Kodak era revival

Over the years I've talked about transforming thousands of printed photos into retrospective blog posts. Regular readers of this blog will recall that last year I devoted my waking hours to publishing posts on vacations Garry and I enjoyed before this blog began. These posts were focused on adventures we'd captured digitally.

I bought my first digital camera shortly after Garry and I. As a result, all the vacations and business travel I'd conducted before June 2003 are preserved as printed photos in numerous albums and storage bins. I call this the Kodak era.  This month I started researching and publishing posts from this analogue period.

It's a huge undertaking. While I have piles of photos, they're missing critical data such as dates, locations and context. Filling in these gaps involves a tonne of research. I've shuffled through old passports, reviewed old emails, searched archived files on the home server and used Google Image searches to demystify anonymous scenery, buildings and locations. Each data point slowly fills in the missing picture.  

However, some detail still eludes me. For example, where did I stay while visiting Ranthambore National Park in India? I have a photo of my room in the hotel (as shown above). Yet, despite hours of sleuthing, I've yet to confirm its name or exact location.  However, eventually, I uncovered the tour company I used (Exodus) and the actual itinerary I booked thanks to online detective work using the Wayback Machine.

I've been using this internet archive for years to dig up old websites and track down long-lost details about all manner of things.  For example, what was the street address for my company's office in Mumbai in 2002?  The office has moved at least twice since then. Or, what time at night did my flight to Easter Island depart in 1998? The Wayback Machine has all the answers!

To date, my retrospective efforts have focused on travel undertaken since October 1996. Why this month?  At the time, I’d booked a three-week trip around the world, ostensibly to attend my brother's wedding in Austria. It was also the first major overseas excursion I’d taken since backpacking around Europe for six months in 1990. I've built an initial list of 30 potential Kodak era posts covering experiences such as my first vacation in Japan (1998), my first time in Tahiti (also 1998), my first trip to Indonesia (2000) and so on.

Once this project is complete I'll then start work on reliving my six months exploring Europe in 1990,  Given how much ground I covered, I'm sure there’s at least another dozen posts to share. Until then, I hope you enjoy these opening posts from my Kodak era revival:

• Day trips to the Grand Canyon (and Monument Valley)

• My first time in Orlando and a road trip down the Florida Keys

• Parasailing in Tahiti

• Flying in a microlight over Victoria Falls

• Going on safari in Zimbabwe

• Exploring Mumbai's mysterious Elephanta Island

• Indian traffic hazards on the road to Jaipur

• Searching for tigers

• The Taj Mahal at sunrise

• Experiencing Varanasi from a boat on the Ganges.

Finally, in case you've missed them, I've already published Kodak era post covering my first time on Easter Island, a day trip to Macau, my first time in Sydney and my experience as an exchange student in Syracuse, New York.

Enjoy the journey!

The Pink City

I visited India for the first time in February 2002. I was travelling to Delhi on business after being promoted to the newly created role of Area Vice President for South Asia. At the time, my initial mandate covered offices in Sydney and Singapore, a licensed partner in Malaysia and three offices in India. The Indian business was the region’s oldest entity, with a national operations team based in Delhi. A few months later, in May, I was promoted to Regional Director for all of Asia Pacific.

I flew into Delhi early in the evening on Thursday 21 February. A car and a driver from the local office met me at the airport. This was my first taste of middle-class life in India. I quickly learned that every senior executive had a car and driver, while at home, they typically employed several servants, a cook and possibly a gardener or a nanny.

At the time, I had no idea the driver was associated with our company. As a result, when he showed up at my hotel the following morning and offered to take me to the office, I assumed he was simply touting for more business. I told him to go away and subsequently caught a traditional black “Kaali Peeli” Ambassador taxi. The Indian management team was astounded when I rocked up in the cab. Needless to say, I never made that mistake again.

My day was then spent meeting the team and learning all I could about life and business in Delhi. The following day, Saturday, I joined an eight-night escorted tour of northern India, before returning to the office for another week of meetings. The tour’s itinerary encompassed some of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh’s most iconic locations including Jaipur, Ranthambore National Park, Agra, and Varanasi.

