This is what I posted on FB ............
When I see the young travelers present their travel shows on TV with such fanfare highlighting their adventure, my thoughts go back to my first European trip, which was an adventure in every sense of the word.
It was over forty years ago; even before many of these travelers were even born.
What can spoil a trip?
delayed flight?
lost luggage?
cancellled flights?
trouble at emigration?
trouble with food?
checked by police when you are having a quiet dinner?
One is enough to spoil the trip. If all these happen on one trip what would you call such a trip? disaster? adventure? choice is yours. It happened to me and I would call it an adventure.
Every Indian dreams to travel abroad and I am not an exception. So in September 1976 when my employer proposed that I visit the Machine Tool Exhibition in Birmingham I jumped at the chance; the added attraction for Birmingham was that since my brother in law was living in Birmingham, with the tight foreign exchange regulations at that time (you were allowed to take only US$ 250), I could save on the expenses by staying with him.
My passport was not valid for travel to Europe and U.K. and the first step was to get the endorsement. Passport office in Hyderabad had just started working and luckily the PRO was a nice man and I got the endorsement done quickly. At that time only France and Switzerland needed visas for Indians; U.K. and German Visas were issued on arrival at the airport. It was decided that I will first go to Switzerland to meet M/S. Maillefer in Ecublens near Lausanne - the beautiful city on the banks of lake Geneva and headquarters of International Olympic Committee, 1 hour by bus from Geneva -
I had to get the Swiss Visa personally in Mumbai. I decided to leave for Mumbai and then after getting my visa continue with the trip.
I left Hyderabad on 23rd September 1976 - 35 years ago to this day - on my first overseas travel.
I got my visa the next day; then there was a snag... it seemed that I was getting an eye infection which could derail my trip. I may not have prayed as ardently as that day; somebody up there saw to it that the infection subsides in one day. But I never realized that it was the start of an adventure.
I was to leave on 25th night on an Air India flight to Rome taking a connecting Alitalia flight to Geneva. The idea was that I would land up in Geneva on 26th morning to be picked up somebody. Air India as usual had other ideas... The flight was delayed over 12 hours with a short transit time in Rome. I was in Geneva around 10 o'clock in the night and found to my dismay that my checked in luggage had decided to catch a different flight. Since Air India had nobody in Geneva to help with the missing luggage, I was at the mercy of Italian(French?) speaking Alitalia representative whom I could somehow inform that I will be in Lausanne and the luggage must be sent there. There was nobody to receive me and I bravely walked out into the biting cold of Geneva.
Here I was in a strange country, middle of the night, with no knowledge of the local language, with just the clothes I was wearing and very little money in the pocket that too in dollars.
I knew the only solution is to reach Lausanne where my hotel was booked. My saviour turned out to be the driver of the bus to Lausanne into which I got into. He spoke no English and I spoke no French. He knew I was lost since I handed over the dollars for the ticket. Instead of kicking me out, he took me to the exchange bureau got the dollars changed and took the correct fare. When we reached Lausanne, he called a taxi and arranged to drop me at the Carlton Hotel where I was booked...All these communicating only by few words but mostly with hands and eyes...You find human kindness in strange places…. I will never forget this guy...
The receptionist was English speaking and quickly checked me in. I sank into the soft bed and woke up to a funny loud grinding noise outside my window; it was early morning and with my jet lag, it took some time for me to figure out the noise. It was the tram with its sprocket wheels making its uphill journey from Ouchy, the famous Lausanne lake front.
The hotel provided all the missing implements-razor, toothbrush etc.- for me to get ready to be picked up for the meeting. The missing luggage arrived in the evening- delivered at my hotel.
Flight to London was uneventful as also the emigration. But then the connecting internal flight to Birmingham was cancelled and I had no way to inform my brother in law the changed arrival. The cabbie at Birmingham airport helped me to reach the house late in the evening.
The exhibition was uneventful and during the weekend I visited my uncle in Manchester and ended up spending the whole week with him and his family. I had no visa for France and my uncle took me to Liverpool to the French Consulate and he convinced the consul that it would be a big loss for the French economy if his nephew does not go to France and should be given the visa. With the French single entry visa in hand my subsequent plans also fell in place.
My plan was to fly to Lyon via Paris. But the French Internal airlines, Air Inter, had other plans. They went on a strike the day I landed in Paris and I was in a way stranded in Paris and decided to make full use of it. Booked a hotel from the airport and caught a taxi to the hotel. Typical Paris Taxi fellow dropped me on the main road near the hotel refusing to come into the lane muttering something in French, which I never understood. Lugging the luggage I managed to reach the hotel, which to my delight accepted the booking I had made. Paris was an experience with very little money but with lot to see. I also ventured into the famous Department Store, Galeries Lafayette where one of the floor managers mistook me for a rich Indian; he must have been disappointed since I limited my purchase to some clothes on discount and some melamine plates, which we still have.
