And now... the end is near (well technically it did already end...)

"Fair autumn, your days grow shorter and your meals heavier. What’s an ex-traveler to do?"

Reminisce back to brighter days... The Indian summer.

Once upon a time... It seems like only yesterday I was struggling with to-do lists, my lady-lion-friends said goodbye to me on a terrace in Leuven and I shut the office door behind me.
Yesterday, that very door swung open again. A very rude awakening.

So my dearest readers, with great regret, I have to announce that the end of my blog is near.
But before diving back into every day life, all aboard the Memory Lane Express!
Now departing for India with stops at the idyllic places called Religion, Food, Berries and People.

Choo choo!
Leaving the station.

First stop: Project "berry"
We finished our Sales and Marketing plan with flying colours.
Not without some final obstacles to conquer though.
Our last day proved to be quite a challenge.
The abundant travels had eaten up a lot of our valuable project-time.
While our colleagues were working the graveyard shift to create their reports and presentations,
Team Berry was off exploring India's boundaries.
For the project of course.
But still, all fun and no play makes Jack a dull boy. And no one ever died of having some fun along the way.
Back to the last hurdles in the project delivery.
We felt our deadline breathing heavily down our necks.
Luckily my partner in crime was named "Clai the Undismayed".
He consulted our loyal Roja, Professor Parasuraman's assistant. Roja always seems to be in a good mood, always kind and funny and praying for our lost blackberries or safe journeys (or urging me to eat more!)... Roja was the mold for creating 'the genie in the bottle'. She's our genie in the office and constantly made all our wishes come true: ice creams, food, flights, meetings and in this case, a person working in the Publications department who worked on the structure, lay out and orthography of our document.
Result: The TATA institute and the Director were pleased with the plan we presented and the concrete sales meetings we initiated to start putting the plan into practice.
Next steps were discussed and to top it all off, His Holiness the Dalai Lama got mentioned in our final discussion.
Where and how he would come into the picture?
Allow me to keep that a surprise.
But I promise you: IF this plot thickens, Clai and I are invited back to India.
And I will act as your humble flying reporter once again. My pleasure!

Next up: "Understanding Indian food"
Some Indians don't eat chicken.
Du-uh! Some Europeans don't eat chicken either so what's the big deal?
It's the reason why they don't eat chicken that makes all the difference.
Chickens are vicious, cold blooded killers. They eat other animals: bugs, worms, other things that crawl the dirt.
And killers, my friends, are not fit to be eaten.

In the Himalayas (Ladakh and the likes), people don't eat fish.
Fish cannot be cultivated. At least, that's how they see it. Fish are free. Fish belong to nature.
And man is not entitled to nature's own. It's not man's possession so it's not theirs to eat. (And oh yes, fish don't have a tongue either, another very good reason to strike it off the menu. Hmm.)

Arriving at stop "Miscellaneous":

• The ladies are probably all very familiar with pashmina shawls. The new men too for that matter. Allow me to share some Pashmina insights: Pashmina comes from the goat bearing the same name. They only produce pashmina (their woolen coats) when they feel cold enough. Way up in the Himalayas during winter.
  And when spring arrives: 'Feel free to slip into something more comfortable Mrs. Pashima Goat' and 'Can I take your coat please?'
  Before you know it another pashmina shawl is born.
  
  
• We spent a 3-hour face to face with our own private Buddhist monk to get some insights into mediation and Buddhism. Besides "detachment", not "clinging" and "impermanence", he told us about every form of life deserving respect. Even the smallest of animals.
  That means that in India, people don't try putting you in a straight jacket when you're diligently trying to save a bug from drowning in your cocktail. So feel free to go on saving them!
  

------- NEWSFLASH --------

Ladies and Gentlemen, we're interrupting this blog entry for the following breaking news: We found a flaw in Buddhism. Ladies and gentlemen: we have a flaw! A flaw in Buddhism seems like a contradiction in terms, yet, one has been identified. During the private monk face to face, we learned they too, do not respect the boombos (Ladakhi word for donkeys that is). Shame on the Buddhist monk community! All forms of life remember?

BTW - You too can help the world become a bit more donkey-loving by adopting your own private one. Don't worry, it doesn't get delivered to your doorstep.
I've adopted one too: 50 measly dollars for a fluffy pet donkey.
Go to http://www.donkeysanctuary.in/how.html for further information.
I'll post the pictures of my newly adopted pet soon.


Next up: "People"
OK, blame me for generalizing but Indian people are entrepreneurial, friendly, hospitable and accept their faith.
They share everything. They even want to share if they don't have anything.

The multitude of religions is also overwhelming. It's amazing to see how inviting and open each of the religions are, welcoming strangers like us that have no clue what they're supposed to do with the apples they've been given (Should we eat them? Should we offer them to Ganesh? Should we throw them over our shoulder?)
All religions co-exist harmoniously. Although there have been some issues over the years, overall, as an outsider, you get a true feeling of mutual respect.

