RTW Trip: Day 105 (6/8) - Coming Home

Day 105: The Last Waltz


I'll have to credit the popularity of Sevruga for this whole exercise. That expensive, fusion place in Cape Town's V&A Waterfront. That's the reason this all happened. I was jetlagged and ready for bed late on Monday, February 25th, and I decided, probably against better judgement, to be a little extravagant for my first meal of my trip (not including the food on South African Airways). They asked me to wait at the bar until my table was ready, and all I had in my hand was that little Samsung Netbook in my backpack. I decided to, instead of sit lonely at the bar, to open it up and start writing about my flight to South Africa.


One hundred and five days later, and about 60 entries later, it's all over, and I have the wait time in Sevruga to thank. The RTW Trip Diary became what connected the entire trip, what kept me sane, what kept me wanting to experience as much as I can. It became a way to unwind during long days after hours of walking around. It became a way to give myself something to do during my solo meals back in the first few weeks of the trip. Like most things, it became harder to do when I reached my family and reached the (relatively) slow, banal life of Bangalore. Still, the diary served as a lasting document for a trip of a lifetime.


It's hard to go back in time and remember how I felt that first night. I was surprised at how easily three and a half pages came that day. I kept apologizing for the length of my diary entries during my time in South Africa as they went close to four full pages on Word by the time I was done. Of course, little did I know that they would stay the same length and I would soon stop apologizing for it. I never felt really happy with how I was writing the whole diary. This trip taught me a lot of things about different cultures, different ways of life, the joys and pains of air travel, but it didn't teach me the clear difference between a diary and a guidebook.


I wasn't sure how I would feel when I was returning back to the US. The fight home is never as fun as the flight away from home (it doesn't help that the flight out is almost always a night flight while the flight home is a day flight). It helped that Singapore Airlines basically pulled out all the stops on this flight. They served a really nice breakfast with really good scrambled eggs, and then Beef Rendang for lunch right before we landed in JFK. Having Beef Rendang listed on their menu brought out so many interesting emotions out of me, as I immediately remembered just how much I love Beef Rendang in the US, to how much I enjoyed tasting different variations of Beef Rendang in Malaysia, to a sign that Singapore Airlines could pull past Etihad, of the famed lamb biryani, as my favorite airlines.


Of course, the Beef Rendang wasn't a great version of it (compared to the lamb biryani on Etihad which was one of the best lamb biryanis I've had), but that didn't spoil the flight, in which I also finished watching Season 4 of Arrested Development (I'll have more on that later). It was tough to see that 'Time to Destination' clock wind down on the flight, but I knew this day was coming sooner or later. That's why I was happy to be doing it on Singapore Airlines, the last of my 30 flights.


I'm the kind of person that after a trip passes its halfway point, I start to feel a longing sense of dread about the impending end of the trip, so you could imagine how I was feeling nearing the end of this trip. I was afraid it would take the enjoyment of my day layover in Singapore. I was afraid it would take away the enjoyment of that last flight. Luckily, the knowledge that I wasn't returning to 10th Grade helped.


When I reached JFK, I did start to feel a bit sad, and when I finished the long walk from the gate to the ground floor Immigration area at JFK's T4, I turned to the large glass windows showing the tarmac. I couldn't see the Singapore plane, but I did see something that brought back a huge host of emotions. I saw that South African Airways A340-600, the plane that I started this whole 105-day trek on. I then remembered that that flight is scheduled for 11:00 AM, while the scheduled arrival time of my flight in Singapore was 10:55. As I looked out, the South African Airways plane was pulling back from the gate. As I saw that beautiful bird being tugged away, I wondered if I would, if I could, finagle myself back on that plane and go on this 105-day journey all over again. My bank account says no, but would I do it? Of course so, and that's the best way to describe any vacation. Glad to be back, but less glad than having the chance to do it all over again.

