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Part I - Introduction


I felt somewhat odd stepping off the plane in Mumbai thinking that my only reason for visiting India this time around were these words I read on a stoner's blog over at IndiaMike.com two years previously. Maybe it was the copious amount of hashish he'd been smoking at the time but the richness of his descriptions of the Parvati Valley, 400km north of New Delhi, lingered in my mind for months after I devoured his 15,000 word blog in one sitting.

It was my second last year of university. My trips for the year were all planned , including a three month sojourn to Europe over the Christmas break, after which I would fit in my annual pilgrimage to India.

But then, I sold out.

I put on a suit and walked into one of the biggest consulting firms in Australia for an interview as a summer intern. All going to plan, I would be spending my summer break in meetings, drinking lattes and debating efficiency versus effectiveness. I felt like the worst travel junkie in the world.

My dad suggested that i make a shorter trip to India, over the two weeks in the middle of the second semester. My hazy understanding of India's incredibly complex climactic patterns indicated that the mountainous north would actually be accessible during this time; a first for a traveller who is generally only there between December and February. My recollection of the stoner blog spurred me on, and i booked my flights the next week. A friend from university decided to tag along, seeing the opportunity as a guided tour of India without having to pay the guide. I saw it as a chance to have complete control of the agenda (cue evil laughter) whilst not having to travel solo.

It was on.

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Part II - Trip Report Index

1. The Korean Odyssey - MEL-ICN with QF & KE + side trip to CJU with Jeju Air.
2. Journey to the Pearl of the Orient - MEL-HKG with QF & CX + side trip to Macau.
3. A Tale of Two Jetstars - MEL-BKK Y, BKK-MEL J.
4. All The Rivers Run - Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia & India with QF, AK, VN, MH, IC & 9W.
5. The Great White North: Alaska, The Rockies & NYC with UA, DL, FL and Holland America Line.
6. Jai Ho! To India's Far North with SQ, 9w & IT.

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Part III - A Passage to India

I've documented a trip to India before and to be perfectly honest, my journey to Mumbai on SQ was ordinary. By this i mean it was enjoyable, but there was very little worth reporting. So i'll be briefer than usual.

The trip started with an 0800 arrival at MEL, pause at the archaic mechanical FIDS and explicit exclamation at the sheer size of the checkin queue. It snaked around in front of the counters before extending out the terminal door. Oddly there was nobody at the online checkin counter and we simply walked straight to a friendly agent. Bags were tagged to BOM and we grabbed a feed at the outrageously busy McDonalds. I was miffed that my beloved Burger King has been replaced permanently with the new international concourse.


Boarding for the SQ flight began a full hour prior to departure from the dedicated A380 tier. I was disappointed to find the cabin interior decked out exactly the same as every other SQ aircraft i've ever been on. Perhaps i was spoiled by the QF A380 raising the airline's (admittedly very low) standards?



The one flaw in an otherwise polished (and frankly, boring) service regimen from SQ was that the crew flat out refused our requests of extra meals. Simple mathematics would indicate to me that with two meal choices, even a full flight should have some left over, unless the airline is happy to completely disregard the preference of a large proportion of the cabin.

Singapore airport was an absolute pleasure as always and after surfing the free Wifi on my iPhone we headed out to Tampines for some noodles and general goofing around. The immigration agent turned information desk officer turned exaggerator extraodinaire tried to convince me to stay airside as it would apparently take hours to reach Tampines by train, so i changed my story to say i just wanted to go outside.


Returning to the airport we were sure we had the wrong gate, there was hardly anyone waiting just 15 minutes before boarding. Loads turned out to be around 70%. Interestingly enough my friend was one of only two non-Indian people on the flight. I've always noticed the ratio of Indians to non-Indians to be much higher on flights to Mumbai than say, Delhi or Chennai.

The flight was largely uneventful. I was bored by the IFE system's limited choices by the second half of the flight from Melbourne, so i spent most of the time searching for things worth watching.


Arrival in Mumbai was smooth and efficient. The airport has come leaps and bounds in recent years. The prepaid taxi system still needs work though. I'm quite familiar with the concept, but even i had to ask around in Hindi to find the taxi boarding area and then my allocated taxi.

The airport's exterior has unfortunately regressed somewhat, as has the system of police checking of prepaid taxi receipts. The driver parked at the side of a large lake in the middle of the road, grabbed the receipt and dashed off to the police station. His 10 minute absence attracted all manner of beggars to the taxi. Of course, on his return, he refused to return the receipt to me. Ahh, India.

sobore

Nice report.

The best I can figure is they want to aviod opening up the idea to other PAX, although some FA's hand 'em out till they are gone.