And then there's this other species called 'the IBMer'. Can also be categorized under the "People" section. Meeting inspired and inspiring IBM colleagues from all over the world in a new setting is simply refreshing: from the Mexican Latin Lover over the giant Canadian woman to the Chinese German wikipedia moghul and the good-hearted, gentle Brazilian.
And more breeds crossed my path: the more than talkative NY/Bostonian, that other Canadian nicknamed 'run Forrest run', the disarming and ever smiling South Korean and the friendly Hungarian.
And then there's Clai. A species on its own: a caring, hilarious and undismayed bee-keeper.


So all in all, did I make a difference in India?
I think I did.
We listened to the Ladakhi people, lived with them, ate on their floors, slept in their houses.
We took everything into account that matters to them and acted accordingly.
I promised to check in with them to see how things progress and hope to find them Fair Trade certified and in better shape by the next harvest and having sellers and distributors for all their derivatives. I think we gave them a good head start.

And if I didn't make a difference to the people, at least I adopted a donkey...

Deutsche Pünktlichkeit

And now we come to the forbidden (and therefore alluring) use of the F-word, whose sheer profanity makes you want to curse whatever or whomever crosses your path.

Flight from Mumbai to Frankfurt: had a royal sleep on 3 seats again, I love flying Air India. (And did I mention they didn't charge excess baggage?).
Arrived in Frankfurt with a slight delay. But luckily, when leaving the plane, the stewardess checked my next flight and did her walkie talkie thing.

Then my getting-to-the-gate-in-time-journey started:

• flight to Brussels scheduled at 7:20
• passport control - check (busload of Japanese tourists were kind enough to let me pass)
• security scan - no check: no mercy from the German butch that told me to wait in line
  
• arriving at the gate after a 5 kilometer walk at 7:21: no one to be found
• went to next gate asking where they parked my plane: Flight to Brussels is gone...
• OK, I managed to keep calm my entire vacation -excuse me mission (hard work!)- but this was the final straw

Needless to say I'm not a big fan of German punctuality...

(btw - my motto: punctuality is the virtue of the bored)

Can you click it?

If a picture's worth a thousand words, I think I can say I wrote an entire book.
So, if you're more the "gimme pictures no text" type, you'll find some more visual support on:
http://picasaweb.google.com/sandra.grieden

Excuse me while I entertain these people

Last Wednesday, after another hard day at the slave pit (just kidding), 10 nationalities were invited to experience Indian hospitality hands on.
Virginia Sharma, marketing manager Software Group India and her husband Sameer opened the doors to their posh Bandra appartment to show us 'Mumbai's other side'.
Virginia, Indian by descent but having lived in the US for the past 11 years, is currently on assignment from our NY office.

As experienced numerous times over the past couple of weeks, they too showed that living together with family, opening your house to friends and even strangers are a very normal part of Indian culture.
They kept thanking us for our presence while we were more than happy being invited to this lovely home with ocean view, getting stuffed with Mumbai delicacies and drinks by the friendliest caterers ever while having a great party.
Music and cricket (India's favourite) in the background.

Fascinated by a picture of two very colourful, brightly decorated people (Virginia and Sameer in wedding disguise), we convinced them to show us all their wedding pictures.
India is the country of arranged marriages and dowries but the so-called "love marriages" are gaining ground.
V&S's marriage falls in the second category.
So we got the complete 101 on Indian weddings: Celebrations filled with rituals and food, festivities that continue for several days (about 4 in their case), bride and groom first having a couple of days of parties in their respective corners, bride being decorated brighter and more elaborate than your average Saks Fifth Avenue Christmas tree, jewels being thrown all around (and at each other of course), groom wearing an impressive bling-adorned turban and arriving majestically on a white horse, between 400 and 1000 invitees at each of the
8 parties, more than 100 (!) dishes being served... quite the event.

Time flew by (that's how it goes when you're having fun) and soon our carriage morphed back into a pumpkin.
In other words: in a rick back to our hotel.

A city tale of Dabbawalas and slumdogs

You venture into international territory nearly every day. (Watching the Discovery Channel with Spanish subtitles while eating Chinese take-out totally counts, right?)
So, another lovely monsoon-filled day in Mumbai makes you feel right at home.
Time to discover some more of this city's specifics.

First up: the Dabbawalas, the tiffin-box carriers (see the tin box I posted earlier).
A Dabbawala is a person in Mumbai whose job it is to carry and deliver freshly made food from home to office workers in in lunch boxes or tiffins. More than 175,000 to 200,000 lunches get moved every day by an estimated 4,500 to 5,000 dabbawalas. Indian people prefer home-cooked grub over fastfood take away any day.
According to a recent survey, there is only one mistake in every 6,000,000 deliveries. An exemplary system...

