cricketer

Firstly, my prior trip reports, should they be of interest:

1. Nov 2007 - Thanksgiving wedding in Sri Lanka: SFO-SEA-NRT-SIN-CMB-SIN-ICN-SFO on UA and SQ in F
2. Jan 2009 - My Lucky Day: SFO-HKG-SIN-PER on UA C/F
3. Feb 2011 - The unplanned non-emergency: SFO-NRT-SIN-BKK-MAA and back on UA/TG in C
4. Jun 2011 - Dinner at Tetsuya's and Quay: SFO-HKG-SIN-SYD and back on UA/SQ in C (A380)
5. Dec 2012 - The oft-forgotten small pleasures of short-haul flying
6. Nov 2012 - The long route to Perth: SFO-ORD-FRA-NRT-BKK-SIN-PER-BKK-CDG-MUC-SFO on LH 744 and A380 F, TG 744 and 77W F, SQ 772 C and TG A380 C

With that out of the way - the preamble:

This trip had a simple purpose. I had good information that Sachin Tendulkar was seriously contemplating retirement after the series against Australia, and I wanted to be there to see it. I’ve seen Ricky Ponting and Steve Waugh in their final Tests on home turf, but, for the non-cricket fans amongst you, this would be like going to see Michael Jordan in his final appearance for the Bulls (let’s pretend for a moment that there was no baseball career, return three-peat and stint with the WIzards).

The original destination was Chennai, and I was quite looking forward to this as I have family and friends there, and there’s not much that beats a meal at the Dakshin at the Park Sheraton in Chennai.

For reasons which I don’t yet comprehend, the BCCI switched the games around, and I needed to change my plans and head to Delhi instead. My last visit to Delhi was more than 25 years ago, and my genuine memories from that trip are fairly limited. So I looked at this as an opportunity to renew an old acquaintance.

And then I started looking at my ticketing options, and discovered that I could get there on the LH 747-8, Swiss A340-300 and, a little less excitingly, a UA (pmCO) 767-400. In business class, for barely 25% more than I was paying for a coach fare on UA/SQ via Singapore (with a bit of help from some expiring credits). I jumped at it, and I am glad that I did, because the next day, the fares were a good $2,000 higher and way out of my league.

The cricket, all of a sudden, was secondary. Three new aircraft, two new seats, and one new airline. This is the stuff dreams, and trip reports, are made of.

Just one thing remained before departure - reservations at the right restaurants. One each at the Bukhara, Dum Pukht (rated the best restaurant in India) and the Delhi version of Dakshin. Add foodie heaven to the itinerary and I had hit the trifecta. Yes, I’ve got photos of those meals to share too. And a couple of Delhi and the cricket for good measure.

Report Index:

1. LAX-IAH on UA A320 in domestic F
2. IAH-FRA on UA 767-400 in C (with photos)
3. FRA-DEL on LH 747-8 in C upper deck (with photos)
4. Test match at the Feroz Shah Kotla
5. A not very comprehensive photo tour of Delhi
6. Food, Glorious Food
7. DEL-FRA on LH 747-8 in C lower deck
8. FRA-ZRH on LH A321 in European C, and some lounges
9. ZRH-LAX on LX A340-300 in C

cricketer

The check-in area at LAX was pretty much empty, and the process absolutely painless. Then out of the blue, the agent who took my bag warned me that there was strike action planned in Frankfurt and asked if I wanted to consider a different routing. Apparently he had just come from a briefing. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, and after some contemplation decided to check on the situation after I made it to the lounge.

I went up to the pre-check gatekeeper, and he scanned my boarding pass, checked my ID and waved me on through. Placed my bags on the scanner and was about to walk through when a TSA agent came racing (by TSA standards, that is) around the corner saying “Wait a minute sir!”

He said they needed to check my boarding pass again because he wasn’t sure that I’d been cleared for pre-check. And that’s when I remembered that my itinerary was an international one and as such, pre-check indeed was not an option. Sure enough, after they did the pre-check re-check (!) I was told to join the folks in the regular line.

The agent who had come around the corner to pull me back was nothing if not helpful though. He patiently explained to me that when you are leaving the country, you can’t use pre-check. However, if you have Global Entry, he said, then when you’re coming back, you’ll have access to pre-check before your flight back to the US. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had applied to the TSA with the hope of an international posting. His ticket to a career in global pat-downs. I decided against continuing the conversation though, because I really didn’t want to start my trip with visions of the TSA handling security in Delhi or Zurich. Positive thoughts and all that!

I made it to the lounge, and the first order of business was to check on the LH strike. It seemed fairly clear that the only impact of the strike was on 500 or so cancelled intra-European flights. I had no intention of giving up my 747-8 debut if I could possibly help it, so with fingers crossed I decided to go ahead as planned. A quick stop to sign the Flyertalk board, and then it was off to the gate.

I boarded and took my window seat, and then along with the rest of the cabin proceeded to eavesdrop on the conversation between the couple (I think they were a couple) in front of me. The husband, was having problems with the wi-fi on his laptop and asked his wife, to help.

