I took a taxi (and I might add it only took four hours) from Balkanabat to Ashgabat arriving in the late morning. I spent the day at the PCO, taking care of some last minute business. I took the wrong bus (on the advice of another PCV) to try to get to the bank where I can get a cash advance on my visa. By the time I rectified my mistake and took another bus then a taxi, I arrived at the bank seven minutes before they closed and they refused to wait on me. The concept of customer service is lost on people here. So I didn’t have the cash that I’d hoped I’d have flying in to India. Only $100.
I caught the bus (the right one) to the airport around 9:30 because I didn’t have enough manat to pay for a taxi. The ride to airport at that time is about 20 manat (roughly $7). The bus costs 20 tenne (roughly 7 cents). That meant I arrived at the airport around ten and had a long wait for my 2am flight. Luckily I met an American who works for an oil company and we chatted a bit while waiting to go through security. When we arrived to the waiting lounge, where I was shocked to behold they actually had beverages and snacks for sale similar to a real airport, I met another American (British-American, actually) and his colleague from India who worked for a different oil company. This gentleman bought me a pop and we talked for a good two hours about the country. He was really interested to hear what I had to say as someone who actually lived among the people and knew the culture and customs better than the people living in the ivory towers of the embassy. He was headed to Cairo via Frankfort. The Lufthansa flight left around the same time mine did.
Finally, a little after 2am, I was able to board my flight. It was not a full flight by any stretch of the imagination and I was the only one sitting in my row. I slipped into sleep once but was awakened by the dinner cart. It was typical airline food, which is to say it was better then I hoped for Turkmen Air. It’s a short flight from Ashgabat to Delhi and at 6am, we arrived.
9 July 2011
When I got through passport control, I looked for Don, Bobby’s cousin, who was supposed to meet me there, but I didn’t see him. I exchanged my $100 for rupees but the counter which advertised cash advances on credit cards didn’t offer that service yet, and when I tried my ATM card, it wouldn’t work.
As luck would have it, the Indian colleague of the British-American I met had gone to India, not Germany and I saw him sitting at a restaurant in the airport. He saw me and waved me over, offering to buy me a juice. When I told him Don wasn’t there to meet me, he let me use his phone to call him. It turned out Don was just outside the airport, so I found him soon enough, and he and his friend got me a taxi and took me to my hotel. The hotel is really far from the airport as Delhi is a sprawling city, and I felt daunted. Don waited for me to check in and make sure my room was acceptable before leaving.
I had a shower and a nap then used the lobby computer to send emails saying I’d arrived safely. I returned to my room and ordered room service for the first time in my life. The great thing about my hotel (and probably India in general) is that room service is totally affordable. My meals were between $5-8 and since I could charge them to my credit card, it was a safe route for me given the state of my cash. I had tandoori chicken, peas palow and Coke while watching The Big Bang Theory on TV. English language television was such a luxury during this trip. I watched television every day, soaking up the English language and the quality programming.
I ventured out to buy toothpaste and some water. As soon as I stepped out on the street, rickshaw drivers offered their services, calling to me and not always taking no for an answer the first or second or even third time. This would come to be my experience every time I was out. I took another nap (remember how long the previous day had been for me) and watched BBC Entertainment. Spooks (MI-5 in the States) and Midsomer Murders, two of my favorites! Best way to start a vacation.
10 July 2011
I slept in later than I should have maybe, but I am on vacation. I went downstairs and got some breakfast, which is included in the price of my hotel. I met two women, Terri and Karla, who were PCVs in Burkina Faso from’77-’80.
When I headed out for the metro, it was sprinkling and it turned into a heavy rain by the time I reached the metro.
I was fairly soaked and took the metro from Karol Bagh to Chandni Chowk. I was very uncomfortable squished in with lots of men, one of whom pressed up against me harder than he needed to. I later discovered the metro sets aside the first car of every train for women only. It made all my subsequent trips much more enjoyable. At Chandni Chowk I had to wade through large puddles and asked several people where the Sunday book market was, but no one seemed to know, so I wandered around for a while in the hectic madness that is Indian markets, eventually stumbling upon the Red Fort quite by accident.
I paid my foreigner’s admission and while wandering around a more remote area, discovered a stairway to the top of the exterior wall. I admit I suspected I wasn’t supposed to be up there, but there was no sign by the stairs telling me not to so I used that as my defense. I got some great photos, but as I descended at another spot along the wall, I was escorted off by a security guard. Luckily they didn’t kick me out so I was able to see the rest of the fort. After that, I stopped at McDonald’s for lunch. I will confess right here that I ate McDonald’s and KFC multiple times and I feel no shame because I’ve been in Tstan for nine months without either. For dinner, I ordered chicken curry from room service.
Next post: rude Australians, Qutb Minar, and happy accidents