Hong Kong

My hopes were answered and we did get to get off the plane in Hong Kong, although not nearly as long as I had hoped. We were forced off the plane, it was searched, and we were sent through security. I had a very hard time imagining why as we had just been through security in SF, but I guess Hong Kong and other countries feel you can never be too careful.

When we passed through security, we were guided to the shops and food court. Not much was open, it being morning. The Prada and Hermes shops were just opening up for business. Not sure who buys Prada as an impulse item and then heads upstairs to McDonald's but perhaps there is a market for that.

Hong Kong did pull through with free Internet terminals, but neither keyboard worked well. On one the left shift was broken, the other a few letters. After a few minutes I surrendered my connection to a young family that was having trouble making their keyboard work at all.

I spent my time instead watching the clouds and taking pictures of the airport for Sean. I want so much to be able to share this with them. It's such a big adventure.

Burma

The ladies next to me, mother and daughter, on the flight out were quite nice. They had just made their second visit to San Francisco and were hoping to thaw out a bit when they reached home.

"So cold here," the told me and I nodded and smiled. It is cold in SF if you're not used to it and I begin to think that spending my formative years in Irvine spoiled me for life. I still hope I can wander barefoot at Christmas.

There's nothing particularly chilly about Singapore. It's quite warm already and the skies are clear. There are smiles on the faces of the women next to me. The visit has been nice, but they are glad to head home. I remind myself that will be me in seven days and try not to think of the guys.

Singapore Downpour

Our guide through the city of Singapore is not Singapore's greatest fan. He devotes most of his time telling us that Singapore is a land where you cannot X. We start with BBQs, and move to cooking in general. Apparently it is easier in a country where food is imported to eat out than to cook. You don't have to pay the middle men fees for your food. As for BBQs, the govt does not want to worry about fire hazards in its many, many high rise apartments.

The government is also against homelessness, so it will help you find a place to live if need be. It will find you a place to live near your parents so that they can count on you in your old age and not count on the government.

In fact, if you're wondering, the Singapore govt will encourage you to work until age 80 and restrict how much money you can take out of your accounts based on your health and the age you're likely to attain. Yep.

The city was beautiful, but the main message seemed to be, "Come, visit Singapore and get out while you can."

This dampened the mood a bit as the bus dropped us off in front of the temple of the sea god. He was having his special festival, which only happens at this time of year. This meant no photos of the altar, but we could wander around otherwise.

Tiring of the temple, I went over to the Indian Muslim heritage museum and met with the curator. He was proud of their small, but important collection. I was curious and wandered around until I came to the "no shoes section" where the museum had once been a mosque. Not wanting to stumble into an area where girls might not be allowed, I wandered back out and headed for the bus.

As we pulled away from the temple, it started to rain. Our guide continued on his merry way, stating dourly, "And tonight I am to give the Night Safari. I may bring a raft..."

My fellow travellers

"This is a free tour, ya?" the man asks the ladies in front of me. I'm already seated, like an idiot with a sticker on my shirt that reads SINGAPORE! They give him one as well and explain that we will head downstairs at 2:15. Everything in Singapore is neat and organized, and the tour program is no different. You must register before the tour begins by about an hour to make it on.

The man sits down next to me. Two business people surrounded by happy Australian tourists, most of them retired. He is from Irvine, lives in Park West and is happy to do so. He has left his native Poland to be in America, working for American companies and loves it. The price of living in Irvine he does not love as much. Park West is reasonable, but everywhere else is so expensive. We agree on this, and discuss my visit to UCI.

Oh, just like Singapore, no? he says to me. "Very clean, but very sterile." I smile because it is true. We discuss Singapore's response to drugs and trafficking, which he considers overkill. He's in the generation before me when everyone tried drugs and while he likes Singapore, he does not think it is worth execution.

I'm at a loss for words as I want to make it through immigration and see some of Singapore, so I turn to the ladies next to me. They are both from Australia and have ditched the younger generations to get a free tour of Singapore. They've just been to Phuket.

I think of Ian and the training class he will need to teach. Thailand is not a long flight to Bangalore. It will not be so hard for him to get here as it has been for me.

Arrival in Bangalore

Three countries later, I am in India. It is night time and for all intents and purposes one international airport terminal is much like another. We de-board the plane and I find myself going through customs. To work Bangalore customs it seems to be a requirement that you have a fabulous mustache. This might explain why no women are working the customs desks, or maybe that is just the late hour.

I go through customs only to go through another metal detector. Only, I am not required to remove liquids or laptops, so perhaps it is an explosives detector. Unsure as to why I'm seeing what I'm seeing, I move on outside.

There are literally hundreds of guys with signs. None of them have my name. I am unsure how I will find Arun, my company's driver, at this rate. He fortunately finds me. He is holding this sign:

Mr. Stancy
MontaVista
Cavium

I can only smile.

"It is good you got here now," says Arun. "At 3AM, when Luftansa flights get in, it is madness."

Considering I what I just saw I thought was madness, I nod and smile again. I hope my face doesn't freeze this way, and follow Arun to his cab. It is a Toyota, but a model I do not recognize that fits six and seven very uncomfortably. I ride up in front with Arun so I can see out.

And what a sight it is. Lanes are more of a suggestion than a strict concept in India. You use your horn to make others aware that you want them to move aside. And this is an accepted concept. "Please sound horn" is painted on more than one large truck. Everyone abides by this as well. I did not know that motorcycles had horns until I came to India, makes sense but wow.

There are also tucktucks on the road, which are like a motorcycle taxi. They have three wheels and are invariably gold and green. More than one swerves in front of us and Arun generously uses the horn to make it plain they cannot keep up.