RTW Trip: Day 104-(half of) 105 (6/7-6/8) - Singapore and Its Airline

Day 104-(half of)105: The Long Haul

One of my favorite parts of this trip before it started was that in my first United mileage iteration, I saw that I could potentially get basically a full day in Singapore as I went home. Many people have asked me, as I told them that I was flying Singapore back to the US from India, why I would do such a thing, why I would intentionally select the far, far longer option (one of my alternatives was a United direct flight from Mumbai to Newark, but there were options on Swiss and Lufthansa, airlines I regard quite highly, as well as Turkish (an airline I haven’t taken), and a slew of United/Lufthansa combinations. Anyway, I chose this Singapore jaunt because, first, I was given the most glowing recommendation possible about Singapore Airlines from my Dad. Secondly, like Hell I was going to take United to end my trip. Talk about ending on a low note. Third, who would pass down a day in Singapore? Fourth, I would never pass down an opportunity to take an A380 (although, Lufthansa would have given me my 2^nd favorite plane, the A340-600). Fifth, I don’t want to take United (I can’t stress this enough – and I think United is the best of the three main US airlines). Sixth, this is the one time in my life (as far as I know) where I can laze my way back to the US. Time was no constraint. It was either get in Friday afternoon, or get in Saturday morning with a day in Singapore. If I can risk a day, I’ll take the latter every time (of course, it helped that because this was on mileage, the Mumbai-Singapore-Frankfurt-New York route was not a single mile more than the Mumbai-Newark route. When I can get a day in Singapore, take one of the best airlines in the world on the world’s largest plane, and do it all for no more cost than it would have been to take United on a different, less exciting plane, I’m doing it.

Of course, I didn’t know then that when I decided to combine the two trips (the Australia-Japan part was originally its own trip from the US), I would get another quasi-full day in Singapore on the way to Melbourne. Still, I love Singapore. It’s about as far as any place can get from the US (a place like Perth would be farther, but no one’s clamoring to go non-stop to Perth), so getting to go to Singapore twice is just the cherry on top of this whole thing. I had one image in my mind when I first booked the first mileage ticket (New York-Johannesburg/Johannesburg-HCMC via Bangkok/Mumbai-New York via Singapore), and it was on the final day of my trip, eating a messy but incredible black pepper crab at the East Coast Seafood Center in Singapore, and then going to the cab driver at the Taxi stand and telling him ‘Changi Airport’, and while I told him that, I would be telling myself ‘Home’. That was the ppicture, that was the goal, and while it didn’t go exactly as planned, that’s what happened, and I can’t thank enough the weird mileage rules that United has enough.

Before I get to Singapore, I still have to, in the literal sense, get to Singapore. That flight was on Singapore Airline’s B777-300ER. I still am questioning myself why I decided to take Singapore Airlines fewer times than Thai Airways. What I should have done is take Singapore from Japan to Bangalore, instead of the All Nippon/Thai combo, but the allure of taking ANA weighed too heavily. Singapore’s plane for some reason couldn’t gate at one of the jetbridges in Mumbai, and instead set up shop in the (for now) unoperable section of Chhatrapaji Shivaji. The airport itself is going under a massive rebuild that is about 75% complete. It’s a daunting project, made even more so because they are basically building the new airport around and through the old one. This was my first good look at the new airport, and it looks great. I’m sure, being India, it won’t turn out to be as nice as it looks from the outside, but it was about time that the International Airport at CSIA got updated.

The Mumbai to Singapore flight is only 5.5 hours, which is squarely in that too-long to stay awake the whole time but too-short to get a good sleep, as you only have about 4 hours by the time the meal service and drink service is done. I chose the Indian option of meal of Chicken Biryani. It was very well cooked. It wasn’t the Lamb Biryani I once had on Etihad, but that’s lamb and this is chicken – it would have been impossible for the chicken to win out. One of my favorite parts of my experience on Singapore Airlines is they put out a good product even on the out-of-India flights, which are notoriously filled with lesser crew members and generally lesser service (this is a bigger problem in the into-India flights – there’s a reason I got the Lamb Biryani on the New York to Abu Dhabi leg, and not the Abu Dhabi to Mumbai leg), but the Singapore product was great. They even have one of their better planes on the route. I’m actually (for once) writing this in semi-real time, so I’ll see if the true’ Long Haul’ from Singapore to JFK confirms my opinion of Singapore Airlines enough to raise it above Etihad.

