mohanalakshmi.com » travel

We’re going to Goa

Mohanalakshmi — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 22:10:00 +0000

That’s right, despite the dire reports on the news of heightened security at Indian airports (the threat level at U.S. airports has remained at orange for several years running), and the recent macabre events in Mumbai, we are going for a week to one of the most famous beach-tourist spots in India.

I was ambivalent about this particular choice of vacation spot in October, when the choices included other places in Asia.

But now our choice has become a part of global politics – should we or shouldn’t we change our plans based on what a militant group plans? Given a choice, knowledge that something might happen, which those people in the Taj didn’t have, what should we do?

Its ironic that living in Qatar, in the seat of the Middle East, across from the shores of Iran, none of these questions have previously been brought to bear on our daily lives. In an abstract fashion maybe: as we watched the ex-pats evacuating Lebanon or heard the stories of friends fleeing the bombs of summer 2006. We nodded and said to ourselves, yes, life is precious, nothing is guaranteed, and that could be us.

In fact, just the opposite has been true for the last three years here. Questions of "what if" are soon buried under piles of work and the mass commericalism of new Versace or Gucci shops opening up.

But these recent events in Indian have made me consider avoiding tall building or hot vacation spots. Is this a way to live?

Instead my husband and I have decided to put into hyperdrive our constant travel policy: get your house in order, kiss your loved ones, and go. Call it fate or destiny, we’re moving on with our lives, in support of the Indian economy and the right of civilians everywhere to do what they had planned.

Seen in Miami Int’l Airport

Mohanalakshmi — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 23:12:00 +0000

A family of six, five children, all Asian and the girls just adorable. What disturbed me was when the father places long tresses on the girls who couldn’t have been more than five years old. The dress up tresses, unlike their own shiny dark locks, were platinum blonde. The girls put on the wigs and proceeded to run around the waiting area.

For some reason, this sight really struck a chord with me.

Why would five year old Asian girls need blonde wigs?

On one hand this could be ‘just fun’ something to entertain them during hours of transit.

On the other, dressing up as someone you aren’t, as someone who represents the dominant culture which is so different from you, is slightly dangerous in term of self esteem, self image, what you consider ‘normal’ or even beautiful.

Your thoughts? Blonde wigs on Asians okay?

Have you ever seen a white child with a dark wig?

Does playing different only go one way?

Delayed…. Transfered… Cancelled.

Mohanalakshmi — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 07:19:00 +0000

Admittedly since moving to Qatar I have been spoiled by international airlines that are doing well, not dependent on profits but government subsidies.

And while I have been back to the U.S. on a number of occasion for work, and listed to NPR horror stories of travel from my desk in Doha, nothing has compared to the stories of this weekend.

First, a flight that was on time at Dulles airport (outside Washington D.C.) at 1:15 pm suddenly was delayed by the time I exited the nearby Subway line, sandwhich, drink, and cookie in hand.

The flight was delayed for three hours because a passenger on the incoming aircraft had ‘a medical emergency’. So the plane had turned back around to Charlotte, off loaded everyone, reloaded, and come back.

Charlotte being the major east coast hub for US Airways, there was a line of 14 people long, one gate agent, trying to rebook connections. The gate agent smartly offered everyone the 1800 number and from the comfort of my chair and in about 4 minutes, (I do like sitting) I rebooked myself on the 8:10 pm connection in case I missed the 5:40 pm one.

Well, I also managed to turn around and tell a few people standing in line that they should go the phone route and settled in to wait for the plane. Meanwhile a German family of four were sitting next to me. I tried not to think of their predicament but I couldn’t. My sister has 3 kids and traveling as a family is not something anyone does lightly.

Of course they had no idea how to navigate the touch tone “Push 1 for a new flight, ….” so I was Iris Bitn– for a few minutes. With them settled I opened back up A QUIET BELIEF IN ANGELS (which I highly recommend) and got to work figuring out how was the serial killer in Augusta Falls.

Three hours later, we boarded the plane.