We were slightly late to witness 'Dabbawala rush hour' (tens to hundreds of Dabbawalas jumping on an off the cargo cart of the train). We did however manage to catch some of them who slept in late themselves (or were already on their way back).
The Dabbawalas won an award in time management, Harvard Business dedicated a case study to them, they're mentioned in the Guinness Book of World Records and were featured in Ripley's Believe it or Not...

Next up and slightly more controversial: the slums.
Since slum-life is such an intrinsic part of Mumbai's every day scenery, it's something one shouldn't be ignorant about.
Still pouring rain. But then again, this helps to wash all undefined (or defined but unpronounced) dirt away so is being seen as a blessing by people.

Mumbai or Bombay: 14 million inhabitants, sometimes referred to as Slumbay. Home to the largest slum in Asia: Dharavi: 1 km² in surface, over 1 million inhabitants.
1 public toilet for approximately 1000-1400 people (and still there was no queu when we passed by. Hmm...).
In Mumbai, there is simply not enough space to house everyone. Hence, the slums provide a solution. An 8m² space, can easily provide a home to 6-7 people. Some with big dreams: The children we met want to become teachers, doctors and IT specialists.

But, truth be told, it's not all agony, struggling and misery in the slums.
The small operation we joined (an organization whose proceeds go back to NGOs present in the slums), aims to show another side of slum life.
Because the slums are also big business: about 15.000 single-room mini-'factories' operating in a variety of industries: pottery, textile, recycling waste (paper, cardboard, plastic, tin cans, metal paint drums,...), literally everything that is being dumped in India (also by neighbouring countries) finds a second life through the slum activity.
Average earnings per month: Rp 2-4000 (USD 50-100).
Turnover coming out of the slums: estimated to 656 million US dollars per annum.

No pictures allowed but I'm sure you can imagine what the addition of 1km², 15.000 mini factories and 1 mio people equates to...

Hot and sweaty

When I tell you it's humid, I mean it's Humid. Capital H.
And mind you, it's not just me complaining about the humidity in Mumbai.
Even the sugar can't stand it. This is what happens to it, just laying there.

Never alone with an Indian mobile

A couple of things I learned so far (the list goes on...): Indian people are friendly, helpful and only tell you things you want to hear.

And if you have an Indian mobile, like we do (the CDS all gave us one), you even get messages from friendly Indian people you don't know. ALL the time. Literally all the time.

Whoever can give me the right answers to the questions, wins a prize. Cause, admit, who wouldn't want to know?

The "little" sister

If you happen to pass by Agra this week (or any time for that matter), be sure to pay a visit to the very impressive Red Fort.
The fort is also known as Lal Qila or Fort Rouge. Construction started in 1638 and work was completed in 1648. And oh yes, you can see another landmark (maybe slightly more famous) from here: the Taj Mahal.
The fort can be described as a walled palatial city, is the most important fort in India and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Even with only 20% being accessible to public, it is gargantuan and very red (sandstone).

And one of the most striking things about it, is that it mixes Hindu, Islamic, Christian and Jewish symbols in its architecture: five pointed stars, six pointed stars, eight pointed stars, flowers, it's all there.
In Agra wonders never cease.

Smile with Akanksha

A lot of small kids wander the streets of Mumbai. Rubbing shoulders with taxis, rickshaws and buses during the city's never ending rush hour. At every traffic light, they're selling stuff or begging for some money for food.

Think about it... giving up one lunch, by buying one of the "Smile with Akansha's lunch bags", helps to pay for a whole week of education and learning for a child in India.
Giving up a lunch in India means giving up about 100 rupees (less than 2€)...

More info (or donations) here.

Rainy Sunday afternoon

Topping the list of most annoying, unwanted weekend guests: rain, pouring rain and more goddamn rain. Sightseeing trip canceled. No culture today.
But here’s a ray of sunshine: shops are open, stuff is cheap and Coffee Café Day serves a yummie Devil's Own.
Now that’s some sweet relief.





The loot of the day:
1 leather clutch
1 sari (the top is being custom made by a tailor, ready tomorrow)
a tiffin box (= metal boxes to carry homemade lunch - more on that tomorrow)
48 bangles
some henna tattoos
bling bling for the hair
Yes, it looks like we're going Indian.

Stuck in Mumbai

So, we didn't exactly make it to Goa.
But hey, that's not a disaster. An earthquake is a disaster.
And it's not like I've been stuck in Mumbai for a whole month.
So, let's hit the city.

I've got three words for you: Hot, humid and loud.
The rest of the day is an update in pictures

"Goa & this weekend': it's not the ideal combo
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/news/city/goa/Rains-wreak-havoc-in-Goa/articleshow/5082495.cms

The pigeon religion

In Kerala, we were taken for a ride by our rick-driver (aka Mullet Man).
Not a ride, a real drive that is.
First stop: the uncle's shop (but of course...).
Then a little gem opened up in the middle of a maze of small houses, goats wandering and the 'occasional' pothole: the spice market. A wholesale market filled with beautiful colours,
penetrating scents and women sifting rice.




