I was only in Mumbai for 3 days as I had to get back for a funeral (yesterday), which was a shame, but it was long enough to make a lasting impression. My first thoughts were very much from the perspective of a westernised rabbit finding himself in the headlights of another culture, so rather than attempting to rewrite them, here’s a snippet of an email I wrote to an Indian friend.

- The general feeling of industriousness was telling. In England there have been examples of people feeling threatened by people coming over to the UK and working far too hard compared with their western peers. Catching a glimpse of the other side of the fence, where such effort appears absolutely the norm and not the exception, really put things into perspective for me. Meeting the staff at TekPlus was great, 10 MBA university graduates all with such drive and enthusiasm! India has so much to offer, and very clearly, it will be a major economic power in the future (in some areas of course, it already is).

- The amount of construction work going on was stunning. One day I took a rickshaw to Andheri (west) from where I was staying, in Andheri (East), and saw plenty of new buildings going up; on another day I headed south in a taxi to the Gateway of India, and saw a great deal of development as well on that journey. I understand in some areas of Mumbai, property can cost as much as in Manhattan.

- I had some good conversations, for example with a diamond seller with whom I shared a table at the local restaurant. He was saying how it was difficult for the poor, as successful businesses and people were getting richer, pushing prices up beyond what poorer people could pay. Square footage is doubling in price where I was staying, for example, due to a new micro-train being planned.

- The seeming contradictions between rich and poor, as both rub shoulders, was quite a surprise to my untrained eye. This was entirely down to my perceptions of course, but to see people from all walks of life going about their own business right next to each other was very different to how things are generally in the West (where we like to partition things up, and there is much fear and resentment). I was staying in Andheri (East), near the railway station ? so it was certainly not a ?sanitised? tourist resort but equally, I had aircon in my hotel and a hot shower which I took to be a luxury. Many people were sleeping on the street outside.

- The media, I was an avid reader of newspapers while I was there ? gave me a great deal of insight as well, both into cultural differences and local issues. In general I would read with interest something differently presented to here (”Guidelines for hugging in the workplace,” for example), and then almost immediately think of several examples of similar contradictions in my own culture. Interestingly though, I did find (in the papers and during the days) more examples of cultural alignment than I found differences, which helped make me feel quite comfortable wherever I was.

To my surprise I was not daunted by the squalor in various places but neither was I unaffected by it, nor the bustle and the noise. Overall, I found people very welcoming, accepting and helpful, and I didn?t feel particularly threatened. The obvious question of course is, “why should I be?” but then, it was my first time in a very new place, by myself, where I really did feel I stuck out like a sore thumb. It won’t be my last - I have already been invited to come and speak again at another conference, and also to be a visiting lecturer at a University in South India for a couple of weeks. We’ll have to see what develops but equally, I’m very much looking forward to going back and I have no doubt I shall be spending a lot of time in India in the future.

Looks like I wasn’t the only person writing about travelling in India last week, I defer to the greater experience and I’ll have to read the book!

I’ve been invited to India to give a presentation at a conference tomorrow, so I flew in 36 hours early to see what I could learn from the place. Having arrived yesterday lunchtime (it’s now 7am the next morning), I thought I should make some notes because experiences may well end up overwritten by today’s events. So, here goes:

- Jet Airways - very comfortable flight from LHR, even managed to get some sleep (however, recommendation: never fly with half-finished dental work)

- Arrival at airport and exchanged 35 quid to 2700 rupees. It looked like a lot of money (and as things turned out, it is). Met by B.D., the conference organiser who took me to the taxi rank, past a row of ancient-looking black cars in various states of dilapidation. No, wait, that is the taxi rank. We get in and I look round for seat belt. Denied.

- The journey offers quite immediate presentation of the complexities and contradictions of India. At least I think it does, not having been here long enough. In the road sit some women, a girl picking nits from her mother’s hair. Pass the conference centre, very posh, and almost immediately a set of slum dwellings by the side of the road. Most of roadside is covered with stalls, shops, and people sit, squat or lie just about anywhere, many asleep in the noon sun.

- Hotel Highway Inn is unremarkable but comfortable, friendly staff. Set back from the road right in the middle of an area I would have baulked at staying in, if it hadn’t been pre-booked. Oh well, in for the experience I think, clutching my laptop just a little too tightly to my side. Room has shower, TV, and a whopping fan on the ceiling. And a noisy but serviceable aircon unit. There is no Internet access, when I enquire I’m sent to a small shop across the way, which does indeed have access for a single computer but no laptop connectivity. Even the phrase “laptop connectivity” is starting to sound a little alien. I buy a bottle of lemonade and return to the hotel, planning to head into town where I am sure there’ll be the usual Starbucks, Wifi, street painters, book shops… hang on, where exactly did I think I was again???

- I enquire at reception for a map, and I ask how to get to the Gateway to India - one of the first places that popped up on the tourist sites on the Blackberry (not totally unconnected then), and incidentally, where the last ships set sail for Britain as India was decolonialised, or whatever the word is. Incidentally, today is Gandhi day, for added poignancy and (so I am told) less traffic. I assume - wrongly of course - that the tourist areas will have such facilities as the average incomer (me) might expect. i.e. Wifi. The receptionist, in broken English, firmly steers me away from attempting to use the train system, and so instead I get in another taxi.

