Friday 12 August —
For a long time, there was nothing to see, except the reflection of the aircraft lights on cloud. When we dropped out of the cloud, we were already quite low and there were a lot of lights below but, since I know nothing of the geography of Hong Kong, I could make no sense of them. No problems with immigration so I repaired to the Hong Kong Tourist Association desk to enquire about accommodation.
The best they could come up with was the International Hotel at HK$450 per night, plus service charge and accommodation tax, an additional 15%, a bit steep but will do for the moment. While at the desk, another lad came along and was directed towards the same place so the girls suggested we could save money by sharing a taxi. We went one better, he had been in Hong Kong before, so knew which bus went past the hotel door.
I paid for one night, didn’t tip the porter who carried my bag up to the room, which was a bit unkind as he was fairly decrepit and bent double under the weight. So, I had a shower and cleaned up a bit before going into the dingy hotel bar for a beer or two, just me and the barman. After a bit, I went back upstairs and retired, it now being Saturday, having decided just to stay where I was rather than look for somewhere cheaper tomorrow.
Saturday 13 August —
Overcast and sticky. I decided to stick to Kowloon today, so ambled sweatily up Nathan Road till I discovered Argyle St, then followed that along to the typhoon shelter, down alongside that then back out to Nathan Road. There is no Health and Safety at Work legislation in Hong Kong, I passed several small engineering shops near the typhoon shelter and saw only one welder wearing smoked goggles, all the others, turners, sawers etc. were at severe risk of eye injury, and not a work boot in sight.
Changed £100 for just over HK$1300 at the Hong Kong Bank, despite their $20 handling charge on travellers cheques.
Wandered down to the waterfront, looked at the Island and decided that I might go there tomorrow, and perhaps a tour to the New Territories on Monday. Heading back into town on Chatham Road, I found myself outside the air-conditioned Kangaroo Pub, so, as it was now just after noon, decided to go in for a cool and a beer or two, or more. I was on my last beer when I got into conversation with the chap on the next bar stool, an American sailor who wanted to tell me about the problems he was having with his on-board computers, so I had to stay a bit longer.
After that, I returned to the hotel by an indirect route through back alleys, stopping at a fast food bar where no English was spoken. I pointed at a bit of the menu, four short lines of characters, B - $10 was all I understood, but the guy shook his head. Must be off, point to C - $9.50, he nodded and produced a cup of cola, a toasted bun and a bit of the leg of a pretty big chicken, quite a tasty one at that. He said something as he handed it over, I just said “thank you”.
At the hotel, I had a siesta, watched the news on TV and then ventured out to see the Kowloon night-life, but I couldn’t get interested in it at all. I managed to escape from the Indian who was very keen to sell me a shirt or two (his assistant asked - do you like looking like a scruff - I said yes). However, I fell foul of another when I stopped to look at a display of pipes. Along he came, and my defence that I smoke only one type of pipe failed when he produced a boxful of Petersons, a suitable shape at $150 which I think was £18 when I left the UK, so I bought it then scuttled back to the hotel before I bought any more.
Watched the late-night movie. Channels 1 and 3 are Chinese with Chinese sub-titles except for movies originally made in English which are dubbed in Chinese with English sub-titles. Channel 2 TVB “The Pearl” - and Channel 4 - ATV “The Diamond” - are in English, sometimes with Chinese sub-titles. I think they all have commercials and programme sponsors. Not much locally made stuff on 2 or 4.
Sunday 14 August —
I seem to have lost the urge to get up at 0700 these days. It’s pouring rain outside, the forecast is to improve later. I wandered around for a while, trying to keep in the shelter of ledges on the buildings, which are usually only half the width of the pavements. In the end, I put the umbrella up, a dangerous practice as it reduced my manoeuvrability on the crowded pavements.
Not much point in going over to the Island, it was barely visible in the mirk. Back to the Kangaroo Pub for lunch, cheeseburger and chips and a few pints of San Miguel. Still raining when I came out so I went back to the hotel to watch the afternoon TV.
Came out again in the evening and had a couple of pints in the Waltzing Matilda Inn, I think most of the customers were gay, moved to the Waltzing Matilda Arms for a couple more. Both these places were staffed by Chinese, the later with a mostly Chinese clientele. Finished with a bottle of San Miguel in the hotel bar before retiring.
