Confusing title? Not really.
My flight into visakhapatnam or Vizag for short- India second largest port city on its east coast was on a low frills airline called Spice jet.
It was literally shut door fly and land affair with Abba piped in to treat the assorted crowds largely made of Andhra natives.
Once landed -late due to ATC delays or something like that- I headed out in the dark of 10 pm ton find the conveyance that could take me to my resort.
or so said the agency doing the booking.
No cars. Not at the prepaid desk nor outside the airport. Only a bunch of suspect auto rickshaws that are a 3 wheel contraption that gets you around.
Local language skills on my part to handle the nego - nada.
What to do now?
Found that of the 120 passangers many had similar predicament albeit they knew the language.
So chatted up a young lady with a roller bag and dressed urban - stereotyping will get you far - and another geeky dude to see if we could figure out a shared auto since gouging was a given.
Turns out that geek was also tight with money and had time so he backed out of a deal. That left the lady and me to split the fare on a dark night where it was our maiden visit to this coastal city. Great - exactly the adventure I came to seek.
We negotiated an amount in Telugu - local lingua - the lady doing the arguing - always let them I say - and set off.
Half mile down the road the auto sputtered. Gas or lack thereof.
He kept going. Reached the lady's stop first. She got off handing me a bill that i later discovered was hard to exchange due to a slight cut.
Then he started again with his cell phone going bananas with a bhajan tune to mingle with the cacophony of traffic and horns.
Then he stopped. No gas.
Sir - change for gas sir. I knew things had got interesting the stereotypical Indian way. Milk the clueless tourist that clearly does not belong.
I refused. Hey my adventure has just started.
He stared so I stared back like I didn't give a whiff. Finally he started on fumes and rolled to a gas station. Filled with a dollar's worth. I calculated local distance using tech developed in my backyard - Google maps.
Saw that gas filled was enough to get me to my room and relaxed.
Headed back on a dark road to reach my beat up resort an hour later.
Hudhud - the latest typhoon had chewed up the place I later learned.
That was day 1 of flying solo. More adventures await.
My flight into visakhapatnam or Vizag for short- India second largest port city on its east coast was on a low frills airline called Spice jet.
It was literally shut door fly and land affair with Abba piped in to treat the assorted crowds largely made of Andhra natives.
Once landed -late due to ATC delays or something like that- I headed out in the dark of 10 pm ton find the conveyance that could take me to my resort.
or so said the agency doing the booking.
No cars. Not at the prepaid desk nor outside the airport. Only a bunch of suspect auto rickshaws that are a 3 wheel contraption that gets you around.
Local language skills on my part to handle the nego - nada.
What to do now?
Found that of the 120 passangers many had similar predicament albeit they knew the language.
So chatted up a young lady with a roller bag and dressed urban - stereotyping will get you far - and another geeky dude to see if we could figure out a shared auto since gouging was a given.
Turns out that geek was also tight with money and had time so he backed out of a deal. That left the lady and me to split the fare on a dark night where it was our maiden visit to this coastal city. Great - exactly the adventure I came to seek.
We negotiated an amount in Telugu - local lingua - the lady doing the arguing - always let them I say - and set off.
Half mile down the road the auto sputtered. Gas or lack thereof.
He kept going. Reached the lady's stop first. She got off handing me a bill that i later discovered was hard to exchange due to a slight cut.
Then he started again with his cell phone going bananas with a bhajan tune to mingle with the cacophony of traffic and horns.
Then he stopped. No gas.
Sir - change for gas sir. I knew things had got interesting the stereotypical Indian way. Milk the clueless tourist that clearly does not belong.
I refused. Hey my adventure has just started.
He stared so I stared back like I didn't give a whiff. Finally he started on fumes and rolled to a gas station. Filled with a dollar's worth. I calculated local distance using tech developed in my backyard - Google maps.
Saw that gas filled was enough to get me to my room and relaxed.
Headed back on a dark road to reach my beat up resort an hour later.
Hudhud - the latest typhoon had chewed up the place I later learned.
That was day 1 of flying solo. More adventures await.
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