The plane arrived in Singapore around 8:00 AM, and since I didn’t get a lot of sleep and since this wasn’t my only day in Singapore on the trip, I decided to sleep for a bit. I was busy walking around Terminal 3 to find a capable sleeping spot, and right around the time where I was getting dismayed, I saw a sign for a ‘Snooze Lounge’ which was on the second level. The ‘Snooze Lounge’ is exactly as it seems, an area on the upper floor that has about 20 lounge chairs perfect for sleeping in, with a view of the airport beyond. If I could design a perfect thing to put in all airports, this would be it. Man, is Changi pretty much the perfect airport.

I finally awoke from my slumber around 11:00 and again went through immigration as the only person. This time, the immigration lady remarked on the fact I was going through immigration three hours after my plane landed, but I told her simply that I needed my sleep. She asked me why I chose to come through Singapore on my way home from Mumbai, and I gave her a less wordy reason than I did at the top of this piece. Soon, I was out of the airport, just after I checked my carry-on bag for a scant 3.21 SD for the entire day (is there anything this airport isn’t great at?), and was off on my way.

The one negative of doing my days in Singapore like this is I can’t really experience nighttime in Singapore proper. Because of this, my various plans of what to do was somewhat limited. I decided first to venture to Holland Village, a largely expatriate area of Singapore that specializes in food of various international cuisines, all of high quality. Somehow, I settled on Mexican, as it was the most crowded, and had my prawn enchilada, which was as good as any I would get in the US, and a San Miguel draft, which I assumed was some strange Mexican beer they were importing, but was instead a strange Filipino beer that they were importing. Suffice to say, I have no more reason to go to the Philippines after drinking the beer than I had before it. The food was delivered quickly and soon I was on my way to do the only tourist attraction I wanted to do a second time.

I don’t know what it is about animals, but I’ve spent way too much time on this trip at Aquariums and Bird Parks than anyone normally would. Of course, I like these places. Aquariums were attractive partly because they were air conditioned (that was one of the largest selling points in KL), but I had already been to the Jurong Bird Park in West Singapore on my trip in 2012. Still, I knew I wanted to go back. That bird park is just so well organized, so well set up, that it was a surprising highlight of my first trip. The one problem with the Bird Park is it is located on the total opposite side of the island as the airport, and I have to take a cab from the nearest MRT station, but none of this put me off.

I arrived just as they were starting some show, but as you might imagine, the show was aimed at kids who are far too young for me (but the perfect age for the park, I would admit). The last time I went to the park I ended up walking uphill for much of it, so this time I decided to do it backwards, and my sweat glands thanked me greatly for that decision. The park was as nice as I remembered. It didn’t have the free-for-all birds-all-over-the-place nature of the KL Bird Park, but there’s a certain calmness and trueness in separating the birds into their normal places. The one notable section was seeing the Emu area. These Emus, kept inside a medium-height cage, were far less feisty and, to be honest, scary as those on Phillip Island. When I was done, I took a cab back to the nearest MRT, and headed back into town proper.

My plan was to walk around the waterfront, where the Lionhead statue and bridge reside, and all the main financial buildings, which creates an imposing little skyline towering above. After that, the plan was to hop over to Boat and/or Clarke Quay (it’s really hard to tell where one begins and the other ends) for a brew or two. Well, because of the intricacies of MRT pricing, it was cheaper to go to Clarke Quay first, which helped because it would space out my afternoon Irish Tea with my dinner at East Coast Seafood. I was going to go back to Brewerkz, the craft brewery I went to last time, but was stopped cold with a buy 1 get 1 free draft beer deal at this other place on the way.

 They had a nice selection of draft beer from different smaller European breweries (the most mainstream was Hoegarden, the least mainstream was bizarrely mainstream, called Berekdter, which is of course what I got). Going with the half pint options, I was able to try two of the Berekdter and two of the Cider they had on tap as well, and added that a small portion of Lamb Kofta Kebab (one of their happy-hour mini plates), and it was a great late lunch early dinner. I’m eating way too much today, and have already reserved myself to that fact.

