This week, I had to dash to DC for a few hours for a last minute engagement. Landed at National airport on time and hailed a cab to go to the city. We had barely left the airport when the cab driver looked at me and with a heavy accent asked me if I was from India. I know there is an inherent irony in an Indian guy claiming somebody else having an accent 🙂 In any case, I replied in the affirmative and the following very interesting conversation unfolded…

Me: “You know, I come to this city at least 20 times a year. I always meet cab drivers from Ethiopia or Eritrea. You don’t seem to be from there. Where are you from?”
He: “Afghanistan”
Me: “Afghanistan?”
I was surprised. I wanted to discuss politics in Afghanistan but was wondering how to ask him – not knowing what his reaction might be.
Instead I asked “Do you know Ahmad Ali”?

Me: “I think he is a singer from your country. He has an amazing voice. He sings in a language I cannot understand. But I love the tunes”
He still did not know what I was talking about. So I gave a few more details…
“He plays the harmonium with his left hand on the reeds. Also, he always sings in a suit. With a tie on”.
He looked back and yelled: “You are talking about Ahmad Wali?”. I suddenly remembered – indeed the name was Ahmad Wali. He pronounced Wali in a slightly different way but I was more taken aback by his loud voice. You could see that he was excited.

He: “How do you know about Ahmad Ali? By the way, that language you cannot understand is called Pashto”.
I figured that must be the name of the language that Pashtuns speak in. “Oh! I am not sure. I think I came across a video of him in YouTube and then I searched more video and songs of him”.

In the next five minutes, I finally understood why he was so excited. The cab driver knew Ahmad Wali personally! They learnt music together!! They went to Habibia High School together!!!

Fascinating story! Both of them escaped from Afghanistan around the time the Communist coup took place followed by the Soviet Invasion. They went to Pakistan and then to India. He was in Delhi for a year and then immigrated to US. Later I found out from Wikipedia that indeed Ahmad Wali had gone to India on a forged passport and then immigrated to Germany. Evidently, while in Afghanistan, he was a cop!!

Back to my cab driver, he fished out a CD from his glove compartment and then put it in the car stereo system. You could hear a young kid singing in a very beautiful voice. “Is that Ahmad Wali when he was a kid?”, I asked. “No!”, he retorted, “that is me”. Evidently many many years later he went back to Afghanistan and went to Radio Kabul office. They pulled out his old songs that had aired and made a CD and gifted it to him!

We discussed at some length how many of today’s musical instruments in India have common roots with the instruments in Afghanistan. He had some very interesting stories also about how those instruments were initially discovered. I was a little incredulous but it was not entirely outside the realm of possibility.

Unfortunately, our trip came to an end. I did not get a chance to ask him why did not try to follow music as a profession in US (as Wali did in Germany) and why he is still driving cabs well into his sixties.
In fact, I wanted a picture of him but there was a long queue of people waiting to jump into the cab moment I got out. I asked him for a card – he did not have any. So I gave him mine – hope he will write back…

This morning, I had one of those dreaded very early morning flights. I had put my alarm for 4:15 am. Turns out I did not need to bother. Due to my ongoing jetlag, I was up by 3:30 am already.

Got ready, came down and hailed a cab by 4:45. And told the cab driver to take me to the nearest Starbucks first. In about ten minutes, we were there. The Starbucks had barely opened. Bought him a coffee and got myself one. And then started chatting with Naftali, my cab driver on the long drive to the airport. I am glad I did. He was very funny and extremely knowledgeable.

I asked him about Uber. As you know many cities are trying to ban Uber (I guess this is cutting off the revenues that cities get from selling those taxi decals). I wanted to see what he thought about this new emerging competitor. I was stunned by his in depth financial analysis of why Über is good both for the customer as well as people like him. I learnt from him that Maryland is in the process of giving license to Uber to operate. He will become a Uber driver then!

I was so impressed by his analysis that I asked him about his background. Turns out, he is from Kenya. Given the strong connections that India has with Kenya, we quickly found some common grounds to talk about. Cricket, of course, was a common interest topic. I understood from him that Kenya’s soccer is in a bad shape because it is a very politicized institution. But they are big rugby players.
I noted that of all the former British colonies that adopted cricket, Indian subcontinent is the only part of the world, that never adopted rugby too. He had a prompt analysis for that –
“You know why? Because you guys are too skinny”.
I laughed out loud.
“No no, you guys have great genes. Your girls are so beautiful”.
“Really?”, I asked.
“Absolutely. But you know what I do not like about the skinny beautiful Indian girls in Kenya”?
“No. But do tell me”
“Man, they never look at us. Indian girls will only marry Indian boys. They never marry us”
I laughed out so loud this time that I almost spilled my coffee on my lap!

Found out that he is one of eighteen siblings. Eighteen!! His dad has two wives. Simultaneously. I was almost going to ask him if the punishment for multiple marriages in Kenya was multiple sets of inlaws but I bit my tongue. Here is another interesting fact I learnt. Kenya is 86% Christian and they are now legalizing polygamy. There is a law that is getting worked on for this. I was pretty surprised. I was wondering whether the gender ratio was messed up so bad that they had to make a law for this. Found out that by prevailing customs, the eldest wife got the lion’s share of inheritance. To bring equity and fend off future problems, this law is being passed to make sure all wives get equal parts of the inheritance.

From there we moved on to my favorite subject – geopolitical issues. After understanding how much effect the challenges in Ethiopia, Eritrea and Somalia are having on Kenya, I asked him about corruption. Of course, it is high. But I learnt another thing from Naftali this morning.
“We copied one thing from India on this front”
“And what is that”? I asked.
“We have set up shame sites”.
“Shame sites?” I was bewildered.
Evidently, in Kenya they have websites where you can post clandestinely taken recordings of people taking bribes and post names and stories of bribe taking incidents to shame them in front of everybody including their families. I did not have the faintest idea that this is a common practice in India!!