All of a sudden we had to go to be in time for 'the ceremony at the Jain temple'.
Ignorant about what was going down, Clai and I wandered in, bare foot, for a very amazing and unique, pigeon infested sight.
It was impressive and we were slightly overwhelmed.
Check the movie (though you have to see it in real life)...



We faced the odds of getting pooed with boldness (and success for that matter). I guess they were too busy eating to think about possible targets to attack.

Afterwards, we learned that Jainism prescribes a path of non-violence for all forms of living beings in this world. They're extreme pacifists, eat no animals, believe every living creature has a sould and the monks and nuns sweep the floor in front of them as they walk to prevent stepping on and crushing bugs or insects.
The Jains have an entire hospital in Delhi devoted to caring for the injured and infected feathered friends (mostly pigeons). There are some very contradictory views on this hospital though as some say, some birds would be better off, taken out of their misery.

Goa, full moon parties and getting a tan

Today, Sue and I went to Goa.
Today, Sue and I came back from Goa.

A short write up of the events of the day (Friday):

Leaving proved to be a bit of a hurdle.
Wrap up meeting with CDS (world wide exchange of presents from Canada, Mexico, Hungary, the US, South Korea, India, even flowers from Clai!!!- and quick goodbyes, cause they're better than the long ones) - call from Shaileish, our travel agent and beacon in citytrippin across India: Goa tickets booked, flight leaving in about 2 hours. Hmm.
That was our cue for an attempt at breaking the world record "packing, checking out and printing tickets in under an hour".

We somehow managed to get on the wrong shuttle from the airport to the plane (trust me, it's easy) and almost boarded a flight to Ahmedabad. We would've been better of getting on that one. More on that later.

Back on the right flight, we were supposed to be in for an uneventful one hour flight. Easy.
3 hours later we were still in the turbulent skies, without a word of explanation.
Planning is not something you do in India so we're used to things not exactly happening the way you thought they would so, hey, you won't hear me questioning anything!
All of a sudden, panic on board, running stewards, pilot asking for a doctor (and not exactly in a very calm way): medical emergency.
Luckily India's filled with brilliant doctors and we happened to have one on board.
We're not quite sure what happened cause the crew didn't bother mentioning whether or not the person had moved onto the next life meanwhile.
Next announcement of the day, coming to you live from the cockpit:
Ladies & Gentlemen, we might not be able to land in Goa due to the weather circumstances.
We still have enough fuel however to make it back to Mumbai (hmm, reassuring) so, more news to follow.
Another 1/2 hour later, we were told we were indeed going back to Mumbai...

When we hit the ground (Mumbai), they didn't let us off the plane. They had the evil plan to quietly refuel and secretly send us back to Goa anyway.
After 20 minutes and some protest from people wanting to get off, we were "released".
Our bags however weren't.
The idea was still to make the plane leave again which the Goan passengers/regulars told us wouldn't happen anyway.
This way they wouldn't have to refund the tickets.

We asked for a refund AND our bags.

We spent another hour at the airport trying to get tickets to get us out of Mumbai but to no avail. After declining about 42 taxi drivers ready to take us to Pune (one guy overheard us saying we might take a driver and car to go there and of course, the word on taxi street was out...) we hopped onto a rick. All sticky, tired and another day older, we were back to square one: Mumbai.

Stuck.

More food, this time: breakfast

A shot of espresso is not the breakfast of champions.
Some buttered toast? Rice crispies? Fruit smoothies? Yawn. Does it get any more boring?
Bring on the Indian breakfast! (insert music, actors singing and dancing, moustaches, big smiles)
A caress of the palate, a challenge on the stomach, hallelujah this is tasty.
But oh boy am I craving for a big glass of cold Cecemel...

Your typical Sunday

Weather forecast for Sunday: Sunny with a chance of natural beauty, Indian food and a moment of culture.

Natural beauty, brought to you by the lush and dense greeneries of Kerala's backwaters. Astounding.
And should you be so lucky as to have no crying child and baby on board, the backwaters are very soothing, relaxing and tranquillizing too. No such luck was my part. Alas...








Indian food coming to you live from the internet café and a place a tad more upmarket for dinner.

And Sunday, culture day. Featuring today: Kathakali, a Kerala dance performance, stylised classical Indian dance drama, dating back to the 16th century.
Impressive...


BTW - after day 1, bargained an upgrade in the -again- empty hotel.
The Rositta Wood Castle, a charming old hotel in rosewood with high ceilings, wooden floors a flowery courtyard and a phone as decoration.

The weekend shift

Friday morning (well... we're flexible on the timing... the drive took 2 1/2 hours instead of 1 so, pretty much noon by the time we made our big -late- entrance): Meeting the POABS Director. POABS is a fair trade tea (i know!), coffee, rice and spices organization in Kerala.
In exchange for an IBM pen (including light, thank you very much), we got a massive goodie bag filled with coffee, spices and tea. (Gifts for the people back home: check! Excess baggage: check!)
And oh yes, the actions we're taking based on the meeting look good too. We're on a roll!