From there, I went on my walk, partly to sober up and partly to get some exercise to make me the slightest bit hungry by the time dinner comes around. The walk to the heart of Singapore is quick, but still impressive, as most things are in Singapore. I saw a deal a travel agency was giving for a reduced rate on the Singapore Flyer. The Singapore Flyer is the large Ferris Wheel that Singapore uses as its competitor to the London Eye. The Singapore Flyer is not really affordable in general, but the deal made it slightly more so. I had quite a bit of Singapore dollars that remained from my unfortunate turn at the Singapore Hold ‘Em table, so I decided to go for it. The view atop the flyer was incredible, but the most haunting, and most ominous, part of the view was the dark storm clouds brewing overhead.

Storm clouds happen basically all the time in Singapore, but they gave me caution for my planned dinner on the waterfront at the East Coast Seafood Center. From the flyer I walked back across to the City Center, near the infamous Raffles Building, and went inside the MRT. Bedok was the destination, the second to final stop on the East West MRT line. I knew Bedok because it is the closest MRT station to the East Coast Seafood Center. Almost directly above it, the map gave me the impression that it was sort of walking distance. I learned later how stupid and uninformed that notion was, but it is still the closest MRT station. With the popularity of the East Coast Seafood Center, I’m surprised there isn’t one that is closer, but that’s the way it is.

I got into the cab over to the East Coast Seafood Center, and made a beeline for Jumbo and Long Beach Seafood, the two most famous places at the Center. I decided to start with Long Beach, as the last time I was in Singapore I gave Jumbo my business, but Long Beach told me I would have to wait at least an hour for an outdoor table. No way was I going to go for that, so I headed over to Jumbo where the accommodated me immediately. Of course, it started raining and they ushered all of us that were seated outside. Somehow, they were able to conjure enough seats to fit all of us, and soon I was under a roof, but still with a good view of the Harbor in front and the planes descending into Changi overhead.

Because I wanted to get rid of my remaining Singapore Dollars, and because it was the last meal of the trip, I decided to order a Grilled Whelk appetizer as well as the Black Pepper Crab, and while the Grilled Whelk was good, the crab was something special. I’m not sure how they make it so good. It shouldn’t be that complicated, but somehow it is so that only that one place in the world has it at that quality. Somehow I was able to not make any sort of mess. Some of it was me sucking the black pepper sauce off of my fingers at steady intervals, but the other part was that they don’t douse that in gravy. I tried to take as long as I could with the crab, savor each bite, and make that meal last forever.

It didn’t of course, but I did get to say ‘Changi Airport’ to the cab driver, and tell myself “Going Home” in my head. Before I knew it, I was in Changi airport, and past immigration and walking around their beautiful T3. 25 minutes earlier I was finishing paying the bill at Jumbo. I thought the process at Changi would take more time, so I had a lot of time on my hands. Not the greatest thing when you have 22 hours in a plane to come. Soon enough, we boarded our A380-800, our home for the next day. I settled into my seat (after getting switched to make room for a family of 3), and we were off on our flight to Frankfurt.

Singapore Airlines is about as good as I could have imagined, in the end. Their service was constant and impressive, with two full meals and a large snack in the middle of the twelve hour flight to Frankfurt. They mixed a damn good scotch and soda as well. Their seats recline more than most, and their movie selection was great as usual. I slept through about half of the twelve hour flight to Frankfurt, my last night flight of the trip, and around 8 am we reached Frankfurt. Because of the fact that the US loves to check people’s feet in security, the handful of us that were continuing on to New York had to deplane, go through security and get back in with all the people flying just the Frankfurt-New York leg. I was shocked how many people weren’t continuing to New York (easily 80% of the plane). I guess there are just as easy ways to get to New York from Singapore on other airlines (going through Dubai takes less time, even), but everyone on the plane seemed to speak German. Before entering the transit lounge, I was asked to step aside and have my bags checked. I immediately felt that this was some profiling, but most of the people they chose to rummage through their baggage were white. Soon I was entering the plane, the final of my thirty flights and the final part of my trip.