Expertly playing the role of Mrs Mitty to his hapless Walter, she condescendingly advised him to reset the wifi on his Macbook by turning it off and on again. He bizarrely responded, somewhat out of character as far as my hastily applied construct was concerned, by shouting her down for interfering. Go figure.

They gave each other the silent treatment for a while, as he spent the next several minutes staring off into space. A little later the conversation begin to crescendo and I’m sure the entire aircraft heard Mrs Mitty shout “Why do you have to ask that stupid f**king question? Just take care of it. God Damn It!”

I hope whatever they had planned for wherever they were headed went a little better than their flight.

My jacket was taken, I had a glass of water as my pre-departure beverage, and most importantly, the doors closed and we pushed back on time. That meant I wasn’t in danger of missing my connection to Frankfurt, and so one potential worry was out of the way.

The FA came around taking meal orders, and when she got to me, she was most apologetic, continuing a trend from my last international trip! She said she hadn’t noticed my status on the manifest earlier, and was sorry for not having asked me for my meal choice first. It didn’t really matter as both choices were still available, but I did notice that the GS seated in row 3 was only offered the shrimp salad, which he declined. Perhaps United has a new secret tier in Mileage Plus for cricketers?

If you’re wondering how I knew he was a GS, it’s because he had let the whole cabin know during boarding. As I took my seat, I heard him telling his seatmate, and anyone else within earshot (don’t people realize that sound tends to travel when you’re stuck in a metal cylinder?), how he was a former CO top tier frequent flier. He had become a GS with the merger, and was really frustrated and fed up with having to fly on the Airbii and wished he were on a 737 instead. I have to say, unless you’re really into DirectTV, I can’t think of any reason to prefer the pmCO 737 over the pmUA A320 family.

I didn’t take photos of the meal service on the flight, and it’s probably a good thing because the carb-overload beef wrap was so hideous that my camera would likely have joined the LH workers in their strike action. To contrast with that, the cream of asparagus (?) soup was absolutely fabulous. United has always done good soups on domestic flights, and this was no exception. Though I suspect it actually had more carbs than the wrap.

Another uneventful flight otherwise, and we reached IAH a good half an hour ahead of schedule. Reaching our gate however, was another matter. As tends to be the case so often these days, our gate was occupied, and we sat on the tarmac for a good 20 minutes before we were finally able to pull in and disembark. “Positioning” flight done with, and onto the fun part of the journey then!

deniah

entertaining experiences ^

cricketer

Thanks to the tarmac delay and the interminable walk between gates at IAH, I only really had a few minutes to check out the United Club, and really only did so because I’ve never actually been in a former President’s Club before. It will shock absolutely nobody to discover that the experience was thoroughly unremarkable.

Boarding was just about to begin when I reached the gate, and it didn’t take long to realize that we weren’t going to get out on time. The gate agents were validating that every passenger had authorization to stay in Frankfurt in the event that they were stranded there, and as it transpired, there were a few folk who either didn’t, or had no idea what was going on. As we boarded, the FA’s and some passengers were quite excitedly discussing the prospect of a lighter load because of all the denied boardings that were likely to happen. Felt a bit like the cheer that goes up at big corporations when the CEO announces that you can go home at 3pm on the day before Thanksgiving.

I sat in my window seat for a while, mindlessly alternating my gaze between the Welcome Aboard splash screen on my monitor and the countdown to departure at the external gate sign, which was also politely requesting the ramp and baggage workers to do a good job. Because that’s how you inspire people.


Obligatory legroom shot while waiting for our delayed departure

Then I saw the countdown reset, and then reset again. I had discovered the leading indicator for a flight delay. I was consistently 5 to 10 minutes ahead of TripIt, United and Google in being aware of our new ETD. Which begs the question - however the information gets onto that display board, can the source not be shared by other systems? Maybe a question too far for the UA IT department.

The captain soon came on the PA system to announce that our extended delay was a result of having to offload bags from 6 no-shows. I suspect that rather than being no-shows, they might have been six people without authorization to set foot on German soil. About 15 minutes later, he was back online to announce a further delay, on account of the fact that the baggage handlers were struggling to locate the bags that needed to be removed. I suppose I should be glad this wasn’t happening on a full A380. He did also make the (fairly solid) point that this delay might actually work out well for us, as it would result in our arrival at Frankfurt being just after 12 noon, at which time the strike would ostensibly be over and ground services would be functioning as normal.

After a short but smooth take-off, I started to explore the IFE to determine if there was anything worth watching. I have to say that the content selection was as good as anything I’ve seen. It seems to get broader and better every time I fly United. The aircraft as a whole had that “new plane” feeling (though not the smell) and I figured I was in for a good flight.

As I tucked into some lukewarm nuts, I started watching “Argo” (I think - to be honest I am not sure what I watched on which flight, and in some cases whether I really watched the movie or not). I hadn’t got far into the film when the FA came around with the appetizer cart. Clearly unimpressed by the switch down to one appetizer option, she offered me a choice of “salmon or salmon.” The remainder of the cabin was probably not thrilled that this turned into a deep discussion of CO and UA meal service, so I ended the conversation and tucked in.

