The jet lag was severe, at 13.5 hours’ time difference. I only slept 3 hours on Saturday night. I sleep talked my way through my most uninspiring presentation in the first Monday session, and drooled on my shoes when people came up afterwards to ask questions about my work, whilst muttering apologies about being extremely tired.
Daytimes were taken up with conference sessions, lunchtimes were taken up with dining with a selection of important physicists and conference sleazes. One particularly eminent member of the PV community who is famed for giving presentations along the lines of “10 retarded things other physicists get wrong about quantum mechanics” decided to make sport of me one lunchtime. He fixed me in his tractor beam, and demanded to know the advantages of quantum wells for solar cells. This man knows perfectly well the physics, mechanics, economics and all other aspects of quantum wells for PV. Every time I sputtered something out he deliberately misconstrued what I was saying, even as others at the table rallied to my defence. The poor laser physicist sitting next to me clearly had no idea of eminent physicist’s reputation, and patiently tried to paraphrase what I was saying for his benefit. I have no idea whether I passed the test or not, but he seemed to warm to me more as the week went on and thought that Quantum of Sol sounded marvellous. He even learnt my name.
Evenings we got a good crowd together and went out eating and drinking. I could barely manage any food with the combination of sleeplessness and the lingering effects of India on my digestive system, but there was plenty of company with current Imperialists attending the conference, ex-Imperialists who had emigrated to SF, our NRL collaborators, and various assorted others. Up to now I have seen almost none of SF by day, but I’ve seen a fair amount of the bars by night. We had a particularly memorable misunderstanding at the beginning when Pete’s English accent was too much for the waitress who understood somehow that he was ordering me a “pint of margarita”. Strangely, Pete did not take exception to this concoction at the bar, but the taste of tequila was so powerful that there was no mistaking what it was. Between the four of us on the table we managed to drink the whole thing.
A couple of us went on a tour of the National Ignition Facility, where the worlds most gigantic and powerful lasers fire at a tiny capsule a few mm across. They will eventually try to induce nuclear fusion with this, rendering all other energy generating technology immediately futile. The structure itself was impressive, but the tour guides were hilariously dull. They wanted to talk all about the optics, until my co-visitor demanded to know about the bit where they “blow stuff up”. They also presented us with a lovely photo of the tour group outside the facility as if we’d gone to Alton Towers for the day.
On Friday as the conference was over, we decided the best thing to follow a tour of a fusion facility would be a winery tour. They really should have swapped the winery tour guide with the NIF tour guide, this one was quite remarkable. He talked without cease for an hour with an absolutely rigid smile plastered on his face like an automaton on acid.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sunday 24th Jan
My flight was not cancelled this time, it was not even delayed. It departed promptly at 2.45am. For once, I won’t go into all the details of the journey. Suffice to say that whilst there were no mishaps or delays en route, I arrived at San Francisco airport fairly frazzled after more than 24 hours’ worth of travel. I had to wait about half an hour in the immigration queue, but the official from homeland security was very nice and said physics was his favourite subject.
The customs man glared at me and asked how old I was. I told him, and he muttered something which I think may have been “so you are old enough to travel alone then”. Apparently I have discovered the fountain of eternal youth somewhere in Goa or Mumbai.
The customs man glared at me and asked how old I was. I told him, and he muttered something which I think may have been “so you are old enough to travel alone then”. Apparently I have discovered the fountain of eternal youth somewhere in Goa or Mumbai.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday 23rd Jan
In the morning when I went to check up on Ben and Rahul they were still not too well. The fever had gone, but neither of them could keep any solids or liquids down so we left them in bed.
From 9am to 2pm I didn’t get a minute’s break. Such was the popularity of our stand that we were surrounded by hundreds of visitors the whole time, all shouting questions one above the other! Midway through any explanation more people invariably turned up and demanded that you begin all over again. I tried to call the hotel to see if B and R were feeling any better but there was no answer. Balarko, shaking and dripping with sweat, declared that we were doing absolutely fine without them and we could definitely man the stand all day with just the three of us. The experience really harked back to the year when I worked in Le London Pub, with shifts that were 8 hours on end and no break, a massive crowd clamouring around shouting things, and various customers wanting to take photos of themselves with me.
At 2 I persuaded one of the Techfest staff to watch my demo for me and sneaked off to have a quick sandwich. When I re-emerged ten minutes later, I had never been anywhere near as happy to see Ben and Rahul. Poor boys had stuffed themselves full of immodium and staggered on in to help out, allowing the rest of us to take breaks. I had a nice time chatting to a beardy santa type who’d brought a robo-lobster. As I was leaving, one of the other exhibitors asked my age, which surprised me somewhat.
We had some dinner back at the hotel – Japanese, my gut is now too sensitive to withstand any more Indian food and Ben and Rahul managed some soup.
At about 11.30pm I took a taxi to the airport. It took ten minutes to get there as the Intercontinental is very near, but there was a half hour traffic jam within the airport itself. I learnt about the imminent planned hijack of a plane flying the Mumbai-London route from the chatty taxi driver. He also enquired as to my age.
Inside the terminal building was reasonably chaotic, as people from each queue cut in front of the other queues. It also took ages to get through all the rather heightened security (although I do see the necessity under the circumstances).
From 9am to 2pm I didn’t get a minute’s break. Such was the popularity of our stand that we were surrounded by hundreds of visitors the whole time, all shouting questions one above the other! Midway through any explanation more people invariably turned up and demanded that you begin all over again. I tried to call the hotel to see if B and R were feeling any better but there was no answer. Balarko, shaking and dripping with sweat, declared that we were doing absolutely fine without them and we could definitely man the stand all day with just the three of us. The experience really harked back to the year when I worked in Le London Pub, with shifts that were 8 hours on end and no break, a massive crowd clamouring around shouting things, and various customers wanting to take photos of themselves with me.
At 2 I persuaded one of the Techfest staff to watch my demo for me and sneaked off to have a quick sandwich. When I re-emerged ten minutes later, I had never been anywhere near as happy to see Ben and Rahul. Poor boys had stuffed themselves full of immodium and staggered on in to help out, allowing the rest of us to take breaks. I had a nice time chatting to a beardy santa type who’d brought a robo-lobster. As I was leaving, one of the other exhibitors asked my age, which surprised me somewhat.
We had some dinner back at the hotel – Japanese, my gut is now too sensitive to withstand any more Indian food and Ben and Rahul managed some soup.
