The Escape

Now that I have a good Internet connection, I can catch up a bit on the posts. There is much to report, including more photographs that people might find interesting.

Leaving Dharamsala

One of the weirdest parts of this trip has been the craziness of my sleep schedule. I guess it really isn't that crazy if you don't include the entire day that I stayed in bed, but when I found myself awake at 3:30 am on Thursday morning, I was more than a little irritated. I just could not shut off my brain, which was equally unable to focus. I thought about everything from how to start a documentation standards working group to what I want in a home gym. After trying to will myself to sleep, I finally gave up and just started working. Here are pictures of my room at Hotel Shikhar, if you are wondering.


Eventually 6:00 came around and I decided that I would get out of bed and get dressed. I was ready to go at 6:15. I didn't allow myself to move my bags downstairs until 6:40, as the cab driver was supposed to be there at 6:45. I watched the sunrise, filling the mountains with light, but that is a slow process and my brain seemed to be in rather a large hurry. When I moved my things downstairs, I realized that one of the staff actually sleeps in the lounge, presumably to help people who might come in the middle of the night. As far as I know, there aren't very many people who fit that bill, but who knows. I set my luggage on the steps and took a seat to let the landscape sink in one last time.

The cab driver arrived at 7:00 exactly. We placed our bags in the trunk and were off. It was a beautiful morning: bright and cool, not dark and cold. The decent from Naddi is filled with hairpins. When we got to Dharamsala, a school bus blocked the road, collecting children, while anxious parents urged their children forward. It was a gentle reminder that life as I know it is here, too.

As we reached the bottom of the foothills, people's lives seemed to take on a different character. People were sitting around, drinking tea, socializing. Time seemed to offer them more respite than the people that I had been walking past for the last week. I've included here a picture of a typical roadside store.

Jammu-Kashmir

One of the weirdest things about this trip was the amazing number of dry river beds. A few started in the hills, but by the time we reached Punjab, the number and width of these dry waterways increased. I'm extremely curious about the nature of these river beds. Are they channels for mountain run-off that have wasted away over the long, dry summer? Are they former rivers whose water has been purposely diverted into some grand plan? I don't know the answer, but I must say that I am very curious.

As we crossed the border from Himachal to Punjab, the first thing I noticed was the military presence. This presence became a theme of the drive, because as we advanced toward Jammu, and especially after we crossed the border into Jammu-Kashmir, the military was everywhere in full regalia. Of course, Jammu is about 20 miles from the border with Pakistan, so it doesn't surprise me that there was a significant military presence. What was surprising was the massive roadwork project, often forcing travelers completely off the road in order to build a new road. It makes sense, of course (just look at the Interstate system in the US), but I had not expected it.

The roadside in Jammu-Kashmir was quite different, at least in two senses. First, the number of cows increased dramatically. And most of these cows were of the Brahma variety, which makes some sense but which created a rather significant disconnect for me. My father used to tell stories about how mean Brahma could be, so to seem them walking around freely was a bit jarring. And the poverty level seemed to increase by an order of magnitude. (In retrospect, it isn't any worse than a certain place I had the misfortune of finding in Delhi, but it struck me as rather severe then, after the lusciousness of the previous countryside.) I'll include a picture here, not because it adequately reflects the poverty but because it was taken in amongst the poverty, and it is quite a nice photograph.

When we finally arrived in Jammu, we passed down streets that were lined with machine gun nests. It was more than a little unnerving. Even more alarming was the number of civilians who seemed to be wielding AK-47s. I thought America had captured the market on public ownership of automatic weapons, but I was clearly wrong.

This should have prepared me for the airport, but it didn't really. You cannot drive into the Jammu airport. You must collect your baggage outside the compound (that word is truly fitting) and walk through three layers of metal detection security. After you walk for about 300 yards past the initial set of security checks, you arrive at the main entrance, and another security check. Once you finally get in, you go through another security checkpoint and you can then get in line for the check-in desk.