Wow. I could not believe my taste buds. In fact, it’s a few weeks later and I still can’t believe it. That thing was worthy of a world class first-class cabin, not UA BusinessFirst. It made me want to serenade the cabin with a vocal solo cover of the Carpenters, only in this case the only explanation I could find was that somehow the catering for the LH flight earlier that afternoon had got mixed with ours. This thing was so good that I asked for seconds. Think about that - I asked for an extra serving of the appetizer on a UA flight in business class. I always told my parents that I’d go down in history for something - and this may well be it.


No photo could do that lump of salmon justice

Half an hour later, I was immensely grateful to myself for having doubled down on the salmon. The salad was of the usual freeze-dried astronaut food variety, and the only moisture content in or around the pork chop was in the broccolini, which I devoured. A gastronomic disaster, so poor that I can’t seem to locate the photographic evidence.

It turned out that this meal was the good part of the flight. After finishing my movie, which I’m still calling Argo, it was time to lie down and sleep. I had slept pretty well on the pmCO 777 in 8L the previous year, so I expected to be pretty comfortable here.

No such luck. The powers that be were determined to get me back for daring to have a second appetizer. At 6’2” there was simply no way I could fit in the “bed”, and to make matters worse, the angle of the seat with respect to the footwell seemed a little off too. That latter issue was likely a figment of my overtired imagination, but the bottom line was that I had to manoeuvre myself into a semi-fetal position on my side to have any chance of sleeping comfortably. Except that the pmCO seats are not as well padded as the pmUA ones, and therefore less well suited for side sleeping.

I spent the next four hours contorting both my body and my seat into combinations of positions that I’m sure neither was ever intended to be in, but nothing worked. I couldn’t understand it. I hadn’t grown taller since my 777 flight, which meant the seat had to be shorter. I’ve since learned that that is indeed the case - guess I didn’t do my homework as well as I thought. Something one or two teachers have said in the past too.

To give credit where it’s due, despite what I had read in several places, the noise from the galley had no impact on my state of slumber...

I eventually got up, rather than woke up, and nibbled at a bog-standard airline breakfast, that could well have been manufactured by Fisher Price for all I knew. The two orange slices were probably the only things that would have passed FDA inspection.




The Fisher Price breakfast

The captain announced that everything was set for our arrival into FRA, and that we would be parking at gate A15. It seemed as if the ground strike was over, and there was nothing left to worry about, and really at this point I was grateful to be done with the flight. Don’t get me wrong - it was all good relative to sitting in a middle seat in Y, but that’s like having a poor meal at the French Laundry and attempting to assuage your disappointment by insisting that it was better than McDonald’s.

cricketer

I’ve transited through Frankfurt maybe half a dozen times before this. The routine has always been pretty much the same. Mindlessly pass through immigration, and then wander over to the First Class Terminal. Or in years gone by, be driven over to the FCT. Now those were the days. I’ve never really been able to identify with all the complaints I’ve heard about the trials and tribulations of a transit stop in FRA. For me, the place is associated with luxuries that I have enjoyed pretty much nowhere else.

Consequently, it was only when I found myself face to face with a set of immigration counters that I realised I wouldn’t be living the high life this time around. I exited left, and I’m pretty sure did a couple of laps of the airport, in solitude, before I found myself at the air train. The train clearly took me back from whence I had come, and eventually I was heading back through the slowest premium security line that I have ever had the good fortune to encounter. I hadn’t quite set foot on German soil, but I’m also quite certain that as a direct result of following the posted signs, I discovered the longest possible route between gate A15 and the Senator Lounge near B46.

The lounge itself was better than I had anticipated. I wasn’t particularly hungry, so didn’t really pay attention to the food, using the time instead to catch up on my email and ensure that I was finally all set with tickets for the cricket that I was ostensibly travelling half way around the world to see.

I went to the gate on time, and was greeted not just by a huge crowd, but also by the most gorgeous creature one could hope to see - the 747-8. What an utter beauty. The designers at Airbus must surely struggle to sleep at night when they compare their WhaleJet with this.


Love at first sight


Gorgeous from all angles

Boarding was the typical chaotic experience, conclusively dismembering every stereotype that exists about German efficiency. Passengers had attempted to line up as instructed by the screens, but a young gate agent issued a barely audible instruction for the economy passengers to line up at the turnstile labeled for First and Business, and the premium passengers to line up over to the left by the counter. I doubt more than 20 or 30 people heard what she said, but that was just enough to cause complete confusion and destroy the entire boarding process.


Everyone waiting in line before the agent intervened...

I had deliberately booked myself into the upper deck on the way to Delhi, and a central aisle downstairs on the way back, to experience the different seat options. I made a point of entering through 1L so that I could walk through the downstairs cabin, and it was immediately evident that the center pair of seats had significantly more personal space and legroom (or footroom, to be precise).

Climbing up the stairs to the top deck, I couldn’t help but feel excited. For the valid reason that I was headed up to the top of a 747-8, and because usually when you hit the upper deck of a Lufthansa 747, you’re entering a very special place indeed.