At about 11.30pm I took a taxi to the airport. It took ten minutes to get there as the Intercontinental is very near, but there was a half hour traffic jam within the airport itself. I learnt about the imminent planned hijack of a plane flying the Mumbai-London route from the chatty taxi driver. He also enquired as to my age.
Inside the terminal building was reasonably chaotic, as people from each queue cut in front of the other queues. It also took ages to get through all the rather heightened security (although I do see the necessity under the circumstances).
Friday 22nd Jan
In the dead of the night I was harshly awakened to the sound of Alvin screaming. “Oh my god, oh my god, what’s wrong?” He just groaned and turned over. A few hours later, it happened again, but he screamed for longer that time. I have no idea what’s wrong with him, he’s on malarone not chloroquine.
We got up obscenely early to go to IIT and finish setting up QoS before the crowds arrived. At precisely 9am, we were absolutely flooded with raucous school children. They were insanely inquisitive about everything, not just the solar cells but also how lenses are fabricated and what the optical stands were and all sorts of bizarre things. In fact, some of the adults were also quite mad, Ben had to fend off one who absolutely insisted he could make a perpetual motion machine out of a vacuum, thus rendering photovoltaic technologies entirely useless. He reminded me a bit of the triangular-black-hole conspiracy theorist at the Royal Society. There were also an extraordinary number of visitors who wanted pictures of me with them.
Disaster struck at 11am, when Ben and Rahul (with remarkable synchronisation) came down with some kind of fever / stomach upset disease. We suspect it may have been caused by the meatball sub that they shared yesterday. They were both in such a bad state that they had to go and lie down for the rest of the day. That left myself, Alvin, and Balarko (a lecturer from Imperial here to promote the college) to man our 3 hands-on demos all day long without being able to take a break. At lunch I discovered an energy drink called Cloud 9, which contains vast quantities of sugar, caffeine, taurine and B vitamins. I feel fairly sure it wouldn’t be legal anywhere else. The only respite we got was at 3 when we shut up shop for an hour to have a meeting with some eminent professors who are setting up a new photovoltaics facility at IIT.
In the evening Alvin and I went to see the inaugural Techfest show, where they had a mountain biking troupe from Britain doing stunts and jumps. The queues to get into the amphitheatre were miles long, but as exhibitors we got special access passes and went straight to the front. Afterwards we got a rickshaw home as the wait for a taxi would have been extremely long, and yet again we narrowly escaped death by Mumbai traffic. Back at the hotel, and Ben and Rahul look absolutely terrible. I sure hope I don’t come down with this as I soon have a 24 hour globe-crossing trip ahead.
We got up obscenely early to go to IIT and finish setting up QoS before the crowds arrived. At precisely 9am, we were absolutely flooded with raucous school children. They were insanely inquisitive about everything, not just the solar cells but also how lenses are fabricated and what the optical stands were and all sorts of bizarre things. In fact, some of the adults were also quite mad, Ben had to fend off one who absolutely insisted he could make a perpetual motion machine out of a vacuum, thus rendering photovoltaic technologies entirely useless. He reminded me a bit of the triangular-black-hole conspiracy theorist at the Royal Society. There were also an extraordinary number of visitors who wanted pictures of me with them.
Disaster struck at 11am, when Ben and Rahul (with remarkable synchronisation) came down with some kind of fever / stomach upset disease. We suspect it may have been caused by the meatball sub that they shared yesterday. They were both in such a bad state that they had to go and lie down for the rest of the day. That left myself, Alvin, and Balarko (a lecturer from Imperial here to promote the college) to man our 3 hands-on demos all day long without being able to take a break. At lunch I discovered an energy drink called Cloud 9, which contains vast quantities of sugar, caffeine, taurine and B vitamins. I feel fairly sure it wouldn’t be legal anywhere else. The only respite we got was at 3 when we shut up shop for an hour to have a meeting with some eminent professors who are setting up a new photovoltaics facility at IIT.
In the evening Alvin and I went to see the inaugural Techfest show, where they had a mountain biking troupe from Britain doing stunts and jumps. The queues to get into the amphitheatre were miles long, but as exhibitors we got special access passes and went straight to the front. Afterwards we got a rickshaw home as the wait for a taxi would have been extremely long, and yet again we narrowly escaped death by Mumbai traffic. Back at the hotel, and Ben and Rahul look absolutely terrible. I sure hope I don’t come down with this as I soon have a 24 hour globe-crossing trip ahead.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Thursday 21st Jan
In the morning myself and Alvin went to take a class at the American School of Bombay, a school for rich kids and the offspring of diplomats. Unsurprisingly, Imperial is keen to recruit from this school. We gave a talk about life on campus and about our research. Some of the staff were pretty interested. We couldn’t get a cab, so we took an auto rickshaw back to the hotel instead. Ben and Rahul went to the prestigious Dhirubai Ambani school next door and took a massive assembly where the bright kids had loads of questions.
When our IIT contact arrived, he thought that the shipping was still stuck in customs, to our absolute horror. We were on the verge of going all the way to the south of Mumbai and trying to bribe all the officials mercilessly in order to expedite the process, when it turned out that the shipping had arrived after all. We went to IIT to set up, which was slow going, particularly since it took the organisers several hours to locate useful drill bits. As the afternoon stretched into evening, we finished up everything except computer tests as monitors had not been provided yet. We were asked to wait for the monitors so we could test everything tonight, but after more than an hour’s assurance that they were ten minutes away we gave up and went back to the hotel.
When our IIT contact arrived, he thought that the shipping was still stuck in customs, to our absolute horror. We were on the verge of going all the way to the south of Mumbai and trying to bribe all the officials mercilessly in order to expedite the process, when it turned out that the shipping had arrived after all. We went to IIT to set up, which was slow going, particularly since it took the organisers several hours to locate useful drill bits. As the afternoon stretched into evening, we finished up everything except computer tests as monitors had not been provided yet. We were asked to wait for the monitors so we could test everything tonight, but after more than an hour’s assurance that they were ten minutes away we gave up and went back to the hotel.
Wednesday 20th Jan
The breakfast at the Intercontinental is spectacular. Definitely the best complimentary buffet breakfast that I’ve encountered. They’ll even make you a waffle should you so desire (as Rahul did).