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My time in Mumbai was shorter than usual, but i still managed to take in a few new sights. The highlight of this was Chore Bazaar - literally meaning 'Thieves' market' - through which we walked for about half a day. Numerous articles of varying technical complexity were being beaten and smashed so that their componentry could be given a new (and untraceable) life in other devices.


The following morning, after dealing with the now typical Meru cab dramas we were soon on our way to the domestic airport.

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Jet Airways flight 9W 2057
Mumbai (BOM) - Chandigarh (IXC)
STD 1010 STA 1220
ATD 1024 ATA 1234
Seat 33B - Economy

The Kullu and Parvati valleys were the principle destinations of interest on this trip, and rather than pay the outrageous AU$350 to fly to Bhuntar airport in the Kullu valley we opted to fly to the last major city, Chandigarh and make the bone shattering ascent by bus.

We braved Mumbai's morning peak hour and arrived at the domestic terminal 1.5hrs prior to departure. The terminal still looks relatively new which, for a building in Mumbai older than 5 years is quite an achievement.

The checkin queue took around 20 minutes to clear, made quicker by the fact that for some reason they have done away with pre-checkin baggage x-raying. I'm not sure what the reasons for the change are, but the terminal now seems much more specious and modern. Being India, the authorities deemed it prudent to allocate much of the newfound space to eating establishments.


With boarding passes in hand we bypassed the old glorified bus-marshalling-point which served as a gate lounge and headed up some escalators the a new departure pier. I almost dropped all my belongings when i realised that the new area was equipped with AEROBRIDGES! Oh, modern comforts when flying out of Mumbai, how i've missed you!


The modernised surroundings somehow reformed the boarding experience and the queues moved smoothly and orderly. Onboard to cabin was clean but the seats were a little cramped.


The doors were shut, we taxied for some time time past widebody arrivals and were soon airborne. All food on this flight was buy-on-board but i obersved that water was free if you asked for it. When the chance came i bought a horrendously overpriced chicken sandwich, which was a bacterial nightmare, as it was room temperature, and a coffee. Both were very tasty and well worth the Rs.250 (!!).


During the flight i read the guidebook and watched tiny village after tiny village go past beneath us, picturing mentally what it must look like from the ground. I predicted, lots of rubble filled streets interspersed with shops hand painted with Aircel, IDEA or Abuja Cement advertisements. The further the village was from a big city the more likely it was that all signs would be in Hindi.

Descent into IXC took a very long time, and i was a bit iffy about taking photos on the ground due to all the military aircraft sitting around. Construction of the new terminal has been going for some time but still looks 10% finished, which is not good news for the current terminal, which is laughably small.

My faith in prepaid taxis disintegrated when the agency wanted Rs.450 for the 3km trip to the Sector 43 bus stand. I decided to head outside and deal with the drivers, and saved Rs.250 in the process. The orderly nature of the city was apparent from the professionally printed parking receipt that the rickshaw driver exchanged for Rs.50 on our way out of the airport.

No longer protected by the bubble-wrap cocoon of modern air travel and airports, we climbed aboard a rickety three-wheeler for our bumpy journey into the real India.

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Our journey took us north from Chandigarh to Mandi, in Himachal Pradesh, the state in which we spent all of our time on this trip. From Mandi we headed to the Parvati Valley to view the natural beauty for ourselves - it didn't disappoint.

From Parvati we traveled north to Manali, tourism central in northern India. Whilst the guidebook was guilty of overselling Manali (it was just another tourist town, and the mountain views were hardly comparable to those in the Parvati Valley) our trip to the Rohtang Pass, 40km north if Manali was the unquestionable highlight of the trip. The awful road brought us 4000m above sea level, above the snowline from where two distinctly different landscapes could be observed without moving one's feet. North, the barren, desert-like valleys of Ladakh exuded inhospitability and certain death for city slickers such as myself. South, however, the fertile landscape of Himachal Pradesh was regularly dissected by healthy rivers and farms dominated the landscape. At the risk of sounding like a guidebook author, it truly was a breathtaking experience - literally so as the oxygen content of the air made movement all but impossible. Naturally i insisted on hiking around for several hours and managed to a) exhaust myself and b) weaken my body just enough to a strong flu to take hold.

Stricken with a fever and the most awful 'sick feeling' i have ever felt, we caught an 8 hour minubus from Manali to McLeod Ganj - home of the tibetan government in exile. There, I holed up in a surprisingly expensive hotel room (AU$10 !!), watched TV and ate all i could in an attempt to get better. It was a slow process, but it worked. Meanwhile, the delightful town, half traveller, half tibetan provided no end of sights and entertainment. Numerous establishments screened documentaries on the Tibetan struggle, the surrounding landscape lent itself well to long and peaceful walks and the large traveller population ensured interesting conversations over dinner and chai. However, it was the humble friendliness and honesty of the Tibetan refugees that cemented McLeod Ganj, in my mind, as one of the most pleasant towns in India. Despite the hardships faced in Tibet, and the many difficulties faced in India (chiefly in the form of ignorant, fat, Indian tourists demanding discounts for no reason whatsoever) a proactive smile and honest offer of help was never far away when interacting with a Tibetan person.