Stairway to heaven


The new upper deck looks great

Fortunately, occupancy was a little under 50%. In fact, I was the only person with a seatmate, apart from a couple sitting a little further back. Once boarding was complete, I switched to a bulkhead window, seat 84K. I know Ben said in his blog that he didn’t like the bulkhead and the position of the monitors, but as you’ll see, I had no complaints whatsoever. The footwell was more than adequate, and if anything, I found the monitor to be better placed given the angle of the seat.


My original seat - 83A


Legroom shot from 84K - note how this compares to the equivalent on the UA 764


The view from 84K

Either which way, what a phenomenal step up from my 767-400 experience coming into Frankfurt. Though it turns out that it does rain inside LH aircraft - it’s not just the UA 747’s ex-SIN and ex-HKG. Odd really, because while you can explain it in the tropics, it’s not exactly hot and humid in Frankfurt in March.


A light sprinkle wasn't in the forecast

Take off was great, though it would probably have been even better had the camera views on the IFE worked. Soon after, it was time for the meal service to begin.

I was genuinely bewildered when the nuts that accompanied my glass of water showed up in a bag, albeit one stamped with the Lufthansa brand. Considering that United is able to provide an admittedly variable set of nuts in a ceramic bowl at an also admittedly variable temperature, you’d have thought that LH would do at least that in business class. This was the point at which I realized that for the first time in my life I was flying on Lufthansa in something other than First Class. Rough life, I know.



The meal itself was solid if unspectacular. I was a bit skeptical about the appetizer box, until I discovered that this was actually a fairly ingenious way to provide a business class version of the 3-tiered first class appetizer selection. The contents weren’t quite in that class, but they hit the spot just right nevertheless. For my main course, I opted for the Chicken Kadai by default, as the option was prawns, which I am not a big fan of. It was passable, but that’s all, and the panna cotta that I had for dessert wasn’t a whole lot better. At the end of the meal, the only thing that was memorable was the Flight Attendant’s heartfelt reluctance to accept that I didn’t want any alcohol along with my dinner.









If you recall from the earlier segment, I hadn’t slept much thus far, and as soon as my tray was cleared, it was time to stretch out and sleep. And I did exactly that, for a full 4 hours, without any hint of disruption. Lufthansa have absolutely nailed this in my opinion. A truly outstanding business class seat and bed in all respects. I was able to sleep beautifully on both back and sides, and the only reason I actually woke up was because of the sounds of all the other passengers having their plates cleared from the second meal.

It’s no understatement to say that I was absolutely blown away. I hadn’t expected the bed to be anywhere near this good, given the reports and opinions I’d read prior to traveling. Granted, I had nobody next to me, so I was able to cheat and use the adjacent footwell to spread out in too, but I don’t think that was a major factor. I woke up feeling certain that if I was flying in C in the future, it would be on LH if the new product was available. I figured that on my return journey I’d get to see how it worked with a seatmate, but I didn’t really have any doubts.

I was feeling a bit peckish, so I asked for some food and I was served the vegetarian option. I didn’t eat an awful lot of it, but I had been intrigued by the dessert which was listed on the menu as “Brown Angoor, Rabdi Sauce.” My limited hindi suggests that “angoor” means “grape”, but the translation spoke of “fried curd dumplings”. I had no idea what culinary delight was actually in store, but if you look at the top left of the picture below, you’ll see something that resembles a bunch of mini gulab jamuns. As far as I could tell that resemblance was a reflection of fact. Before anyone launches into me, I have since discovered that “Angoor Rabdi” is a genuine dessert, with rasgulla or rasmalai in a rabdi sauce. So all said and done, I can now understand what LH were aiming for.



Arrival in to DEL was flawless. The walk to immigration reminded me of DXB, but with a dedicated line for First and Business class passengers I was through very quickly. My bag was waiting for me on the belt, and the driver from the ITC Maurya was waiting for me right outside. WIth his Mercedes. Who needs the FCT in Frankfurt?!


What better place to wait than in the No Waiting zone?

We reached the hotel by 2:30am, and when I went to check-in, I was escorted over to the Towers check-in area. My Starwood Suite Night Upgrades had failed, but my Platinum status had come through as it usually does in Asia. I had a nice suite, complete with massage chair and chessboard, amongst other amenities (which somewhat anachronistically included a fax machine). And my neighbours were the Australian cricket team and staff, just to make things a little more interesting.

vpat48

This is the TR i have been waiting to read since the Delhi test ended. Can't wait to read about the contempt the BCCI displays towards their paying customers at a cricket stadium (unless you had some sort of VIP ticket then ignore that previous comment ).

dat4life

I agree with you wholeheartedly in regards to the 747 v. A380 looks debate. The 380 looks like a beached whale. The 747 is one graceful beast

Looking forward to the rest of your report.

cricketer

As I’ve mentioned previously, the primary reason for this trip was to watch some good Test match cricket in Delhi, and hopefully Sachin Tendulkar’s last game for India. Or at least that’s what I’m telling everyone.

I’ve seen a lot of special moments on cricket fields around the world, but I’ve only twice watched a game on Indian soil.