I had no liking for the bland French Cuisine and most of the evenings I went to a Chinese restaurant. One evening I saw a dark skinned fellow like me at the other table; we waved at each other and soon started to talk; he was from Pakistan and stranded in Paris like me due to cancelled flights. We hit off well and roamed around in Paris together.
Since I was stranded in Paris not knowing when the flights will resume I decided to finish my appointments. The first guy I phoned was the 60-year-old owner of a hundred year old company who is well known to be very abrasive. He gave me a lecture on keeping the appointments … “you Indians do not know the value of time and appointments.. Come back on the day I gave you”. (I had the appointment with him for the latter part of the week) A shrewd businessman he is, he relented when I told him that I might not meet him if he does not accept the changed schedule. He knew the importance of the meeting more than me since the meeting extended for 2 days and I was tutored on all aspects of his machines some of which were yet to be sold in India. The final result was that one of his products became a benchmark for Indian cable industry, several of which we sold in India. I also had a meeting in the Montparnasse Tower, which was at that time the tallest building in Europe.
My counterparts in Lyon were very nice and took good care of me. When they invited me for a seafood dinner I accepted it even though I had an early morning 4-hour train trip to Strasbourg the next day. “Oysters.. They are the specialty here,” my friends told me. I never had eaten Oysters but decided to try. I must have eaten a lot with the nice French wine since in the middle of the night my stomach started a violent protest. I spent the remaining time in the toilet and I was so sick that I almost decided to skip my trip; but then I had no choice since my flight back to Paris was booked from Mulhouse, the airport nearest to Strasbourg. The only memories I have about the train trip to Strasbourg are the strange look on the faces of the copaasengers about my frequent visits to the toilet, the cleanliness of the train toilet and the ingenious foot operated toilet flushing system.
It was in Strasbourg that I learnt about the tragic air crash in Mumbai where all the people in the plane were killed. It seems that the plane was to fly to Hyderabad but the passengers of another flight to madras, which was cancelled, forced the airlines to fly them first to Chennai and then go to Hyderabad, which led to their tragic end. It was as if they were inviting death.This crash had an indirect connection to me, which I will tell later.
The meeting in Strasbourg seemed to go beyond the time of my Air Inter flight from Mulhouse and my hosts graciously changed my booking to a later Swiss Air flight. I agreed without realizing the problem I was going to face. To catch the Swiss Air flight I had to go to the Swiss side of the airport (the airport of Basle Mulhouse is in France but built by Swiss and used by both France and Switzerland) passing through the emigration. This was no problem but when I landed in Paris late in the evening I got stuck at the emigration. You see… I had a single entry visa for France and by going out in Mulhouse to catch the Swiss Air flight I was out of France and had no more French visa. I was detained at the emigration. When they found that I was taking an early morning flight to Dusseldorf they relented and let me in but did not make any entry in my passport. I had a good nights sleep and turned up at the airport early enough. When I reached the emigration, they were confused… this guy has an exit stamp at Mulhouse and here he is… in Paris without an entry stamp the very next day…. Lot of discussions and lot of hand waving.. Then they felt… this guy is going out… let him go… so I left Paris without an exit stamp from Paris..
Dusseldorf was fun with the beer and food in Alstadt. My favorite was sauerkraut and sausages.. The days in Dusseldorf went off fast with meetings.
I was getting homesick with almost one month of travel. But somebody up there felt that I must have a crowning experience before I leave. The last evening I was eating in the Yugoslav restaurant near my hotel where I used to go once in a while. I could see some youngsters in jeans and T-shirts moving around and checking me out… after hearing about the racial problems in Germany I was a bit scared… I finished my dinner and was about to walk out when one of the guys came to my table and asked for my passport, which unfortunately I had left in the hotel. It turned out that they were from the police…. Imagine my shock… the spectre of spending my time in a German prison loomed large even though I had not done anything wrong. It seems that the restaurant where I went is a pick up point for illegal immigrants and since I was going there more often, they must have felt I am in Dusseldorf with some ulterior motive. They decided to come with me to the hotel to check my papers. Anyway after seeing my papers they let me off. I had a sleepless night and I must have been one of the first fellows to check in for the flight – one of the first AIRBUS 300. I must have been the happiest fellow in the plane from Frankfurt to Mumbai.
I made several trips afterwards but none of them this long and eventful…
PS.. The connection with the plane accident in Mumbai… I had posted a picture card from Paris and it had never reached home till I came back. Then it was delivered, with a seal “Involved in air accident in Bombayi”…. It gave me goose pimples…a poignant reminder to the lives lost…. See it below.
picture postcard
carlton hotel lausanne - my first hotel abroad.