Question: Would the following scenario be likely to happen in Belgium?
Friday afternoon, 4:30, based on a tip we got from the POABS director, we randomly call the AVT McCormick general number (AVT-McCormick: a joint venture between the Indian AVT company and McCormick, one of the oldest and largest USA based spices companies) asking for 'an executive'.
After some back and forth transfers, kadzzzinggg - we're meeting the Director and COO Mrs. Sushama tomorrow. Saturday that is!
Corporate Social Responsibility, livelihoods for farmers and IBM, prove to be a great door opener.

Saturday, 7a.m.
Those two, don't normally mix. But against my highly valued principles, I'm up already.
Down by the waterfront, during the wee hours of the morning, there exists a place so smelly, so slimy, only the heartiest of (wo)men dare walk its slippery pontoons.
Need to catch the fishermen doing their fishing thing in the early morning light. That my friends, is dedication... (me getting up that is).

Saturday afternoon: Taking the ferry (Fort Kochi to Ernakulam) in flipflops to attend a business meeting is somewhat of a new experience. (good excuse to pick up some new shoes along the way at the Mahatma Ghandi handicrafts market: turns out they're made of camel-leather. I made sure no camels were purposely killed for them and the proud creator of the kicks assured me only the ones that fall dead of old age are being used :-)

From now on, Saturday afternoon, coffee shop and flipflops are my *star* ingredients for a fruitful meeting! The suggestions Sushama made were beyond our expectations. (can't reveal...need to save some successes for our moment suprême, il grande presentacion final)

I chose to disrespect my principles again. Sunday morning: the backwater tour sets off at 8.
I'm sure you were already convinced but hey: This is hard work.

Getting some work done while we're at it...

Arriving Thursday at Cochin airport (Kerala), we were met by the driver arranged by the Nadukkara Agro Processing (Juice) company, a fair trade certified juice processing plant we’re meeting with.
We were taken to the hotel where a royal treatment awaited.
The manager personally welcomed us and another 6 people are constantly buzzing around us. I’m guessing we’re pretty much the only guests around for the moment.
We were officially handed the Royal Guest Book that already mentioned 2 other customers. I guess they had just started a new one cause they’ve been open since 2001…

Mr. Manager is almighty in this hotel and is omnipresent. Gets called in for everything. A very helpful person.
When I asked some more explanation about the food: Manager! Approach please.
When Clai asked for a second coke: panic aboard. We saw some major whispering and hissing action over at Mr. Manager’s desk after which the waiter who had drawn the shortest straw, had the unfortunate task of bringing us the bad news: there was only one Coke in the hotel.
Dare I inquire about a possible internet connection? The World Wide Web so to speak? The information super highway? I could see them think: the internet… yes… we got it caught in a cage last week but it managed to get away. Uh oh – major panic. Two guys had to go check with Mr. Manager. He appeared promptly, telling us there’s no internet today. Maybe tomorrow (don’t see any connection though). But problems call for solutions, so he kindly volunteered a member of his staff to help find a connection in town. The volunteer looked puzzled…

Anyway, off to our business of the day: Nadukkara plant visit. Highly recommended. They have a very refined infrastructure set up, funded partially by the Government of Kerala and the European Union (Italian machines). (My mind sort of wondered off during the factory visit: How come our host didn’t have to cover his moustache with a hygienic cap? A whole lot of hair going on there…)
The company is owned for 70% by the farmers collectives (pineapple), 30% by the government. We met with the General Manager and the Quality/Procurement Manager and tried to find potential opportunities for us to work together. We might go into an R&D process and gave them some ideas about new markets which we could tell they liked… It’s amazing to see how coming in as a volunteer, not wanting to sell or bargain and without having a personal business interest opens up so many doors. Productive meeting. First connections made between Team Ladakh and Team Kerala. North and South unite.

It's a first!

We spent so little time in our Mumbai hotel, I couldn’t even find the time to have my laundry done there.
The time has come.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
If a bucket bath is good enough for me, I’m sure it’s good enough for my undies too.
So: Laundry Day, the Indian way.

(pictures censored)

The leg (or the lack thereof)

There is a chance, one of my legs will not come home with me.
I have –again- been bitten by something.
The mark on my leg is getting bigger. Feel free to call it a pretty substantial stain by now. (It seems to lead a life of its own. I might even give my stain a name soon.)
I have a sense of trepidation that at any moment now little spiders will start crawling out .

Bite has been there for 3 days now and to top things off, yesterday I slipped coming out of the bathroom which made my shin hit the bed and get stuck under it (I know…), adding to the already tense and very painful feeling. Result: Immediate black swelling (which sort of clashed with the red stain). Ice cold water contained the damage.
Best is to keep my leg up but unfortunately this looks a bit strange in business meetings.