The first time was the 1984 Irani Trophy, in Delhi, in which I saw a young Mohammad Azharuddin score a match-winning unbeaten half-century for the Rest of India. A few months later he went on to make a phenomenal entrance on the international stage. Oh, and there were the likes of Vengsarkar, Kapil Dev, Gavaskar, Shastri, Sandhu, Sandeep Patil and countless other big names. Of course, since I could count my age on my fingers at the time, I don’t remember anything other than the heat, flies and watching the players walk onto the field.

The second time was New Zealand vs Kenya at the recent World Cup in Chennai. Enough said.

Anyway, the first challenge was getting tickets for the game. My expected source of tickets was not in the squad for the game, and that messed with my plans. The only other time I’ve had to struggle like this for tickets was for the India-Pakistan game at the 2003 World Cup in South Africa. Couldn’t get a thing, and then on the morning of the game I had 6 tickets for 2 of us and couldn’t give them away!

This time around, there was nothing available online until a few days before the game. At that point a few tickets in bad seats opened up, but I still had all my contacts working overtime, so I didn’t buy anything. A day later, the good seats in the South Stand above the sightscreen opened up online, but before I could buy them, they switched to being sold out. As a result, I boarded my flights with no tickets lined up for the game.

It turns out that everything went into sold out status because good old Arun Jaitley hadn’t finished handing them out to friends and family. There’s an awful lot of politicians in New Delhi, and they all need to be taken care of. It didn’t help to hear stories of people in previous years buying tickets on a will-call basis, and then showing up at the ground to find that the ticketing booth was not staffed because of some holiday or the other, thus leaving them unable to watch the game.

In the end, it all worked out - in fact it more than worked out. I had good seats every day, including access to a box if desired, and even some spares to share with friends, our drivers and a couple of desperate strangers. It was a huge relief when I found out in Frankfurt that everything had been taken care of - after all, I was going to land in Delhi just 7 hours before the first ball was bowled.

After breakfasting alongside the umpires at the hotel, the first challenge was getting to the ground. Every route our driver attempted to take was blocked, and the Delhi Metro construction around the ground didn’t help either, but we eventually found our way to something approximating the entrance.

It was there that we ran into the famous Tendulkar fan who you see on TV at all India games, along with his up and coming Dhoni worshipping counterpart. Once I learned that the Tendulkar bloke (the one pictured below) is taken to all games within India at the BCCI’s expense, it was pretty clear what the Dhoni fan was aiming for! Credit to the BCCI here, incidentally - not only do they fund this guy, but they also fund Dharamveer, the disabled ball boy (and captain of India’s disabled team) to travel around with the players. Talking to Dharamveer you find that he’s simply a great kid who still can’t believe his good fortune - something that is really uplifting when you consider that most of us would take one look and think he had had anything but good luck given his disability. The human spirit really is something.


The Tendulkar fan in full body paint


imitation is the best form of flattery

Anyway, back on track, and the first mission was to get through security. It was clearly printed on the tickets that mobile phones were not allowed in the stadium, and so I had left mine behind. As I went through the first round of security along with the pat-down, the officer asked me if I had any coins in my pocket. Apparently they were cracking down on coins and pens, for fear that they may be thrown at the players. Phones however, despite the statement on the ticket, were permitted. As were the half a dozen apples we had brought with us. Because it’s clearly a lot easier to hit a player with a ball-point pen from 75 yards than it is with an apple.

We were seated in the shade, in the South Stand (the old clubhouse), with a perfect view of the pitch, and an even better view of the hideous monstrosity that is the new North Stand. I’d be surprised if the architect who came up with this ever gets a contract for another stadium again.


Explain to me what the architect was thinking?

We were right underneath the commentators, and right in front of the air-conditioned BCCI box, which was largely empty throughout the game, apart from a couple of player’s wives and Michael Kasprowicz. I quickly realized that the seats we were on were very narrow. Now that may work in stadia in China and elsewhere, but, with no offence intended towards the denizens of New Delhi, those amongst them who can afford the Rs.4000 tickets for our stand (That’s USD 80 for 5 days) are not exactly slight in stature. In fact, I saw some of the biggest young children I have ever seen. The obesity epidemic is alive and kicking in India. Scary stuff.

At lunchtime I was feeling thirsty and went in search of some cold water. It seemed like a fairly reasonable thing to want when you’re sitting in 100 degree heat, albeit in the shade. Or so I would have thought. The concession stand had none - only soft drinks were available there. Nobody could point me to a source of water, and it too a lot of exploration before I found a table at the back of the stand near the turnstiles on which I could see a bottle of mineral water. I won’t repeat what went through my head when the “vendor” asked for Rs. 10 (a quarter or thereabouts) for a small cup of water. Which was warm.

You walk around a ground like the WACA in Perth, and there is cold water and free sunscreen available at every corner (yes, I know it’s an oval...). Find yourself at the DDCA owned ground in Delhi, however, and apparently nobody believes that spectators might want to stay hydrated and cool. Absolutely pathetic. I’d love to see the 49ers try to charge people a quarter for a cup of warm water at their new stadium in Santa Clara.