Monday 15 August —
Still raining. Temperature still about 28-29 degrees Celsius. Skittered about again this morning until it was a decent hour to go for lunch in the Kangaroo Pub, just a couple of pints then went looking for the British Airways office in Tsim Sha Tsui East, closed for lunch so I went along to the railway station, couldn’t find the entrance, walked around the Coliseum then back to BA to confirm my flight to New Delhi for tomorrow.
Back to the Ocean Centre, found a bookshop and bought the Lonely Planet guide to India. A couple more pints in the Waltzing Matilda Arms then back to the hotel, bought some postcards and stamp and wrote them. Went out for a meal in a genuine Chinese restaurant, inexpensive, quite good, tea extra. A few more beers then back to the hotel, buying some T-shirts on the way at less then £2 each.
Tuesday 16 August —
Still raining. Checked out of the hotel, leaving my bag for later. Skittered about again this morning until it was a decent hour to go for lunch in the Kangaroo Pub. The rain went off. Took a few photos before returning to the hotel to pick up my bag and catch the bus out to the airport where I did the usual things, eat, drink, buy souvenirs, until flight time.
The plane was fairly full, a few empty seats in the smoking section. I had two Indians beside me, the nearer a Punjabi, both put away half a dozen miniatures of whisky in the first half hour to my one beer. The Punjabi invited me to accompany him home, at no cost, but I demurred.
We landed at New Delhi about 2330, no problems with immigration, a fair wait for the luggage, had to register my foreign currency as it amounted to over US$1000, then walked through customs without a hitch.
Wednesday 17 August —
On the way out of the Arrivals Hall, I was collared by a chap in a uniform. There are so many uniforms here that you never know who is who. This one turned out to be a tout for an airport bus and a hotel. I explained my intention of remaining at the airport for the night but he persuaded me that I could get a good room for Rs220/- and his bus would take me there for Rs30/-.
At this point I discovered that I should have changed some money before leaving the Arrivals Hall, so I had to go back. The guide book says you can’t go back but the chap on the door was quite happy to point me in the right direction. £100 bought me Rs2420/-, seemed like a good price.
On the bus and to the Airport Hotel at the Domestic Terminal, quite a distance away and just as far from the town. The guy at reception wrote out a bill for Rs550/- so I protested and said Rs220/-. He said he hadn’t got a room at that price and anyway this one was much nicer, with air conditioning. I said that I was more interested in the price (as a matter of principle) than the niceness, and I did get the cheap room.
A box, no window but a noisy extractor fan and a ceiling fan. The “bathroom” had a puddle in the middle below the shower and a water jug beside the toilet. Luckily I had read about this in the guide book and had brought some toilet paper from Hong Kong. The shower head was mostly blocked, a single thin jet at 45 degrees towards the door, but there were two taps at waist height on the wall. I turned on the red one, not hot but bearable. Collected some of the run-off in the large bucket to flush the toilet.
Only one sheet on the bed so I used my YHA bag. I slept well, nothing bit me in the night. Woke about seven thirty, “showered” repacked and discovered that to flush the toilet, you only had to turn on a stopcock, the bucket was unnecessary.
Out the door about nine to walk the short distance to the Domestic Terminal to catch the bus into town, Rs10/-. Armed guards all over the place. Driver plus three other officials on the bus, plus lots of passengers, I had to stand. Connaught Place was “hopeless” (traffic-wise) so I got dropped at the Outer Circle and was immediately fastened on by an auto-rickshaw driver who offered to find me a hotel. I said no and walked off, but he kept reappearing and in the end, I gave in.
To the Gaiety Palace, full tonight but I could have a room tomorrow, if I left a deposit. Raj, the a-r driver (1309), would take me to another hotel for tonight and fetch me back tomorrow. I gave in, and left Rs500/- deposit and off we went to the Shervani Fort View, near the Old Fort and the Zoo. Very nice, air-conditioned, with a proper shower over the bath, and toilet paper, and a newspaper, the Statesman, with The Times crossword.
Pottered about a bit, then went out for a walk along to the Old Fort, very impressive but could do with a tidy and a bit of gardening. On past the India Gate and into Connaught Circus. By this time the heat was getting to me so I went into Gaylords for tea and lassi, then bought a map and headed back to the cool of the hotel. Had a feed, did most of the crossword and went to bed.