On the way in, I recognized Sherrin Isaacs, so we had lunch with him. The restaurant had very little that looked appetizing. What did look nice was a fresh lime soda. Little did I know that they can be sweet or salty, and I got the salty one. It was like trying to drink the brine that you might gargle with if you have a sore throat. Sherrin was nice enough to tell us that the flights from Jammu to Delhi are often hijacked and detoured to Islamabad. That made me feel really good! I'm facing hijacking in the name of community networking. Fortunately, everything went off without a hitch.

Back in Delhi

The Ashok Country Resort, where Dave had stayed the night he arrived, was completely booked. We were both tired and gross and we really didn't feel like roughing it. So, we decided to splurge. We had been staying at a very cheap hotel all week, which had several most unfortunate quirks, and we felt entitled to one night at the Radisson, which is very close to the airport.

The Radisson was luxurious. I mean, really posh. I crawled into bed, Dave had two of his clothes cleaned for the plane ride home the next day. We napped until 8, which really was only about an hour. I was very groggy afterward. We went down to grab some dinner, and we decided on Chinese. It was great food, and I really needed to have something that was not Indian. We went back upstairs and got online for a few minutes. Then I jumped in the shower and took what I felt at the time was clearly the best shower of my entire life. The problem is that when I was done with the shower all I really wanted to do was to sleep. I gathered my things and went downstairs to catch a cab to the airport.

I checked into my flight without a hitch, only to discover that the flight had been delayed by 45 minutes. Okay, no problem, except that at this point I am nearing the exhaustion point. I fell asleep sitting upright in the waiting area. The flight itself was completely packed. It is THE flight from Beijing to Eastern Africa, so it was an interesting mix of people. It wasn't particularly eventful, other than that this jackass decided to get up and roam around the cabin just as we were taxiing on the runway. He had been loud and annoying during boarding, and I decided that if he did anything like that again, I would put him out for the remainder of the flight. Surly Ross was bubbling just below the surface.

The flight to Addis Ababa was shorter than I had expected. But it also meant that the layover was overly short, so that I needed to hustle from one gate to the next. At the security check, I shoved my watch into my briefcase without paying much attention as to which pocket I shoved it in. When I tried to find it, I couldn't. I thought perhaps that I hadn't successfully closed that pocket and perhaps it had fallen out in the xray machine. The lady at the security check put the bag back through the xray and pointed out where the watch was, which was a great relief.

Arrival in Joburg

The problems started at the immigration counter. I handed the woman my passport and she asked how long I had been in Addis Ababa. I explained that it was a stopover on the way from India and she asked for my yellowfever card. My what? I had done the check to make sure that no shots were necessary for the US, but I had not bothered to make sure that South Africa didn't require shots. So, I walked across the airport to a little clinic where I paid $75 for a yellowfever vaccine. But no worries, because when I got back there was no line and as I got to the baggage carousel my bags came rolling out.

I made my way to the rental car counter, knowing full well that I have made a reservation and that I should be at Birgit and Pete's in about an hour. Well... that was the plan as of 15:00. Car companies here require double the cost of the rental to be reserved. I didn't have nearly that amount available on any credit card. But I had the cash in my account. So, what I am supposed to do?

According to the credit card companies, I should make an immediate deposit to fix the problem. I spoke with one guy who said that if I could promise to pay $300 that day then they would accept the charge from the rental car company immediately. This was great, because I could have done that immediately upon arrival in Pretoria. But, as I found out later, that was complete rot, and if I ever get my hands on that guy, he's going to be very sorry for doing that to someone in such a vulnerable position.

To actually rectify the problem, I needed to either get online or provide the routing number for my bank. The only place I'm going to be able to get online is in Pretoria, at Birgit and Pete's, which rules out option 1. Option 2 is always possible, because I always carry around my bank routing number. Basically, after two hours, I discovered that I was just SOL. On the verge of exhausted tears, I called Birgit and Pete to see if they could possibly come and pick me up. Fortunately, they were able to pick me up, and so I was able to have some dinner, call Helen to make a plan for how to deal with things, take a shower, and sleep very, very soundly.

[Announcer Voice]To find out what happens to our anti-hero, tune in next time.