It was over forty years ago; even before many of these travelers were even born.
What can spoil a trip?
delayed flight?
lost luggage?
cancellled flights?
trouble at emigration?
trouble with food?
checked by police when you are having a quiet dinner?
One is enough to spoil the trip. If all these happen on one trip what would you call such a trip? disaster? adventure? choice is yours. It happened to me and I would call it an adventure.
Every Indian dreams to travel abroad and I am not an exception. So in September 1976 when my employer proposed that I visit the Machine Tool Exhibition in Birmingham I jumped at the chance; the added attraction for Birmingham was that since my brother in law was living in Birmingham, with the tight foreign exchange regulations at that time (you were allowed to take only US$ 250), I could save on the expenses by staying with him.
My passport was not valid for travel to Europe and U.K. and the first step was to get the endorsement. Passport office in Hyderabad had just started working and luckily the PRO was a nice man and I got the endorsement done quickly. At that time only France and Switzerland needed visas for Indians; U.K. and German Visas were issued on arrival at the airport. It was decided that I will first go to Switzerland to meet M/S. Maillefer in Ecublens near Lausanne - the beautiful city on the banks of lake Geneva and headquarters of International Olympic Committee, 1 hour by bus from Geneva -
I had to get the Swiss Visa personally in Mumbai. I decided to leave for Mumbai and then after getting my visa continue with the trip.
I left Hyderabad on 23rd September 1976 - 35 years ago to this day - on my first overseas travel.
I got my visa the next day; then there was a snag... it seemed that I was getting an eye infection which could derail my trip. I may not have prayed as ardently as that day; somebody up there saw to it that the infection subsides in one day. But I never realized that it was the start of an adventure.
I was to leave on 25th night on an Air India flight to Rome taking a connecting Alitalia flight to Geneva. The idea was that I would land up in Geneva on 26th morning to be picked up somebody. Air India as usual had other ideas... The flight was delayed over 12 hours with a short transit time in Rome. I was in Geneva around 10 o'clock in the night and found to my dismay that my checked in luggage had decided to catch a different flight. Since Air India had nobody in Geneva to help with the missing luggage, I was at the mercy of Italian(French?) speaking Alitalia representative whom I could somehow inform that I will be in Lausanne and the luggage must be sent there. There was nobody to receive me and I bravely walked out into the biting cold of Geneva.
Here I was in a strange country, middle of the night, with no knowledge of the local language, with just the clothes I was wearing and very little money in the pocket that too in dollars.
I knew the only solution is to reach Lausanne where my hotel was booked. My saviour turned out to be the driver of the bus to Lausanne into which I got into. He spoke no English and I spoke no French. He knew I was lost since I handed over the dollars for the ticket. Instead of kicking me out, he took me to the exchange bureau got the dollars changed and took the correct fare. When we reached Lausanne, he called a taxi and arranged to drop me at the Carlton Hotel where I was booked...All these communicating only by few words but mostly with hands and eyes...You find human kindness in strange places…. I will never forget this guy...
The receptionist was English speaking and quickly checked me in. I sank into the soft bed and woke up to a funny loud grinding noise outside my window; it was early morning and with my jet lag, it took some time for me to figure out the noise. It was the tram with its sprocket wheels making its uphill journey from Ouchy, the famous Lausanne lake front.
The hotel provided all the missing implements-razor, toothbrush etc.- for me to get ready to be picked up for the meeting. The missing luggage arrived in the evening- delivered at my hotel.
Flight to London was uneventful as also the emigration. But then the connecting internal flight to Birmingham was cancelled and I had no way to inform my brother in law the changed arrival. The cabbie at Birmingham airport helped me to reach the house late in the evening.
The exhibition was uneventful and during the weekend I visited my uncle in Manchester and ended up spending the whole week with him and his family. I had no visa for France and my uncle took me to Liverpool to the French Consulate and he convinced the consul that it would be a big loss for the French economy if his nephew does not go to France and should be given the visa. With the French single entry visa in hand my subsequent plans also fell in place.
My plan was to fly to Lyon via Paris. But the French Internal airlines, Air Inter, had other plans. They went on a strike the day I landed in Paris and I was in a way stranded in Paris and decided to make full use of it. Booked a hotel from the airport and caught a taxi to the hotel. Typical Paris Taxi fellow dropped me on the main road near the hotel refusing to come into the lane muttering something in French, which I never understood. Lugging the luggage I managed to reach the hotel, which to my delight accepted the booking I had made. Paris was an experience with very little money but with lot to see. I also ventured into the famous Department Store, Galeries Lafayette where one of the floor managers mistook me for a rich Indian; he must have been disappointed since I limited my purchase to some clothes on discount and some melamine plates, which we still have.
