It's 10:30 am, and I'm sitting in the lobby of my hotel, waiting for the car that's supposed to take me to the office. In New York it's like 1 am; I'm still kind of weirded out that it's, what, nine and a HALF hours ahead here. Who jumps ahead by the HALF HOUR?
I had my complimentary breakfast buffet, which was hard boiled eggs and then a whole bunch of different Indian food things. There was something with chick peas in it, and something else that didn't have chick peas. And coffee, and watermelon juice. I'm beginning to suspect that I'm the only person staying here; I haven't seen anyone but the staff, I was the only person in the restaurant, and the waitress called me this morning to make sure I was showing up. Now that's service!
Outside, it's crazy; everyone and their mother is driving by on a motorcycle or scooter of some kind. There's no such thing as a "lane," -- even when we were on the highway last night, the lane markers seemed more of a casual suggestion, if anything. We kept passing people in the same lane that we were in, just sort of muscling them over to the side and, I guess, hoping for the best. Still, the driver was really nice in that "I don't speak your language" kind of way, and there's nothing like a little bit of fearing for your life to wake you up after a long plane ride.
Okay. I'm going to make sure I have everything I need for the office this morning. It sure is a good thing I'm good at improvising; I have no idea what I'm supposed to do when I get there, so we're going to see what "winging it" does for me.