And then just after lunch, the rather large gentleman seated beside us gets handed three bottles of clearly chilled mineral water, condensation dripping off the sides like it was a Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo shoot. We jumped up to ask where it had come from. “Not for you,” was the immediate response. Turns out the rotund individual was a big shot in the police force - clearly at a desk job and not working a beat, that much was obvious. For him, cold water could be found on demand. The rest of us would have to stick with warm cupfuls.

During the lunch break, I had noticed the scoreboard displaying SMS messages from people in the stadium. A little odd when you consider that every ticket says “No phones allowed” on it. It was the content of the SMSes that was most interesting though. Almost all were some variation of “My life is complete! Sachin looked straight at me”

If you’re not a cricket fan, you may not be aware of the sort of adulation Sachin Tendulkar faces in India. It’s so bad that he can only leave his house if he wears an elaborate disguise. Having been through this Test match and stayed at the same hotel as the players, I can safely say that there is no sportsman or celebrity on earth who has to face what Tendulkar does. Perhaps the most incredible thing I saw was the way the crowd literally moved with him. If he chased after a ball, 5,000 people would get up from their seats and run wherever they had to to be closer to him. If his fielding position moved, entire stands would arise and move with him. If you can imagine the crowd at a Manchester United game all migrating to one end of the ground because Ryan Giggs is back in his own area defending a corner; and then, en masse, getting up and running to the other end along with him as he embarks on a counter-attack - well that’s what Sachin Tendulkar has to deal with. Only it doesn’t stop inside the stadium. Unbelievable.

In general, it was apparent to me that the crowd was more interested in seeing and being seen than it was in the cricket itself. This may have been exacerbated by being in the expensive seats which is also where all the VIP’s, VVIP’s and VVVIP’s (this is India after all) are seated. There was a pair of camerman (each accompanied by a tripod-wielding assistant) in our stand, and while few people could have told you the score in the game, most could have told you exactly where the cameras were pointing.

The lack of understanding of the game was perhaps best exemplified by the pair of friends seated right in front of me on the third day. They had already attracted my (politely expressed) ire several times for standing up and moving about in the middle of play. Try doing that in Australia or England and see what happens to you! One of them asked the other what India had scored in their first innings. Had either looked up at the giant scoreboard, that number was displayed in the equivalent of 30-point font. Instead, the guy pulled out his Samsung Galaxy Note and went straight to Google. I swear I don’t usually do this, but I couldn’t help looking at what he was typing in. He started with “what is the score?”, and then progressed through “What did India score?”, “India first innings score” and “India first innings score Delhi Test match Australia 2013”. I’m not sure “fans” of this nature should be permitted to enter sporting venues.

Speaking of fans, the other great irritation was Gautam Bhimani. He’s a roving reporter for ESPN/Star Sports, and goes into the crowd to interview fans during the game. As far as anyone can tell, he doesn’t actually understand the game of cricket. This was made abundantly clear when he came and stood right in front of my father, blocking his view, in order to talk to the lady seated next to him. My father asked him if he could move, which I thought was a pretty fair ask. Bhimani looked absolutely stunned, which bemused me until the pair of clowns in front of me turned round and said to my father, by way of explanation, “But this is Gautam Bhimani, from the TV”.


Gautam Bhimani and his cameraman stayed in our section the whole three days. Irritating, to say the least!

All that said and done, the roar that this crowd generated when Sachin Tendulkar came out to bat for possibly the last time in International cricket was the most spine-tingling feeling I’ve had as a sports fan. An incessant crescendo of “Sachin....Sachin” with 20,000 people on their feet was matched only by the pin-drop silence when their hero was dismissed cheaply and had to trudge back to the pavilion. I’ve sat with 75,000 people baying for South African blood at the MCG, but this was something else altogether. TV doesn’t do it justice.

One final comment on the Kotla experience - the food in the stand. I only ate on one of the three days, because I was saving up for the quality dinners we had planned the other nights. Good decision. The day I had lunch, I opted for a Rs.50 chicken curry with rumali roti. It was tolerable, in the same way that the (Rs. 600) chicken curry with rice at the WACA is tolerable. Quite pathetic if you think about it! Though how can you complain about a one dollar meal?


Have to set up the Tandoor somewhere, so why not on the single stairwell leading up to the corporate boxes.

A note for the few cricket fans reading this -- it was perhaps telling that Tendulkar’s brother, Ajit, was at the game. Telling, because Ajit Tendulkar never watches Sachin’s games live, not even on TV. He is known to wait until play is complete, and then watch the recording without knowing any of the details. To break a superstition like that after 24 years has to suggest that there’s a good chance that my inside information was on the mark.

vpat48

For those of you the don't follow cricket, if you put together the adulation and expectations for Peyton Manning, Messi, Derek Jeter, Micheal Schumacher etc all put together you wouldn't even reach half the level of expectations for Sachin.

Thank You for the insider's view at watching sports in India. It's a shame that in the 21st century, one of the richest sporting authorities in the world can treat it's fans that badly and still get away with it. And then they wonder why places like Mohali can achieve pin drop silence in the middle of the game.