The tour was touted as a small group experience. Just how small became apparent when we met up at our rendezvous hotel. There were only three of us; me, a young woman and one other guy, plus an escort and a minivan driver. I’d also booked the tour’s more expensive, private room option. As a result, everyone ended up with their own room, essentially subsidized by me.

Our escort proved to be little more than a disengaged chaperone. His role ultimately consisted entirely of ensuring we made it safely to our hotel each night, got on the right train and ate in establishments unlikely to hospitalize us. We learned quickly that he knew nothing of the places we visited and felt no compunction to impart any cultural knowledge of life in India. Instead, he referred all such questions to the local guides he hired on our behalf at each location.

The first day of the tour saw us drive 250km to Jaipur. The trip took more than five hours and provided an eye-opening introduction to the chaos of driving in regional India. As we drove we witnessed extraordinary traffic scenes that became increasingly familiar as the tour progressed. This included trucks loaded with cargo stacked two or three higher than the driver’s cab, which often bulged out over the sides of its rear tray, plus motorbikes precariously loaded with either cargo or entire families.

My record count for passengers on a single motorbike was six people. This included a child precariously balanced on a rack over the front wheel, the primary rider, three people cramped behind him including a backwards-facing child seated over the rear mudguard, plus a baby swaddled against one of the female passengers. We later learned that the cost of a motorcar was out of reach for most Indians, hence a motorbike became everyone’s aspirational mode of transport.

We spent two nights in Jaipur, exploring the city’s famous landmarks. Jaipur is known as the Pink City. This nickname came about after buildings in its central district were painted pink to welcome Albert Edward, Prince of Wales in 1876. Many of the buildings have retained this hue in the years since. We filled our time visiting the City Palace complex, including a guided tour of its iconic Hawa Mahal, a palace built from red and pink sandstone, Jantar Mantar, an outdoor astronomical observatory.

Even our hotel was a sight to behold. We stayed at Narain Niwas Palace, now one of Rajasthan’s top heritage hotels. The building was constructed in 1928 by General Amar Singh Jr, the then Thakur of Kanota, one of India’s elite aristocratic families. For many years it served as a country resort for the royal household. The hotel's entrance even sports a couple of restored cast iron canons.

Jantar Mantar is an extraordinary complex. It contains 19 astronomical instruments including the world’s largest stone sundial. The Vrihat Samrat Yantra is an astonishing 27 metres high. It supposedly tells the time to an accuracy of about two seconds in Jaipur local time. Its shadow moves visibly at 1 mm per second, or roughly a hand's breadth (6 cm) every minute.

Our tour also visited Amer Fort, a hilltop fortification about 11km outside Jaipur. It was here that I rode my first elephant. We tourists were invited to climb a set of wooden stairs up to a loading tower where we then boarded a seated platform strapped to the back of an elephant. The animal then carried us up a narrow, steep roadway to the fort. 

The fort was stunning. It contains a series of increasingly intimate courtyards, some of which offer unrivalled views through arched windows across Maotha Lake in the valley below. However, the most impressive venue was Sheesh Mahal, a mirrored pavilion built for the imperial family's exclusive use. Its claim to fame is intricate paintings and glass mirrorwork that covers its ornate walls and ceiling. 

Follow this link to learn more about our time Ranthambore National Park where we went searching for the elusive Bengal tiger.

Chasing tigers

On 25 February 2002, after exploring Jaipur my small group tour of Northern India headed south towards Ranthambore National Park. The park is known for its Bengal tigers. When we visited an estimated 40 of these magnificent cats were living in the park. Sadly, their numbers have declined in the years after thanks to poaching.

The animals are most active at dawn and dusk. As a result, we drove into the park twice, once in the early evening on Monday and again early the following morning. Unfortunately, despite our safari guide’s best efforts, we never saw a tiger. However, we did confirm their existence by spotting fresh paw prints along a sandy 4WD trail on our final outing.