I had no liking for the bland French Cuisine and most of the evenings I went to a Chinese restaurant. One evening I saw a dark skinned fellow like me at the other table; we waved at each other and soon started to talk; he was from Pakistan and stranded in Paris like me due to cancelled flights. We hit off well and roamed around in Paris together.
Since I was stranded in Paris not knowing when the flights will resume I decided to finish my appointments. The first guy I phoned was the 60-year-old owner of a hundred year old company who is well known to be very abrasive. He gave me a lecture on keeping the appointments … “you Indians do not know the value of time and appointments.. Come back on the day I gave you”. (I had the appointment with him for the latter part of the week) A shrewd businessman he is, he relented when I told him that I might not meet him if he does not accept the changed schedule. He knew the importance of the meeting more than me since the meeting extended for 2 days and I was tutored on all aspects of his machines some of which were yet to be sold in India. The final result was that one of his products became a benchmark for Indian cable industry, several of which we sold in India. I also had a meeting in the Montparnasse Tower, which was at that time the tallest building in Europe.
My counterparts in Lyon were very nice and took good care of me. When they invited me for a seafood dinner I accepted it even though I had an early morning 4-hour train trip to Strasbourg the next day. “Oysters.. They are the specialty here,” my friends told me. I never had eaten Oysters but decided to try. I must have eaten a lot with the nice French wine since in the middle of the night my stomach started a violent protest. I spent the remaining time in the toilet and I was so sick that I almost decided to skip my trip; but then I had no choice since my flight back to Paris was booked from Mulhouse, the airport nearest to Strasbourg. The only memories I have about the train trip to Strasbourg are the strange look on the faces of the copaasengers about my frequent visits to the toilet, the cleanliness of the train toilet and the ingenious foot operated toilet flushing system.
It was in Strasbourg that I learnt about the tragic air crash in Mumbai where all the people in the plane were killed. It seems that the plane was to fly to Hyderabad but the passengers of another flight to madras, which was cancelled, forced the airlines to fly them first to Chennai and then go to Hyderabad, which led to their tragic end. It was as if they were inviting death.This crash had an indirect connection to me, which I will tell later.
The meeting in Strasbourg seemed to go beyond the time of my Air Inter flight from Mulhouse and my hosts graciously changed my booking to a later Swiss Air flight. I agreed without realizing the problem I was going to face. To catch the Swiss Air flight I had to go to the Swiss side of the airport (the airport of Basle Mulhouse is in France but built by Swiss and used by both France and Switzerland) passing through the emigration. This was no problem but when I landed in Paris late in the evening I got stuck at the emigration. You see… I had a single entry visa for France and by going out in Mulhouse to catch the Swiss Air flight I was out of France and had no more French visa. I was detained at the emigration. When they found that I was taking an early morning flight to Dusseldorf they relented and let me in but did not make any entry in my passport. I had a good nights sleep and turned up at the airport early enough. When I reached the emigration, they were confused… this guy has an exit stamp at Mulhouse and here he is… in Paris without an entry stamp the very next day…. Lot of discussions and lot of hand waving.. Then they felt… this guy is going out… let him go… so I left Paris without an exit stamp from Paris..
Dusseldorf was fun with the beer and food in Alstadt. My favorite was sauerkraut and sausages.. The days in Dusseldorf went off fast with meetings.
I was getting homesick with almost one month of travel. But somebody up there felt that I must have a crowning experience before I leave. The last evening I was eating in the Yugoslav restaurant near my hotel where I used to go once in a while. I could see some youngsters in jeans and T-shirts moving around and checking me out… after hearing about the racial problems in Germany I was a bit scared… I finished my dinner and was about to walk out when one of the guys came to my table and asked for my passport, which unfortunately I had left in the hotel. It turned out that they were from the police…. Imagine my shock… the spectre of spending my time in a German prison loomed large even though I had not done anything wrong. It seems that the restaurant where I went is a pick up point for illegal immigrants and since I was going there more often, they must have felt I am in Dusseldorf with some ulterior motive. They decided to come with me to the hotel to check my papers. Anyway after seeing my papers they let me off. I had a sleepless night and I must have been one of the first fellows to check in for the flight – one of the first AIRBUS 300. I must have been the happiest fellow in the plane from Frankfurt to Mumbai.
I made several trips afterwards but none of them this long and eventful…
PS.. The connection with the plane accident in Mumbai… I had posted a picture card from Paris and it had never reached home till I came back. Then it was delivered, with a seal “Involved in air accident in Bombayi”…. It gave me goose pimples…a poignant reminder to the lives lost…. See it below.
picture postcardcarlton hotel lausanne - my first hotel abroad.
