Greetings from
I’ll start this entry on a high note because it’d be pretty easy to send it in another direction given the way the work week has played out, but who would want to read anything like that?
Today I finally got up before 5 PM…quite an accomplishment because I hadn’t physically been able to in almost four days. (During those four days I never saw the sun…kind of weird.)
Anyways, sometime during inning three of the Red Sox game last night I instructed the front desk to call me every half hour between 2 pm – 4:30 pm.
I have watched the last three Sox games at the breakfast buffet each morning when we get home from work. (They refuse to bring me beer by the way. I’ve tried to explain how it’s 8:30 pm for me, but that hasn’t worked.) Initially I thought their little losing streak was my fault, but they won last night, so I’m in the clear.
So, the third call this morning worked. I threw in my contacts, grabbed my hat, a magazine and some shorts and headed to the top floor. Bear in mind that the pool was supposed to be open yesterday, but they are still currently working on it. It’s part of the “deadline” thing in
Today it was 95 degrees and sunny, so sitting on a lounge chair reading was pretty much exactly what I wanted to do. Add to that the Cuban cigar I smoked the entire time, and you definitely have a recipe for success. I’m glad I did it. (No sun block by the way. There are people reading this, who are now very angry with me…wait until I get to the “no seatbelt part” you’ll love it.) I read for about an hour. For the first time this trip I tried to have my picture taken. In my head it was going to be the greatest picture ever taken in India, but unfortunately I’m still getting used to the whole “smiling thing” (just kidding) and I didn’t exactly have Ansel Adams shooting it. I’ve attached it anyway.
After the rooftop session I ducked into the gym for a brief but intense workout, and then the shower. I’m now here typing and trying to figure out how to get pictures off of this camera. I think I need an attachment that’s back in the room…
So how’s the week go you ask? We’ll let’s put it this way, the awesomeness of the trip was incredibly reduced by this little thing called work. To start the week on Monday, Syndel yet again didn’t have anyone to pick us up. So we waited for over an hour while Belynda worked with (and by worked with I mean tore a new one) Atul (pretty sure I spelling his name wrong, but I could care less because he’s very high on my shit list) to get us a driver.
So something I haven’t really mentioned yet, is the driving in Inida, and especially to work.
Drivers come to the hotel (sometimes two hours early…I have no idea why. We explain to them every night that we don’t need to be picked up that early the next day, but each day I get a call at 5:30 pm, “ Mr. Nataalaa….dead silence for three seconds…ummmm your car is here sir.” I think they arrive so early, so they can just sleep in their cars, but it does make me feel guilty knowing they’re out there.
Brian and I sit in the back of a Chevrolet mini van/suv that I have never heard of. It also boasts one of the worst diesel engines I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. The ticking is amazing.
For anyone who’s ever seen “The Godfather Part II” the drive to work is analogous to Michael’s ride from the embassy during the Cuban revolution. The only difference is in
It’s that bad. There are no lines in the street and the ratio of motorcycles to cars is like 5:1. Motorcycles go wherever they want. So in a street that’s 5 meters wide, there are two cars traveling and four bikes in between them. Stoplights are worse. (If you actually stop, most of the time we don’t. Which was pretty awesome yesterday, when we came about four inches from rear ending a vehicle that read “Highly Explosive” on the back end.) Vehicles are all over the place, and with no lines the only way someone knows if a vehicle is behind them is through honking.
Yes, Honking. That’s all they do. I think our driver beeps the horn at least 25-30 times a minute in traffic. (The highway it’s probably only ten.)
I’m really not too bothered by it, because usually we aren’t going that fast. We got a new driver a few nights ago though, and when he’s driving I actually put on my seatbelt. His route involves a new highway with a speed limit of 40. When I glanced at the speedometer the other night, only to read 120, I figured it was about time to grow the hell up and buckle up. Normally our trip to work takes about an hour. When he drives home, we make it back in about 33 minutes. You do the math.
One of my favorite features in the hotel is the café in the lobby. We usually sit down there fifteen minutes before work. I usually order (and now they just have it ready…) a double espresso with a side of regular coffee black. The café attendant is kind enough to give me about two-three refills before we leave, so I’m usually very productive when I get to the office.
It’s funny sitting in a hotel lobby though, especially here. There are a bunch of locals. I guess hanging out in a hotel is the “cool” thing to do, or there’s not much else out there. There is a ton of businessmen as well. I’m really pissed about my shoe situation because they all dress better than I do right now.
…Except for the British.
If Kid Rock could smell a pig from a mile away, well I can tell a Brit in about half a second, usually by their shoes. They wear the worst shoes. Shirt, tie, dress slacks, and like… moccasins…I don’t know… it’s insane. For a culture with such history, pomp, and circumstance they’re really pathetic looking.
It should be noted that there’s nothing more pathetic than an American males’ shoes. I find it unconscionable that some men can actually walk into a store, stare at every pair of shoes they have, and walk out with white New Balances. I would cut my feet off before you caught me in those. I have seen a few around here, and so far I’ve let it slide.
While I’m on it the worst offender (I just saw an add like twenty minutes ago) is CROCS. CROCS are the biggest joke on
It’s not. I could go on but I think my sister owns a pair, and I don’t want to make her cry.
Anyways it’s about time to drink more coffee in twenty minutes than any human should in a week.
I’ve attached some panoramic photos of Pune, via the top floor. Enjoy!
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