While we never got to see tigers, we did see plenty of other wildlife including elegant spotted Chital deer, Nilgai (or the Blue Bull), wild boar, and Sambar deer, considered the favourite prey of local tigers. Our rustic accommodation on the edge of the park also proved an unexpected highlight. We stayed in a local Haveli. These are traditional manor homes in India. They typically consist of several stories wrapped around a central chowk, or courtyard. My room was on the top floor in the building's far corner.

Getting to and from Ranthambore was a lesson in Indian poverty like no other I’ve ever encountered. Three things stood out during our time in the area. First, the roads were in poor repair. Now, when I say “poor repair” what I really mean is the more remote roads were literally 90 per cent potholes separated by the odd segment of battered asphalt. At times our driver veered off the road and simply drove along the sloping verge as it was far easier to navigate than the cratered pavement.

Second, even in the remotest country areas, people were everywhere. I mean literally everywhere. We encountered endless streams of people walking along the roadside, sitting in groups, and working in the fields. It was a healthy reminder of what it takes to fit more than a billion people into such a compact sub-continent.

Finally, every village we drove through was an eye-opening experience. The roads were dusty and unsealed, and the drains and alleyways were littered with debris and refuge. Scrawny animals roamed uninhibited, and the endless piles of human waste were impossible to ignore. The chaotic crowds of people and traffic were equally mind-blowing.

However, there was one positive highlight. I loved the entrepreneurial spirit of the local villagers. The variety of shops and stalls was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Everyone had their own unique niche. I recall spotting a store that sold nothing but toilet seats, another specialized in buckets, and a third focused on undergarments. 

These weren’t the only hardworking people we encountered in the countryside. On the outskirts of Jaipur, we stopped to see local artisans making exquisite hand-knotted oriental rugs. The craftsmanship was unbelievable. We witnessed nimble workers tying individual coloured wool and silk threads one by one, row by row, onto a vertical loom. 

As we patiently watched we saw an intricate predefined pattern slowly come to life. A skilled weaver can tie about 6,000 knots per day. Our guide explained that it takes three months or more to knot a single 4x6-foot rug. Then, once fully knotted, equally skilled workers trim and shave the leftover loose threads with special shears to create a smooth and even pile on the finished rug. 

From Ranthambore, we drove to Agra. The drive was yet another lesson in Indian traffic chaos. We covered approximately 250kms. However, thanks to the state of the rural roads, it took us more than six hours to cover the distance. Furthermore, much to my dismay, the final couple of hours were driven in the dark. Without a doubt, they were the most terrifying road miles I’ve ever endured. 

As night fell it became clear that our driver had long since concluded that headlights were never installed for lighting the road ahead. Instead, he’d flick them on and off to warn traffic of his presence as it came careering towards us on the wrong side of the road – or to warn opposing traffic we were currently careering along the wrong side of the road.

Furthermore, as we drove, we encountered people sitting and lying on the edge of the asphalt, their heads and limbs mere inches from our whirling tyres. I also witnessed four lanes of traffic passing at breakneck speed on what was supposedly a two-lane highway. Then, to cap it all off, people and vehicles continually moved onto and off the road without warning, often in complete darkness. I’ve never experienced such a white-knuckle ride in my life and in a vehicle without seat belts. I pray I never will again!

Follow this link to learn more about our time in Agra.

Sunrise on the Ganges

Varanasi is an assault on the senses. There’s honestly no other way to describe it. It’s noisy, chaotic, colourful and messy. It’s simply seething with people, traffic, and animals. Garbage, dirt and clutter surround you at every turn. The air is hazy and filled with acrid smoke from burning pyres – you can often smell and taste it in equal measure.

This holy city of 1.4 million sits on the left bank of the Ganges River. For centuries it’s played a central role in the traditions of pilgrimage, death, and mourning in the Hindu religion. It’s known globally for its many ghats, and broad stone steps that lead down the river’s steep bank to the water’s edge. Thousands of pilgrims come to the ghats daily to perform rituals in the waters of the Ganges seeking purification, healing and redemption.