We took a taxi to South Mumbai, which took more than an hour and a half as the traffic was so terrible. The driver asked us to go into a shop for 5 minutes so they would allow him to stay and tout for his next customer, and I nearly got persuaded to buy a carpet before I came to my senses and realised that this happens to me everywhere. The bit where the shop keeper referred to the carpet as “magic” really got me going. Maybe I should have bought one. But it wouldn’t have fit in my suitcase.
We went to see the Gate of India, a sort of Brandenburg Tor for Mumbai, then we had a wander around the Taj hotel which is rather magnificent. Apparently even the worst room is out of our price range so we couldn’t have stayed there. Then we went to Leopold Café just because it’s so famous, and had a rather nice lunch. It was nothing how I had imagined - no high tea, more like a Mexican cantina. Someone Rahul knew from undergrad recognised him and came up for a chat!
We were in a bit of a hurry to get a taxi for the ride back as we didn’t want to be late for our pick up for IIT, so we squished into the back of a tiny one without AC. The journey was not to arduous for me at all as I passed out, although I did wake to find Ben sweating all over me. Our poor taxi driver was really harassed by the security staff at the Intercontinental on account of being Muslim so we tipped him extra.
One of our contacts from IIT arrived with a car, and we discovered that our shipping was still stuck in customs. This added a new dimension of concern. We went to the campus nevertheless to see what space has been allocated to Quantum of Sol and to check on the cabinets that we’d had made locally. We were then taken on a tour of the campus, which is huge with monkeys in the trees. Apparently crocodiles occasionally come out of the nearby lake and roam around looking for students to eat.
We took a taxi to South Mumbai, which took more than an hour and a half as the traffic was so terrible. The driver asked us to go into a shop for 5 minutes so they would allow him to stay and tout for his next customer, and I nearly got persuaded to buy a carpet before I came to my senses and realised that this happens to me everywhere. The bit where the shop keeper referred to the carpet as “magic” really got me going. Maybe I should have bought one. But it wouldn’t have fit in my suitcase.
We went to see the Gate of India, a sort of Brandenburg Tor for Mumbai, then we had a wander around the Taj hotel which is rather magnificent. Apparently even the worst room is out of our price range so we couldn’t have stayed there. Then we went to Leopold Café just because it’s so famous, and had a rather nice lunch. It was nothing how I had imagined - no high tea, more like a Mexican cantina. Someone Rahul knew from undergrad recognised him and came up for a chat!
We were in a bit of a hurry to get a taxi for the ride back as we didn’t want to be late for our pick up for IIT, so we squished into the back of a tiny one without AC. The journey was not to arduous for me at all as I passed out, although I did wake to find Ben sweating all over me. Our poor taxi driver was really harassed by the security staff at the Intercontinental on account of being Muslim so we tipped him extra.
One of our contacts from IIT arrived with a car, and we discovered that our shipping was still stuck in customs. This added a new dimension of concern. We went to the campus nevertheless to see what space has been allocated to Quantum of Sol and to check on the cabinets that we’d had made locally. We were then taken on a tour of the campus, which is huge with monkeys in the trees. Apparently crocodiles occasionally come out of the nearby lake and roam around looking for students to eat.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Tuesday 19th Jan
We had breakfast on the roof of the Hotel Fortune with a pleasant view of a nearby minor palace, as well as many more dilapidated places. The tea seemed to consist of milk rather than water, and had possibly been brewed for several weeks. It was so sweet even Alvin couldn’t stomach it.
We took the long and dangerous taxi journey back up to North Mumbai to check into the Intercontinental, where we’ll be staying until the end of Techfest. Rahul had already arrived. This hotel is more luxurious even than our luxury beach hut in Palolem. We went straight to the pool, which transpired to be considerably colder than the Arabian Sea. We then availed ourselves of the poolside cocktail service.
In the evening, our contact for Techfest from IIT turned up. It transpires that our shipping is still stuck in customs. We’d planned to do all our setting up for the exhibit tomorrow, so this was a bit of an issue! Apparently it will be here by tomorrow lunch time, although such definites are hard to come by in India.
After Ben’s multi-hour gym session we went to dinner at a restaurant called Sheesha, described in the LP as having “the most beautiful ambience in town”. We dined al fresco on the rooftop, with glass lanterns hanging from poles and live music wherein most of the songs seemed to be dedicated to someone called Rahul. Presumably not our Rahul. The food was great and the ambience was indeed beautiful, but to Ben’s horror the establishment did not serve alcohol.
We took the long and dangerous taxi journey back up to North Mumbai to check into the Intercontinental, where we’ll be staying until the end of Techfest. Rahul had already arrived. This hotel is more luxurious even than our luxury beach hut in Palolem. We went straight to the pool, which transpired to be considerably colder than the Arabian Sea. We then availed ourselves of the poolside cocktail service.
In the evening, our contact for Techfest from IIT turned up. It transpires that our shipping is still stuck in customs. We’d planned to do all our setting up for the exhibit tomorrow, so this was a bit of an issue! Apparently it will be here by tomorrow lunch time, although such definites are hard to come by in India.
After Ben’s multi-hour gym session we went to dinner at a restaurant called Sheesha, described in the LP as having “the most beautiful ambience in town”. We dined al fresco on the rooftop, with glass lanterns hanging from poles and live music wherein most of the songs seemed to be dedicated to someone called Rahul. Presumably not our Rahul. The food was great and the ambience was indeed beautiful, but to Ben’s horror the establishment did not serve alcohol.
Monday 18th Jan
I had a particularly odd chloroquine nightmare last night. I persuaded Rahul that he was evil and that it would be better for everyone if he killed himself, so he overdosed on anti-malarials! Weird.
After a morning sitting in the shade to offer some relief to the sunburn, we took a taxi to the airport and a flight back to Mumbai. Upon arrival we headed for the pre-pay taxi counter as the most reliable transport option. Paid my 300 rupees, got my ticket and headed out into the car park to find a taxi. Unfortunately we walked right into the hands of a thieving pikey, who took my both my receipts and wouldn’t return a copy, then put us in a taxi with a driver and a man who demanded another 2000 rupees. We were in a bit of a quandary as it was obviously a scam but we were stuck in the car with all our luggage preventing us from making a quick escape, minus the pre-pay receipt, and right near the exit from the airport away from the other taxis. We ended up giving him 600 rupees. What shame for the seasoned traveller to be scammed so easily!