If that Delhi test was truly the last time we see Sachin play for India, i would have to shed some tears the day he announces it. I hope he goes to South Africa and retires after that series. Even with his lack of big scores he is still needed there, other wise Steyn & co will slaughter this team. More importantly the world of cricket needs to say a proper goodbye to it's greatest ambassador (the guard of honor, one final cheer, the whole works).

cricketer

I think I mentioned earlier how long it had been since I was last in Delhi. I can’t really tell you how much the city has changed or not, though the few areas that I did recognize were much as I remembered them.

New Delhi is an intriguing city largely because it is the political centre of the country. It’s not really the version of India that foreign tourists tend to be aware of and drawn to, and yet it’s still unmistakably India. The two photos below, the first taken from the rooftop cafe at the ITC Maurya, and the second a hastily snapped shot of a major thoroughfare, show abundant greenery, cars driving in their lanes rather than between them, and a complete lack of the vibrancy, energy and accompanying teeming masses of humanity that tend to be the first impression that one has of India.


The view from breakfast with the Indian team on the rooftop (away from the prying eyes surrounding the poor Aussies downstairs)


Disciplined driving on embassy row. This was, of course, after the driver had been politely reminded that he wasn't an airline pilot and didn't need to align the nose with the road markings...

Throw in the non-polluting CNG auto-rickshaws, all the cycle-rickshaws parked in stalls rather than on the streets, and the complete absence of livestock on the streets, and you’d almost wonder if you were in the real India. The new Delhi metro is pretty much world class and the even the stations seem to have been built to an exacting standard with a fit-and-finish that even the excellent new airport doesn’t quite have. A remarkable contrast from Chennai, for example. And yet hidden behind that relatively polished veneer is an incredible rich and storied history and culture. And also more luxury German sedans than I ever imagined possible outside of Hong Kong.


Turkman Gate - one of the old gates to Shahjahanabad, with the autos and cycle rickshaws nicely lined up waiting for a fare

With some free time available on Monday, thanks to the Australian capitulation, the plan was to avoid the heat and take in the National Museum, followed by perhaps the Qutub Minar and maybe other monuments and historical sites. A gold star to anyone who read that sentence and spotted the problem with my plan. Not many things apply consistently the world over, but if there’s one rule that comes close, it’s that museums and historical sites take a day off on Monday. Oops.

So that left me with a quick visit to see the India Gate, followed by plenty of time for shopping. You’d be forgiven for thinking that Mrs Cricketer and the kids had put in a phone call to the museum asking them to turn me away at the gate.

So to India gate it was. I’ll let the photos do the bulk of the talking here, but I will describe one amusing highlight - which was the parking lot scam. You can see the ticket below, which the attendant ostensibly tears out from a book and gives you as you enter. You then pay on your way out. The majority of tourists, local or otherwise, take a look at this and hand over Rs. 30 on the way out. In fact many gladly hand over Rs. 50 (1 US dollar), so that they can feel good about helping the poor attendant. What they don’t know, is that these tickets have been very carefully torn. To the left of the tear, our driver told us, is the piece of the ticket that indicates that the official charge for a stay of under 4 hours is just Rs.10. The attendants are quite ingeniously, and extremely brazenly, appropriating Rs.20 for themselves with every transaction. Never judge a book by its cover.


Carefully torn ticket, hiding the Rs.10 cost of parking


Crowds milling around India Gate - nowhere else to go on a Monday!


George V used to live under this canopy, but he has moved on...


A less photographed view of India's Arc de Triomphe inspired National Monument - from the side


Fresh coconut if you're hungry!


At first I wasn't sure what to make of this dog taking a nap in the midst of the crowd


Then I saw three more... like something out of an M Night Shyamalan movie!


Seems reasonable to sell hats on a hot sunny day. Even Panamas with "Ronaldinho" on them. Might have even bought one to help the guy out had he not admitted that they were made in and imported from China. Yes, even the street-seller is importing hats that sell for 50 cents apiece


For those who don't read hindi - does this look to you like an ad for an ISO certified escort service or what?


one part of Rashtrapati Bhavan - the President's residence dwarfs the White House, that's for sure

After all this, it was off to the shops. It’s incredibly hard to resist the colours and patterns that come out of Rajasthan, and even more so when you’ve got a salesman as proficient as the bloke below. I didn’t buy that particular item, but I did spend a lot more than I ever intended to, and I also walked away convinced that I had finally met the guy who could sell ice to an eskimo. He was that good, and he could keep up his patter in both Hindi and English. I’d hire him to sell anything in a heartbeat, but he said he was doing great right there in that shop and didn’t want to move to the US!


I defy anyone to resist this man. You will buy something (and to be fair, you will love it

Next it was off to the reknowned Khan Market. The first thing I noticed was a small store on the corner called Masaba. Not something one would ordinarily pay extra attention to, but as a cricket fan, I had to check it out. Masaba is the daughter of Viv Richards, who probably ranks in at least the top ten cricketers of all time, and even higher for those who grew up with the game in the 70’s and 80’s. It was nothing special inside, to be honest, but offered a welcome respite from the heat.