Two sprawling ghats, the Manikarnika Ghat, and the Harishchandra Ghat, are also used by Hindus to cremate the dead. On any given day you’ll find burning timber pyres topped by swaddled corpses. Manikarnika Ghat is often photographed by tourists, me included, thanks to the presence of Ratneshwar Mahadev Mandir (also known as Matri-rin Mahadev, or Leaning temple of Varanasi). The temple leans noticeably towards the sloping riverbank thanks to the uneven subsidence of its foundations.

Our small tour group spent two days and one night in Varanasi soaking in its hustle and bustle. This included a dawn boat ride on the Ganges during our second day in town. This gave us an unparalleled view of the ghats and their many towering structures. The empty sandbanks make up the river’s right flank further enhancing the scene. Their serene and empty expanse stands in stark contrast to the clutter and chaos on the opposing shore.

The ghats are best viewed from the water. Imagine this if you can. We silently glided along the ghat shoreline propelled by a local oarsman as pilgrims performed their water-bourne rituals. Women in colourful saris stood knee-deep in its murky waters, others stood up to their waist bathing and collecting its holy waters. Elsewhere bare-chested men could be seen immersing themselves and washing their bodies. Behind them all stands a chaotic clutter of buildings, temples and platforms bathed in the soft, warm glow of the early morning light.

Later that day we spent time wandering through brief sections of its more famous ghats including Dashashwamedh Ghat, the city’s main ghat. We returned to this ghat in the evening to watch the renowned Ganga Aarti ceremony. This is a daily ritual prayer offering made to the river itself. It’s held at dusk and always attracts a large crowd. Several priests perform the ritual on a platform overlooking the river. This mainly involves them carrying deepam (a type of oil lamp) while moving them rhythmically in time to chanting and bhajan musicians.

We also visited the famous Kashi Vishwanath Temple, a Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva. This ornate structure sits on the banks of the Ganges behind the Dashashwamedh Ghat. It’s popularly known as the ′Golden Temple′ due to the gold plating done on its 15.5-metre-high spire. Apparently, more than a tonne of gold was used in its cladding.

Crowds were heaving when we visited. I’ve subsequently read that up to 45,000 people visit the temple complex daily. According to our local guide, a visit to the temple and a bath in the river is believed to lead one towards spiritual liberation. As a result, Hindus from all over the world try to visit Varanasi at least once in their lifetime. 

The endless piles of logs and firewood lining laneways behind the city’s two cremation ghats were equally memorable. Cremation on the riverbank is incredibly popular. Up to three hundred people are cremated daily, a ritual that continues year-round. It takes up to 400kg of wood to cremate one body. As a result, timber is delivered by boat in an endless stream throughout the day. 

The type of wood used to build the pyres depends on the family’s choice. The rich prefer sandalwood while the poor are happy with any kind of wood. Bodies are generally dressed in a white shroud and sacred ash called “Vibhuti” is applied on the forehead. As you can imagine there’s smoke everywhere, accompanied by a steady trickle of ash. 

After two incredible days exploring the wonders of Varanasi, my small tour group of three made our way back to the central railway station for another overnight train back to New Delhi. It took us about 14 hours to make the 700km journey, arriving early morning on Sunday 3 March.

It was hard to believe how much I’d seen in eight days. Since leaving New Delhi, I’d explored the royal city of Jaipur, hunted for tigers in Ranthambore National Park, seen the Taj Mahal at dawn, wandered the desolate corridors of Fatehpur Sikri, and cruised the banks of the Ganges.

I subsequently found time to explore some of New Delhi's landmarks including Humayun’s Tomb, the Rashtrapati Bhavan and the India Gate. Incredibly, I explored each location on foot from my hotel, the opulent and centrally located Oberoi. 

The Indian management team was astounded that I did all this on foot. Apparently, this wasn’t the done thing in India. In hindsight, I can see why. I distinctly recall the piles of human excrement and litter that dotted the pavement and fence lines wherever I went. No doubt my attire also set me apart from the locals, making me a prime candidate for mugging.

I eventually departed India for home on 12 March 2002. I returned to India in August, visiting Mumbai for the first time, and again with my CEO in tow in January 2004.