The woman next to me was a shambles, because, as it turned out, if she missed her 5:40 p.m. flight in Charlotte she would miss her daughter’s wedding. In Germany.

Needless to say it was a long flight and I debated before touching her arm gently and saying, “I hope that’s not your flight” as we taxied to our gate and the Lufthansa flight was taking off.

It was.

So here I sit: in the Memphis airport, having gone to my gate only to be told my flight to Charlotte was delayed. Luckily there was a Northwest flight, non-stop going to Florida. Unfortunately it was on the other side of the airport. Nobody said life was clear cut.

So I hauled myself over to the new gate (33! halfway down to Mississippi) only to be told the other gate agent had not in fact booked me on the NW flight as she had informed me.

I had two choices: walk all the way back or use the 800 number from Friday – still in my call history – to sort it out.

That I did and believe it or not – the agent on the phone was helpful – after being put on hold so she could talk to NW agents over the phone had a confirmation number for me.

So here I sit, typing, using the best of my time, and the flight is in range.

Of course I didn’t check a bag (you can get a lot out of 3 oz toiletries after all) and the plane is in range.

Who knows what could happen? Maybe I’ll get to Florida earlier and not have to do the midnight haul to my destination and perhaps arrive early.

Stranger things have happened.

Home is wherever you are or Advice for those relocating

Mohanalakshmi — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 18:52:00 +0000

I was four years old when I got on my first plane. That fateful ride took me from my birth country to another continent and set me on my journey as someone more at home on the move than in any one specific place. In the late 1970s, moving from Asia to North America was a feat for our family of four and looking back I’m amazed at all that my mother managed to do for us in our first of many homes abroad, despite being an sheltered and inexperienced traveler in her twenties. That first move at four was repeated at ages nine, twelve, thirteen, each time my father’s professional interests throwing the three of us – my mother, brother, and me – to our own resources as we created a ‘home’ in each of the new places we found ourselves.

Perhaps this is why others marvel at how quickly I set up my own homes, also in a series of moves from age seventeen to college, twenty two for further graduate study, twenty four for professional pursuits, and most recently at twenty six to Qatar.

Although the locations have varied, the elements I use to make myself feel at home have stayed the same. Here are some suggestions:

A few key photos filled my suitcase when I arrived in Doha as I waited for other items to arrive by air freight. The first night in my marble floored and echoing apartment, I put up photos and souvenir magnets on the refrigerator, framed favorite family moments in the living room and bedroom. I felt better when I went to bed and was surprised when my colleagues exclaimed how cozy and personalized my apartment (which looked exactly like theirs in layout and furnishings) felt during our first week in country. It seemed homesickness was chasing us all and the bright smiles of my loved ones helped ease the sense of distance.

My first trip to a grocery store in Qatar was with a group of colleagues, as we were using group transportation while waiting for our driver’s licenses. While others piled back into the van with bags full of cold cuts, meat, and bread, I clambered on with an armful of white lilies, causing everyone to chuckle. We had been feasting at local restaurants all week and food had been the furthest thing from my mind as I wandered the aisles of the Carrefour. Instead, I found my way to the flower stand and remembered how the scent of Easter lilies could make any dull afternoon seem bearable. I bought a few strands and met the van. Flowers – either fresh cut or as potted plants – can soften the often sterile feeling in many new spaces.

Music is another element to tuck away in a pocket of a suitcase when relocating. A small CD case of ten or so favorite albums can make any new space seem familiar as it fills up with the nostalgic notes of your current favorite artist.

There is no Qatar in the drop down menu

Mohanalakshmi — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:35:00 +0000

Recently, while trying to make a booking for a hotel, I was unable to find Qatar in the list of options for country of residence. When I called the customer service number of this particular website, they told me to select the UAE country option in the menu.

Selecting the UAE did in fact allow my reservation to be processed, despite the fact that Qatar is not, nor never has been, part of the United Arab Emirates.

The customer service person did not seem too interested in my feedback. Based in the UK, I assume all of us Gulf states strike him the same.

This is a problem I often have when talking about Doha with people in North America as well.