By this time we had already reached the airport. It was very early and I could not find anybody nearby to take a picture of us. So, I took a selfie of us!!! And promised to give him business next time I am in town.

Had a great time the whole day talk to Alex Dimitrakopoulos as he took me thru the country’s history and the current political situation.

“O tumi?” (You again?), I remarked as I got into the car my brother in law had arranged for me to go visit Jagannath-da and Santo-da (see previous post). The driver too immediately recognized me. I forget where – but this young driver – Kishore is his name – had chauffeured me around once before. I remember him as a very driven person. And very inquisitive. He had a lot of questions for me about America and how to establish oneself in life.

This time was no different! As he drove me to my village, we had some very interesting conversations.

“Ami America jaabo” (I want to go to America)
“Besh to” (Sounds good)
“Passport banatey diyechhi” (I am getting my passport made)
“Very good”
“Aar ki kortey hobey?” So, he wanted to know what else he needed to do to go to America.
“Visa laagbey” (You will need a visa)
“Visa? Seta kothay paabo?” (Where can I get a visa?)

So, I patiently explained how immigration works. I explained how he has to go the American Consulate in Kolkata and make a case why America needs him. I explained how if people have skills that we lack in America, they have a good chance of getting to America.

“Ami to gaari chaalatey paari”. (I can drive cars).
I gently broke it to him that there are many people driving cars in America and that may not be enough skill to impress the person at the consulate.

He became very thoughtful after that. In fact, I don’t think he asked me too many questions after that. I was feeling a little bad that I might have unnecessarily stymied a young person’s ambitions.

Soon, we pulled into our village and I got lost in my conversations with Jagannath-da and Santo-da.

On my way back, I was on an emotional high after my intersection points. Kishore suddenly asked me “Apnader okhaney aloor chop paoa jaay?”. He wanted to know if we get “aloor chop” in America.

Now, to the uninitiated, let me explain that “aloor chop” is a dietitian’s worst nightmare come true. And as such nightmares always tend to be – heavenly delicious to taste. Essentially, it is potato fritters – that is a specialty of my state in India – West Bengal. You get them in road side stalls. Roughly speaking, it is mashed potatoes (mashed with a lot more ingredients – but hot chilli peppers is one of them) that is then rolled by hand into small circular shapes, dipped in batter and then fried in a large container of oil that has clearly seen better days 🙂 ). And then sprinkled with “beet noon” (rock salt).

To die for. And then die from.

But I have never found this anywhere else in India or in the world, for that matter. And I have complained to Sharmila in the past about it.

“Aloor chop kintu paoa jaay na okhaney”. I admitted to Kishore that we do not get “aloor chop” in America.

I was thinking that he will remark that even in America, you do not get everything then… “Dekhun taaholey America-teo so kichhu paoa jaay na”.

He completely took my surprise when he asked “Ami jodi aloor chop banano sikhey niy, amaakey visa debey? Okhaney to eta keu banaatey paarey na”.

I had to laugh out very loud when I realized his angle. My God! He wanted to know if he learnt how to make “aloor chop”, would that skill be unique enough for him to go to America (since he figured nobody can make “aloor chop” in America).

I let him know that I do not about that but with his level of drive and focus in life, one of these days he is going to land up in America, for sure.

It made me think how focused this young gentleman is to improve his lot.

Which made me also wonder – am I still as focused to improve myself and my lot? And others’ lots? Am I still hungry enough?

Without Wayan, we would not have half the fun in Bali as we did. From picking us up at the airport to dropping us at the airport and all the travel in between, he was our constant companion. Learnt a lot of local language, customs, political structure, educational system, healthcare system and what have you about Bali. Given his detailed knowledge of the island, we were able to take in quite a few off the road spots.

Above all, I was fascinated to learn about his own family and his three kids. The father in him often came out during our discussions in the long drives – his exasperation at how they constantly fight and how his only goal in working hard in life is to be able to afford his young kids as a good an education as he possibly can!

His business card said “I Wayan Werta”. After some constant questioning, I found out some naming intricacies in Indonesia. First off, there are only four names – Wayan, Made, Nyoman and Ketut (there is a new version now – Putu, Kadek, Komang and Ketut). Regardless of boy or girl, the naming is done strictly in that sequence. (first child Wayan, second child Made etc etc). You start over with Wayan (or Putu) for the fifth child. And basically keep repeating that.

As you can imagine there are a lot of Wayans in Bali. You differentiate by the last name. Finally, if you are a boy, you put an “I” in the beginning and if you are a girl, put a “Ni”.

Whew!! That was a wee bit complicated!!

“Where are you from, Leo?”
There was no way Leo was going to escape my usual question with which I commence my conversations with every Lyft driver after getting into the car.
“Kazakhstan.”
“Really? You are the first person I know from Kazakhstan. The only thing I know about your country is your capital – Astana”.
“Well, it has a new name now – Nur-Sultan. But how do you know the name of the capital?”

I proceeded to explain to Leo how during Roger’s and my trip to Mongolia, on our way back we got stuck for 13 hours in UlanBator due to a massive sandstorm. The plane to take us to Kyrgyzstan could not reach us till the sandstorm had subsided. One of the gentlemen who also got stuck with us was a mining consultant and he was headed to Astana. He told us about the city.

“When did you last go to your country of origin?”
“Two years back”, Leo replied
“How would you describe your capital?”
“Have you been to Dubai?”
“Yes”, I replied.
“Well think of Dubai at a much smaller scale. And then put it in the middle of Kansas!”
That was a somewhat funny but fairly effective way of creating a picture in my mind.

