Tag: travel

My first big trip

After months of anticipation and weeks of feverish online searching, I think I’m prepared to take on a journey of 20 hours—but I also know I’m far from ready. That’s solvable, though. Things will become more real than ever as soon as I board a cab to the airport. I’m still stunned that I’m travelling almost halfway across the world. I want to jump up in the air screaming, but my pessimism and over indulgence in worst-case scenarios prevent me from doing so.

Nevertheless, I’m excited. Just the idea of gawking at sights I’ve never had the nerve to even dream up is overwhelming—in a good way. But what’s made this trip even more thrilling is the recommendations I’ve received from people I know.

When you’re planning a trip, there are two kinds of people who give you suggestions. One, the family and friends who love you so much, but have no idea of what you need to carry and how you should approach your trip planning. They’re so happy for you that they find solace in sharing their dream trip tips and tricks with you. Not to devalue their concern, but often times, they’re far from helpful. Sure, it’s great when your father reminds you to carry an extra pair of gloves in your cabin baggage because the flight would get chilly. But it’s also annoying when your grandfather suggests you buy a new toothbrush and a fresh tube of toothpaste just for the trip.

The second kind of advice givers are more reliable. They know what they’re talking about, and it’s unsurprising they make a lot of sense. These are the ones who’ve either travelled far and wide—the globetrotters, or, those more grounded to the place you’re visiting: the locals. Not only do they know what you should bring and do, but they also know what to avoid. Now that’s advice you can’t get from family or forums. Hundreds of travellers worldwide advise on online forums, but having gone through some of them, I realise they’re too generic. You’d have a rough time combing through millions of answers before you find the one you need.

Having a local explain the locality is a different thing altogether. I had a colleague kind enough to draw up a map of the city. He even browsed AirBnb listings to help find a place closer to all the main attractions. This colleague (D for easy reference) also suggested food trucks I should stop at, and the cuisines I might enjoy. It’s all new for me—the culture, the weather, the people, even the concept of bicycle paths is unfamiliar—and it made planning so much easier because D had done most of the heavy lifting for me. Every first timer needs that kind of travel planning.

Sure, you do need freedom to get lost and wander off on your own—which I will be doing (weather permitting), but you also need some basic assurance that you’re going to be fine. I got that from asking a local to help me plan my trip. And that’s why it’s always a great idea to collaborate with people who know the place.

Of course, not everyone would have colleagues as wonderful as D, and that’s where Facebook groups and online communities come in. Although, one powerful lesson I learnt from planning this trip is that focussed advice is so much better than scattered advice. Or to put it another way, ask someone in the know, than leafing through endless threads of unsure conversations—at least you’d get proper direction.

P.S: I may sound like I know much about travelling, but I’m still a first timer myself. Perhaps when I come back (wiser, I hope) I’d have changed my opinion. Alas, we humans live as on a pendulums.

Teaming up

When two natural elements come together in an obvious way, we often don’t realise how the other two elements complement and contribute to balance that scenery. Anywhere we turn, there’s water, earth, fire, and air working as one. That’s what I recognised in this picture, when I looked at it months after taking it. The sea and the rocks were obvious, but without the wind and the heat of the atmosphere, the sea wouldn’t have been so ferocious, and the rocks wouldn’t have even existed. Now that’s teamwork.

nature in teamwork

Oh, those walls

Buildings are beautiful. Despite the negativity around schools, places of worship, or even court houses, the structure of some of those buildings is fascinating. And the reason is because what’s on the outside is far more interesting than what’s inside. One such building I came across during my visit to Kerala is this information centre in a national park. The inside of it was hollow, without much of the information it promised to contain. Nevertheless, the outside had a variety of textures to enjoy.

information centre

One hell of a ride

Life’s been giving me a hard time for a while now, but this morning while on the way to an important appointment, life crossed my path and dropped a truckload of lemons right on my head.

Hang on to that thought while I digress before I regress.

When I tell someone I’d be available in a particular place at a specific time, I try my best to keep my word. And this appointment was far bigger than meeting a friend for coffee to discuss the latest fashion fallout. This was an examination, and one that required my entire concentration and my sound sense of time.

I left early. Three hours should be more than enough time to travel 45 km (28 miles). Why, I thought, I might even reach early. That’s always better than rushing in through the doors just as they’re closing. (Although what a dramatic entry that would make.) And so with my perfect plan laid out, I booked a cab and we started the ride.

The first phase was smooth — 45 minutes of near-vacant streets, with mild congestion that cleared up even before I knew it. I kept looking at the time, and was happy to see we were well within our goal. But as we transitioned into the second phase things became a little more crowded. The sun had risen to all its glory and people had begun to drag their feet from their homes and onto their motorcycles and cars. Rush hour or work hour—however you name it, everyone was on the street.

Our vehicle stopped moving right behind a long line of other vehicles. Although Google Maps assured us, “Despite usual traffic you’re still on the fastest route…” somehow, it felt like we were far from it. Of course, the ever-reliable voice of Google Maps was saying the same thing to the driver honking behind us, and to the many others all around us. Two hours later, we were still, still on the fastest route, except now it was “Despite heavier than usual traffic.”

It would’ve turned any rider’s head. And would’ve depressed any driver. Incredible though it seems, neither happened. My Uber driver maintained his composure, and because he didn’t start honking or teetering in his seat irritated, I hung in there as well. While my mind whirled, conceiving the worst case scenarios and wild cover up stories to explain my delay, the congestion on the road had no congestive effect whatsoever on my heart’s pumping. All seemed fine.

Phase three: Panic attack. When the traffic started moving again after what seemed like hours, but what had been only an hour, our mechanic guide opened her throat again. This time, she wasn’t event attempting to assure. She declared that I was going to be late. And she didn’t seem as upset or as concerned as an assistant should. I checked the time, and then my schedule. I had an hour’s grace period to show up before they’d declared me a no-show. I looked at the back of my driver’s head with an urge to urge him, but what would I say, and—even if I did—what could he do? I ate an apple, instead, to calm my nerves.

Phase four brought along a miracle. Just as the clouds cleared way for the sun, the roads cleared up for us. We didn’t pause to think or drop our jaws in wonder. My driver stamped on the accelerator and we shot forward. The cool voice of the guide came again, with good news at last: I would reach just on time.

When my driver pulled up at my destination, it was one minute past my reporting time. I had made it.

Inside, lemonade awaited me.