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My LJ friends who do not follow disjecta should take a look at his journal entries on India, especially Kashmir. He has recently returned from a trip to Kashmir and the photos he has brought back with him are absolutely stunning! You're missing out if you don't go there immediately.

My friend Bro. Frederick has published in his blog some correspondence from a friend in Mumbai detailing some of the personal horrors of the attack. It's amazing stuff, and sobering as well.

Do be careful when you are motoring in Mumbai. It seems that someone carelessly abandoned this.

and I wish it would leave. I think I know what caused it, and I shouldn't have drunk that drink on the road between Pune and Mumbai.

Immodium, bananas, orange juice, and bread. Hopefully these will all bung me up.

I feel wasted.

OK, I'm now back in my hotel room after the third and final day of the ISEB Foundation Course in Software Testing. What a day! What a last few days!

Yesterday, Day 2, is the most challenging, not only for the delegates but also for me. Some concepts of "white box" testing such as branch and statement testing, are difficult to explain and very difficult to illustrate. I fell down a few times on the illustrations, so I've written in the manual the answers. But I felt like a fool up there. Fortunately, the students were all quite nice about it. Looking at the course evaluations, they all rated me either Good or Excellent.

Today was a half day of lecture, a mock test, some revision (=US "study"), and then the real exam. Remember I said in my last entry that I hoped there were 26 exams? Of course, you know what happened. There were 25. Samir, the man who's responsible for coordinating the courses, decided that the last one to sign in on the first day would be the one who had to take the test later. I told him that I would not be the one to tell the poor guy that he couldn't take the test. Samir did it over the phone. I felt so horrible for him. (Not Samir, the man who didn't take the test). He and I talked about it later and I reassured him that he could take the test later without retaking the course.

After the mixup was settled, the 25 students who did take the exam all said that it was easier than the mock exam. I'm convinced that most if not all will pass (25 out of 40 correct is the passing grade).

The campus in IT City was really stupendous. It would not have disgraced Palo Alto or Mountain View. There are two buildings of 5 stories each connected by a bridge on the first floor (=US second floor). One building is meant to represent a lighthouse, the other a ship. They are extremely modern inside, all computer amenities and people amenities as well, although they are still in the "cube farm" phase, not the "open plan" phase I'm used to in London.

The cafeteria was really stunning. It was on the roof, covered by a canopy, and open to the air. The food was South Indian food, dhal, roti, lime pickle, various lentil things, vegetable stew, really lovely stuff. All the students were amazed that I liked Indian food, even up to and including lime pickle. They are convinced all Westerners and Brits and Americans in particular would not be able to eat their food. I showed them that at least one Westerner would. They asked about Indian food in London, and I repeatedly stated that London's "Indian" food is mostly in restaurants staffed by Bangladeshis and Pakistanis. They were amazed by that as well.

As one would expect, all the students wanted to know how I liked India, and how many times I'd been here. When they found out it was my first time here, they were eager to find out how I liked it. I was in a quandary: some of my experiences here have been frightening (like at the airport), some have been tedious (dealing with logistics problems that shouldn't be my problems but handled by the company that's commissioned me to deliver the course. The beauty of the countryside that you drive through to get to IT City is really lovely. But the traffic is a horror, no one uses seat belts and no scooter driver uses a helmet (or few, anyway). I saw one vespa-type scooter driven by Dad, with little Sis in front of him, Mom sitting sidesaddle at the back, and big Bro between Mom and Dad. They all looked like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Cows do indeed roam the streets wherever they want to go. There are lots of stray dogs just lying on the pavement looking like roadkill. Then they get up lazily and get out of the way.

Indians are so proud of their country. They have just cause to be: India is the home of Mahatma Gandhi, the father of non-violent protest (his face is on all the currency, just as the Queen's is on all sterling notes in England and Wales). They have rockets, satellites, a vibrant IT industry, and great centres of spirituality. As a Westerner, however, it's hard to balance this against the squalor and dirt that many people live in. In three days of being driven to and from the site, I've seen two or three accidents. Their food is wonderful, and some is even healthy (I wouldn't claim that the lime pickle is healthy). Were I to have to stay a few weeks or a month, I might be able to get used to it (but HWMBO would still be in London, so that isn't an option).

I decided that rather than try to cope with the airport alone, I would tip the "Travel Desk Manager" downstairs 100 rupees (about GBP 1.20, or USD 2.00) to get someone to accompany me to the check-in desk at the airport. He was amazed, as it was probably close to his daily wage. However, I made an instant friend and I hope and pray that my transport tomorrow will be efficient and that I'll be able to get out of Bangalore without being fleeced yet again. I tipped the driver 50 rupees yesterday and today, and got sterling service. It seems that the key to getting good service here is tipping well. It's a lesson that I think will help me cope with the rest of my stay here.