Thursday 19 August —
After a light breakfast, I checked out at ten. They were quite happy to take VISA but didn’t have the right machine so copied my details onto the slip by hand! (Unfortunately, the bill still came through.) Raj was waiting outside with his machine and off we went to the Gaiety Palace where the room wasn’t ready. Left the bag and went off for a tour with Raj, visiting a Hindu temple, Humayan’s Tomb, The Presidential Palace, “Whitehall”, India Gate, Mahatma Gandhi Memorial and back to the hotel.
Paid off Raj and followed the porter to my room, it even had a dressing room. Down to the desk to arrange a trip to Agra for tomorrow, and was asked to change rooms to the ground floor “nicer room” and smaller too, no dressing room. The porters moved my bags. Pottered about a bit then went out to Connaught Circus again but the heat was getting to me so I soon returned to the hotel for food. The menu here is vegetarian, I ordered some pakura (amongst other things), the sauce was tomato ketchup in a bottle.
This place is the same price as the Shervani but not quite up to the same standard of service or finish.
Friday 19 August —
The tour pick-up was supposed to be 0615. I was there at 0610 but they weren’t, till 0640. It had been raining in the night, now just the occasional drip from the trees. We picked up a few more passengers then all change into another coach which had been doing other pick-ups.
Off out through the Delhi suburbs to the city boundary where we stopped to pay Sales Tax then twenty yards further on we stopped to pay Road Tax for the state we were entering. No need for public conveniences out here, the men just squat by the roadside, I don’t know what the women do.
Passed a scene of industry, men shovelling sand off the back of a lorry onto a heap, more men shovelling sand from that heap through a riddle onto another heap, more men shovelling sand from that heap onto the back of a lorry. These four guys were working in sync, otherwise they would have decapitated each other with the shovels.
More Road Tax on entering Utter Pradesh. Stopped for a short break at the Midway Hotel, I stayed in the air-conditioned bus. About four hours running time for the 210 kilometres to Agra, rarely going over about 65kph, I’d say, you wouldn’t catch me driving here with pedestrians, goats, bullock carts, pony carts, bicycles, rickshaws, cars, lorries and buses all sharing a fifteen foot strip of bitumen.
Large vehicles have the right of way, blow the horn and the smaller things take to the ditch. Even so, we passed half a dozen overturned lorries including two almost blocking the road which seemed to have been there for some time (and were still there when we returned in the evening).
Service areas were amazing. Tea stalls, beds, engineering shops all scattered along the roadside, trucks blocking most of the road, most of the “buildings” just thatched huts on stilts, presumably to keep them out of the monsoon floodwaters.
At Agra, we went straight to the Taj Mahal, of which much has been written elsewhere. Very nice, but it did nothing for me. It might be better by moonlight. Then to the Taj View Hotel for a late lunch, fish, meat and vegetable curries and a few side dishes, followed by a bland fruit salad with coffee mouse and tea. I suppose there was a view of the Taj from the upper floors but not from where we were.
Then to a craft shop, the only place to buy souvenirs, where I stayed outside smoking my pipe, having made it clear to the hawkers that I was not going to buy anything.
Then to the Fort, very impressive, but part is occupied by the army and part is under repair so you only get to see one end where the palaces are. Again, it could do with some attention from the Glasgow Corporation Parks Department.
Then to Akbul’s Tomb where they have rabid monkeys wandering about then back to Delhi, where we didn’t have to pay any road tax, presumably the local tax is paid on a regular basis. We’d passed through a couple of showers on the way down, and longer periods of rain on the way back, but it was off when I reached the hotel.
Saturday 20 August —
It was fairly chucking it down first thing this morning. I felt like not getting up. There’s a damp patch on the ceiling in the corner, and bits of plaster flaking off. Phoned for breakfast, a waiter would be sent but he still had not arrived when I went out two hours later. So I dripped up the town and went into Gaylords for lunch. However, being before twelve o’clock, they were only doing snacks so I settled for a couple of those, a cheese and tomato toastie and a vegetable cutlet, which was very nice.
Presentation was good in both cases. What, you might ask, can presentation do for a cheese toastie? Well, you put it on a plate, neatly cut in half and place beside it a table-spoonful of potato salad topped with a few slices of tomato. The cutlets came with a few chips.
I hadn’t gone far after that when I decided the heat was too much and returned to the hotel for a pot of tea. Later I went out again to see if the evening was any better, but it wasn’t much. Went into the Embassy for a feed, ordered mutton dupiaza, paratha and pineapple raiti. Very nice except for the bones in the mutton and there being more gravy than the paratha could handle a quick spot of spooning solved that. There was a bit of what I took to be a green bean but when I chewed it, I had to ask for more water, I found out later that it was a pepper.