RTW Trip: Day 101-103 (6/4-6/6) - Mumbai

Day 101-103: Walking Up #18

*This and the following entry will be my last two detailing my RTW trip, which is somehow ending, despite it both feeling really, really long (I mean, it was effing Winter when I left the US) and really short (wasn’t it just two weeks ago when I was being given complimentary Sambuca for going to City Grill two nights in a row in Cape Town?). Since this one takes place in Mumbai, a city where I didn’t do much actual sightseeing apart from taking a launch ride out to the Elephanta Caves (probably worth it), it won’t be too long. I’ll probably have actual thoughts on the last part, which includes one more visit to Singapore and the longest flight sector of my entire trip (Singaopore to New York). That flight stops in Frankfurt for refueling, so the New York to Johannesburg flight will still be the longest individual flight I’ve taken. Still, there’s more to talk about there than writing about me going to Leopold for the umpteenth time.*

When I arrived in Mumbai, fresh off of my short flight on IndiGo, I was reminded one more time that Mumbai is a City, while Bangalore is an oversized town. Driving through Mumbai you get the feeling you are in a city. I certainly do, everytime we reach Marine Drive, which always looks better at night than it does during the day. I also remembered just how lucky I was with my timing for this trip. The air was extremely hot and humid, meaning one thing: Monsoon is Coming. Within three weeks, the sky will turn cloudy, and it won’t be blue for another two months. The specter of rain will hang over every day during that time. I just missed it. Of course, after my face sweating continuously while walking around Mumbai, I could’ve done with some of nature’s tears, but not having to deal with the mud and slop that arises during Monsoon season is still better than having to deal with the increased heat.

By the time I left Mumbai four nights later, entering my Tab Cab in front of the Esperance building, heading for the airport, I kind of felt like this was the end of something special, which it was. I was glad to have spent the last few days of my trip in Mumbai, just as I was glad to spend the last few days of the 1^st half of my trip, which I call the 3^rd World Half, on Mumbai. In a way, this trip was built on symmetry. The longest flight was the first. The second longest flight was the last. Each time I left India I went on the same flight, SQ423, to Singapore, and each time I had about a full day to wander around Singapore.

The similarities didn’t end there. Each time before that flight, I went to Leopold Café one last time. I’ll admit that I never went to Leopold Café before the terrorist attack, but why would I, since I couldn’t really enjoy Leopold Café in all its glory back in 2001. Leopold Café, I feel, is a little underrated as a place to eat. Sure, they’re known as an incredible people watching spot and a place to drink a tower of ice cold beer (as was Sports Bar Express, RIP), but I think their food gets a little but tossed aside. Their Chinese and Continental Food isn’t the best, but their Indian food is almost always good. I’ve had a few of their kebabs and a few of their curries, and they’ve all been good. Leopold Café may be famous because it was attacked, but it was attacked because it was already a famous spot, and for a reason.

I ventured out back to my old stomping grounds in Lower Parel as well. I met my friend back at The Blue Frog, a famous lounge with live music in Lower Parel. It’s tucked away on a street in the back and beyond of Lower Parel, and is very hard to find if you don’t know where it is. Last time, I didn’t really know where it was and it took me about 30 minutes in the Mumbai heat to walk up and down and find it. No such problems this time. Before The Blue Frog, we first went to Zaffran, a Mughlai restaurant on that same begotten alley. This one is closer to the main road, so if I knew it as a landmark last time it would have been so much easier to find The Blue Frog. The food at Zaffran was about as good as the décor, as we were seated on a circular table inside a hanging wooden swing (I’m not sure how to better describe it). Zaffran was good, and while there was no live music in Blue Frog that night, I finally had a place adhere to one of my music requests, which was a relief after being turned away at Man U. bar and Leopold’s upstairs.