I should at this point stress that I know I was singularly unprepared for this trip, for a whole stack of reasons. The unpreparedness signalled itself in a number of forms, not least my usual catch-up-on-email-on-plane-ready-to-upload-when-I-arrive habit, which was why I was rather hooked on the idea of finding a Wifi signal. I’d already established I could get GPRS but there were some rather large file transfers waiting to take place and given wireless roaming, I didn’t want to get back to find a bill for more than the cost of the flight. Besides, it gave me something to focus on, so into town I headed.

The round trip journey was about 5 hours, spent in taxis, motorised rickshaws (Italian scooters on steroids) and walking. I was offered drugs twice, women once, and I had a man grab my ear as if that would make me more likely to want him to drill it with a piece of not-so-sterilised metal. I visited two tailors who made me feel very uncomfortable about the fact I didn’t - no, I really didn’t - need a suit right now. Down a dark, back alley full of cats and stinking of piss I found, or I was shown an airconditioned oasis of computers believe it or not with Wifi access, 10 rupees for 20 minutes which equates to not very much at all. I gave money to a sunken-cheeked man who really looked like he needed it, then denied it to another man who whipped up tears, not knowing who was telling the truth and who wasn’t. New development everywhere - to the extent that it all looks ramshackle, like a Frenchman’s house when he is half way through his renouvellements.

I agreed to meet with the same taxi driver 2 hours after I left him, ended up arriving back early and waiting an hour, only for him not to turn up and me wondering whether I’d been the idiot for agreeing, or was seen as the idiot for not communicating my request properly. There’s more, so much more, tidbits of experience that would bore anyone stupid if I tried to list them, fragments of understanding that leave me none the wiser but nonetheless feeling I had learned something.

Back at the hotel. I buy a local SIM so at least I can get some GPRS access, with an international calling card. Out for a meal, chat to diamond seller sitting opposite. We talk abut contradictions, call centres, success and failure, the new riches of India making it harder to be poor as the cost of living rises. The value of property in this area has doubled, he tells me, due to a new microtrain that is to pass straight down the main road. And then, I go back to the hotel and sleep, unencumbered by the noise of the aircon or fan, which just about drown out the street outside.

This morning, a shower, and I write this. Today I meet with B.D. and then I visit some of Mitul Mehta’s colleagues at TekPlus. First I need to find some food. Let the day begin.

…is the best brush-off I know for unsolicited callers. As it happens, it’s true - BT has messed up and put my business number in the home phone book. When the callers come however, all I have to do is say the above and they immediately hang up. Superb!

Well, I finally got round to listening to Massive Attack. Proof (should we need it) that another man’s meat is this man’s poison. I’m sure it’s very good, if you’re in to that sort of thing.

Update: Hold that thought… now playing: Teardrop

Due to a sequence of circumstances I have ended up reading four books in parallel. At first glance they are unconnected:

Derren Brown - Tricks of the Mind

Richard Dawkins - The God Delusion

M. Scott Peck - The Road Less Travelled and Beyond

Christopher Booker - The Seven Basic Plots

At first glance these were totally unconnected, apart from being non-fiction and vaguely esoteric that is. Delve a little deeper and two are people wanting to debunk myths, one is explaining their roots and the other is exploring that part of the human psyche that needs them. Derren was a staunch Christian who is now keen to reveal all things “magical” as mere (though still clever) trickery, Richard is keen to state that magic is how we see things we don’t understand, and Scott thinks we could all do with a bit more of it. Christopher won’t be the last to point out how we love certain types of stories, but whether they fulfil a purely human or a spiritual need is a moot point. I’ll let you know in, ooh, about 3,000 pages!

How did I end up reading them all at once? Who knows, perhaps it was meant

Go on, you know you want to! All in a good cause too

At the Cotswold Show I was invited to compare a recent beer purchase of George Gale’s Summer Breeze, with one of our local brews - Three-Eight from the Cotswold Brewing Co. Both are 3.8% alcohol, and both include Saaz hops - but the major difference perhaps is that one - the Cotswold - is a lager, while the other is an ale.

And the verdict is - they’re both jolly good. While the Summer Breeze is a fine beer however, the Three-Eight has the advantage of combining the coolness associated with a lager, with a hint of the rounded charm of an ale. This may be down to the ingredients, to be honest I have absolutely no idea but if I were to choose between the two on a summer’s day I would probably go for the Cotswold.

I might tell a different story later on, as the balm of the day took on the slight chill of the evening I might be glad of the warmer character of the Summer Breeze. For now, however, it is the Cotswold Three-Eight that has my vote.

If faced with a mixer shower that needs to be operated using the bath taps, first turn on the hot. Then, add the cold until it arrives at a suitable temperature. Then pull the knob to send the water to the shower head - and hey presto! A perfectly regulated shower.

Brought to you from the Horse Guards Parade, London. Grand but a tiny bit shabby, with a nice view of the Eye.

… was yesterday, when I ran over an already dead hedgehog. With a lawnmower.

I should probably delete this post as soon as I type it, but equally, I probably won’t. Following a recommendation from goodman Governor, I thought I’d give Live Writer a try. Not bad so far - I hear Adobe has a competing blog posting tool, but there’s one major difference - this one is free!

Oh, and one of our chickens died yesterday.