I also asked whether he could send someone out to buy me a new luggage tag, as mine disappeared between Mumbai and Bangalore, although it has safely travelled to the US three times, Singapore once, and Ireland once. He told me that the driver would take me to a shop this afternoon that would have one. The shop he took me to had luxury goods, textiles, but no luggage tags and no leather goods such as sandals or bags, which HWMBO would like me to buy but which I haven't tried to get here. Samir better know where some of these things can be bought in Pune and bring me there. I found a relatively sturdy cardboard one, and will use that for now.

So tonight I eat and pack, and get ready for course two in Pune. I'll try to keep in touch. I really enjoy the wi-fi in the hotel and being able to read email and update my live journal live, rather than taped.

I began swotting up on the course I'm going to be delivering last night. To my surprise, and horror, I discovered that my boss had sent me lots of bumpf (including the printed-out delegate manual pages with the slides on them), but had not sent me the actual powerpoint presentation itself! My blood ran cold at the thought that if I'd just put it all on my laptop and blithely went off to Bangalore, I might have been extremely embarrassed. I sent my boss an email and text message, and heard from him at around 11, very apologetic.

This morning I found not one, not two, but three copies of the slides in my inbox. He is an amateur actor, just finishing a play's run last night, so perhaps the cast party was a success.

It's been a very hectic two days, folks. I got on the train at London Bridge destined for Gatwick Airport and the Atlas Health Clinic. It's fiendish to find (go behind the Costa Coffee at the International Arrivals area, down a flight of stairs unmarked except for "Emergency Exit", then walk along the pathway until you see the brown building...) and I entered noon into my PDA rather than 11 am. Thus, when I arrived, I was 3/4 hour late. Luckily for me, they took me anyway (after profuse apologies), and I got vaccinated (three shots, GBP 100) and malaria pills (24 pills, GBP 84), and got back on the train home. This was Wednesday, the day I normally would be at the consulting job. I thought I didn't have any meetings scheduled for that day.

Thursday I went to the Indian High Commission to get my visa. I arrived around 7am, and there were two ahead of me. An Indian older gentleman seemed to be "in charge", and he assigned us numbers, and then shepherded us into line at around 7:30. I brought John Allen's biography of Benedict XVI (originally published as a bio of Cardinal Ratzinger, hurriedly updated with one chapter and a new picture on the cover) to read, and got through quite a bit before the place formally opened at 8:30. By that time the line consisted of about 70 or 80 people snaking around India Place (which is what the plaza next to India House is known as).

?When the window handing out queue tix finally opened, I was number 2 rather than number 3, as the first-in-line person turned out to have an Indian passport, and they go to a different line, to a different window, and that window doesn't open until 9:30.

We scrambled through the door, through a metal detector (which beeped slightly when I went through but I was told not to worry; I presume that people with large amounts of metal in them or on them might make a louder noise), and up to the hall. A bank of metal chairs faced the clerks' windows. As number 2, I got right up to a window and got my application accepted. I got a 6-month multiple entry visa, GBP 30 please. I was told that I could return at lunch to pick up my passport from Window #1.

So I went into work, and got called over by one manager, "Where were you yesterday? We waited for 1/2 hour for you." Oh dear. I forgot to enter one meeting into my PDA, and thus ended up missing it. I had emailed the office admin and my company supervisor to explain that I was changing days, but neither of them happened to be in so the information didn't get out. Luckily Jeff likes me, so we rescheduled after very profuse apoogies.

Back to India House at 11:30. I again scrambled up the stairs, through the faintly-squealing metal detector, to find a gaggle of people in front of Window #1. They crowded in, right in front of the little slot through which (we hoped) passports would soon be slithered. There was no room for someone in back to step forward and claim a passport. No clerk was visible at the window. Ten minutes later the clerk emerged with a handful of passports. He started calling out numbers beginning with D (as in D85). Those at the back had to hand their receipts to someone right in front of the window, and had their receipt and passport handed back the same way. Those at the window seemed nailed to the floor. My heart sank. Obviously, he'd called out "Number 2!" many hours ago, and I was at work rather than waiting for my visa. One by one those who were nailed to the floor in front of the window got their passports and left. After twenty minutes of waiting, and a further reinforcement of passports from another clerk, he finally ran out and my turn came, and I got my passport back. There went my lunch hour. I now know what being in the middle of a human feeding frenzy feels like.

I recounted my experience back at the office, and was told that my life from June 21 to July 1 will be like that...at the mercy of faceless and often-absent clerks and functionaries in the Indian Subcontinent.

I just hope I can avoid the water and the mosquitoes.

Oh, and that I can swot up the course fast enough to ensure that all my students pass the exam and I then get more gigs training. Perhaps some of them might even be here, where you can drink the tap water and mosquitoes are (at present) only a slight annoyance, not a deadly danger.