Saturday 21 August 2010

Two days in Delhi

It was with some trepidation that I arrived in Delhi, the capital of India. Everyone I'd spoken to said it was a place to go straight through, but as I normally like big cities I thought I'd give it a go. I have to say that after sampling clean India in Himachal Pradesh, I didn't really want to go back to dirty, smelly India, and I think I'd generally had enough of the stresses and strains of the country after 5 weeks. But Delhi had another draw - friends from England, Kay and Steve, were arriving in Delhi on the same day as me at the start of a 4 month trip around India and Bangladesh.

With Nepal on my mind, the first thing I did was book a train ticket to Agra, then stopped off for a croissant at one of Paharganj's great German bakeries - one of the few good things about this grotty, tacky tourist enclave. I set out to see the sights of Old Delhi, starting with the Central Mosque. Well, the mosque is certainly big, but at 200 rupees just to get in (plus 100 more to climb the minaret), it's a waste of money compared to the multitude of other more beautiful religious landmarks in India - even accounting for the comical patterened gowns that inappropriately dressed tourists are made (and charged) to wear.



Next stop was the Red Fort, but on my way there ok stopped and turned around - I didn't want to see another fort, and more importantly I wanted to get out of India! Thankfully, I met Kay and Steve that evening for a few beers, a thali and a backstreet lassi. India is decidedly more attractive when you dive into the chaos and enjoy it for what it is, but I think I was beyond that point by now. I met Kay and Steve again the next morning for a farewell brekkie before they caught their train, and agreed to meet up again as our paths would probably cross in Varanasi - me heading north to Nepal and they east to Kolkata and Bangladesh. I should say that Kay and Steve never take a camera with them on their travels, and requested that their photo not appear on the blog... but they do exist, honest!

My second day in the capital was spent exploring New Delhi, the Lutyens-designed extension grafted onto Old Delhi like a mismatched limb. It's all tree-lined boulevards and roundabouts - not really India, but a nice respite for a day. I went first to Humayun's tomb, a spectacular mausoleum big enough to rival the Taj Mahal and Khufu's Great Pyramid for the most outrageously extravegant monument to a dead person. A long, boring walk along New Delhi's streets (most of which are being beautified for the impending Commonwealth Games) brought me to Lodi Gardens, a lovely oasis of green, sprinkled with ruined mosques and yet more mausoleums - and best of all, it's free! Enjoying an ice cream in the shade of a tree, away from all the noise of Delhi was a good way to avoid the heat of the day.

Leaving Lodi Gardens, I headed for the main artery of New Delhi, Rajpath, which connects the grand India Gate with the Prime Minister's residence and the Secretariat buildings. It's a grand boulevard, and the Secretariat buildings still evoke thoughts of the British Raj, looking like a little slice of Whitehall but with Hindustan Ambassadors instead of Jags, and kites perching on the lampstands. Curiously, not a single rickshaw driver would take me back to Paharganj from New Delhi, so I decided to try out a decidedly un-Indian mode of transport - Delhi's metro. Sitting in the clean, quiet car, I felt a little bit homesick for the tube - even the announcements were made in a clipped English voice, and the station signs are a blatent ripoff of LUL's famous roundel. For the princely sum of 8 rupees I was back at my hotel in less time than it would have taken to barter a price for a rickshaw, and without all the pollution and stress... a big thumbs up!

My last morning in Delhi was probably the worst moment of my trip so far. Waking with a bout of Delhi-belly, I spent a few hours in bed before deciding that I needed to catch my train to Agra at 2pm... rather than spend even longer in the capital! What should have been a 10 minute rickshaw ride to New Delhi station turned into a 40 minute journey to hell, as my cycle rickshaw wallah drove through every bump as he circumnavigated Delhi and got us stuck in a traffic jam where we didn't move for 20 minutes. The smell of shit, fumes and other general Delhi aromas made me vomit, after which I decided to shoulder my bags and walk to the station to avoid missing my train. I then found out that the station was 10 minutes in the opposite direction... if I'd seen my rickshaw man again I probably would have smacked him! I made the train with 5 minutes to spare and collapsed onto my sleeper bed... happy to be leaving Delhi and excited about going to see what I hoped would be one of the highlights of my time in India - the one and only Taj Mahal.