Got back to the hotel just as the evening news was starting on TV so I sat in the lobby and watched that - mostly bad - and at one point something - a lizard or a squirrel - ran down the wall behind the lady presenter. If she could see it on the monitor, she did very well to keep a straight face.
Sunday 21 August —
Last day, must check out by noon. This time the waiter did arrive to take my breakfast order, I wish he hadn’t bothered. The orange juice was a fake and the cheese omelette might have had a milligram of cheese in it at one time but it had all evaporated by the time I got it. Or perhaps the previous omelette in the pan had had the cheese.
So I pottered about, got myself organised, packed and checked out at quarter past eleven, leaving my bag to collect later. Walked slowly up to Connaught Circus and round it for a while, then into Gaylords yet again. This time they were serving lunch, so I asked for a snack just, the cutlets again, which they provided cheerfully.
When I came out, it seemed cooler (my shirt had been dripping when I went in), almost comfortable with an intermittent breeze, so, with more energy than I have shown for some days, I went to the office of the Ex-Servicemen’s Bus Company and bought a ticket (part paid) for the 1830 airport bus.
Then the rain started so I stood in the colonnade watching it, and even managed to convince several beggars and hawkers that there was no point in their hanging around in my vicinity. These included a man with a Himalayan Brown Bear (I think), poor thing, it got quite a fright when a man darted out from behind a column just in front of it to cross the road. When the bear man came round a second time, accompanied by a man with two monkeys, they didn’t even try me, one “No” was enough.
When the rain went off, I wandered down the Jan Path towards the Raj Path, then along past the India Gate and meandered back up towards the hotel, collected the bag and humped it back up to the bus shop where I sat for forty minutes refusing to buy balloons or bananas, or even have my shoes mended (not the first time I’d refused such an offer).
When the bus came, lots of people piled in. The seats were so close together that I had to put my backside half way up the seat back to get my knees in - but this proved an advantage when we started, being well wedged in made it easier to keep my balance when the driver threw the bus round the corners
And so to the airport. There was confusion amongst some tourists about which terminal was which, as there are two domestic terminals designated Airbus and Boeing, I don’t appreciate the significance of the distinction, and the second of these has a big sign “Indira Gandhi International Airport” but the actual international terminal was still several kilometres away, round three sides of a triangle as far as I could see. I wasn’t getting out till I saw something I recognised. Quite an impressive sunset shining through the moisture-laden air and thin billows of cloud.
Anyway, we got to the terminal, I wonder why all Indians put my pack upside-down?, and had to produce tickets to get past the armed guard at the door. Then all was well, we only saw an armed guard every hour or so (on average). I established a possie near the snack bar and settled to wait out the night with hourly cups of tea. Service was not good, frequent delays to get change and at one point they ran out of plastic cups. It took fifteen minutes to get more, then five minutes to restart service after filling in lots of forms in triplicate - for a few plastic cups? and discussing amongst themselves the price of rice.
Decided to pay my departure tax, wandered across to the adjacent bank counter, was asked which airline I was using, and was directed to another counter at the other end of the building. Each bank handles only its own allocated airlines.
Since the weather had been so bad, I had taken no slides in New Delhi so I bought some. This left me with Rs415/- which almost went on four silk scarves (small) and more slides, of Agra, to make up the balance. The vendor told me his scarves were Rs95/each but closer inspection revealed some price tags of Rs75/-. I learned this trick after buying a packet of W.D.& H.O. Wills Navy Cut (made in India) earlier. How much I asked, Rs20/- he said after inspecting the packet. I paid. A bit later, on examining my treasure, I discovered the price tag said Rs18/-. I suspect the vendor had no Rs2/- notes for change and to spare me any possible embarrassment had rounded up the price to the most likely denomination that I would be expected to have.
Monday 22 August —
It must be time to change days. I went to enquire when I could check in my bag and was told two o’clock. I have no idea exactly what happened but there was a queue at two, partly a Spanish band with their luggage neatly arrayed in front of one desk. No-one appeared till twenty past two, then the Spaniards were pushed aside to let the plebs through. I got the second-worst window seat on the plane despite checking-in third.