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”, I asked Leo who was in his mid-twenties.
“Photographer”, he said.
“Photographer?”
“Yes”

During the rest of the trip Leo told me about how passionate he is about photography. We exchanged a lot of notes on Nikon camera bodies and lenses. He has moved on to Sony now. We also talked about the pros and cons of going mirror-less now as opposed to waiting for a few years.

“When did you know you had a passion for photography?”
“When I had a near death experience”.
Well, that was not what I was expecting.
“Tell me more”.

I learnt that during one of his trips in Kazakhstan, he was traveling in one of the local transport vans. It was an old Russian Gazel. I remember seeing a few of them in Mongolia. Leo was sitting in the front and of course, there were no seat belts and all that. They soon met with a head on collision. Two passengers died instantly, one is paralyzed and one is still recovering. Amazingly, Leo walked away with minor injuries.

However, as he described, his first instinct in those few dazed moments after the accident was to take pictures of the vehicle. That was an instinctive reaction and there was no good reason for it. Much later, when he reflected on the accident and the aftermath, he realized that his inner instinct is to capture moments thru the lens of a camera.

Four days later, he flew back to USA and started his journey in photography.

“What if you cannot build a career in photography?”, I challenged him.
“Well, I am going to keep trying. And if nothing works out, there are so many ways to make money. Perhaps I will go back to school and learn about IT”.

“That is the spirit! This is what I tell my daughters too. They need to do what they are passionate about. Everything else will follow from that. I am sure you will be a world class photographer”.

We had reached my hotel. I got down and he showed me pictures of the mangled van and some of the photos he has taken with his cameras. He loves high speed car racing pictures but some of the near-macro stills (bokeh style) were outstanding.

He took a selfie of us and sent it to me. We became Facebook friends and decided to stay in touch!

My Kazakhstan friend count has jumped by 1 (admittedly from 0)
But my inspiration to follow my passion has increased manifold!

After bringing dad back home from his trip around the neighborhood, I had a cup of tea with “DN”. Dad was fast asleep from the exhaustion.

As a background, DN and I go back nearly 23 years. Back in the late nineties, I used to come often to India for work in Bangalore. During the weekends, I used to drop by in Kolkata and stay at the Taj Bengal hotel. My parents used to come from Durgapur and I would spend the weekend with them.

DN was the driver once Taj had assigned to me to take me somewhere in Kolkata – perhaps my brother’s residence. I got to chat with him and made friends with him (Yes, Natasha and Nikita, I was always like this – making friends with strangers). Over time, DN became a necessity for me because he knew how to go to all my relatives’ places and if I got a new driver, I would have to call my relatives and go thru those instructions again. Taj Bengal went into a practice of specifically assigning him to me whenever I came.

Over the last quarter century, DN – whose actual name is Deo Narayan – and I have become fast friends. He is always there to help out my parents or my brother’s family whenever they need something. Over the years, we have been privileged to financially help his family get to a better spot. Sharmila has picked up the tab whenever his daughters get married – of which he has still 3 more to go!! (There is a funny story I will tell you later about my dad yelling at him once for not stopping after having 5 kids – he has 6)

We are family now! For all that, there was a story on his side that I had no idea about!!

Like I said, dad was asleep, exhausted. Mom had made some tea for me and DN. We were talking about what my dad did (going down to the street by himself) and I mentioned to mom that we can get him one of those motorized wheelchairs. That way he will feel more in control of himself and he can go for strolls by himself.

DN mentioned that he had seen one of those motorized wheelchairs some twenty years back.

“In India? Are you sure?”

I was pretty intrigued that there were motorized wheelchairs in Kolkata twenty years back. Surely I would have seen one of them at some point of time.

Turns out it was actually a foreigner who had brought his wheelchair with him. Apparently, the gentleman brought not only his wheelchair but also a retinue of helpers with him. DN was assigned the duty to take care of his and his team’s transit. He had to drive a big vehicle for him.

He went on to explain that the gentleman was physically disabled from birth. It was not like a case of accident or stroke like my dad. Apparently, his legs did not work, his arms did not work and his face was crooked. DN struggled to even remember if he could talk much.

I was not sure what to make of it when he said “Suney the ki bahut bara scientist hai woh”. (Allegedly, he was a very big scientist!”

You are probably thinking what I am thinking. Really? HE? He was in Kolkata? And DN did his duty?

I fished out my phone and Googled “Stephen Hawking” and showed DN an image of his.

“Yeh kaun hai?” (Who is this?”)
“Arrey, yehi to woh hai, sir!” (He recognized his old customer!)

Then he told me the story how he (or rather his team) did not tip him at the end of day. Apparently, the other drivers were getting tipped daily. And get this… DN had rationalized this in his own mind as he was helping a person in great need physically. This was not about money.

On the final day, apparently, after the airport drop off. he was given an envelope with cash. Which amounted to two whole months of salary for him!

That is the Stephen Hawking story he remembers!!

By the way, I was still incredulous. So, I Googled “Stephen Hawking visits India”. Sure enough, he had visited India in Jan 2001 for a few weeks and Kolkata was one of his stops!!

Who knew that my driver was Stephen Hawking’s driver too? I am feeling a little more intelligent right about now!!

23 year old Mohammed took me around for a seven hour trip outside Muscat. Got to know a lot about his family, the country and local culture. One of 14 siblings, he has a very interesting name. Mohammed Mubarak Khamis Humaid Al-Jabri. I asked him why does he have such a long name. Found out those are respectively his name, his father’s name, his grandfather’s name, his great grandfather’s name and then finally, his family name! By that logic, I would be Rajib Abhaychandra Madanmohan Debendranath Roy !!!