Moreover something else has been feasting on my legs as well. I think there were some bugs in my bed that had a pretty feisty party last night.
I was the top act and served as their main course.
Oh well, this too shall pass, I’m sure.

(I was going to post a picture but will spare you any further details.)

Driving, working, some more driving...

A couple of difficulties to overcome at the office before you can actually get some work done.
First of all no driver to be found this morning so slight delay in getting the day started. Luckily I’m still on Ladakhi time, meaning: go with whatever flow comes along.
Printers: nah, they’re not compatible with the laptop at hand.
Wireless: maybe, sometimes, try again.
The telephony system: a whole other world, no universe.
A shiny phone is sitting on my desk but doesn’t seem to be connected to anything and its main purpose would be to … pretty much just sit shiny on my desk.
Making a call with the local mobile seems to either be impossible due to the network being busy (I kept getting this guy on the phone saying: "Network is busy, kindly dial after some time" - see movie), me not being able to get the right numbers dialled or people simply hanging up as I seem to be completely incomprehensible.

You need to put one, two or no zeros at all in front of the number (depending on the time of day I guess).
Couldn't get the conference call going so they sent in a blind man to help: the blind leading the blind, we're on a roll. But at least he knew what he was doing. Thank you sir!

Despite all difficulties we managed to get some useful contacts in the Fair Trade business (tea –oh joy-, seed oil, juice).
And they so happen to be located in Kerala.
So, hopping on the next flight out (thanks to Roja, setting up our entire schedule).
Tomorrow morning first thing: deep South beware: team IBM is on its way (and will stay over the weekend while we're at it).

Tonight however, team IBM was slightly less productive.
Getting our driver to the right secret Bandra hideout was almost as difficult as getting a phone call done.
Bandra, home to many a Bollywood celebrity and to Kabi, our local beacon in Mumbai life was the place to be for cooking class (this week: Rajasthan cuisine by chef Kannu - oh yes, as Indian as you can get).
Food and company was great but the drives keep being a challenge.

Leaving Bandra, the rickshaw driver got clear instructions from Kannu to drive us back to the hotel. Straight home, no detours, no stops.
About 10 minutes into the drive, I realized I had forgotten my loyal friend “Laptop” at Kabi’s. Turning back however, was no option for our rickshaw driver. There was no stopping him.
He was determined.
Straight ahead.
A man on a mission.
Mission: "Drop off white people at Planet Residency asap".

We signalled, we yelled, we pointed in the direction we came from. All to no avail. He kept nodding his head fiercely which sort of got us in a twist: Did he understand? You think?
If so, why did we keep on driving at full speed direction "away from Kabi's"?

Finally, we called Beacon Kabi again. (You have to know Kabi spends about half of her days talking to our drivers in Hindi, explaining what we can’t get across.)
We were however slightly too quick to hand off the phone to the driver who got clear and firm Kabi-like instructions reinforcing the message to get us to the hotel. Now!

The poor man didn’t understand a thing. That was what he was doing and had been doing all along.
About 5 minutes and 5 kilometres later, we finally managed to get hold of the phone again. Explained situation to Kabi, Kabi explained to driver, driver made U-turn.

20 minutes later, laptop and I reunited.
On our way. Mission: Planet Residency.

Sunday afternoon wonder

Sunday morning 7:30,
leaving Leh, 2°C

Sunday morning 8:30,
arriving in Delhi, 28°C

Oh yes... Delhi is hot (and a lot greener than Mumbai).

Random Sunday afternoon road trip: taking in a little world wonder.
The renowned Taj Mahal in Agra ('the Taj' for friends).

(Weather update: 38°C, scorching hot.)

Brace yourself for a sophisticated treat: A stunning white marble construction, meticulously laid out by an ingenious architect about 370 years ago.
Inlays in precious stones, so smooth you'd think they're paintings, citings from the Koran in -what appear to be- letters of equal sizes (but the equal size only obtained through refined optical illusions), 4 symmetric minarets built slightly leaning towards the outside in order not to fall on the dome in case of earthquake.
A marble-ous (pun intended) construction built as a remembrance of a husband to his deceased wife.

The Taj Mahal...
And there was nothing left but to stand there in awe.

Me against 'The Tea'

Newsflash: Indians like tea.

And preferably lots of it.
At every -literally every- hour of the day.
Tea comes in a multitude of varieties here: green tea,
black tea with ginger and milk, salty yak-butter-tea (black tea, salt, a nice big chunck of yak butter and milk), seabuckthorn tea (oh yes, it's research!). You name it: they brew it.

But I don't drink it. You can feed me pretty much anything but tea's just simply...not my cup of tea. Ever since I was 5, I have a tea trauma so, thanks but no thanks.

That does imply having to turn down tea (and the accompanying people) about 8 times a day: at breakfast, during meetings, in monks' kitchens.
Yes, even declining Holy men...