The taxi ride through Mumbai to the Hotel Fortune where Ben was holed up was extremely long, compounded by the fact that the driver had no idea where he was going. After making some phone calls and consulting another taxi driver he was no better off, so grudgingly let Alvin direct him from a photo of a Google map. The LP was buried in my bag somewhere so I frantically gripped Fermat’s Last Theorem at the point where we were nearly crushed between a lorry and a wall. It was a big relief to arrive, and an extra bonus that the driver didn’t demand more money.
Ben decided we needed to go to dinner at a special place he’d found in the Rough Guide. After a false start wherein we went down completely the wrong road, Ben’s sense of direction righted itself and we found the Rajdhani down a rather insalubrious rat-infested alley. We went in and sat down at a table with some thali dishes. I made the mistake of drinking the water they poured, which was of course tap water. I am now patiently awaiting my stomach’s retribution.
We were the only customers in the place as it was late, and we had the full attention of all the waiters. There was no menu, they just came every minute or two to shovel more food onto our plates. We were getting pretty stuffed, when the head waiter came along and said “kedgeree?”. We all politely declined on account of fullness, but apparently this was not an option. He summoned over the kedgeree waiter. “Kedgeree?” he repeated, more softly and menacingly. Again we demurred. “TRY,” he announced. Alvin was first to capitulate and asked for a small portion, whereupon a ladleful was heaped onto his plate. Ben gave in easily. “Madam? Kedgeree?” asked the waiter. “No thanks, I’m very full.” “TASTE IT. JUST A LITTLE.” “Er, ok.”
After a morning sitting in the shade to offer some relief to the sunburn, we took a taxi to the airport and a flight back to Mumbai. Upon arrival we headed for the pre-pay taxi counter as the most reliable transport option. Paid my 300 rupees, got my ticket and headed out into the car park to find a taxi. Unfortunately we walked right into the hands of a thieving pikey, who took my both my receipts and wouldn’t return a copy, then put us in a taxi with a driver and a man who demanded another 2000 rupees. We were in a bit of a quandary as it was obviously a scam but we were stuck in the car with all our luggage preventing us from making a quick escape, minus the pre-pay receipt, and right near the exit from the airport away from the other taxis. We ended up giving him 600 rupees. What shame for the seasoned traveller to be scammed so easily!
The taxi ride through Mumbai to the Hotel Fortune where Ben was holed up was extremely long, compounded by the fact that the driver had no idea where he was going. After making some phone calls and consulting another taxi driver he was no better off, so grudgingly let Alvin direct him from a photo of a Google map. The LP was buried in my bag somewhere so I frantically gripped Fermat’s Last Theorem at the point where we were nearly crushed between a lorry and a wall. It was a big relief to arrive, and an extra bonus that the driver didn’t demand more money.
Ben decided we needed to go to dinner at a special place he’d found in the Rough Guide. After a false start wherein we went down completely the wrong road, Ben’s sense of direction righted itself and we found the Rajdhani down a rather insalubrious rat-infested alley. We went in and sat down at a table with some thali dishes. I made the mistake of drinking the water they poured, which was of course tap water. I am now patiently awaiting my stomach’s retribution.
We were the only customers in the place as it was late, and we had the full attention of all the waiters. There was no menu, they just came every minute or two to shovel more food onto our plates. We were getting pretty stuffed, when the head waiter came along and said “kedgeree?”. We all politely declined on account of fullness, but apparently this was not an option. He summoned over the kedgeree waiter. “Kedgeree?” he repeated, more softly and menacingly. Again we demurred. “TRY,” he announced. Alvin was first to capitulate and asked for a small portion, whereupon a ladleful was heaped onto his plate. Ben gave in easily. “Madam? Kedgeree?” asked the waiter. “No thanks, I’m very full.” “TASTE IT. JUST A LITTLE.” “Er, ok.”
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sunday 17th Jan
We had previously been contemplating going on an excursion or shifting further up the coast, but we decided that sitting on Palolem beach and guzzling cocktails suits us too well so we stayed put. We did have to go to the effort of shifting beach hut as we’d only booked in for 2 nights, but that was probably the most herculean task we undertook today.
Readers may be shocked to discover that I spent the morning sitting on the beach, interspersed with the occasional swim, and the afternoon lying in the hammock. I am however contriving to expand my mind as my body atrophies by reading “Fermat’s Last Theorem” – the book, not the theorem. As well as the theorem itself, the book contains various mathematical puzzles from throughout the ages. I now know why the square root of 2 must be irrational, amongst other things. I don’t yet know why there are no values that fulfil x^13+y^13=z^13, but I presume that’s yet to come, possibly with reference to multi-dimensional hyperbolic doughnuts if I remember the documentary correctly.
In the late afternoon we took an auto rickshaw to the nearest cash point (yes it’s not within walking distance, no we’re not that lazy) as we realised we had nowhere near enough cash to cover the sizable bill we’re running up here in accommodation, food and cocktails. That was our adventure for the day, and to recover we got back in the sea and I taught Alvin to gauge when a wave will break on top of you. He discovered the importance of when to jump and when to duck, so his mind is being fruitfully expanded as well.
Unfortunately, I am now a shade sunburnt in patches. All this effort spent in the attainment of the perfect tan, and it’s going to peel.
Readers may be shocked to discover that I spent the morning sitting on the beach, interspersed with the occasional swim, and the afternoon lying in the hammock. I am however contriving to expand my mind as my body atrophies by reading “Fermat’s Last Theorem” – the book, not the theorem. As well as the theorem itself, the book contains various mathematical puzzles from throughout the ages. I now know why the square root of 2 must be irrational, amongst other things. I don’t yet know why there are no values that fulfil x^13+y^13=z^13, but I presume that’s yet to come, possibly with reference to multi-dimensional hyperbolic doughnuts if I remember the documentary correctly.
In the late afternoon we took an auto rickshaw to the nearest cash point (yes it’s not within walking distance, no we’re not that lazy) as we realised we had nowhere near enough cash to cover the sizable bill we’re running up here in accommodation, food and cocktails. That was our adventure for the day, and to recover we got back in the sea and I taught Alvin to gauge when a wave will break on top of you. He discovered the importance of when to jump and when to duck, so his mind is being fruitfully expanded as well.
Unfortunately, I am now a shade sunburnt in patches. All this effort spent in the attainment of the perfect tan, and it’s going to peel.