Experience your own adventures in Indian with cheap flights to Delhi.

Reprinted with permission from SmithyWorldWide

Sunday 11 July 2010

Winging it out of Buffalo
The Welcome Mat is Out

15 JUN 2010:  Buffalo, New York is famous for the best chicken wings, its hard-luck Buffalo Bills football team and some brutal snowstorms. It is also becoming a very popular departure city for Canadians to fly out of instead of Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. I know many in and out of the travel industry who love flying out of Buffalo. On a recent business trip I decided to check it out myself for value and convenience.

I needed to fly into Boston on business. I had been looking at our own Canadian based airlines and fares to Boston. The price kept creeping up as my departure date got closer. As travel agents know it’s always a gamble whether to wait to see if the price will go down. In this case they kept going up. For whatever reason the dates I selected were popular, so seats were falling by the wayside but not the price – it only had a straight vertical rise.

I could get a cheaper fare on one US carrier if I wanted to fly Toronto-Fort Lauderdale-Washington DC-Boston. Now doesn’t that sound like fun!

Panic, frustration and reality set in since my trip was now only a couple of days away and I had to co-ordinate my flights with other members in a group. I was about to rent a vehicle and just drive to Boston (about 10 hours from Toronto). But then the land of the Buffalo wing set me straight.

I had never considered flying out of Buffalo before but checked out the fares and a US based commuter carrier had non-stop flights to Boston. It was between 25-40 percent of the price compared to the price of the other flights from Toronto even though the flight time is about the same. I immediately booked the flights.

Yes, there would be a two hour drive to Buffalo. But I just saved over a thousand dollars. A taxi from my place to Pearson airport – about $65 each way. That’s $130 return. And I haven’t even left the city yet. It would be far less in gas to drive to Buffalo even with the high fuel prices.

After crossing the border (a 15 minute wait) it’s a short 30 minute drive to Buffalo-Niagara International Airport. The airport was actually larger than what I was anticipating. It was modern, clean and efficient.

I did the Preferred Long Term Parking which is adjacent to the airport. An Airport shuttle was there in less than a minute. I stepped on the shuttle and the driver immediately said, 'Welcome to Buffalo-Niagara International Airport – how are you doing today?'

It’s only a two minute drive to the departures drop-off. When I chatted with the driver and I said I was from Toronto he replied he was pleased and appreciated the fact I chose Buffalo to fly out of.

Wow! A person who appreciates my business. I think this is the first time an airport employee has said this to me. I’ve had friendly service from Canadian airport personnel (and definitely unfriendly as well, but never before has anyone said they appreciated my business.

The check-in was done in a minute and with no customs to go through a short walk to security, where they were efficient but friendly, and off to wait for my flight. I wasn’t expecting to be done so quickly – maybe a total of 10 minutes from being left off from the airport shuttle to passing through security.

My appetite was calling so decided to grab a bite. This is the one area that the airport can work on – they need to offer a better variety of food services but it was adequate. The Wi-Fi is $7.95 per 24 hour period (and can be used at some other airports) but hopefully that will change as more airports are offering free internet access now.

The other pleasantry about smaller airports – no long taxi out to the runway, or huge line-ups of planes waiting to take-off. At Pearson half the flight sometimes seems to be the taxi to or from the gate.

My flight back to Buffalo was delayed so I didn’t arrive until just before midnight. After leaving the plane and going to the baggage claim area my bag was coming off the belt – now this I love!

I then waited a couple of minutes for the shuttle. I probably had an 'It’s been a long day, haggard look' and the airport shuttle driver said, 'Tell me exactly where your car is in the lot and I’ll drop you off there.' Another customer service 'wow' moment. And, like the other driver, he said how he’s happy that I chose Buffalo airport. Since it was so late I decided to stay in Buffalo and he ran down a list of possible hotels – some just across the street or some cheaper ones a bit further down the road. Nice.