I spent most of my time in the bookstores, as is my wont, but as I walked around, it was incredible to think that this crowded marketplace is one of the most expensive retail streets on the planet. I believe it’s in the top 20 if not better. Personally I found it incredibly frustrating. Take this alleyway pictured below, for example. It is home to a couple of cafe’s, a couple of bookshops and various other retail outlets ranging from fashion to homewares. Now imagine what this cobblestone street would look like in Europe. I’m not saying that Delhi has to mimic that atmosphere, but how much would it hurt to just tidy it up, keep it clean, and create something that is truly inviting. A place where people come because they love to be there, rather than just because they want to buy something. If every landlord and business owner employed a modicum of civic sense, this could be a great advertisement for what is possible, rather than a reflection of what is easy.


such potential!


Only in India would this be part of a high end retail strip!


Because nothing says "come in and buy some sunglasses" like a suit of armour

A final note from Delhi - I was highly amused to see the newspaper ad below. Coming from a diet-obsessed world in which you can’t escape the ads for the latest powders, pills or diet practices that will make you look better by virtue of being slimmer, it was absolutely brilliant to see a product that promotes its ability to help you stay fit and look better by making you fatter. 5,400 calories per day. I don’t know about the rest of you, but if I’m going to gain weight and eat triple my normal daily intake, then I’m going to do it with ice-cream, chocolate and the like. Not by mixing water and some powder of dubious provenance.



And that’s a perfect segue into the next post, which will highlight some of the fabulous food I enjoyed on this trip...

cricketer

I came on to post the conclusion of this, which I'd written ages ago but never posted (on account of getting the photos together) - only now I've got the photos and can't find what I'd written up. For the sake of completeness, and to allow me to get on with my new trip report, I'm just going to add the photos in the next couple of posts and let them speak for themselves, for the most part.

In the unlikely event that anyone was actually waiting for the rest of this... sorry!

cricketer

First, a delectable meal at Dum Pukht. My first time at this restaurant, and although the prices were world class, the food was only there or thereabouts too. I think it's worth the effort, and yet I'm not sure I'd ever go back.

The highlight was definitely the Habibia lamb chop pictured below. The Murgh Qundan Qaliya, on the right hand side of the next picture, is not something I'd recommend. Nothing wrong with it, just rather plain.





Habibia Chops - lamb marinated with black cumin, black pepper, figs and malt vinegar




Next was some delectable chaat at a Bikanervala outlet. Pictured below an out-of-this world kachori chaat and a remarkably not-too-sweet matka kulfi (kulfi made in a single-use earthenware pot)







Next up, that old reliable, the Bukhara. If you like your red meat, then there is nothing on the planet that matches up to the Sikandari Raan at the Bukhara. I don't care where you're from or what flavours you like - this is where it's at.

could get messy, so wear the apron!

lamb to die for. Nothing like it.

the chicken was pretty much as good

As for the vegetables - well, you don't come here for the vegetarian food. Don't waste your time, although if you have a veggie in your party, don't worry, it's actually pretty solid stuff

From a cafe whose name I fail to recollect somewhere in Greater Kailash - an absolutely delicious "Ras Aamlet" - chicken curry and spicy omelette, allegedly typical Goan street fare, but I honestly wouldn't know if that were true or not.



And last, and also most certainly least (!), my first taste of Indian produced wine. I'll just say this - it's very ambitious of the producers to serve this in a bottle as opposed to a tetra-pak, and yet, I was able to drink the whole glass. Just about. Still, probably not a bad initial effort.

cricketer

On second experience, every bit as comfortable as the first time. Best business class I've flown in.

[I] The meal however, felt like a coach meal, just served on china rather than plastic[I]

bfreakfast was a slight improvement, with a reasonable portion of fruit...

followed by a tasty main course - though interestingly I was not given an option as to whether I wanted the Indian or the Western meal




The clothes pressing service in the Arrivals Lounge in FRA is just brilliant. Pop your clothes behind the mirror, have a shower, and emerge to neatly pressed clothes. Magic!

Sometimes it's okay not to go with the latest in flat-screen technology. Hope FRA doesn't change on this score

perhaps someone else can explain why Venezuelan chocolate is a specialty on a FRA-ZRH flight?

Breakfast from FRA-ZRH

Shower room at the LX FCL in ZRH. I felt much better when another passenger also had trouble getting in.



LX C on the A340 from ZRH-SFO. Simply put, not in the same class as the LH 748 I had just come off.

And this shot shows why I'm not a fan of these staggered layout seats. They're too short, and constricting on the legs.

Crisps in a packet in business class? really? Even UA gives me warm nuts in a ramekin!







Somehow, I expected more from a cheese plate on Swiss...

a little bit fo wear and tear...

I was asleep for the proper ice cream service, but they managed to find me a tub. Not quite the same though

ExpatSomchai

Thanks for the report. Got my taste buds tingling.

yulred

Missed it the first time round, but had a great time reading through it. Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Bukhara is slowly slipping down my list of favorite Indian restaurants - the raan seems to have become a little bland. Speaking of which, if you're ever in London, give Cinnamon Club a shot. Innovative take on Indian food - their lamb entrees are usually excellent (not quite raan, but full of flavor).