Interestingly, across all of Himachal Pradesh, the 'local' Indian population were slightly different to the locals elsewhere in India. They were, by and large, honest. Most prices we were quoted were fair. 9 out of 10 times, we would be given accurate information regarding transport and lodging. Further, they did not litter to the extent that others in India do. A situation of life and death need not arise before drivers would let fellow road users pass. It was refreshing.

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Here are some of the best photos of the trip.

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Kingfisher Airlines flight IT 4352
Dharamsala (DHM) - Delhi (DEL)
STD 1255 STA 1455
ATD 1326 ATA 1425
Seat 3A - Kingfisher Class
Aircraft ATR-72

Before long our time in McLeod Ganj drew to a close and it was time to depart to the mother of all hell-holes - New Delhi. This distressed me, but the fact that we were only going to be there for 18 hours was somewhat comforting.

DHM airport was known by a number of names. Our IT itinerary referred to it as Gaggal airport, the guidebook called it 'Dharamsala Airport near Gaggal' and the rickshaw drivers' union fare card called it Valley airport. I should therefore have been less surprised when we pulled up to a quaint terminal, some 45 minutes drive from McLeod Ganj, clearly signed as 'Kangra Airport.' My heart skipped a beat and i stammered to the driver in stressed Hindi, asking if this was the airport they called Dharamsala airport. It was, and away he drove in a cloud of acrid smoke. He didn't even fabricate a parking charge to ask more money of us. Where was I?


The usual Indian procedure of cross referencing passenger IDs to e-ticket printouts took a small-airport turn at DHM. CISF officers had the flight manifest in hand, and checked this against our passports. They must have had the cruisiest jobs in all India. They spent all day guarding a tiny airport noone cares about, check literally 25 IDs over 30 minutes, then go back to sleep. Brilliant.


Passport checks finished, we headed inside where our bags were x-rayed and placed in a queue in front of the checkin counters. Well, counter - only one was in use. A team of underworked porters looked after every aspect of baggage moving in the terminal, which was a nice touch. One even held my bag's straps in while i zipped it up. The usual line-cutting efforts ensued but in this part of India they were easily repelled.


Checkin took quite a while for the people in front of us, but when it was our turn, we were done in literally 15 seconds. We received a welcome by name and our preselected seat assignments. A porter took our bags, tagged them, and threw them into an ever-growing pile. Bada bing, bada boom.

We had a while to kill so i walked around annoying the CISF guys by taking photos of every aspect of the terminal.


Security check was extra ... thorough and involved the cheery security guy asking me all about where i was from, if i was married, whether i had any children and if i liked my time in India. The cunning of the man was admirable - he disarmed me with the usual questions one is posed in India while surreptitiously patting down every square inch of my body, some places more than once. TSA trained? Or just besotted with bearded, runny nosed flashpackers who could be Indian or Israeli? I'll never know.

We sat in the comfortable waiting area for a while. The STD came and went, but unlike most Indian airports there was no suspense to the proceedings. The inbound flight from Delhi would do a 30 minute turnaround. So until it arrived, we weren't going anywhere.

Of course, it eventually did and we trooped out onto the tarmac, my admiration split between the impressively steep mountain range on the opposite side of the runway, and the sleek ATR-72 Turboprop that was our ride to Delhi.


Boarding was via the rear stairs and we had about a 70% load. My companion switched to a seat a couple of rows behind so we both had windows on the left hand side which afforded excellent views. The captain had a western name, but made no announcements throughout the entire flight. It seemed like as soon as the doors were shut, we were into out short, steep takeoff. As the airport terminal fell away from us into the haze i imagined the IT staff turning off all the lights, climbing back into bed and falling asleep.


Soon after take off the female crew started a meal service. Kingfisher's naming conventions always seem to confuse me (Kingfisher Class, Kingfisher Red, which both somehow mean the same thing) as to whether there will be food or not, so this was a pleasant surprise. The FA had to almost pry my face from the viewfinder of my SLR to ask my meal choice, addressing me by name. I chose the non-veg option and although it was spartan, it had excellent flavour. My friend, who graciously joined me for the meal, managed to somehow confuse the chilli in the dish with a green bean, even though the merit of including a solitary vegetable in a bean curry is highly suspect. Nevertheless his consumption of the chilli sparked all manner of tears and agony from him, and ensured i was well entertained for the remainder of the flight. What a good mate i am.

The guilty dish.

The FAs were only too happy to furnish us with seconds and even offered thirds!