Saturday 16th Jan
We got up early to go on a dolphin watching trip on a fishing boat. Unfortunately, our boat’s engine packed in after just ten minutes. The driver spent a further ten minutes trying to revive it, at the end of which it finally spluttered back into life in a cloud of diesel. By this point it had got rather busy out on the water, and whenever we found dolphins and I was poised to jump in with them, five other boats came rushing up and frightened the poor buggers off. The next section of the tour was to Honeymoon Beach, which was strewn with rubbish. In spite of this there was lots of wildlife rustling in the bushes. I saw the giant squirrel’s smaller counterpart, as well as plenty of crabs. After a quick swim the boat whisked us away to Butterfly Island, which they let us glimpse from afar without time to see a butterfly.
The rest of the morning and early afternoon were dedicated tanning time. I’m pleased to say that not one person commented on my skin colour today so I must be improving. Or perhaps no one can detect the original colour as I have so many insect bites that they’ve more or less joined to form a red continuum.
In the evening we went to see some live music, enticed by a flier from a ropey old Yorkshireman. We arrived to find him tunelessly massacring Big Yellow Taxi. Little did we know that the best was yet to come! The next act was a stocky German with beads woven into his beard. “Hallo, mein name ist Franz,” he declared in an accent so strong that I assumed he must be joking. But apparently not, as he proceeded to sing Mad World in a style reminiscent of Martha reading Roy Orbison in Clingfilm with the voice of Ulrich Haarburste, for those of you whom have had the pleasure of experiencing this, only a touch grittier. Everybody else on the beach nodded and swayed along, apparently oblivious to the sheer awfulness of Franz’s singing.
There were some surprisingly good acts, including an English man, a Swedish family and a fusion of Irish concertina with sitar. Another notably horrifying one however was an overweight leathery 50 year old English woman wearing a leopard print top, leggings and a fanny pack, gyrating grotesquely to her own rendition of Fever whilst the hapless Franz accompanied her on the bongo. That’s going to provide subject matter for some serious chloroquine nightmares.
The rest of the morning and early afternoon were dedicated tanning time. I’m pleased to say that not one person commented on my skin colour today so I must be improving. Or perhaps no one can detect the original colour as I have so many insect bites that they’ve more or less joined to form a red continuum.
In the evening we went to see some live music, enticed by a flier from a ropey old Yorkshireman. We arrived to find him tunelessly massacring Big Yellow Taxi. Little did we know that the best was yet to come! The next act was a stocky German with beads woven into his beard. “Hallo, mein name ist Franz,” he declared in an accent so strong that I assumed he must be joking. But apparently not, as he proceeded to sing Mad World in a style reminiscent of Martha reading Roy Orbison in Clingfilm with the voice of Ulrich Haarburste, for those of you whom have had the pleasure of experiencing this, only a touch grittier. Everybody else on the beach nodded and swayed along, apparently oblivious to the sheer awfulness of Franz’s singing.
There were some surprisingly good acts, including an English man, a Swedish family and a fusion of Irish concertina with sitar. Another notably horrifying one however was an overweight leathery 50 year old English woman wearing a leopard print top, leggings and a fanny pack, gyrating grotesquely to her own rendition of Fever whilst the hapless Franz accompanied her on the bongo. That’s going to provide subject matter for some serious chloroquine nightmares.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday 15th Jan
I spent the early morning bird spotting, during which I saw several black ones, a yellow one that munched on the backs of flowers, and one that may or may not have been an insect. Alvin seemed distinctly unimpressed that I can only name the birds of Nicaragua. I think the yellow one might have been a fly catcher of some variety.
After breakfast we shifted to Ciaran’s Camp, home to the classiest huts on the beach. We have our own little veranda with wooden chairs, a small glass table and a hammock in which I am typing this whilst being devoured by genetically modified mosquitoes. I’m covered in huge itchy welts - dengue fever ahoy. We also have hot water which I well recall to be the very height of luxury from my backpacking days. Let no-one claim that I’ve been spoilt by excessive conference hotels.
We rented a double kayak while it was still cloudy and rowed out to the headland, clashing paddles all the way as we were neither of us are overly talented at it. A pair of chatty Indians from Tamil Nadu paddled alongside us for a friendly race which they easily won. We came back in on a decent wave, almost crushing a reckless herd of swimmers in front of us.
After lunch undertook some vigorous sunbathing, disturbed only by the audible gasps of the hawkers who had never seen someone so pasty. Several of them sought to reassure me that in a few days I’ll start looking healthier. I apologised for my unnatural skin tone.
Had South Indian thali for dinner (is this the least punishing country in the world in which to be vegetarian?) whilst watching a delightful sunset and quaffing beer. This was followed by a walk along the beach past some atrocious live music to a bar with decadent seating. You sprawled out on the floor in a heap of cushions. We had cocktails which were rather better than the previous night’s.
After breakfast we shifted to Ciaran’s Camp, home to the classiest huts on the beach. We have our own little veranda with wooden chairs, a small glass table and a hammock in which I am typing this whilst being devoured by genetically modified mosquitoes. I’m covered in huge itchy welts - dengue fever ahoy. We also have hot water which I well recall to be the very height of luxury from my backpacking days. Let no-one claim that I’ve been spoilt by excessive conference hotels.
We rented a double kayak while it was still cloudy and rowed out to the headland, clashing paddles all the way as we were neither of us are overly talented at it. A pair of chatty Indians from Tamil Nadu paddled alongside us for a friendly race which they easily won. We came back in on a decent wave, almost crushing a reckless herd of swimmers in front of us.
After lunch undertook some vigorous sunbathing, disturbed only by the audible gasps of the hawkers who had never seen someone so pasty. Several of them sought to reassure me that in a few days I’ll start looking healthier. I apologised for my unnatural skin tone.
Had South Indian thali for dinner (is this the least punishing country in the world in which to be vegetarian?) whilst watching a delightful sunset and quaffing beer. This was followed by a walk along the beach past some atrocious live music to a bar with decadent seating. You sprawled out on the floor in a heap of cushions. We had cocktails which were rather better than the previous night’s.
Thursday 14th Jan
We took a long taxi ride right through the heart of Goa to Palolem in the south, passing through scenery straight out of Jurassic Park with hills and rivers and palm trees the whole way. Unexpectedly, although our driver did try to overtake on several blind corners, once he realised another vehicle was heading straight at us he usually swerved back in rather than step on the accelerator and continue with the overtake. In true Goan style, he honked his horn at everything we passed. There are signs on all the trucks here saying “If ok, sound horn”, which rather leads one to speculate as to what the signal would be if things were not ok. Do the drivers fear the worst if all’s quiet behind them?