Very nice gentleman. We are on Facebook now and I have his birthday and phone number. Fairly sure this is not the last time I have talked to him 🙂

It had been a long sixteen hour flight. And my jet lag was starting to kick in. Immigration, Customs and Starbucks later, eventually my Lyft ride showed.

“Gregory”?
“Yes, sir! Rajib?”
“Yep. Do you mind if I sit in the front? I get car sick behind.”
“No problem”

As I settled down in my seat and Gregory (Roso) started navigating thru the evening Atlanta traffic, I was tempted to doze off. Instead, decided to see if a conversation and the Starbucks coffee could keep me awake. I was hoping against hopes that Gregory would be up for a conversation.

“So, what do you do outside of Lyft rides?”
“Music”.
That was interesting, I thought.
“What kind of music? Do you play music? Sing?”
“No, I produce music”.
“Produce music?”

Frankly, I had no idea what music production meant. What I learnt fascinated me. Gregory composes his own music and records them. Then he leases them or sells them outright.

Turns out he comes up with his own tunes and rhythms and then composes them with the instruments that he has.

“So, how do you sell them?”
“Mostly thru my website and networking”.

I checked out his website – https://www.producedbyvino.com. Fairly impressive.

“Why that URL?”, I asked mildly amused by the name.

“I am a big fan of basketball. And Kobe”. Looks like Gregory grew up with Kobe as his idol. The one thing he learnt from him, he said, is the value of practice. I understand, Kobe practiced for long hours. I do not know much about basketball. But Gregory informed me that Kobe had a nickname Vino because he got better with age unlike most other players. And that explained the website name. Gregory fashions himself after his idol.

“How about your personal life? Where are you from?”
“My mom is originally from Dominican Republic. I was born in Connecticut and spent early childhood there. Moved here with my mom eleven years back”
“And your dad?”
“He is in Connecticut”
“So, they are separated”
“Yes. My dad remarried and I have a step sister”
“And your mother?”
“She never married again. It is she and I.”

“Do you see your dad much?”
“Yes. I visit them whenever I can”
“You are close to your dad and step sister?”
“Now, I am. It did not start this way. I was very angry with my dad. I did not like him”
“And then?”
“Well, as I grew older, I realized that this was probably for the best for both of them. Now, I am glad that they are not together.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They are both in better places. And me working thru my anger with my dad has put me in a stronger place.”

“How about your girlfriend?”
“I do not have time for girls now.”
“Oh!”
“I want to stay focused on making money. I want to make a lot of money. I have my youth now. I do not want to lose focus. That is what Kobe would have told me.”
“What will you do with a lot of money?”
“I want to take care of my mom”
“How so?”
“I want to buy her a good house and make sure she is financially very stable.”

“You know, your mom sounds like a wonderful person. Certainly has a wonderful son. I hope to meet her some day.”
“Thank you, sir! If you had come half an hour earlier, you could have met her.”

That surprised me!
“How? Were you giving her a lift?”
“No. She works in the hotel when I am dropping you.”

Wow!! What is the chance of that?
Sharmila and I were going to meet at a Westin for a drink instead of me going home and from there were going to head out to her art show inauguration. It is exactly in that hotel, as liuck would have it, that my Lyft driver’s mom works!!

Sure enough, when I enquired later in the restaurant in Westin, Maria had left a little while ago.

“No worries, Gregory. I go there once in a while. I will remember to meet her and tell her that she has a son who has great head on his young shoulders.”

That is when we pulled up to the Westin. I quickly introduced Sharmila and Gregory to each other and Sharmila took our picture.

If you ever run into Gregory, don’t forget to say Hi and encourage this incredible young gentleman.

“Is this what you do full time?”
“No. I usually drive Lyft or Uber during the weekends”
“What do you do during the week?”
“Oh! I take care of a business we have and the kids”

“What would you like to do when you grow up?”, I pressed on with my Lyft driver Osman
“I want to work in startups. Do you know how I can join a startup?”
“Do you know a lot of coding?”
“No, I can learn though. I also know foreign languages – Russian, Turkish… can that help?

“Wait a minute. You know Russian and Turkish? Going by your name, are you Turkish?”
“No”.
“Where are you from?”
“Guess.”
“I do not know – going by the first name – some place in the middle east?”

“I am from Azerbaijan!”
“AZERBAIJAN?” I said so loudly that he turned back while driving to check what just happened.
“Yes”
“Well, I think you are not going to believe me. But you are only the second person I have ever met from Azerbaijan. And the first one was just a couple of weeks back!”
“Really? In Atlanta? There are only four Azerbaijani families in Atlanta.”
“No, in Providence, Rhode Island. I was there with my daughter. We went to a restaurant by the river. And the lady who ushered us in said she was from Azerbaijan. I remember her name was Shams.”
Then after checking my phone, I went on… “Shams Aliyeva is the full name”
“Yes. That is an Azerbaijani name.”

I told him how I learnt a lot about the country from her. Before that, I had heard about the country for the first time in my third grade while reading Tintin (The Crab with the Golden Claws) back in 1975. And that while I have never been to Azerbaijan, I had once flown over it while going from Istanbul to Bishkek.

“What were you doing in Bishkek?”
“Well, my friend Roger and I were on an adventure trip to Mongolia”
“You should now visit my country.”
“I will absolutely do so. In fact, that is what I was telling Shams the other day too!”
“You will love Baku, the Caspian Sea, the beaches and the mountains!”
“Well, I met two of you in a matter of weeks. That is a sign to me already!”

“But do not go to Armenia and then to my country. We have a difficult relationship.”
“I know. Like India and Pakistan.”
“Exactly”, he said while nodding his head.

By this time I had to get off at my motorbike shop where it had gone for servicing. Before getting off, Osman and I took a picture and agreed to grab a coffee in Cumming, GA sometime!!

