerge yourself in your pool and
enjoy a Jacuzzi. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is serious
overkill, but anything worth doing is worth doing in a pool with a Jacuzzi
bench!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbo8W2Du0yrMFfwnVzy2SNFKYWt12r9fBne_R6KBZ4J-D6a-sD5plZY00gj0JpMOkHB0CUuJOprLS1dJgpOzmjxsp0FATRDj21xoot7RfqihKB1AjGRZfcQ4sJnlU7IenW9vreBTeMMY/s1600/IMG_4128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbo8W2Du0yrMFfwnVzy2SNFKYWt12r9fBne_R6KBZ4J-D6a-sD5plZY00gj0JpMOkHB0CUuJOprLS1dJgpOzmjxsp0FATRDj21xoot7RfqihKB1AjGRZfcQ4sJnlU7IenW9vreBTeMMY/s400/IMG_4128.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pool - wedge in between the bathroom and bedroom<br />
You can almost see the long bench in the back </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdEShrk8TZHnl3CWx9uYVx7bfOwm912Ga0A1697b452mCVvk_wWQZKDXz6wYu4T8OnrGlskLyyCD-P4IxPHpuFgiC5R3S-DkKpVb6dIYef0oJGia4s59Eda9udi4I4YSuQ5r1oQgknko/s1600/IMG_4171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdEShrk8TZHnl3CWx9uYVx7bfOwm912Ga0A1697b452mCVvk_wWQZKDXz6wYu4T8OnrGlskLyyCD-P4IxPHpuFgiC5R3S-DkKpVb6dIYef0oJGia4s59Eda9udi4I4YSuQ5r1oQgknko/s400/IMG_4171.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pool looking forward</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After being given the tour of the villa, Hushy did our
paperwork and disappeared to allow us to relax and enjoy our surroundings. We lounged, sat, and laid about for a
short while and then decided to head down to the dive center to get all the
paperwork ready for the week. With
this done, we grabbed lunch and retired to the villa for some afternoon
swimming and more lounging. We
finally made it and it exceeded every expectation we had!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That is, until the accident …</span></div>
</div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-77779789036219643142011-10-08T06:26:00.000-07:002011-10-08T06:26:25.434-07:00The Trip Begins<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After months of planning and obsessive reviewing and
researching of websites, travel logs and reviews, we finally are on our way to
the Maldives!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will spare you all the typically groaning about flying out
of India except these two nibblets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First, Indians have a really hard time with row numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, every flight within, into or
out of India, 70% of the passengers needs directed to their row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finding a row is not rocket science –
you look at the bold number on your ticket stub and match is to the brightly
lit or boldly placed number above the row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This task, though, always seems a bit too much for the
Indians.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The second thing is a plea to Indian wives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When your husband is leaving the house
to catch a flight and he smells like a pair of old running shoes and rotten
eggs, please, please tell him, march him back into the house and insist he
bathes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every non-Indian, Airline
passenger in the subcontinent will thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is simply something to be said for personal hygiene
and a lot more to be said about the lack of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being cooped up in a plane with 250 Indians stinking to high-hell
is just not unfair, it’s torture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, Olga brought the repurposed White Flower Oil to rub
under our noses thus replacing Indian BO with the soothing smell of menthol,
eucalyptus and other medicinal fragrances and we settled back to watch Season 6
of Weeds!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not bliss, but it
was as close as we were going to get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is amazing the simple high we now get from just leaving India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We arrived in Male, the capital of the Republic of the
Maldives at around 12:30am after a brief transfer in Sri Lanka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The airport is a simple terminal and
apparently if you are not smuggling in pork or porn, you fly through customs pretty
fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were staying in Male for
one night as the seaplanes on which we need to travel only flys in the
daytime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our Male hotel, Traders,
met us as we exited customs and whisked us to the hotel, not in the usual black
Mercedes, but in a boat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since the Maldives are just a series of small, non-connected
islands, each island has a function.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The airport, which seems to be a few islands land-filled together, sits
about a 10-minute boat ride from the main island on which the city of Male
resides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a very cool
arrangement.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tired and hungry, we boarded the boat for our jaunt across
the open ocean in the middle of the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled up to a sea wall and were happily greeted by a
woman from the hotel, confirming our identities and then easing us into a car
for the 1-minute ride to the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The air was fresh, the people seemed efficient and we had left
the BO ridden passengers somewhere in Sri Lanka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All was right with the world!</span></div>
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2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-31285455173150999452011-10-07T21:10:00.000-07:002011-10-07T21:11:35.304-07:00Anticipation!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anticipation.