The service at the airport is friendly and genuine. It extends to their website with a Canadian information section providing information on real time border crossings, directions to the airport from various border points, Canadian ground transportation and Nexus Pass information.

I laughed at the image used on the Canadian information page of the website. It’s a young Canadian couple with the guy wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs’ hockey jersey. I wonder what the Buffalo Sabres’ fans say about that!

Even with the hotel cost, gas, I still saved hundreds of dollars on my flight compared to the price I would have paid out of Toronto. No wonder you see the parking lot filled with Ontario licence plates.

I prefer to support Canadian airlines and airports – we have some great ones here too, and no doubt travel agents feel the pressure from their clients when searching for the most inexpensive fares that it makes sense to fly out of Buffalo or other US border city.

The federal government needs to wake up and see revenues being lost due to the excessive fees they charge airports and airlines which are then passed along to the traveller.

Even more satisfying than the money I saved what impressed me the most was my business was genuinely appreciated. Customer service is alive and well in Buffalo.

Reprinted with permission from Travel Industry Today

Saturday 22 May 2010

A baboon stole my breakfast!

After leaving the Swazi border, I drive north to the town of Nelspruit, from where I start a 4-day tour of one of Africa's best-known game reserves - Kruger. The size of Kruger Park is difficult to comprehend... 350 kilometres from north to south, covering an area of nearly 2 million hectares. It was established in 1898 as the Sabie National Park by Paul Kruger, and now comprises the park itself, along with a collection of private reserves which together form the larger Kruger eco-system.

My safari experience at Kruger will be split between the main park and the Guernsey Private Reserve, located an hour or so from Kruger's Orpen Gate. After driving to our lodge from Nelspruit, we embarked on an evening drive in Guernsey. We came across rhino, wildebeest and giraffe, and about an hour into the drive our guide received a report of a leopard, resting not far from the reserve's boundary. We drove there to find a female leopard reclining in the grass - presumably after a kill. This was the closest I'd been to one of these beautiful creatures, and it didn't seem to be phased.

No sooner had we left the leopard in peace, our guide received another report of a sighting... this time a cheetah. We arrived to find more than we were expecting... a female cheetah and her three cubs, sprawled out on the grass with their bellies full. We watched as they cleaned and relaxed... the cubs not much smaller than their mother. After enjoying a beer and some nibbles from the front of the jeep (how civilised?!), we went for a short night drive then headed back to the lodge.

The next day was our full Kruger safari. Setting off at 5am, our small group of 3 (Margaret, Theresa and myself) were in the park for 6am, and set off in search of Kruger's legendary collection of game. Unlike the private reserve, our driver didn't have a radio and the spaces within which we were driving were much larger, and so our sightings were less frequent. That didn't stop us from seeing a herd of elephants, plenty of zebra and giraffe, and a solitary lioness ambling along a dry riverbed - all before breakfast! We stopped for breakfast at one of the main rest camps, and tucked into our picnic. Our guide Fanwell left us briefly to buy some airtime from the shop, and within seconds we were rushed by a male chacma baboon, who'd been hiding behind the nearby fence. Shocked, we grabbed whatever food we could, but he nabbed a bag of apples and retreated to scoff them in about 30 seconds! A few minutes later, and just as I was about to tuck into my second scone, the baboon (whom we'd named Bertie, which I still think is too jolly a name for such a creature) returned. Looking straight at me, ignoring Margaret and Theresa (baboons know that women are no threat...), he ran straight up onto the table and grabbed whatever food he could while looking me square in the eyes. I tried to wrestle something off him, but he bared his teeth and snarled... so I thought better of it! Theresa managed to salvage Margaret's bag before Bertie ran off... taking my scone with him! He retreated further when one of the park guards came to see what all the fuss was about - apparently they recognise uniforms, but they know that tourists are easy pickings.