Palolem is far more of a tourist trap than we’d realised, with stalls selling cheap tat lining the streets. The big draw is the beach, a strip several kilometres long of pale yellow sand. Bars and restaurants line the edge but the beach itself is hardly the seething mass of humanity you would see on the Mediterranean in the summer.
We had a little difficulty finding accommodation as the first two places we dragged our suitcases to were full, so we ended up settling for a resort of huts right at one end of the beach. Not ideal for the tourists travelling with two laptops, a mac mini, a fat stack of cash and some uber camera gear. We’ve booked in here for one night, then made a reservation for the next 2 nights at a classier place further down the beach (with lockers).
First order of the afternoon was to catch some rays, which was made slightly less relaxing by the highly persistent hawkers, but nonetheless astronomically better than being in London at this time of year. Alvin was not best pleased that all the hawkers thought he was Japanese. I was not best pleased when one proclaimed how very white I was. The sea was warm, but the waves were somewhat too forceful for my rather fragile bikini. We availed ourselves of cocktails in a beach bar and had a walk. Alvin was thrilled and amazed to discover hermit crabs.
We went back to the hotel and missed what would no doubt have been a spectacular sunset, had I not been in the shower. We went off searching in the dark for a restaurant recommended by the LP, which we couldn’t find, so chose a very pretty one in a quiet bay. The cocktails were none too good as the barman enthusiastically squeezed several limes into each one, whether called for or no. Some passing camera enthusiasts talked with Alvin in code for a while.
Back at the hut I found a sizeable cockroach in our bathroom. I’ve packed everything into my suitcase and closed it up in case the cockroach mates with the big spider in the bedroom and one of them lays eggs in there.
Palolem is far more of a tourist trap than we’d realised, with stalls selling cheap tat lining the streets. The big draw is the beach, a strip several kilometres long of pale yellow sand. Bars and restaurants line the edge but the beach itself is hardly the seething mass of humanity you would see on the Mediterranean in the summer.
We had a little difficulty finding accommodation as the first two places we dragged our suitcases to were full, so we ended up settling for a resort of huts right at one end of the beach. Not ideal for the tourists travelling with two laptops, a mac mini, a fat stack of cash and some uber camera gear. We’ve booked in here for one night, then made a reservation for the next 2 nights at a classier place further down the beach (with lockers).
First order of the afternoon was to catch some rays, which was made slightly less relaxing by the highly persistent hawkers, but nonetheless astronomically better than being in London at this time of year. Alvin was not best pleased that all the hawkers thought he was Japanese. I was not best pleased when one proclaimed how very white I was. The sea was warm, but the waves were somewhat too forceful for my rather fragile bikini. We availed ourselves of cocktails in a beach bar and had a walk. Alvin was thrilled and amazed to discover hermit crabs.
We went back to the hotel and missed what would no doubt have been a spectacular sunset, had I not been in the shower. We went off searching in the dark for a restaurant recommended by the LP, which we couldn’t find, so chose a very pretty one in a quiet bay. The cocktails were none too good as the barman enthusiastically squeezed several limes into each one, whether called for or no. Some passing camera enthusiasts talked with Alvin in code for a while.
Back at the hut I found a sizeable cockroach in our bathroom. I’ve packed everything into my suitcase and closed it up in case the cockroach mates with the big spider in the bedroom and one of them lays eggs in there.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Wednesday 13th Jan
Alvin talked in Chinese in his sleep. We got up at 6 to go animal watching. We took a jeep with a guide into the national park for the first few early hours when it was still cool and the light was grey. After a lot of driving around we'd seen an eagle that flew away quickly but nothing else. We got out of the jeep and went on foot some of the way, and followed the noise to a giant squirrel. The guide enthusiastically grabbed my waist with one hand whilst guiding my line of site with the other. I managed to squirm out of his clutch and safely spotted the squirrel by myself from a few steps away. The squirrel didn't do very much, so the guide threw a stone at the tree to get it scampering around. Next, we found a tree full of fly catchers. There were 3 types: one that was yellow, one that was black, and one with a forked tail. Unfortunately I can't remember the names. We also saw a big spider with yellow knees. The guide was very apologetic, as apparently the evening before they'd seen herds of bison and deer, but I didn't mind as I like the little things.
After a massive breakfast we went on our next tour to the Dudsaghar falls - the 2nd largest waterfall in India at 340 m high. We drove out to the nearest village then took a very bumpy jeep ride along a dirt track and through several rivers to get there. At the falls there were hundreds of curious macaques, all crowding round and growling at us. The express line to New Delhi runs right through the middle of the falls. At the base there is a big pool you can swim in, seething with hideous pale squishy Brits and Russians. The swimming was very refreshing.
After the ride back past a spice plantation with elephants, we went for lunch. I got some kind of battered vegetables, one of which turned out to be a rather hot chilli, after I'd taken a huge bite thinking it was a bean. Alvin made the same error. We then siesta-ed the afternoon away on sun loungers by the pool.
After a massive breakfast we went on our next tour to the Dudsaghar falls - the 2nd largest waterfall in India at 340 m high. We drove out to the nearest village then took a very bumpy jeep ride along a dirt track and through several rivers to get there. At the falls there were hundreds of curious macaques, all crowding round and growling at us. The express line to New Delhi runs right through the middle of the falls. At the base there is a big pool you can swim in, seething with hideous pale squishy Brits and Russians. The swimming was very refreshing.
After the ride back past a spice plantation with elephants, we went for lunch. I got some kind of battered vegetables, one of which turned out to be a rather hot chilli, after I'd taken a huge bite thinking it was a bean. Alvin made the same error. We then siesta-ed the afternoon away on sun loungers by the pool.
Tuesday 12th Jan
The chloroquine nightmares started. I woke up screaming for help after the most disturbing dream I've had since childhood.
I found a cyber cafe on the same street as the hotel. The computers were ancient, but the internet was surprisingly fast. However, no USB port so I couldn't upload this yet.