It may the best part of a vacation. Today we leave on a vacation we actually planned 12 years
ago, so the build up is a little high on this one.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">12 years ago, when my wife and I first decided to get
married, we thought about a honeymoon.
We were living in Russia at the time and thought the Maldives looked
like a pretty good place to spend a week or so. It was not too far away and, more importantly, seemed like a
pretty relaxing get-a-way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The idea was that we would be married in Russia by the
Ministry of Marriages (you can’t make this stuff up) in one of those Soviet
style buildings (as one does in Russia) and head directly off to our tropical
paradise. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with the best-laid
plans, this never happened, because the Ministry of Marriages would not process
our paperwork.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have to remember, this was the post-Soviet era and
everyone had “privatized” their respective departments. The ministry of marriage was no
exception. In our first meeting
with said ministry, I was asked to produce a government issued document that
stated that I had never been married.
At first this seemed ridiculous, but then I realized that, once again,
we were playing the bribe game. I
argued there was no such document and she argued nothing could be done without
it. The culmination of the game is
when the bribee offers, out of the goodness of their heart, to make the
obstacle go away for a small fee – cash only, of course. This time, though, I was not playing. It
was one thing to ask for a bribe to get out of a traffic ticket or to get a
good seat at the theater (I had come to except and expense these as routine),
but to mess with a person’s marriage was too much. I gave the woman a serious lecture and stormed out … thus
ended any chance of ever being married in Russia.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not long after, my posting in Russia ended and we decided it
was easier just to get married in the US.
After returning, we drove out to Alexandria VA, got the license, scooted
across the street to the Justice of the Peace and were married. The next morning we went to Disney
World!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, you can image, the one place we, as a couple have always
dreamed of, is now at our fingertips and the hype is just too much to
bear. Hopefully, the substance
matches the sizzle!</span></div>
</div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-22258712733005502782011-10-04T06:33:00.000-07:002011-10-04T06:33:14.515-07:00The Summer of Swimming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I was young, I had the privilege of spending every summer on a lake in New York and attending the oldest continuous day camp in the United States, the Chautauqua Boys and Girls Club. My sisters went there; My parents went there; My uncles and aunts on both sides went there. The experience through these generations was quintessentially the same - you played field games, you sailed, you paddled canoes and you swam. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, I was game for most of the aforementioned activities, but when it came to swimming, I was not overly keen on climbing into the murky, cold lake water at 10:00am and wading over the silt and seaweed bottom to learn how to float on my back. I dreaded it. My first year, I was excused due to tubes in my ears, but for the remaining 9 years, I spent a disproportionate amount of energy charming my way out the mandatory morning swim. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This was not to say, I could not swim. Growing up on a lake, the ability to move through the water became part of your DNA. You did not have to set Olympic records, but you had to at least be comfortable in the water. Comfort levels varied and mine hovered around trending water and the forward movement not unlike the elderly at the local retirement center. It met the minimum requirement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, even though I spent the first 18 summers of my life on a lake, I never learned how to swim properly. This year, the 44th year of my existence, I decided to do what I was supposed to do (and my parents paid for) 35 years ago. I learned to swim ... correctly! This, by the way, was no easy feat. Firstly, I was in India, so it was not like I could run down to the local YMCA and grab an instructor and, secondly, I may in fact be in a bit less shape than I was at 9. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I addressed the first issue with modern technology and found a great internet site call swimsmooth.com that walked you through all you needed to know about becoming a capable swimmer. Since I was not a complete stranger to the water, the basics came quickly, albeit awkwardly and, in some cases, painfully due to the second issue. I was simply out of shape. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Almost every night since May, I have lugged myself to the American Embassy pool and clawed though the water perfecting a mediocre crawl. Each week, I added a little more distance. I started with one pool length of 25 yards and a few weeks ago actually crossed the 1/2 mile milestone without stopping.