Roger, if you are reading this, let’s do a quick trip to Azerbaijan some time. Anybody else cares to join?

The vans picked us up from our hotel to take us to the winery an hour away where we were going to have our Corporate offsite. Anand, our local executive in Portland, had taken care of all the logistics.

I got to sit in the front next to the driver. The team knows I suffer from car sickness among other things – like fear of heights, fear of closed places and sometimes, sheer lunacy. Maybe I enjoy the last bit rather than suffer from it.

In any case, I sit next to the driver. A complete stranger. But then again, as Kelly had once described me “You know no stranger”

“What is your name?”, I asked the young, rather comely looking driver.
“Abraham”, replied the soft spoken gentleman without talking his eyes off the road.
“So, have you lived all your life in Portland?”
“No, sir! For fifteen years.”
“Where were you before this?”
“Kurdistan”
“Wait, what??”
“You know Kurdistan?”
“Of course, I know Kurdistan. I love your music.”
“Really?”, he asked looking at me, for the first time taking his eyes off the road for a split second.
“Wait. How is your name Abraham? Are you not a Muslim?”
“Yes. But there are a lot of Jewish people in Kurdistan.”
“I did not know that. Are you Jewish?”
“No. My mother’s best friend was. And when I was born, she had asked if my mom would name me Abraham (a Jewish name). And that was how I got my name.”
“Fascinating!”

“But you said you love our music.”
“Yes, my favorite song from your place is Kamarey Kamarey. I have heard the one by the Rashtak group. Do you know that song?”

For the second time, he took his eyes off the road.
“You know Kamarey Kamarey?”
“Well, I know the tune. But I do not know the meaning.”
“Wow! I have never met anybody in this country who knows our country songs. How do you know songs from our country?”

I explained to him that when I had first learnt that the gypsies in Romania actually originated from Rajasthan, India, I had looked up their migration path. And studied what effect it had to the local music. As nomads, you do not show your culture thru paintings and artisanship. You will have too many things to carry a\round. So, music was the way. That time, I had listened to a lot of songs from places like Kurdistan, Azerbaijan etc.

I told him that in India, “Kamarey” can roughly mean a room or the waist in different languages. What was it in Kurdish? I learnt that the song lyrics were referring to the waist!! What a connection!

I got to know that my young friend Abraham went from Kurdistan to Turkey and then eventually left Turkey for the USA. I also found out that he knew Farsi.

Sticking to the theme of music, I asked him –
“You know Farsi? Here is another song you might know. Have you heard…” and then in my terrible Farsi pronunciation, I went on to sing “Man Ahmad-e Aam”.

He immediately took his eyes off the road and stared at me. “Oi, oi”?

“Oi,oi”, I confirmed.
We both knew the song!! But neither could remember the singer. We could describe how she looked but for the life of us, we could not remember her name.

By this time, we had reached our destination. Abraham and I took a picture together, became Facebook friends and parted.

That night, I had a FB message from him… “Googoosh, Mr. Roy”

Googoosh it was!! I suddenly remembered the Iranian singer’s name!!

I can’t wait to meet Abraham the next time I am in Portlandia!!

One of the best ways to learn about a new country, I have found, is to make friends with a local driver and then keep him or her for the whole trip. Usually that relationship starts from the trip from the airport to the hotel or the first trip out of the hotel.

There have been some incredible learnings on the way. Like Jorge taking us to a completely desolate waterfall that no visitors visit. Or Giacomo taking us to a beautiful spot for lunch when I asked him “Where would you take your girlfriend to that is not visited by tourists?” in Italy. There was I Wayan in Indonesian, Juan in Chile, Henrique in Azores, Mohammad in Oman…. I have about 15 such great friends in my list. What always started with strangers on a drive invariably continued as a lifelong friendship. Of course, the annual birthday calls are always there to remind each other of the great memories I still cherish.

This trip, I made – hopefully another life long – relationship with Mahmoud. He picked me up from the airport and we hit it off immediately. He was, of course, extremely knowledgeable about the whole place. But more importantly, he got it very quickly that I was more interested in places of natural beauty and far less in historical importance.

We got to know about each others’ families. I was very excited to hear about his two sons’ career plans. Hopefully, they will all visit us in the US sometime.

Meanwhile, I cannot wait to go back to Jordan with my family and meet his family!

Mahmoud and I became great friends during my last trip to Amman. He took me around his country and guided me with a lot of history and geography lessons.

“You have to promise to come back and bring your family back next time!”, were his parting words when we bid good bye last time.
“I definitely will”, I had promised him.
“You will meet my family and have dinner with us”, he had graciously invited.
“Indeed!!”

After that we have kept up on Whatsapp and occasional phone calls.

He was the first person there at the airport waiting for us when we finally came out of the customs area.

He was clearly overjoyed to see us!

He pronounces my name the Arabic way – almost like “Rajab”. He explained to Sharmila the good times we had last time when we went around in our adventures.

“Rajab is not my friend. He is my brother,” he explained to her.

“My family has been talking about you for the last whole week. They have been waiting eagerly! You have to have dinner with us tomorrow.”

“We will do so!”, I assured him as we sped away in the dark from the airport for our over an hour ride to the Dead Sea.

Always very reassuring to get a great welcome in a foreign country!

Without a shred of doubt, the best part of Jordan was to get to know Brother Mahmoud’s family. Our first dinner in Jordan was with the al-Ramamneh family at their place last Sunday. And our last dinner in Jordan was last night outside with them again.

The younger son Suhaib is the most fluent in English. So, I tended to talk to him more. For a kid that just entered his twenties, he clearly has a very intelligent head on his shoulders. Very independent minded and very caring. He would call on his dad morning and evening to make sure everything was okay for the whole trip that Mahmoud was out of home in South Jordan with us. He has some fascinating ideas in his head and has an uncommon balance in opinions. I sure hope to have more discussions with him.