Feeling slightly violated and shell-shocked, and wondering where we could file a police report, we climbed back into the jeep and headed back into the park. Our afternoon was dominated by three lionesses, who we found stalking a watering hole populated with zebra and impala. As two lionesses took position under a nearby bush, the third waited near the roadside, with the job of flushing the impala back towards her waiting accomplices. We drove alongside the single lion as she stalked the impala, but a car coming in the other direction managed to stop right between the lion and the impala - losing sight of her prey, the lioness turned and lunged for impala in the other direction, but they saw her and made an easy escape. Flustered and a little dejected, she sat down in a clearing, panting from the effort - and seemingly a bit embarrassed by the whole affair.

The next morning, Theresa and Margaret departed... Margaret excelling herself by spotting a teabag in a tree, when she didn't manage to spot a white rhino in open ground or a giraffe stood right next to the road in Kruger! Good skills Marge!.

My final day on the tour was spent relaxing at the lodge, and going for a second evening game drive at Guernsey. Just when I thought we'd had enough luck, the Kruger eco-system delivered me with more sights... first a large herd of buffalo, rutting for dominance, then a solitary male cheetah, spraying trees to mark his territory, and then one of the most enchanting sights in Africa - a male lion. Lying in some long grass, we realised that our lion had just survived a scrap with another male, as we watched him lick a series of wounds on his paws and legs. Once finished, he did what every cat in the world loves to do, and sprawled out on his back! There remain few animals as majestic as the lion... and seeing a male so close will never lose its excitement for me.


Kruger's reputation as one of the best safari experiences in Africa is indeed well-founded. It's sheer size and wealth of wildlife is difficult to beat, and my experiences there rivalled those of the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater. If you ever go to Kruger, keep your eyes open for a large, well-fed male baboon, with big teeth and a maniacal look in his eyes... and stay well away!

Enjoy your own safari experience with cheap flights to South Africa.

Reprinted with permission from SmithyWorldWide

Friday 16 April 2010

Train from Christchurch, New Zealand to Kaikoura



I would like to introduce everyone to Caleb. If you want to be given some reasons to come visit New Zealand (which frankly, everyone should do at least one time in their life), there is no better ambassador than this particular 12-year-old Kiwi.

As much as I love trains, during the two months I staying in New Zealand, I was only able to take one train trip, which just gives me more reason to come back and visit another time in the future. The one short train jaunt I was able to take was an early morning departure from Christchurch up to Kaikoura, where I intended to try to do a little whale watching.

Caleb’s birthday was the day after our shared train ride. His mother, Jenni, was taking him up to Kaikoura to meet the rest of their family, who were all driving up from Christchurch to save money. As a huge train fan, his birthday present from his mother was the train ride. Through the luck of random seating, they sat opposite me over the table we shared for the ride up. His level of enthusiasm was inspiring. I wish I had that level of enthusiasm for. . . well, anything. Not that I remotely want to go back to that age, but being able to look upon it and remember was a nice belated, non-prime number birthday present for me. It was an exceptional few hours.

Caleb wants to work for the Department of Conservation (DOC) in New Zealand, which to my eyes, he seems already well qualified to do. He told me about the only native mammal of New Zealand, a small bat, whose name he knew, but I could not jot down quickly enough as he raced to the next highlight of “the greatest country in the world.” I was told of many things and places I needed to see: Stewart Island, the original steam train at Waipura, Doubtful Sound, Lake Taupo, and Mount Hut for skiing in the winter. He could have been a tour guide – hell, I’ve had far less informed tour guides plenty of times on my journey. His mother was concerned that he was rambling on, and he was, and tried to hush him a few times, but frankly, I wanted to hear everything he could throw out there.