Tea for two
and two for tea
tea for you
but not for me...

Welcome to "Who Packs Your Bags"?'

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to 'Who Packs Your Bags'?
Behind door No. 1: DIY aka the normal way - you go on a trip, you pack your bags, you bring too much.
Behind door No. 2: A charming colleague packs your bag for you and brings your stuff to Delhi.

Two?

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Here’s what you win: A round trip to Agra!

It's a simple plan.
No, I shouldn't say this.
Simple plans have a tendency to go very wrong very quickly.
So, this is the plan: I take a plane from Leh to Delhi. Skip my flight from Delhi to Mumbai. Clai takes my mountain stuff to Mumbai. Dawn brings my Agra-fit clothes to Delhi.
We drive from Delhi to Agra. We see Taj Mahal. Everybody happy.
Life is easy.

Trapped in -semi- paradise

Shht... What's that sound? Can you hear it? It's the sound of missing your plane returning to Mumbai.

You are currently reading the blog of a not-so-happy-camper.
Scheduled return to Mumbai was supposed to be tomorrow (Friday).
Booking the tickets today with a long weekend ahead, might have been a bit short notice (please note I was not responsible myself) .
So, yours truly is stuck in Leh.
No trip to Agra / Jaipur and Delhi any time soon. Big fat bummer!

We've pretty much seen everything there is to see and I'm pretty fed up with wearing my hiking shoes! (Did I really pay that much excess baggage to only be wearing my warm mountain clothes?)

Oh well, I guess meanwhile I did get used to the minor defects of mountain life, the cows know me and I can visit my adopted donkey again.
And didn't I mention feeling like a queen yesterday?
Well, I still need a couple of hours to get over it.
I guess it's true what they say: there's no such thing like a sure plan in India.



BTW - one good thing came out of it: the guy at the reception desk felt so bad for me that he gave a tour in Brad Pitt's suite at our hotel (he actually stayed here).
I walked over his doormat, sat in his sofa, laid on his bed. Too bad he wasn't home...

The one with the important visitor

Just finished our big workshop. Enough work for one day.

Ten of the most important stakeholders attended, including the Prime Minister of the State Jammu & Kashmir (*). He arrived in two cars.
How does one arrive in two cars?
Well, he was escorted by 6 armed military police officers.

All various parties involved were represented: the government, the collectives, the local farmers' association, forest preservation fund, entrepreneurs currently involved in other agricultural exports, ... All of them were VERY respectful towards the prime minister. As were we of course.
Everyone had tea (what else), biscuits, cake, spring rolls and samosas while Clai and I ran the workshop.
Three major topics we brainstormed about:

• Partner criteria (who do we want, who do we decline - like filling out an online dating form)
• Branding and awareness (trademarks, how to market, domestic vs international, which routes,...)
  
• Building the story (key differentiators, selling proposition, got the story going by showing the kids' drawings)
  

We had rented out a room in our hotel and checked upfront about the do's and don'ts in a 'Ladakhi workshop' so I think I behaved appropriately.
(To make IBM proud, I have to add we got compliments on the way we effectively ran the meeting! A Belgian and a US IBMer running an effective meeting. In India. Surely that's a first.)

Afterwards we were even consulted about marketing techniques for local shops (which was no problem for us in exchange for a discount). Or should I not mention this?
Probably against IBM's Business Conduct Guidelines...





(*) State Jammu&Kashmir is one of India's 28 states.
Population: 10,143,700
Surface: 222.236 km²
Capital: Jammu (winter) and Srinagar (summer)

Let's talk business...

Berry-business.
Finally starting to understand who's who in berry-land.
Local people aka Ladakhi: try to earn a living by picking berries that can only be harvested one year a month.
Harvesting of the berry that grows wild, happens between 5 and 9 in the morning.
Why? Cause at that point, the connection between the berry and the branch is at its most fragile.
Tapping on the branches with a stick or shaking the shrub, will set a berry shower (as opposed to berry bucket bath) into motion.
Then there's local entrepreneurs. People working in other industries the rest of the year but as entrepreneurs, get asked by the berry collectors when they'll be wanting (read buying) berries. But these local entrepreneurs first need a buyer. And that's where the problem starts.
There's currently one buyer and people are totally dependent on him. One year he bought the entire crop (but there's potential for more), last year he bought nothing (no berry-trade in 2008), this year he's buying only about 1/5th.
Another problem is the awareness of the berry. It simply isn't known or isn't being promoted in the right way.
It's already proving to be a challenge finding it in local shops.
And if they do happen to find some juice under the counter or in the back office, it comes in the most repulsive recycled plastic bottle that already survived 3 earthquakes and 2 civil wars and just started its fruitful 7th life. (btw: the picture is a civilized version in a program director's office)

The puss inside the bottle then comes into 2 parts: the top part being the pulp and the bottom part being water. Could be slightly more appealing.
Whereas other local produce is being sold and marketed (apricot jam, himalayan salt, ...), the juice seems to be a produce outcast.