The elder son Thair is a little more reserved. At the first dinner, he did not talk much by himself. But in the second dinner he was very open. We talked about his work and aspirations in life in general. He came across as the strong and silent types. Next time, we hope to meet his Turkish girlfriend Noor too.

Then there is Amal. She takes hospitality to a whole new level. If I admired a piece of art in her house, she would bring it down and offer it as a gift! She even opened her bangles from her arm and insisted that Sharmila accept them as gifts since they matched the earrings Sharmila was wearing! On the first night, she was a little busy with hosting duties. But yesterday, we were outside. So, we talked about her family and brothers and sisters a lot. She used to be a teacher and a principal in a school. (now retired). Wonderful woman.

And finally, there is my Brother Mahmoud. We bonded from the first drive from Amman airport to the Dead Sea early May this year. It has been a relationship that has only strengthened with every day. Throughout this trip, we got to know about him and his background more and more. He lost his dad a few years back. He was 110 years old when he died!!!

Mahmoud is a great dad too. He is always careful about the example he sets in front of his family. As en example, he would not drink (like beer) in front of his sons. Here is the funny part – Suhaib and Thair told me how much their dad likes beer!!! Still he won’t drink in front of them!!!

The beauty of Jordan is enough to make us come back again. But what makes it mandatory is getting to see this beautiful family again.

There was talk of visiting Lebanon and Syria together (by road from Jordan)! Inshallah!!

Victor Gabriel Hernandez joins my long list of driver-guide in a foreign country. Like the fourteen before me, he has been teaching me all the details of culture, politics, education and history of the country. Over lunch together, I got to know about his life journey. He has now convinced me to make a 4 hour trek to the top of Santa Ana mountain and back tomorrow!

No kidding, that was the name of our captain. He was born and brought up in Green Turtle Cay. We went out for a walk where he told us the history of pretty much every single house – those that were standing and those that were blown away by hurricane Dorian in 2019.

We also saw the cemetery where his parents are buried. And then finally came to a town square where his dad’s bust has been put up (for supporting the island’s progress).

Captain Sawyer’s daughter is studying in Tennessee and his nephew is in Roswell, Georgia. Which is one town over from me. I have a feeling this is not the last time I have seen him!!

One of the two people who taught me a lot about the island in Darson. I will write about the other one soon. Darson was our designated driver to take us from the airport to the hotel. As it often happens in my foreign trips, I start making friends with the driver from the airport and then have them take charge of our trips in the foreign place.

Darson did an excellent job of suggesting some great places to visit – which you have seen the pictures of in my previous posts. Love his sense of time and his care for foreigner tourists.

BTW, I am not sure whether he realizes this – but his T-shirt is very funny. Do you get the reference?

The picture was taken just as I said Bye to him at the airport!

If you ever come to the island, reach out to Darson. He is a great guy.

James, who I talked about yesterday, was not available to take me around today. So, he sent Branimir to pick me up. Branimir is my second friend from Bulgaria! You might remember Zoy from Madaba Tree of Life in Jordan who was the first person I knew from Bulgaria.

I had the whole day to myself with Branimir. Learnt a lot – both about Bulgaria as well as Scotland from him. Our discussions got so interesting that I asked him to join me in the boat and we continued with our discussions. From politics to economics to cultural changes in the last twenty years.

From the description of the country, I need to put Bulgaria in my list to visit quickly. Now, I know a large family there who can help me learn about the country!

You may remember DN from an old post. He started as an assigned driver from the hotel I was staying in 1998 and today he and his family are intricately tied to my family, my brother’s family and with my parents when they were alive.

Brother was in Guwahati. So, DN was there at the airport to pick me up. As always, we were talking about his family on our drive to the hotel and he was asking after mine. At some point, I mentioned how Sharmila and I were enjoying our retired, empty nesting lives. I asked him what will he do when he retires and all kids are gone.

He said he will go back to Bihar (where he is from). I cast some doubts on his plans. Wouldn’t all his friends be here? Wouldn’t medical facilities be better here?

He felt that he was very close to his relatives in his village and other villagers in general. And that, somehow, people there respect him. That is where he wants to die.

Around that time – about 4:45PM, when he had started talking about his plans after his last daughter gets married, we arrived at our hotel. I had my evening free (I had kept it that way expecting jet lag to hit me hard) and my brother was still half a day away from meeting me.

“Aap shaam ko kya kar raha hai?” I asked (What are you doing this evening?)

“Kuch nahi. Aap kahin jaayenge?” (Nothing really. Do you want to go somewhere?)

“Nahi. Aaj to tired hoon. Aap gaari park karke lobby mein aa jaayie. Main check in kar leta hoon. Phir aap ke saath chai piyenge”

I asked him to park the car and come to the lobby. I will finish my checking in and join him for tea.

In reality, I did not even have to do that. Indrani (duty manager in the hotel) was ready with my keys and she sent the luggage straight to my room. I grabbed DN and went to the top floor to have some tea with him in the exec lounge. If you did not know this, Indian hotels, especially the big ones, are a consummate meeting points for smartly dressed folks who gather there just to hang around and enjoy all the facilities of a hotel – not to speak of the air conditioning in this oppressive hot and humid weather. And taking a lot of selfies of course. If those pictures did not go to social media, it is like that event had never even happened. So, the lobbies tend to be very crowded.

The lounge upstairs gave us a quiet refuge where we could sit and talk for a long time.

Which we did. For four straight hours!! Needless to say, I avoided the whole hysteresis curve of having coffee to wake up only to have wine and feel sleepy later. So, went for the Old Fashioned straight!!