There was an open-air car on the train that you could go to in order to get a better view of the passing scenery. As the train got close to our final destination, to a part of the track where it ran right next to the ocean, Caleb and Jenni invited me to join them up there to look for seals. As the fresh air whipped through the open cabin and the morning sun reflected off the Pacific Ocean, Caleb turned to me and said with the absolute certainty that only a twelve year old can muster, “New Zealand is the best place ever.”

Can’t argue with you there, Caleb. Can’t argue at all.

Book your cheap flights to New Zealand, and visit "the best place ever".

Reprinted with permission from The Mobile Lawyer

Friday 22 January 2010

Texan in Vietnam

In Hoi An, Vietnam there is a restaurant written up in all of the guidebooks I have seen called Café des Amis. It’s run by a Vietnamese owner/chef named Mr. Kim, who by his own proclamation has “the best food in Hoi An.”

There is no menu. You have a choice of vegetarian, seafood or meat. Once you choose what general variety of food you want for the evening, you get a three or four course meal of whatever Mr. Kim is serving for that evening. No options. No changes. And you have no idea what you are going to get until it hits the table. As a bonus, Mr. Kim or one of the other servers also shows you how to eat each course (chopsticks with one, spoon with another, chilies on this one, etc.). My dinner wasn’t that fabulous, but the entertainment value was high. By the way, the set cost for my dinner and beer was about $7 U.S. dollars.

Mr. Kim also has about 12-14 books that are stacked out front at the table Mr. Kim sits at soliciting prospective patrons that walk by his waterfront location. His pitch is two-fold: “best food in Hoi An” and “where are you from?”

“Where are you from?” is one of those lines that you get used to hearing in Vietnam and elsewhere in Southeast Asia. Almost everyone asks you: shop owners, hawkers at the local market, tuk-tuk drivers, or kids begging. Once you say “the United States” or “Germany” or “Japan,” invariably whoever has asked you is able to say something in your native language and give you some fact about where you are from. It annoys some people, but I think it is very a creative and ingenious way to try to get you to stop and talk.

Mr. Kim’s “where are you from” pitch comes with a very unique twist. I told him I was from the U.S. He asked where in the U.S. and I said Texas – I find it a lot easier to just say Texas, rather than Arkansas, because so few people know where Arkansas is. He nodded and walked away to his books. About three minutes later he came back with one of the books and put it down on my table. The books are full of comments from previous customers raving about the food and Mr. Kim has an almost photographic memory of the home locations of everyone that has written in them. He’d opened one of the books to a comment from someone that signed from Dallas and went on and on about how great the food was. I read it and flipped through the rest of the book slowly, reading comments from people all over the world. A few minutes later, he brought me another book with another comment from someone from Texas.

Priceless.



In case you can’t read it too well, let me retype it in its entirety:

“While on business in Da Nang, I made the short trek to Café des Amis on the recommendation of my fiancée-to-be, an ever so-slightly voluminous Swede who knows a thing or two about inconspicuous consumption. In any event, although the much vaunted ‘Goat Cheese Sandwich’ wasn’t on offer today, the four-course seafood outlay was simply spectacular. Morever – miracle upon miracles – I actually enjoyed a Tiger beer served at something appreciably less than ambient temperature.”

I am a typical guy in a quite a number of respects. One of those is my love for quoting various movie lines at a frequency that seems to discourage my ability to find a woman that will put up with me. In this case, let me go with a classic from “The Princess Bride. . .” 'I don’t think that word means what you think that word means.'

You think his girlfriend – and what the hell is “fiancée-to-be” mean?? – would like to be described as “voluminous?" As my good friend, Ken Kendrick, would likely chime in at this point – “yes, quite Rubenesque.” And conspicuous consumption, inconspicuous consumption – guess that’s about the same thing. “Seafood outlay??” “Ambient temperature??” Really?

Such an effort to impress with one’s linguistic skills. I got the feeling that this particular individual was proud of their excellent college education and wanted to make sure that everyone else that read this particular comment would be impressed also. This was all verified when you scrolled down to his signature:



Get your guns up! Go Red Raiders!

Reprinted with permission from The Mobile Lawyer