But not to worry: Team IBM to the rescue!
Now that we understand the culture better, have -somewhat of- a handle on the ecosystem of stakeholders involved and the needs of the locals, we're working on a -insert drumroll- plan.
Not just any plan. A master plan (we don't get out of bed-or get off our plank- for anything less).
This afternoon, we have a workshop with 10 VIPs all having a say in the berry-process. They got invited through a hard copy invite, hand delivered by TISS to their offices at the beginning of this week (that's the way it works here for VIPs) and we'll be hosting them in our hotel.

The heat is on.
IBM needs to show its true colours. Today they'll be orange.
Time to start a new religion: Berry-ism.
All Hail to the berry!

Cultural smackdown

That's the way to describe the way I met Indian culture the past 2 days.In your face, up close and personal.

Foreseen pick up for Nubra Valley: Tuesday 7 am.
8:15 our party arrived.
The program: not really clear (what's new?).

The 5 of us (Driver Mr. Lobster, Jorgis, Ramesh, Clai and myself) in a tin 4x4 with worn out shock absorbers on our way for a 5 hour drive over the mountain.
I don't really have words to describe the journey... The first part was -besides very winding- OK.
But then we drove for about 2 1/2 hours over something that could be described as a very narrow, unpaved dust road with potholes all over.

You have to brace yourself, hang on to everything that doesn't move and can't sit back against the back of the seat as then you treat yourself to feeling the bumps and holes about 2 times more
Very very tiring.
The car wrecks of vehicles that made way for opponents -unsuccessfully- were scattered down the flanks of the mountain and didn't immediately provide comfort for a safe return.
The views on the other hand were amazing and that was a comfort as I thought these views could very well be the last views I ever laid eyes on.
We passed the highest motorable road in the world (almost 7000 meters: ice, snow, wind, tea) had a couple of stops along the way and finally arrived in a tiny tiny village.
Jorgis disappeared for about 1/2 an hour while Clai and I were the talk of the town: strange white people had been dropped. The Gods must be crazy.
I started getting grumpy as I got the message we were having no lunch today.
When Jorgis finally came back, he had dragged his cousin along who was rather sick (probably H1N1) but he told her it was better to get out of bed and make us some tea.
I had to refuse tea again (I have a tea-trauma ever since I was 5 and have to kindly turn down tea here about 8 times a day - people don't understand).
After a school visit (We brought a box full of stuff we bought yesterday and had them drawing Seabuckthorn stories), a SB processing plant, another cousin's visit (water irrigation system) and a monastery tour (seabuckthorn sightings), we drove off (for another 2 hours).
Where to? Only God knew. And Ramesh. And Jorgis. And Mr. Lobster.
OK, basically the only ones in the dark were Clai and me...
The only thing we did get out of Jorgis about our destination was that we were probably going to sleep there tonight.
Let the guessing game begin! Is it a nice hotel? Massage and copious dinner awaiting? Is it a warm and inviting guest house, no tea included? A hot shower? Internet connection maybe?
No, we ended up at his mother's house and were put in the sitting area for...tea.
All I could think about by that time was food. Meanwhile a lot of stuff was happening in the background but we were completely left out (as we are guests).
It turned out they had gone to the market (for a freshly slaughtered chicken) and Ramesh would cook it.
Get a move on Ramesh!!!
Not thinking about all potential stomach and belly complications ahead we had a great meal.
With very welcoming people: Jorgis mother and sister in law, who did think that adopting a donkey and drinking water instead of tea was not really a very normal thing to do.

The surroundings and the humble home are so far off from anything we're used to.
I can only describe with the help of visual support (and orally later on).
(see movie of my room, walk down to the dry toilet and the dinner)

After dinner: straight to bed. Which was for me: a plank with a blanket on it as mattress,
the family's Japanese pillow (which had a stone in it or sth cause half way through the night I thought I was about to loose my ear cause it ached like hell), and some thick dusty but warm blankets. Besides the ear-falling-off-condition, I had a great night.

Rise and shine for a new day.
And that new day didn't bring a bucket bath for a change but a hand pump down the garden.
(I don't think I'm that dirty today, I might skip this one)
And of course the new day also brought more of the same: driving around.
First stop: sand dunes (And camels. But they were on strike). Lots and lots of Seabuckthorn in the sand dunes and we convinced innocent tourists to try after giving them the full SB 101.
After that, we went to a monastery where we witnessed a Buddhist ceremony (secret footage attached) and had tea in the monks' kitchen (not me).
Some leftovers along the way later, I cursed myself for eating them right before driving back. But in any case: I did have lunch today.

Still totally overwhelmed by what happened, need to process a bit now.
Back in isolated Leh, with on and off internet connection, with my bucket bath and night time
only electricity, I feel like a queen, living a life of luxury.




Video-footage to follow - connection too slow...