My Bangalore Adventure Part 1: Getting there

Flying to Bangalore from Chicago is a long flight -- about 20 hours including the connection time in Paris -- but not too bad if you 're comfortable sleeping on planes. I had the good luck to get a good price on an Air France flight. Flying Air France is very nice. They pour you a little glass of champagne for starters and it doesn’t cost $6 and not even $4; it’s free! (Although I think it’s really sparkling wine from the Pays d’Oc.) The wine with dinner is free too. And the dinners are not bad either…personal-size French bread loaves, couscous & smoked salmon salad, chicken in mushroom sauce with garlic mashed potatoes, vanilla custard and orange-cranberry cake. I could help myself to Perrier in the galley, too.

So that part was all very good. But I did have one brief moment of panic. My ticket from Chicago said arrival would be at gate E-something in Paris and depart from gate C84. In Paris all the monitors showed the Bangalore gate was now C91. No big deal, except transferring passengers had to go to a bus pick-up zone, wait for a bus, drive a long way over to the C gates, then go through a Security check (only 2 lanes open), all over again.

After that, there was only enough time to buy a box of chocolates for the office (a ThoughtWorks tradition), go to the ladies room and get in the line that was boarding the plane at gate C91. I liked my seat and had more legroom than the first flight so I was happily distracted in a book by the time the plane pulled away from the gate and started taxiing to the runway.

Just about then, I vaguely heard the captain say something about seatbelts and/or electronic devices blah-blah-blah "until we arrive in Pakistan"….. WHHAT!!!! Did he say really say Pakistan??! Did I get on the wrong plane??????

The map in the Air France magazine didn’t even show an Air France connection in Pakistan. What to do? I decided it was too late to do anything and if this plane really was going to Pakistan, they’d have to sort it out at that end. Thankfully, about an hour later, the menu cards came out with French and South Indian options, along with a swine flu questionnaire and information card from the Indian state of Karnataka, so I knew for sure I was really headed for Bangalore.

Arriving at Bangalore International Airport was pretty ordinary and about as efficient as anywhere else. After we de-planed, we had to queue up and go through the scanners again (but not the full shoes-off, laptops out scanning). Mysteriously, after about two-thirds of the passengers had gone through, a guard shut the line down and waved the rest of us on to customs unscanned. All the customs personnel wore face masks to safeguard against swine flu and were very interested in checking for anybody who looked the slightest bit ill. The lines moved pretty fast, faster than it took for the luggage to arrive.

I had an email that said a driver would be there to meet me and he would have the keys to my apartment in an envelope addressed to me. Very simple, very typical, I think. So when I step out into the taxi/pick-up area, there is a long line of drivers holding signs for different people from different companies. I walk up and down the line twice. Nothing with my name or ThoughtWorks on it. On the third pass, as I get near the far end of the line, I catch a glimpse of a driver I hadn't seen before folding up a sign that said ThoughtWorks and walking away. Maybe he had always been there at the back of the crowd. Maybe I was just too tired.

I yell, "Hey! ThoughtWorks!" three or four times until one of the other drivers catches him and points me out. Yes, the sign he is holding is for me. It's not exactly the precision pick-up I had imagined but not a disaster, either.

We hauled the luggage; two suitcases, a backpack, and my computer case a long way to the parking lot. It's sometime past midnight and really dark so I can't see much about the surroundings. We load up the car, but it's a small car (almost all the cars here are small to tiny) so one suitcase has to go in the front seat. He pays the parking attendant and we start driving.

And driving. And driving. Drive. Drive. Drive. Occasionally we beep at somebody for changing lanes or trying to enter the road ahead of us. Others beep at us for the same reasons. Drive. Drive. Beep. Beep. Drive. Beep.

Mostly the scenery is very dark. Just basic outlines of buildings or fences and palm trees. Since it is too dark to see much, it feels a lot like driving through LA on Highway 101 --the parts with all the old-time, low-rise motels and low-rent strip malls. Every once in awhile there is a glimpse of some fantastic oriental fairyland type of structure, it's a bus stand or subway entrance; there's a small temple-like building, then some interesting houses with iron gates, colorful shutters and thick plaster walls and balconies. For awhile we drove past a dark spot with lots of trees. They gave the air a spicy aroma, almost like smelling cookies. After that came a stretch that looked and smelled like a refinery or chemical distribution center.

Then we were driving past military bases. The state and regional HQ for the Army and Air Force are in Bangalore. These were bases with long histories; you could tell by the brick walls and large trees on the grounds. We also passed a large western-style church in a very traditional cathedral style. Next came a big hospital and some type of science academy. I had studied a map before leaving Chicago and I knew all of these things were along Airport Road. What I didn't know was where the Diamond District fit in. That's the name of the complex where ThoughtWorks and its corporate apartments are located.

I see that the road signs are pointing ahead for the central business area. Then suddenly I see the most fabulous pink building. It's several stories tall and really spread out with arches and elaborate columns and figures in costumes. There is a sign that says Leela Palace and I am thinking it is a restored palace or temple that is in use now for theatrical performances or cultural events. I really want to know more about this place (and I do find out more on Sunday), but it is close to 2 AM on Saturday and the driver has made a hard right and is driving several hundred yards back the way we came. He goes though a gate beside an office building, stops the car and says, "Here's ThoughtWorks."

"I don't want to go to ThoughtWorks," I say. "That's where I work. Nobody's working there now. You're supposed to take me to my apartment." "No," he says. "We go to ThoughtWorks. You have to go up there." "No. You're supposed to get me to my apartment." "We have to go to ThoughtWorks. Come, I'll show you." He starts to get out of the car. "What? And take all these bags up there?" I have a vision of sleeping on the floor outside the office door. "No, leave it. It'll be OK." I hold on to my laptop and backpack anyway and we get out of the car and into the elevator in the lobby. We are going up to ThoughtWorks.

Next installment: When do I really get to my apartment ?