However, in those four hours, I heard about DN’s post retirement dream. He took me thru his entire family chain starting from his grandfather and how his land was divided between his dad and his uncle and then how those have been further subdivided among their sons. (The daughters always get married off and they do not get any land).

He took me thru how he has divided his dad’s property between his younger brother, half-brother and himself. And his plans of building a house in his side of the land. At some point we were deep in Google Maps looking for Dharampur Asli in Bihar and then looked up his plot of land thru satellite pictures.

We were so engrossed in the story that we had some paper, pen and a pad brought up to sketch the whole plan of how the land has been divided in the family and where he was going to build his house after retirement.

By 9, I was too tired and he needed to go back home to his family.

While DN is no stranger to me, it felt enriching to talk to him about a part of his life that I was not exposed to at all!!!

Unless I rent a car in a new country, I try to make friends with the driver who picks me up from the airport and see if he/she can stay for the whole duration of my stay. Basically, then I have them become my local guide and translator. Throughout the journey, they help me understand the local language, culture, food and answer all those millions of questions I always have about a new country.

After my trip, I usually keep up with them thru WhatsApp calls – certainly on birthdays – and then often refer them to anybody who wants to go to that country. I have 19 such friends.

Well, I had 19 such friends.

Gintautas is now my 20th such friend. On Wednesday afternoon when I met him at Vilnius airport, we were complete strangers. By Saturday evening when he dropped me at the hotel, I knew his whole family history uptil his great grandfather and all his likes and dislikes. What is remarkable about him is how an unfortunate incident in his life (lost his dad at 16) completely changed his outlook towards life.

By his own admission, his priorities changed. He started to understand the important from the unimportant. And he started becoming an introvert. Like me, he does not like parties or is very uncomfortable in group gatherings.

“You are very young. Why did you choose this profession?”

“After my dad died, I concluded that I do not want to work for money. I want to do what I love the most. Because I do not know when I might die. As a child, I loved cars – we had those old Russian cars then. I loved how cars went on roads. I loved how drivers would control the car. I used to sit on my dad’s lap and pretend to drive his car all the time. This is what I am going to do all my life”

“Good for you”

He introduced me to the local food and picked the roads and places to go. Without Gintautus, this trip would not have been half as much fun. If any of you ever want to visit Lithuania and would like a guide and a very safe driver, let me know!

William arranged for a “tuk tuk” to take me around San Juan! A “bahajh” as he called it. The driver – Gabriel – could not have finished high school. I asked him which grade he is in. He said he is 19 years old. I told him I don’t buy a word of it. So, he showed me his license. This April 1st is his 20th birthday!!

Also, found out what this “bahajh” is all about. It is a Bajaj auto rickshaw from India! The town is filled with bright red Bajaj auto rickshaws all over. Later, I found out that many of the motorbikes here are Bajaj Pulsars. In fact, William told me how Mahindra and Mahindra has started taking market share away from Toyota in truck segment.

Indian automobile industry seems to be doing very well here.

Most countries I go to, I tend to make at least one everlasting relationship. It is usually the person who takes me around – unless I choose to drive or rely entirely on public transport. I have about 30 such life long friends from all over the world.

Please meet my new friend – William Lopez from Guatemala. He was my friend, philosopher and guide during my entire stay here. A person with an amazing personal journey.

He lived in Italy and married this most beautiful woman he met there. Except, she died at childbirth. To let him put it … “It was difficult to raise my child by myself at first”. But he did. His son is growing up in Italy as an aerospace engineer.

Life dealt the next unkind deal with his mom contracting cancer. He left his son to his in-laws and better education there to take care of his mom (and dad) in Antigua. His two brothers also leave abroad. Thankfully, his mom is a survivor today!!

He said he had never worked this hard before to get out of debt. And then Covid came!! Had to sell all his cars that he used for touring business. But he is building it up again. His parents and he support an orphanage and run a Spanish-learning school. They are finishing up his house to be a four room bed-and-breakfast for foreign students to come and learn Spanish and stay at their place and eat meals cooked by his mom. The current students have to live by strict rules – no smoking inside the property and you cannot bring your boyfriend or girlfriend in unless they are students too.

For all that hard work, I never saw him not smiling. In fact, the remotest of the villages we went to – everybody seemed to know him. The parking lot guy in Panajachel came running to him, every shopkeeper in San Juan gave them updates on their family (from the barebones Spanish I could understand).

It is like he has touched so many lives!!

The kind of guy I want to be some day when I grow up!

In the meanwhile, if you or your friends every want to visit Guatemala – and I can vouch for you that all you hear about insecurity in this country in Western media is just a minuscule representation of this country – I personally felt safer in all places in Cd. Guatemala than I feel even around my office in Atlanta. No homeless person screamed at me here – and I really encourage you to do so, please feel free to reach out to this young gentleman. He really knows a thing or two about how to deal with people.

In just about every country, I make friends with a local driver and guide and then keep up the friendship from then on. I learn a lot from them and a I learn a lot about them. Whenever possible, I refer them to my friends too.

Petr is my new friend in Prague. He has been my driver and guide today. As with most of my friends, he has an interesting history. He has tried his hand in a lot of jobs – from airlines to hotels to construction to driving.

His favorite subject in school was history. Which was very convenient for me since I got to know a lot about the history of Czechia that I was unaware of. Also, learnt a few Czech words from him that I have been trying on unsuspecting locals!

I hope to see Petr down the road again!

As with most countries, the gentleman who gave us a ride from the airport to the hotel soon became our friend, guide and driver for the rest of the stay. Like with every such friend in other countries, I had innumerable questions for Aseri. Picked up a lot of understanding of local culture and local practices.

The funniest story came out when I asked him how did he meet his wife.