The taxi ride back to the airport was much nicer, for only 100 extra rupees. The driver took main roads and drove in a manner that could be described as casual, but not overly dangerous. He too had a blinging virgin mary on the dashboard, but it was much less sinister in the light of day. Met up with Alvin at the airport and took a rather expensive high comfort air conditioned taxi to the Dudhsagar Spa Resort on the edge of the Bhagwan Mahaveer National Park. The resort consists of a sprawling network of paths linking various rooms and "eco tents". Hardly anyone else is here, and the spa itself looks somewhat run down. There is a nice (although compact) swimming pool with some sun loungers, but it was quite cloudy by this time. Lots of little monkeys jump around in the trees. We had a few Kingfishers on the verandah to celebrate once we discovered the bottle opener mounted on the wall of the bathroom. Oddly, the phone is right next to the toilet.
After a few hours' siesta I woke up in darkness, with the cicadas making an outrageous racket. Alvin wouldn't wake up, although he talked in his sleep... something about teeth. He was finally awakened when I managed to bang my head really loudly on a shelf. We went for dinner, which was really good again. Tasty tasty mango icecream for dessert. We tried feni, the local cashew liquor, but it was rather too medicinal for my liking. Although it's not aniseedy at all, it comes close to ouzo on the ick factor. Alvin had his and mine. On the path back we saw a really furry caterpillar.
I found a cyber cafe on the same street as the hotel. The computers were ancient, but the internet was surprisingly fast. However, no USB port so I couldn't upload this yet.
The taxi ride back to the airport was much nicer, for only 100 extra rupees. The driver took main roads and drove in a manner that could be described as casual, but not overly dangerous. He too had a blinging virgin mary on the dashboard, but it was much less sinister in the light of day. Met up with Alvin at the airport and took a rather expensive high comfort air conditioned taxi to the Dudhsagar Spa Resort on the edge of the Bhagwan Mahaveer National Park. The resort consists of a sprawling network of paths linking various rooms and "eco tents". Hardly anyone else is here, and the spa itself looks somewhat run down. There is a nice (although compact) swimming pool with some sun loungers, but it was quite cloudy by this time. Lots of little monkeys jump around in the trees. We had a few Kingfishers on the verandah to celebrate once we discovered the bottle opener mounted on the wall of the bathroom. Oddly, the phone is right next to the toilet.
After a few hours' siesta I woke up in darkness, with the cicadas making an outrageous racket. Alvin wouldn't wake up, although he talked in his sleep... something about teeth. He was finally awakened when I managed to bang my head really loudly on a shelf. We went for dinner, which was really good again. Tasty tasty mango icecream for dessert. We tried feni, the local cashew liquor, but it was rather too medicinal for my liking. Although it's not aniseedy at all, it comes close to ouzo on the ick factor. Alvin had his and mine. On the path back we saw a really furry caterpillar.
Monday 11th Jan
Managed to buy a ticket in the airport no problem at the very efficient Kingfisher Airlines desk. I love that India has a company that does both beer and air travel. After a four hour transit, I boarded the 4.55am flight. I woke up halfway through to find they were serving curry for breakfast. It went down surprisingly well.
Upon landing, I fought my way with all my luggage to the pre-pay taxi desk where you can pay a fixed fare in advance to get to Panaji, the state capital. Once I got to the taxi, I found that it was one of the yellow and black ones that the Imperial College International Office had warned us against on the grounds of extreme discomfort. And indeed the suspension factor was low. The taxi did however have a hypnotic blinging lit up virgin mary on the dashboard which changed colour at various speeds, no doubt to guide us safely to our destination. It was still pitch black at 6am, and the driver went shooting off at full throttle along the main road, casually overtaking trucks on blind corners, almost ramming the back of a scooter, and nearly crushing assorted locals wandering along the side of the road. Then, to my sheer terror, he swerved off the main road down a bumpy unlit unpaved track into a forest. I realised that the only weapon I had to hand was the Lonely Planet, which I gripped desperately, in order to be able to clobber the driver over the head with it if need be. He was pretty little, so I reckon I could have put up a good fight when he tried to murder me. Unless he was driving me out to meet his bandit friends. Fortunately, we turned back onto another main road and I saw signs to Panaji. My relief rapidly diminished as he accelerated into corners, ran over a giant rat, and nearly hit some dogs. The worst moment of all was on an overtake that wasn't even on a blind corner, so unfortunately I could actually see the headlights coming right at us. I shut my eyes and clutched the Lonely Planet to my chest.
Mercifully, we did get to Panaji, but the driver had no clue as to the location of the hotel I was looking for, even with the aid of a map with the hotel marked on. We stopped to ask several locals who all pointed us in opposing directions, until one man got into the car with us and directed us all the way there. Casa Paradiso guest house is recommended as the LP pick of mid-range Panaji accommodation, but I'd hate to see the bottom-of-the-range stuff. The room itself is ok but the bedding is terrifyingly stained and the ants certainly bite. I regretted not having brought my own travel sheet that has stood me in good stead in so many dirty hostels. Nonetheless, I crashed for a good five hours.
I went for a walk around town, and got surprisingly little hassle. A few stares and hellos but no-one was actively following me shouting "white girl" this time. The strangest, and possibly nicest thing that happened was the mother of a big Indian family rushing up to me brandishing a camera. I assumed she wanted me to take a photo of the family, but actually she wanted a photo of me with the family. Stunned into compliance, I sat on the bench and she plopped her happy little girl down next to me, then everyone crowded round for the photos. Panaji itself is pleasant enough, with faded whitewashed colonial buildings and a spectacular church. It is a little difficult to walk around as, for the most part, there are no pavements and the traffic is pretty wild. Upon observation of the locals, I realised you had to walk along the road and pray that the traffic swerved around you.
In the evening I ventured out in search of internet and dinner. Incredibly, given what a tourist trap Goa is, I had to wander for ages before I found 1 single tiny cyber cafe, which was closed. I have never experienced the like in any town anywhere. Hoping for better luck with dinner, I tried to find a couple of places recommended in the LP but they just weren't there. After some unnerving wandering down dark alleys I found a place where I got my entire dinner for £2 including tip. I expect I spent the same amount on receiving a phone call from Alvin at dinner. I think I'm going to enjoy eating my way round India.
