View from the Four Seasons hotel over the Worli skyline in Mumbai. Our offices are beside the circular building on the left-hand side of the photo.

Back in Mumbai for a three days of meetings.  Managed to avoid the worst of the monsoon rains, and even managed to get a room with a view of the water this time instead of the slums.

My trip nicely summed up a lot of Indian culture.  Coming out of the airport, I was greeted by a cacophony of horns and the ubiquitous trucks and rickshaws with ‘Horn OK Please’ painted in bright colours across the back. 

I ate dinner at the hotel restaurant the first night, a hugely-expensive Asian-fusion place.  It wouldn’t be my first choice of restaurant, but it’s convenient when you’re jetlagged and don’t want to venture out.  I figured I’d order something straight-forward and quick – two orders of sushi rolls.

I counted 14 chefs and at least a dozen waiters for the ten customers in the restaurant. Yet still it takes more than 30 minutes for an order of tuna rolls and an order of salmon rolls. India at its chaotic finest!

The next day I caught an early flight to Hyderabad for the day.  Having flown a number of domestic Indian sectors, I think I’ve seen it all. Seatbelt signs routinely ignored, people standing up while the plane is still taxiing, seat swapping, the lot. And a very different sense of ‘personal space’ that we’re used to in Europe. No one bothers to get out of their seat to allow you access (eg, someone in the aisle seat getting up to let someone reach the window seat). They prefer you to crawl over them, no matter how limited the space.

The thing that always gets me, though, is deplaning in India. Rather than deplaning by row, there’s always a mad rush for the door with people climbing over one another to get out. On my flight from Hyderabad, I was in the (ugh) middle seat, and immediately upon reaching the gate the guy at the window was trying to crawl over me into the jam-packed aisle. I don’t know what he thought he was trying to do, or if he figured that I preferred to stay on the plane, or where he thought he was going to go once he’d passed me? Presumably onto the lap of the chap sitting in the aisle seat?

Still, we had a good series of meetings in India and it was a good investment of a three days.  Off to Beijing next for another three days of meetings.

My tickets are in-hand and I'm ready to go...

My flights are confirmed and I’m checked in all the way to Basel. With a bit of luck and a following wind, I’ll be home tomorrow.

Never has German sounded so sweet: Ab Donnerstag, den 22.04.2010 gilt der reguläre Flugplan. Damit bietet Ihnen Lufthansa wieder die gewohnte Planungssicherheit.

Or, in other words, flights are back to normal and I should be able to fly home tomorrow.  It’s only been two weeks, but the uncertainty of the return journey and squeezing in three cities means that it feels like I’ve been away much longer.  I know I was in Taiwan only a week ago, but it seems like ages.

It’s definitely been a trip of new experiences.  New foods, new friends, new massages.

I don’t know if it was a sense of adventure or just sheer boredom that encouraged me to try an ear massage, but I can add it to the list of life’s more bizarre experiences.  It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, but I can’t say that it will be at the top of my list on my next visit to the spa.

One more day, one more banquet to get through tonight (Peking Duck, so I can’t complain too loudly), one more sleep…  then home.

Finally made it to Sydney after a long, long flight.  Screaming baby behind me for nine hours, which meant that I didn’t get much sleep.  Delightful parents who thought that a business-class seat made a much nicer changing table than the changing table in the bathroom.  Particularly delightful since they decided to release their little darling’s stink bomb just before dinner was served.  Thank goodness they don’t have ejector seats on commercial flights.  I was sorely tempted to pull the handle.

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that the photo here shows a baggage tag.  Yes, I succumbed.  Due to the new security regulations in India, you can only carry on a single item of less than 8kg.  So my cunning plan of spending 11 days in Asia with only hand luggage was thwarted, meaning I had to wait 20 minutes for my bags to come off the belt in Sydney.

I obviously don’t match the description of an agricultural smuggler, so I was waved through customs, agriculture, and quarantine and straight into a taxi to the hotel.

Despite quite a lot of time traveling the globe, I’m still not a whiz with time zones.  So it didn’t come as a total surprise to receive a phone call at 11pm while enjoying a beer in the hotel bar – my bi-weekly call with one of my colleagues.  We’d very carefully arranged the call to be after I’d finished my business day in Mumbai.  I’d calculated the hour just fine.  I’d screwed up the day.  Luckily he’s also got pan-Asian responsibility, and is understanding of mix-ups like these.

Slept like a log last night, and woke up today feeling refreshed.  It’s warm and sunny today, and I’m headed out like Tommy Tourist, in a tee-shirt (okay, who are we kidding…a polo shirt) and camera in tow.

Well, it’s been a pretty full 24 hours.  After a very full day in Mumbai, I finished my workshop and headed out to the airport to catch my flight to Bangkok, then onwards to Sydney.  Mumbai traffic is legendary – the roads are normally jammed in the small hours of the morning when most international flights come and go.  But my flight last night left earlier, so we fought our way out to the airport at the peak of rush-hour.  Driving in India is not for the faint-hearted.  I always end up with a few more gray hairs.

