Adventures always look better in the rear view mirror

Astute readers will have noticed that there aren't any pictures taken on the morning ferry ride from Providence to Newport. That's because there wasn't one -- or rather, there was a ferry, and it left for Newport as scheduled at 9:30 am. We just weren't on it.

There's a free shuttle that runs from several locations in downtown Providence to the ferry, and we were at the convention center stop early. Where we waited. And waited. We called the ferry company, but the customer service desk was closed for the holiday. Jayne was on hold with the main ferry office when a beat-up Providence city bus with a Not in Service sign pulled up and the driver announced that this was the super-duper emergency backup holiday shuttle. Hurray!

The only problem was that she'd never driven the route before, and she wasn't exactly sure where she was supposed to drop us off. And we had five minutes to get there. And so though we were later told that they had held the ferry as long as they could, we ran down the ramp to the landing just as it pulled away.

The next ferry wasn't for three hours, and since the ferry landing consists of a parking lot, a trailer and a Pepsi machine in basically the middle of nowhere, hanging out for three hours wasn't an attractive option. Especially since the 12:30 ferry was completely booked and there was no guarantee they'd even let us on it.

That's when one of the women selling tickets, now and forever to be known as Saint Lori of Providence, came to the rescue. She arranged for a van to pick the seven of us up and drive us to Newport, where we arrived at Perrotti Park only a couple of minutes after our ferry did.

Needless to say, those of us on the 5 o'clock ferry returning to Providence were in line by 4:30.

A Passage to India

It was....interesting.

I saved this weather forecast from last week because I thought it was funny; I'd never seen “Smoke” as a weather condition before.

And it's still Smoke this morning, although the sun is starting to peek through the dusty haze and I'm leaving shortly for an all-day tour (Another one tomorrow. And the day after that. So I won't post many photos before the end of the week.)

The flight from Abu Dhabi was almost entirely made up of Indian men. By my count there were a total of four women on the plane, and only three non-Indians. Most of the service workers I saw in Abu Dhabi were Indian, so it makes sense that a lot of Indians fly back and forth. But although all of the lunch choices were curries, the flight announcements, like everything else in the Emirates, were given in Arabic and English only. No Hindi or Rajasthani. Many Indians speak perfect English of course, but it still struck me as disrespectful. (And a little dangerous -- when we were taxiing to the terminal in Jaipur, several of the men got up and took out their bags from the overhead bins, ignoring repeated announcements to sit down. Finally one of the Etihad flight attendants sprinted down the aisle and basically pushed them into their seats. I don't know if the men didn't understand or were deliberately disobeying.)

I got delayed at immigration because the fingerprint machine at the e-visa counter couldn't detect any fingerprints on my right hand, and by the time I got to baggage claim, the baggage had arrived and mostly been claimed. Except for mine, which didn't show up until I was halfway through filling out the claim form with the airline offices. Next, I needed some money. I still had 1500 of the 2000 dirhams I got by mistake in Abu Dhabi, so I tried to change them into rupees. No, they were very sorry, Madam, but the most they could change was 300 dirhams, and the smallest bill I had was 500 dirhams.

Okay, is there an ATM?

Yes, Madam, there is an ATM over there, but unfortunately it is not working.

I did have some dollars, so I was able to get a small number of rupees. (A small number was all I needed -- the taxi to the hotel turned out to be the equivalent of four dollars.) The taxi driver grabbed my suitcase, told me to follow him, and I walked out of the terminal into ... India. I can't say that the petty annoyances of travel dropped away -- they were swept away by a tsunami of noise and color and smell. I followed the driver, elbowing my way through the crowds and then walking in the middle of the road, while motorcycles and cars and speedy little vans the size of an armchair zipped past me, miraculously avoiding colliding with each other, or with me. It was overwhelming.

Then we passed a white cow, strolling along the side of the road, and I just started grinning. Yeah, this is India. I hope I'm ready for this.

Complications

This is the approach from the visitors centre. The closer you get, the more you see that it's not just a rock face -- there are curves and undulations, inlets and overhangs.

Unfortunately this is also the time you notice that the flies here are both more numerous and more intelligent -- you have to close up the bottom of the fly net to keep them out. Eventually I just tucked it under the chin strap to my hat, and saw Uluru around the flies crawling on my face. The bus driver brushed the flies off us as we got on to minimize the number we brought back into the bus.

Have I mentioned the flies?

Here I am at Standley Chasm, wearing my annoying but oh so necessary net.

Fortunately, for some reason the flies, despite their persistence, didn't notice that they could simply crawl under the net if they wanted to continue to investigate the interiors of my ears and my nose.