Upon landing, I fought my way with all my luggage to the pre-pay taxi desk where you can pay a fixed fare in advance to get to Panaji, the state capital. Once I got to the taxi, I found that it was one of the yellow and black ones that the Imperial College International Office had warned us against on the grounds of extreme discomfort. And indeed the suspension factor was low. The taxi did however have a hypnotic blinging lit up virgin mary on the dashboard which changed colour at various speeds, no doubt to guide us safely to our destination. It was still pitch black at 6am, and the driver went shooting off at full throttle along the main road, casually overtaking trucks on blind corners, almost ramming the back of a scooter, and nearly crushing assorted locals wandering along the side of the road. Then, to my sheer terror, he swerved off the main road down a bumpy unlit unpaved track into a forest. I realised that the only weapon I had to hand was the Lonely Planet, which I gripped desperately, in order to be able to clobber the driver over the head with it if need be. He was pretty little, so I reckon I could have put up a good fight when he tried to murder me. Unless he was driving me out to meet his bandit friends. Fortunately, we turned back onto another main road and I saw signs to Panaji. My relief rapidly diminished as he accelerated into corners, ran over a giant rat, and nearly hit some dogs. The worst moment of all was on an overtake that wasn't even on a blind corner, so unfortunately I could actually see the headlights coming right at us. I shut my eyes and clutched the Lonely Planet to my chest.
Mercifully, we did get to Panaji, but the driver had no clue as to the location of the hotel I was looking for, even with the aid of a map with the hotel marked on. We stopped to ask several locals who all pointed us in opposing directions, until one man got into the car with us and directed us all the way there. Casa Paradiso guest house is recommended as the LP pick of mid-range Panaji accommodation, but I'd hate to see the bottom-of-the-range stuff. The room itself is ok but the bedding is terrifyingly stained and the ants certainly bite. I regretted not having brought my own travel sheet that has stood me in good stead in so many dirty hostels. Nonetheless, I crashed for a good five hours.
I went for a walk around town, and got surprisingly little hassle. A few stares and hellos but no-one was actively following me shouting "white girl" this time. The strangest, and possibly nicest thing that happened was the mother of a big Indian family rushing up to me brandishing a camera. I assumed she wanted me to take a photo of the family, but actually she wanted a photo of me with the family. Stunned into compliance, I sat on the bench and she plopped her happy little girl down next to me, then everyone crowded round for the photos. Panaji itself is pleasant enough, with faded whitewashed colonial buildings and a spectacular church. It is a little difficult to walk around as, for the most part, there are no pavements and the traffic is pretty wild. Upon observation of the locals, I realised you had to walk along the road and pray that the traffic swerved around you.
In the evening I ventured out in search of internet and dinner. Incredibly, given what a tourist trap Goa is, I had to wander for ages before I found 1 single tiny cyber cafe, which was closed. I have never experienced the like in any town anywhere. Hoping for better luck with dinner, I tried to find a couple of places recommended in the LP but they just weren't there. After some unnerving wandering down dark alleys I found a place where I got my entire dinner for £2 including tip. I expect I spent the same amount on receiving a phone call from Alvin at dinner. I think I'm going to enjoy eating my way round India.
Sunday 10th Jan
The hangover was fortunately milder than anticipated, but that may have been because I began the day still drunk. It took a few false starts to find Barons Court tube station, which is really not all that far from my house. I went back all the way to Heathrow, ran at the departures board... and saw that the flight was cancelled. I took a second look to make sure as I was still a little inebriated and confused, and it transpired the flight to Nairobi was cancelled and the flight to Mumbai was still scheduled. I did a happy dance, and rushed to the bag drop smiling like an idiot.
The flight more or less on time. Unfortunately I found myself seated between 2 babies. However, one of the BA cabin staff (much better than the ground staff) noticed my plight and shifted me to a much better seat with legroom, an empty seat to my right, and Tarundeep, a friendly investment banker from JP Morgan Mumbai on my left. As he endeavoured to make polite conversation, I banged on for a good 20 minutes about my travel woes, and having missed my connection from Mumbai to Goa. Tarundeep took pity on me, and kindly let me use his iPhone once we'd landed to try and reserve another ticket online for the first flight out. He must have regretted it, as I kept mashing all the wrong links on the touch screen, and after half an hour we had to give up as the website just wouldn't accept my credit card details.
The flight more or less on time. Unfortunately I found myself seated between 2 babies. However, one of the BA cabin staff (much better than the ground staff) noticed my plight and shifted me to a much better seat with legroom, an empty seat to my right, and Tarundeep, a friendly investment banker from JP Morgan Mumbai on my left. As he endeavoured to make polite conversation, I banged on for a good 20 minutes about my travel woes, and having missed my connection from Mumbai to Goa. Tarundeep took pity on me, and kindly let me use his iPhone once we'd landed to try and reserve another ticket online for the first flight out. He must have regretted it, as I kept mashing all the wrong links on the touch screen, and after half an hour we had to give up as the website just wouldn't accept my credit card details.
Saturday 9th Jan
I decided it would be a good idea to go to the pub for a pint. Four pints and two glasses of wine later, I began to regret having booked onto a morning flight.
Friday 8th Jan
After spending all day obsessively watching the Heathrow live online departures board, and everything going according to plan, I dragged my suitcase all the way to Heathrow and the flight was cancelled. Why? I can only assume it was related to the arctic weather, but it's hard to be sure as the BA staff were unhelpful to the point of obstructive. They closed the line to the rebooking queue as soon as I got there, instead advising frustrated travellers to ring the one rebooking phone number, which was constantly engaged. A mini scuffle broke out between a particularly dismissive BA staff member and an enraged American who'd been in Heathrow for three days. I got back on the tube and hauled my baggage all the way back home. When I got to the front door I realised I was too weak and pathetic to get my suitcase back up the 3 floors to our flat, so Jez had to come to my rescue.
I tried the BA number on redial for the next half hour and of course no-one answered, as I discovered online that the number had been closed all evening. Just as I was contemplating going back to Heathrow at 6 the next morning to rejoin the rebooking queue, I had a huge epiphany. I'd not made the booking myself, it had been done through the college travel agent, who have a 24 hour emergency hotline. I called it and no-one answered that either, but at least it rang. I called it again, got through to someone, and she sorted it all out for me. Booked onto the next available flight.
I tried the BA number on redial for the next half hour and of course no-one answered, as I discovered online that the number had been closed all evening. Just as I was contemplating going back to Heathrow at 6 the next morning to rejoin the rebooking queue, I had a huge epiphany. I'd not made the booking myself, it had been done through the college travel agent, who have a 24 hour emergency hotline. I called it and no-one answered that either, but at least it rang. I called it again, got through to someone, and she sorted it all out for me. Booked onto the next available flight.
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