It was a good trip – both professionally, as I got a lot accomplished, but also personally.  My Indian colleagues have discovered that I like to eat, and are showing me some of Mumbai’s best restaurants.  We went out last night for super seafood, including delicious garlic crab – whole crab sautéed with loads of butter and garlic.  It’s the second time I’ve had it in Mumbai – and both times, I’ve made myself sick by overdoing it with the rich, spicy concoction.  The pleasure’s worth the pain in this case.

I made my way through the throngs of people outside the airport, through check-in, customs, and security.  The airport in Mumbai really is the pits – I’ve been through plenty of unpleasant, grotty airports in my time – but it’s the inefficiency, the crowds, the dirt, and the hassle that make Mumbai top my list.

Finally through to the departure lounge, I had a few hours to kill.  After four days of curry, I decided to treat myself to a KFC for dinner (never let it be said I’ve lost touch with the common man).  Across from the fast food court there is a massage hall – where the massage is performed by blind masseuses.  So I treated myself to a foot massage.

I flew Thai to Bangkok.  The flight to Bangkok was uneventful, but the service was such a contrast the Swiss service I had the other day.  Friendly, attentive, and constantly trying to please.  The seat was rubbish, uncomfortable for sleeping – when I finally find the airline that combines the flat seat with the great service and convenient routes, I’ll be a convert for life.  (BA would win my business if it didn’t mean constant backtracking, and sadly my travel budget doesn’t stretch to Singapore on regular basis.)

Not the sign you want to see at 4:30am when you've just arrived from Mumbai, desperate for a shower

My flight arrived in Bangkok on schedule at 4:30am.  I went straight through customs and security, only to be turned away at the lounge because it didn’t open until 5:15am.  After a few fitful hours of sleep on the flight from Mumbai, this was not a pleasant surprise.  I made a quick phone call home, then hit the lounge for a shower as soon as it opened.

The spa opened at 6am, so I headed over to have a shoulder massage before I boarded my flight to Sydney.  Two massages in a day might be a little indulgent, but they were in different countries, so I chalk it up to one of the benefits of being a global traveler.

Time to jump onto my next flight to Sydney.  Next update from down under!

My plane awaits: flight TG451 to Sydney

I’m writing this from a Swiss flight on my way from Zurich to Mumbai, and I’m currently somewhere over Abu Dhabi, looking down on the brightly-lit highways that cross the country. 

The good news is that the new Swiss business class cabin is much more comfortable than the old one.  The bed is totally flat, and the unusual layout of the cabin means that I ended up with a huge single seat with a table either side of me – far wider than any first-class seat I’ve ever sat in (although not as long, making the layout feel slightly claustrophobic). 

With only five seats in each row (compared with six or even seven on other airlines), Swiss are sacrificing a lot of potential revenue to give people their extra space.  I guess they’ve done the calculations of revenue vs. load and determined that if they can get people on-board and paying full-fare, it’s worth having fewer, higher-paying passengers.

Mine was like the solo seat on the right of the photo — with a table either side of the seat.

Despite the new seats, I still can’t bring myself to like Swiss.  It’s just a little too much like Switzerland.  You never really feel that you’ve gotten value for your money.

The marginal cost of providing catering can’t be that high.  On Lufthansa, they recognize the good German appetite and cater accordingly.  Portions are generous and you’re served at least two proper meals plus a snack on most routes.

But the portions on Swiss are incredibly small.  Half the menu is vegetarian (catered by the Hiltl restaurant in Zurich), which doesn’t meet my definition of food (it’s not a meal if it doesn’t contain meat or fish), and they’d run out of the meat choice halfway through the cabin, despite the plane not being full.  On my last flight, they fooled me twice – they served me a vegetarian meal of soup.  Breaking two of my rules: 1) no meat and 2) soup is not food.  Seriously, when you’ve spent several thousand dollars on a ticket, you expect something more than a bowl of soup.

If this were an American airline, with loads of upgrades and much lower revenue-per-seat, I could be more forgiving.  But nearly everyone on this flight has paid the better part of US$4500 for their seat.  At that price, everyone should be able to get a decent meal, and one of their choice.

I left my last flight on Swiss feeling the same way – that they’re cutting too many corners unnecessarily, especially with their catering.  I’ve booked the rest of my 30,000 mile trip on Lufthansa & Thai – revenue that would have gone to Swiss if they’d just spent another $20/head on catering.

Enough griping about the food.  It’s just that I get grumpy when I’m hungry.

Shifting gears, I’m secretly jealous of all my friends and family in Washington who are busy digging out of the deepest snow they’ve had since 1922.  Something about the way snow transforms a busy, noisy city is absolutely magical.

I left the house early this morning, walking up our road at around 6:45am on a Sunday morning.  I had the entire village to myself – dark, misty, and utterly silent.  I thought to myself that it’s the last time I’ll enjoy silence for the next week or so.

I’m mentally preparing myself for Mumbai – the cacophony of horns, the chaos of cars, scooters, bicycles, pedestrians and cows that are everywhere, the smells and sights.  I’ve managed to bring a decent camera this time, so maybe I’ll even get the chance to take a decent picture or two.  If I’m brave enough, I may even venture outside the hotel this time…