On Bangalore - Arrival

The flight landed remarkably smoothly and breaking seemed, inexplicably, rather unnecessary. It was as if we had come to a stop in the air and did not need to slow down to taxi.

We pull up to a modern jet bridge even though I had been cautioned that Bangalore hs an an open air field with exterior stairs. I was pleased since I hadn’t bothered to apply DEET as advised by the travel nurse. I keep looking at the field lights and feeling surprised that I can’t see any bugs flying around – let alone mosquitoes.

I wait in the health screening line. A nurse wearing a filter mask is taking everyone’s temperature with some sort of light thermometer pointed a bit like a gun at their foreheads. I wondered why she is wearing a mask since no one else in the room has one, or whether I should have one.

After passing through customs I step outside where I am confronted with a string of perhaps 50 drivers, each with a name placard. Given my past difficulty in locating people in crowds I am struck by momentary panic that I might never find my driver. However, I am relieved to spot a PharmARC sign after just a few seconds and am off with the driver quickly. He takes my suitcase from me, which makes me slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps I have watched too many international suspense movies. The supposed “driver” always steals the bag, right?

Outside the air is tropical with a cool breeze, like arriving in Florida on a pleasant night. From warnings of others, I expected strong fumes and foul smells at the airport, but the air seems fresh and clean. The ground is lush, covered with thick grass and tall palm trees. I wonder if the place would look completely different in the daylight.

Of the three shops on the platform outside the airport, two are a Subway and a Baskin Robbins. Perhaps Bangalore is more like the US than I expected.

The car is a small compact. The driver grabs my bags, loads them into the front seat, and opens the back door for me. The steering wheel is on the right side of the car like in England – a fact that makes perfect sense but surprises me having never thought about it before.

Lining the road on the way to the hotel are a mix of third-world looking shacks and taller, modern buildings. Most everything is covered in advertising, much the way of European cities. I have always been struck by the quantity of advertising in foreign cities versus the US. I am not sure I can quantify it, but there is definitely a difference. I wonder what they did before cell phone companies as most everything was covered in cell phone ads, including enormous billboards that line the highway.

I arrived to the hotel around 1:00 am. It is a somewhat hidden entry as the driver has to honk repeatedly to get someone from the hotel to open the gate. The hotel is a good bit smaller than I expected based on the fact that some man on the Hertz bus in Philadelphia claimed to be familiar with it when he asked where I was staying. But given its size (about 50 rooms), he was probably thinking of somewhere else.

A bellhop takes my bags up to my room. I realize that I have no idea how much to tip or if that is even appropriate. The lights in the hallway seem to be burned out or turned off and the bellhop has to fumble with the lock before letting me into the room. He turns on the room lights and leaves without much of a pause as if he was expecting a tip. I mumble something about being sorry that don’t have any money. I don’t know if he heard or understood.

The room is small but nice. There is a twin bed – maybe bigger than a twin but not quite a full. I wonder if they have rooms for couples or if this is pretty much it. There is a nice TV and a rather large leather massage chair that takes up a good portion of the room. It seems out of place, but it makes me smile.

I plug in my laptop which fortunately fits the international outlets. I feel smart for not having bought the $30 travel set in Philly. I was afraid that I would be sorry. It doesn’t matter much since my attempts to connect to the internet fail. I figure that I will work out the internet problem in the morning. I text Rachel on my phone that I have arrived and crawl into bed.

I fall asleep fairly easily. I set my phone for a morning alarm but as I am entirely uncertain what the local time is (and can’t get online to confirm), I figure it will be whatever it is going to be. I think about the fact that it is probably time to take an anti-malaria pill as I am falling asleep.