“How is life in Dubai?” someone asked me at my dissertation defense.

“Well, I live in Doha,” I replied.

Perhaps it’s not a stigma of the Gulf alone, since I remember having simliar conversations after moving to Pittsburgh, PA.

“How do you like Philadelphia?” friends would ask.

People must shift to the register they know the best – hence the Dubai/Philadelphia mix ups.

But I’m pretty sure no one was ever told to pick Philly when they wanted the Burgh on a travel site.

Travel tips

Mohanalakshmi — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 18:36:00 +0000

Because I travel so often, people are constantly asking me how I juggle jet lag, a hectic pace, and long flights, while still managing to survive a five hour plane flight, drive an hour in congested traffic, and then arrive at a meeting as though I had been in town the entire time. (Or take a 14 hour flight, pick up a car, and meet for dinner – both scenarios happened during my last trip).

Here is my own modest list of suggestions for those of you who would like to travel more with less wear and tear on your body/mind:

1. Keep toiletries in small travel amounts – or substitutes such as chewing gum – within easy reach on long flights.
A quick trip to the bathroom, squirt of perfume and you can feel fresh without having had hours to regroup.

2. Sleep when your body wants to – a neck pillow from Brookstone is worth the expense and the space.
Your body will give you signs of fatigue and you should take them. These will lead to REM cycles which are the most restful.

3. Have at least a shirt (or whole set if you can) in your carry-on that you can slip on as an alternative to your travel clothing.
This quick change can trick your body into thinking you are starting the day over and get rid of any lingering travel odors/wrinkles.

4. Lastly: use those morning rituals that make you feel ready to face the world.
For me it’s a touch of face powder and mascara. Those two things, and a little swab of lip gloss and I’m good as new!

Hope that helps – and feel free to share your own!

The Hierarchy of Uniforms

Mohanalakshmi — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 12:55:00 +0000

If you’ve been to any kind of service establishment lately, restaurant, hotel, shop, then you may have noticed that not everyone working there was wearing the same thing.

This is particularly true of hotels, where the various service people are designated by their uniforms.

Case in point: the latest hotel we stayed in at Masai Mara, Kenya. It was a tented safari; granted “luxury” since there were bathrooms inside the tents with running water. But even in this semi-casual environment it’s clear who does what.

The khaki pants and animal print blouse (red and white stripes) work the bar and the restaurant.

The all over green are the night watch men (which makes them blend into the camp’s lush foliage).

The all over khaki are the camp’s rangers who take you out in the jeep everyday on game drives.

It’s almost like we are conditioning ourselves and others to see the service instead of the person; the women in white blouses and black pants were the managers of the whole operation.

There is a practical purpose to this: when you are a guest it’s easier to see who does what so you know what to ask for.

But at the same time there is something… reductive about it. Granted, the custodian is probably okay with is dull brown uniform because he doesn’t have to get his normal clothes dirty. But at some point it becomes “us” against “them”, doesn’t it? Perhaps I was really aware of this because in our last two trips we have been the only non-white vacationers at both our destinations (Kenya and the Maldives).

It’s a little disconcerting being at these luxury playgrounds of Europe, where families with four children come for a week, when the price is at least $350 a head. Then there are the couples (do they always seem to be from Germany? Best vacation days in Europe!) who have been where we are at least a week before us and staying at least a week after.

None of these people have been overly friendly; this past week I nearly confronted a woman who looked me up and down, literally, all the way to my shoes! Perhaps this is the irony: since we weren’t wearing the uniforms, it was clear we were not there to work but to vacation. And this turned countless heads.

The reaction from staff is always the opposite. In the Maldives, being so close to the coast of India, there were countless Indian and Sri Lankan employees who were happy to serve us and looked after us with an added level of care. As if to say, “we’re happy one of us made it to this place.”

So it’s part guilt and part pride that we take these vacations and try to even out the class and race issues in our own small way. After all, what would you do if you saw an Indian and a “Chinese” looking guy, holding hands, speaking English with American accents?