The outskirts of Delhi came into view soon after i finished eating. The banks of apartment blocks stretched as far as the eye could see and for 30 minutes my entire downward field of vision was filled with Indian surburbia.

We landed some 30 minutes early and taxiied for literally 20 minutes as we took the most scenic of routes to the terminal. We never actually got there as we weren't deemed worth of an airbridge and had to take the godforsaken bus. It lurched and swayed its way to the terminal and we soon stolled inside, filing around the Commonwealth Games welcome desk staffed by disinterested women in colourful saris.


Our luggage quickly arrived and we hightailed it to the Delhi Police prepaid booth. The latest anti-corruption move requires that the prepaid operator's computer screen face outwards toward the customer, thereby removing some of the opportunity for overcharging, which the police, of all people are scarly adept at. However, the operator now sits wedged in between a pane of glass and a computer monitor. On a hot day, no less.

Outside, not a single tout approached us. So odd. Once again the prepaid system's flaws were exposed. We were greeted by a row of numbered ranks. SOunds great in theory, but which one was ours? I'll never know - a paan chewing driver wordlessly walked up, took our bags and delivered us to our hotel, but not before getting hopelessly lost in DLF Gurgaon's ridiculously arranged streets.

Back in Delhi. What would it hold for us this time?

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We arrived in Delhi at 1425hrs, and our SQ flight home was at 0755 the following morning, so we only had time for a small adventure, which suited me just fine.

While i'd been to Delhi many times, my friend hadn't, so it made sense to see Chandni Chowk and the Red Fort - the unquestionable highlights of Delhi.


We wandered around for as long as our tired legs would let us, stopped at McDonalds for one last Maharaja Mac and jumped on the Metro for the hour long journey back to Guragaon.

The latest chapter of the India journey was drawing to a close, and as always, i felt i would be back soon.

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Commonwealth-Games-related security fears amongst my family back in Melbourne lead to our hotel being pre-arranged via a family friend's connection in Gurgaon's DLF Phase II. Whilst this meant ensured the hotel was clean, spacious, friendly and Wifi enabled, it did lead to a bit of a shock when the bill came. Our ride to Delhi's new IGI Terminal 3, which was around half the distance from the hotel than the domestic terminal from which we arrived the previous day, was costing Rs.600 - or around double the cost of our prepaid taxi.

The drive took all of 10 minutes and the airport's gleaming glass and chrome exterior was impressive by Indian standards, but was just another airport by everywhere-else standards.


A dour SQ agent completed out checkin formalities and seemed immune to the infectious friendliness myself and my friend exude when travelling together. The lingering feeling of animosity from the checkin agent would carry over to most of our personal interactions in this new and highly lauded terminal.


I mentioned that the terminal amenities were very similar to other leading airports, and this was certainly the case airside. However the staff working in the airport were incompetent, rude and generally more useless than service staff in Delhi normally are. Here are a two examples:

- Immigration agents flatly refused to clear pax whose flights departed more than three hours away. No exceptions, not even for premium pax, despite the airline assuring them that they would arrange it. My understanding of this restriction is that it is to ensure that the typically cramped and archaic airside areas of Indian airports aren't full of pax who don't need to be there. But this wouldn't be a problem in the new T3.

- McDonald's staff, in between laughing and joking amongst themselves, seemed to intentionally misunderstand orders from many people, thereby overcharging them and making them wait unnecessarily.

But anyway, the airport IS very nice to look at and I am excited by the possiblity of it sparking a wave of modernisation across India.


I located the gate and collapsed exhausted for about 20 minutes, while am outer-London accented female voice announced the boarding of a BA flight to 'Lundun'. I hoped she'd ask if she could 'frishin ya drink, guvna?' but it never eventuated.

The remainder of the journey from that point was frankly uninteresting. I spent the layover in SIN taking an elderley Indian lady to her gate as she couldn't speak English and translating the Singaporean arrival card for another young man who couldn't read English. In my wanderings around the terminals i located a Quiznos in the cramped Terminal 1 and immediately ordered another mouth watering toasted sub.


The overnight flight SIN-MEL on the A380 was surprisingly uncomfortable, although the consumption of 8 Singapore Sling cocktails probably didn't help this. They were mighty tasty though. As a bit of an experiment we decided to request second meals wherever possible - the requests were uniformly refused. As a card carrying glutton, the apartment change to SQ SOP is very distressing.

I walked out into the chilly morning breeze that is mid-spring in Melbourne, glad to be home but with a secret desire to leave it once again for more global adventures. And soon too.

Thanks for reading :-) Feedback and comments are always appreciated.

Percy Pig

Nicely written and good pictures!

Your impression of an English accent is terrible though, and how did you know it was "outer London", do you think there is a regional accent that resides in a ring round the capital?