Apparently, after dating her for some time, when he wanted to marry her, as per tradition, his parents and family had to go her parents and ask for acceptance to the marriage. And as is customary, to soften them up, they showed up with whale’s teeth. They are considered an ultimate offering of gift.

“And so, if they had refused to accept, what would have happened to the whale’s teeth?”, I asked (the software engineering background always prompts me to look out for edge cases).

“They would have kept them!”

Seemed a bit little risky to me!!

I have mentioned previously how some of the best Indian food I have eaten are in small island countries. Nevis, Turks and Caicos, Malta immediately come to mind. Samoa was a return to that pattern. Thomas took us to this Indian restaurant that lived up to all my expectations.

Turns out our Sheraton was not very diligent in the airport pickup. Eventually I sorted it out. They contract out the transport to a company named Autobot. The Autobot guy was there at the airport but my name was not there. The young guy decided to anyways drop us and then come back to pick up his designated passengers.

And that is how we got to know Thomas. Of course, after that, he was there with us for the whole time. Turns out he is not a guide at all – he was just helping out his uncle (whose company is Autobot). However, we insisted next day that he take us around.

Thomas was an outstanding company. This was his first tour job! He actually has a different day job. He not only was able to answer every question I had about Samoa, he was also able to quickly understand what we like doing and not doing and accordingly set up our schedule.

We hope to come back and meet him and his family next time!

We will be back to visit the beautiful islands and our friend Aseri !

True to my track record, the gentleman who picked me up from the airport became my guide for the rest of the trip. In the process, I learnt about the country as well as Nelson. That is how he goes, although the full name is Conrad Nelson.

Very interesting young gentleman. He purposely works thru the night so that he an spend time with his two young kids during the day. Having grown up without dad caring for him, he decided he is going to treat his kids differently. When he sleeps, I do not know.

He was great company throughout my trip in Guyana. If you folks ever land up in Guyana, let me know. I know a guy who can keep you safe as well as give you tips about the country.

Learnt a lot of history of the country from my friend Mati Remussen. He is a bit of a celebrity among the guides here. You can find his name in Rick Steves’ book!

Like in every other country, my driver and guide has become my new friend.During the whole trip, Kelesi regaled me with his stories of his family. He has a great sense of humor too!

“Did you study in Uni?” I asked him.

“No”

“How far did you study?”

“Well, I am not good in studying.”

And then for good measure, he added “But I am very good at watching movies though!”

If history is any indicator, I know we will talk on his birthday every year and I certainly hope to come back and meet him again some day.

I had a five hour layover in Fiji on my way back to the USA. I came out and there was Aseri, waiting for me. He was our friend, driver and guide when Sharmila and I came to Fiji early this year. We have kept up ever since. It was great to spend some time with Aseri before we had to part.

Meet Yason Albertson from St. Lucia!!

Who turned out to be our friend, philosopher and guide. Learnt a lot about the local culture, people and history from Alberto Monteram. That last name has an Indian bend to it because his grandmother was Indian from both sides!

Hope to see him again in our next trip!

Hamid Aliyev was our driver and guide in Baku. He was a great company and very knowledgeable about world geography. He has been to many countries. His absolute crazy stories were the drives he did from Vladivostok to Baku – about 8000 kms in 6 days. Multiple times!

I learnt also about the education system, medical system, government and a lot of things about the country that you can pick up only from locals.

Hope to see him and his family too next time we are in this part of the world.

Phillip and I are all ready to hit the road and see what has Vanuatu wrought for me!

There is only one Indian place in the island – Taste of India!

We had just touched down in Nadi, and my mind was still swimming with memories of Tuvalu. But the return journey had begun, and I had a few hours to kill in Nadi before heading out to Los Angeles.

There was just one complication. I could not go straight to the transit area because Fiji Airways in Tuvalu had not checked my suitcase all the way through to Los Angeles. So I had to go out through immigration, collect my bag, and then check in again. A mild annoyance, yes. But also, as it turned out, a small and very welcome opportunity.

I quickly fished my phone out of my pocket and sent Aseri a WhatsApp message: “Are you anywhere near the airport? I just landed.”

Aseri was the driver Marriott had sent when Sharmila and I visited Fiji for the first time many years back. Since then, he has become a dear friend, and we have managed to meet a few more times on my later trips to Fiji.

It turned out that Aseri was indeed at the airport, waiting for a fare.

“Just hang in there. Do not take any fares. Book the next couple of hours for me,” I wrote back. Then I rushed through immigration, grabbed my suitcase, and headed out.

There he was, waiting for me in front of a column. At first, I almost walked right past him. He had lost so much weight that I barely recognized him.

“Bula!” we shouted together.

First things first. We went to the airport store, bought a bag of kava, because I simply cannot resist it in the Polynesian islands, tucked it into my suitcase, and checked it in again. Only then did we set off.

We spent the entire time talking. The funny part is that he did not even ask me what I wanted to do. We had our usual routine all set. First, he showed me his prized possession, the new car he had bought.

Then we headed straight to Denarau Island, where he took me to the three shops I always visit to buy my island shirts. This is never an easy task. There are just too many to choose from. There was one shirt in particular that even made Aseri laugh. He said it was too loud. Naturally, that was the one I bought. I only discovered later that Sharmila agreed with him, and apparently, with great enthusiasm.

I still had a couple of hours left, so we went to a nearby Indian restaurant and I introduced Aseri to pani puri. He quite liked it.

Over dinner, we caught up on our lives since we had last met, and on our families too.

Finally, he dropped me at the airport and headed off to his next fare.

Sometimes I feel incredibly lucky to have friends in far-flung places, people who can turn an awkward airport layover into something warm, familiar, and unforgettable. That, more than anything, is the real souvenir.