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is another reason that I have focused so much on swimming this summer. At the end of this week, Olga and I will go to the Maldives where I will get certified as an Open Water Diver. This is something I have wanted to do for many years, but never got around to it. Actually, to be honest, I have simply avoided it, since one of the requirements is you must be able to swim 200 yards non-stop and until now, I just couldn’t do it! </span></div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-48362092948739025632011-10-03T08:02:00.000-07:002011-10-03T08:02:03.611-07:00The New Car Expereince<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Buying a car is always an adventure. Sometimes it turns out well and other times it is just a serious pain in the butt. Overall, though, I usually enjoy the process and the challenge. For this reason, I was looking forward to getting a new car in India. The current car, a 3 year old Ford Endeavor (think a jungle-ready explorer, but not as comfortable) has run its run. Poorly built to begin with, its complete lack of suspension has reduced the remaining bits, and my back, to rubble. It is time to retire the Ford.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmMx19Mss8BFGG5scouvMyvBGMREoJ7IOIPDXHy0DnQ8Hr_v1hMbnyXnGvq6NcQO8o3GDUqfuzKYAers_Vb_7jxSPck30pj4nxD3oYwqlLRM4J50ef8caIKiMFTzGVL7rzeIhPdUN-uQ/s1600/IMG_4097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmMx19Mss8BFGG5scouvMyvBGMREoJ7IOIPDXHy0DnQ8Hr_v1hMbnyXnGvq6NcQO8o3GDUqfuzKYAers_Vb_7jxSPck30pj4nxD3oYwqlLRM4J50ef8caIKiMFTzGVL7rzeIhPdUN-uQ/s400/IMG_4097.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old Battlewagon and Kailash, the driver</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The stable of replacements in India is very limited due to the huge import tax that is levied on everything to protect the burgeoning domestic industry. As well, we had to decide whether to replace it with another SUV or go the sedan route. This is a more difficult decision here than back in the US, because the roads here actually challenge a SUV unlike the manicured roads of the US. Add the monsoons and you actually have rivers and lakes to traverse. The trade-off for all this go-anywhere capability is a painfully stiff and jilting ride. In order to get an SUV that is not based on a truck, you have to move into a stratospheric price range and, since we are a discount retailer and not Goldman Sachs, paying $115,000 for an Audi Q5 is not in the cards. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Based on the bone-jarring rides we took in two available SUVs, the Toyota Fortuner and the Hyundai Santa Fe, it was decided to go the sedan route. Who needs 3 rows of seating anyhow? It is just the two of us. So we began to look at sedans and this is where the fun started. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">First of all, you must schedule a test drive, because they bring the car to you, rather then you going to the showroom. This is actually pretty convenient. The car arrives with the driver and salesman (it would be absurd for the salesman to actually drive the car himself, duh!) and they turn the vehicle over to you and your driver for the test drive. This is actually great, because you get to drive it over familiar road and in conditions that you experience every day. I am sure that was not the intention, but quite convenient, none the less. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Secondly, the test drive is very different. Since I have a driver, the driver does the driving and I sit happily in the back and evaluate the car from the perspective of the driven. That puts a whole new set of expectations around the vehicle. Where I would usually be concerned with power and handling, I am not evaluating for legroom and ride compliance. I used to love the growl of the engine, but now want silence. Where before, I wanted a hard, sports suspension, I now want a floating, wafting, magic carpet ride. I longed for the Cadillacs of Grandpa Frank!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Based on these new criteria, we limited our selection to three cars: Toyota Camry, Volkswagen Passat and the Skoda Superb. Three very different formulas to get to an adequate solution to the Indian transport problem. The Toyota is simply the benchmark in quality, but the model they have here is an older model and seems outdated compared to German and Czech contenders. As well, the backseat was the smallest – a deal breaker! The Passat was the best to drive (according to my driver) with much more power than then others and a slew of features that would make even the most advanced car jealous – the damn thing even parks itself with the aid of a camera that pokes out from under the oversized VW trunk badge. Very cool! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the end, we decided to go with the cutting edge of Czech technology. To be fair, Skoda was purchased by VW over a decade ago and the Superb is simply a refitted Passat in a more passenger friendly package. Firstly, the rear leg room is massive – almost limousine like. I can cross my legs and my foot comes nowhere near the front seat. As well, the ride is much more compliant than the Passat. The Skoda floats undisturbed over the imperfections (read massive holes) of the Delhi roads. A huge plus. Finally, although the VW comes with a ton of kit for the driver, the Skoda is more backseat passenger oriented with the aforementioned leg room, a center console that shows the time and outside temperature and a nifty umbrella that fits into a custom made storage compartment in the left door panel to allow it to drain outside. You just can’t argue with that kind of innovation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In India, you do not get to choose options. You choose your model and your engine and the rest is preselected. Even colors are restricted to the model and engine size. We choose the 2.0T Diesel, so we had the choice of Red, White, Black, Mocha (metallic, deep brown) and Amethyst (light, metallic lavender). You had to go to the V6 petrol engine to get the silver paint! The interior for all colors is Ivory – beautiful, but maybe not the best choice for the dirtiest and dustiest city in the world. Based on the above choices, we went with Mocha. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once the model, engine and color have been selected, I turned the negotiating over to the experts. My assistant stepped in and began the haggling. Since the prices are fixed, in India we haggle over the other things – mats, mudguards, car cover, etc – to be thrown in for free. This went on for a few days and we, as expected, got everything we wanted and many that we did not. One was a rear foot rest. I am not sure what this is, but we got it and I am excited to use it … I think. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As of today, we have placed the deposit (and by we, I mean the company, since they are technically the owners) and now we wait for delivery. We expect to see it before we leave on vacation on Friday, but this is India, so one never knows how the story ends until it is over! </span></div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-25346698487058472932011-09-26T01:27:00.000-07:002011-09-26T01:27:53.713-07:00Holiday Season!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5QoR0CsPF2C2kBW6VKghtx2BDuVEDzTRAaHC4Q7jM0_Jid98x6Cek2i37om-RvhyphenhyphenhNB8keE-psbw0twiWtcNYj6nRjBN5P8y3M6Q0gJr_fBGTNpgFwBbuFJ0nh1qGX_KuCH9v-zwcAA/s1600/411px-Ravana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5QoR0CsPF2C2kBW6VKghtx2BDuVEDzTRAaHC4Q7jM0_Jid98x6Cek2i37om-RvhyphenhyphenhNB8keE-psbw0twiWtcNYj6nRjBN5P8y3M6Q0gJr_fBGTNpgFwBbuFJ0nh1qGX_KuCH9v-zwcAA/s200/411px-Ravana.jpg" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evil Ravana</td></tr>
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In the American Northeast, the first snow is a major seasonal milestone. It signals the beginning of winter and, for most, the onset of the holiday season. After the first snow, you are comfortable in the thought that Thanksgiving is right around the corner - soon to be followed by Christmas and New Years. Especially as a kid, this was a great time. <br />
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In India, the change of the seasons also ushers in the holiday season. The change and the holidays are different, but the effect is similar. Today was one of those days. As I left my apartment and began the journey down to the car, I noticed that it was actually pleasant. I was not sweating; I was not gasping for breath from the oppressive humidity; I was actually comfortable! This was the Delhi equivalent of the first snow.<br />
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As I paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation of being outside and not sweating, I reflected on the upcoming holidays. In two weeks, on October 6th, Dussehra will kick off the holiday season. Dussehra is technically a 10 day event that celebrates the triumph of a few gods over evil culminating with "victory day" called Dussehra or Vijayadashmi. This is a significant holiday on the Hindu calendar, but I cannot recall any festivities from last year. <br />
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We then have Diwali, the grand-daddy of Indian Holidays on Oct 26th with a few gratuitous days around it, like Balipadyami and Bhai Duj to pad out the week. November starts with Rajyaotsava Day on the 1st, Idu'l Zuha on the 7th and the much anticipated Guru Nanak's Birthday to which we were roused from our beds last year with a parade at 7:00am. Finally, we wind down with Muharram on December 6th. <br />
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They may not, at first, seem to have the allure of Thanksgiving and Christmas (who amongst us would not prefer a burning Yule log to a burning effigy of the evil King Ravana), but as I grow older, I tend to measure holidays in relaxation time versus impact and these Indian Holidays, I can tell, will be a welcome respite to the daily grind! <br />
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2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-21022567245285095472011-09-23T01:34:00.000-07:002011-09-23T01:34:52.367-07:00Settling Back In<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is distinct rhythm to an expat life in India, but it is a fragile one. Friends come and go and routines changes as personalities and experiences are introduced or removed. This is usually a gradual change, but when you leave for an extended period and plunge back into your life, the change can seem abrupt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the biggest changes that have taken place over the time we were gone is that many of our close friends are rotating out. A few were expected, but a few were surprises. As the global economy continues to flounder, many companies have decided to reduce their overseas presence and bring their expats home. For some, this is a welcome relief, but for most, it is an unwelcome lifestyle change as their ex-pat gravy train finally pulls into the station and the reality of being "average" sets in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are tearful good-byes and many Bon Voyage parties as the Diaspora fan out across the globe, but in the end, we, those who remain behind, must get back to it. Surviving - muddling through the traffic, the heat and locals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They say the 2nd year is the toughest and it looks like we are right on schedule! </span></div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-42553521628471538102011-09-22T04:01:00.000-07:002011-09-22T04:01:55.470-07:00The Humidity … Oh the Humidity!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I stepped off the plane at roughly 7:30pm into a torrid stew of heat and humidity that instantly sapped any remaining energy I had from the 22 hours of travel I had just completed. It was the immediate and punishing reminder that I was now back in India. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I waited for my bags, my body acclimated to the new reality. There was the familiar and gut retching smell of mustard seed oil combined with body odor that has come to define India for me. There was the oppressive heat that makes you sweat in places you thought you had no pores. Finally, there is the humidity which locks all the aforementioned into a nauseating, overheated, odiferous package with no escape. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Welcome Home!</span><br />