The terminal cleaners were extremely lackadaisical, they kept things reasonably clean but at a very slow pace, and bludged fags off the paying passengers. One of the snack bar staff fell asleep on the public benches but, unfortunately, was not sacked on the spot. There were quite a few folk flaked out on the floor.
I conversed with a couple flying KLM to London via Amsterdam, five hours ahead of me, and when they left I talked to a Swede on his way home via Dusseldorf, Copenhagen, etc. and doesn’t get there till early Tuesday. He came to India for five months but after two and a half, decided to chuck it in and went to New Zealand for the remainder, and never got to the South Island.
Enough of this drivel, paper is running out.
At last they called the flight, two and a half hours before take-off time but they need the lead time. Immigration check your papers, and make marks on them. Customs check the marks which Immigration made. Then you reach the duty free shops with plenty of time to work out that the whisky is cheaper in Glasgow.
The security man searching me, a Sikh, seemed at first worried by my tobacco knife, until he found my pipe and understood the connection. More waiting in another lounge, I had been told that we would be asked to identify our luggage before boarding but it didn’t happen. When we did board, late, more waiting till finally we took off an hour late due to, as they finally told us just before landing at Kuwait, “loading problems as the terminal was very busy” at one plane per hour overnight.
While we were waiting on the ground, the cabin crew shuffled various passengers around. There was an empty seat between me at the window and an elderly lady at the aisle. A stewardess asked her if she would mind moving into the centre seat to allow a Sikh to move from the other side of the plane to allow a family group to sit closer together. She moved, with some assistance from the stewardess.
A bit later, I realised that she spoke no English. Throughout the flight, she was not very happy and retired to the rear of the plane several times, on each occasion having to push past the mostly somnolent Sikh in the aisle seat. At the beginning, one stewardess showed her how to buckle her seat belt, another how to unfasten it to change seats, but they didn’t show her, they just sort of did it for her saying “here’s how you do it”, or words to that effect, in English. No-one seemed interested in the fact that it was probably her first flight, and who would send her all that way on her own?
At one point, the lady seemed to be trying to attract the attention on the one stewardess who seemed to speak her lingo (she’d asked her if she wanted tea or coffee after breakfast and the lady seemed to understand), without success so I pressed the call button, the light came on and that was all. After a bit, the lady retired to the rear of the plane. returning a few minutes later, and went to sleep. It was a further ten minutes before the Hindi-speaking stewardess appeared. I started to explain what had happened and she wandered off. I was not pleased. I pushed the bell again. She re-appeared after another considerable period of time. Not only are the “fasten seat belt” signs unreliable, the call buttons don’t work either. She had thought I said something about the lady sitting against the bell.
So, with that all sorted, I asked for a couple of beers and I’m sure she said no and went away. Came back two minutes later with the beers and, later still, asked if I wanted any more before the bar closed. Nice girl.
I didn’t mention that the plane was a Tristar, no individual air vents so no control over the immediate environment. At Kuwait, immediate seating arrangements did not change. We were not allowed off the plane. At Abu Dhabi in 1979, we were not allowed to remain on the plane during refuelling for safety reasons, now we are not allowed off the plane during refuelling for security reasons. The air-conditioning seemed to go off with the engines and it got quite sticky. The lady seemed more susceptible to the heat than I would have expected for an Indian. After all, it was not as hot as Delhi four days ago, my shirt was only damp, then it had been dripping.
Anyway, we got airborne again, still about an hour late, with a new crew. Reasonable lunch, managed a few more beers, had to buy some whisky as we had not been allowed out at Kuwait, and finally dropped into London at five to three.
While waiting for my luggage, I was approached by a market researcher who asked my opinions of the flight. I’m afraid I didn’t have much to say to the credit of British Airways.
On the assumption that the last train north would leave about five, I decided against rushing in to Euston and went for the shuttle, £49 for standby. My big bag confused the X-ray operators and I had to open it and expose the contents for the first time. I think the problem was the plastic box containing a tin of sardines, two foil-wrapped freeze-dried meals and a tobacco tin full of coins.
To my surprise, the 1715 flight to Glasgow was not full, in fact the 757 (I think) was less than half full. A steward approached and asked if I wanted anything to drink, I decided I would afford a beer but it was free, so I had two. Shuttle mentality dictates that you should do things quickly so I drank them and had time for two more before we landed at 1825 and I was home in Glasgow.
[ first chapter ]
John Reynolds — January 2014