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2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813961170344550394.post-50663455724021276712011-09-21T00:53:00.000-07:002011-09-21T00:53:52.034-07:00National Sales Meeting, again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Wednesday, we had our National Sales Meeting. As you may recall from my posts last year, this is a big, big deal. Employees from all over the country come to Minneapolis for a huge gathering during which we hear about future strategies and corporate things that would only interest us as an organization. The big attraction, though, is that during the stream of information, many famous people and musical acts which have relationships with the company make an appearance. This is the highlight of the year and this year did not disappoint.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Firstly, the setting is a bit overwhelming. 13,000+ Red & Khaki clad people are crammed into the Target Center in downtown Minneapolis riled up by loud DJ’d music, powered by caffeine and driven by pure pride in a great company. It is quite the scene. It is not the contrived atmosphere you see at some other company's events, but a cool and hip kind of gathering that only this company could pull off as a sales meeting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year’s meeting was kicked off by Ross Mathews, better known as Ross the Intern from the Jay Leno Show, conducting interviews with passing employees as they funneled into the Target Center. These interviews were then piped live into the seating arena on a massive Jumbo-Tron, as the hoards of people searched the venue for their seats. Once seated, we were treated to Ross hosting a game which involved a great deal of cheering ultimately whipping the crowd into a frenzy for the introduction of the CEO. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a few speeches, the first of many surprise acts were introduced. Not being a country fan, the name did not ring a bell, but apparently Alison Krauss & Union Station have quiet a following. Who knew? I found the music to be a little downbeat, but no one asks me when they booked the acts, so I simply enjoyed not being in India and soldiered on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a few more speeches, Willow Smith was introduced. If you do not know Willow Smith, it is because you are not 11. Apparently, she is big with the pre-teen group. I did not connect who she was, though, until after she finished and I looked in front of me to see Will Smith, doting father, walk past me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We then had a nice visit from Taylor Swift who wanted to come by and thank us for making her the number one recording artist in the US. I guess when you get a colossus like my company behind you, you tend to sell some CDs. Anyway, to thank us, she wrote a nice little song called “Red shirt, Khaki pants” and sung to the tune of “Smelly Cat” from Friends. It was quite funny!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the highlights of the meeting is always the community relations recap. This is the time when they parade all the amazing things the company does from helping children to read to making meals for disaster victims in a video/picture montage that ends with most of the crowd in tears. She also usually highlights all the celebrities in which we partner, primarily Oprah and her crew. This time, though, she did not have tell us how appreciative Oprah was as Oprah herself stopped by to greet the sea of Red & Khaki and say thanks personally. Half the crowd had a seizure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The crescendo of the meeting is always when the head of Marketing comes out and runs through the new ad campaigns for the holiday season and the upcoming year. Those of us that have been to a few of these also know that during this time, the big acts usually make their appearance and there is always much speculation on who might perform. About half way through the speech, James Taylor was introduced to a mostly stumped audience (since most of Target was born long after JT peeked). He soothed the audience with a song in that recognizable James Taylor voice and then was joined by the venerable Mr. Tony Bennett. Tony Bennett has a two duets albums, one of which features JT and they regaled us with “Put on a Happy Face” from said album. James Taylor then exited and Tony belted out a few classics of his own. For an 85 year old man, Tony Bennett can sing! It was a great few songs and I can now say I have seen Tony Bennett live. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the meeting wound down, the crowd was getting ready to leave when the head of marketing, in a contrived act of forgetfulness, sprung the biggest act of the night on us. Pregnant, but clearly not showing in her sparkly little dress was Beyoncé. Yep, Beyoncé. Even though I am not a huge Beyoncé fan, I will say, the woman can crank out a tune! She only sang one song due to her "being in a family way" (as we say in India), but with one tune, turned the crowd into a screaming mob! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All in all, the company once again delivered a great National Sales Meeting full of great information and great entertainment. I can now say that I have fulfilled the life long dream of finally experiencing Oprah live!</span></div>
2W3http://www.blogger.com/profile/13783571259245872675noreply@blogger.com0