My cousin Robin and I returned to Lower Parel the next night (my last true ‘night’ of the trip), this time going to The Irish House, an Irish-pub styled bar that played loud music and had a lively, jovial, young crowd. Robin and I did quite well that evening (probably a little too well), enjoying the moment, connecting for the last time during our trip and just enjoying what was going on. It was such a different experience than the previous night.

Power almost never goes out in Mumbai. It never goes out, another reason why Mumbai feels like a city whereas Bangalore feels like an oversized town. Of course, it did the night before, going off around 2 AM. Because the power never goes out in Mumbai, most buildings don’t have generators like they do in Bangalore, so we were screwed. My Aunt told us that likely it would only come back in the morning, which was basically a quasi-death sentence to me. Robin and I decided around 3 AM that we couldn’t take it anymore, and we went for a walk to the Taj. The Taj hotel, the more famous terrorist attack target, turned Robin and I away  when we tried to enter around 6 PM one day during my trip in 2011. We have no idea why, butt making up that another cousin of mine was staying there and having them call the fake room probably didn’t help (this happened after they turned us away originally).  We entered the Taj with no problem. I guess they don’t feel that terrorists arrive at 3AM.

One of their restaurants stays open 24 hours a day, so we headed there and tried to waste as much time as we could when splitting one $20 entrée. Soon, we got the fettuccini, which was as well made as I could have expected given the price and the place that we were eating in. There was, amazingly, one other British family there, and we soon decided that they must be staying at the Taj (unlike us) and had arrived in Mumbai earlier that night, and just gotten in and were hungry. It is this type of weird background stuff that we were doing to keep ourselves semi-awake a 3:30 AM. We finished our meal and briefly considered going to sleep in their foyer at a place where the people behind the desk had an obstructed view of us. We decided against that and returned back to Esperanca to brave the heat, and we did. Miraculously, around 4:45, the power came back, a gift from God. I had my best sleep ever in that apartment that night.

Going back to the night at The Irish House, we left around 1:45, after finishing what we ordered during their 1:30 last call. This is just another reason why I love Mumbai, because things don’t close early. Of course, they close early enough that we returned to Esperance in time to catch VH1 ZZZZ and have some last few Kingfishers from the shady Gokkul Wine Shop. I’ll remember The Irish House, and Leopold, and Zaffran, but for some reason, I’ll remember VH1 ZZZ… more than anything.

RTW Trip: Day 97-98 (5/31-6/1) - Coffee Estate

Day 97-98: Out in the Wilderness, One Last Time

These last few weeks of the trip include many different ‘lasts’. The last few flights, the last few beers to try, the last few nights away from my comfortable bed that is waiting for me at home. Well, in this spate of ‘lasts’ I was able to squeeze in a ‘first’. I have only once prior been to a Coffee Estate in India, the playgrounds of so many of my Mangalorean Ancestors and their contemporaries. I was five that last time, with little memory of the experience. When my cousin invited me to her friends Estate for a weekend getaway with her, her husband and a small group of their friends, I was excited.

To be honest, when I left Japan I had a terrible feeling of “Why am I going back to India, let’s just go home”-itis. Some of it may have been the fact that the plane opposite mine was heading to JFK. The other reason was that I was leaving my little 1^st-world, good weather haven of Japan for a hot, humid stay in India. After my experience in the estate, I’m glad I went back to India. That’s about as good of an endorsement as I can give it.

To be honest, there’s not too much I can legally say about what we did at the estate, so I’ll say all the legal things (and you can fill in the rest as imaginatively as you like). My cousin’s friend’s estate (to make that easier, let’s call her Aneesha, because that’s her name) is situated deep within the Chikmagalur. I’m not entirely sure what the name of her particular estate is, but it is located in the small estate town of Haribeil. We took a bus there, which was a journey all to itself. We weren’t able to get sleeper seats (basically beds) on the bus, but the seats recline quite a bit. The problem is I wasn’t used to attempting to get sleep around midnight, especially when seated upright. We all got very little sleep, and all arrived to the estate lodge around 6 AM, sleep deprived.

We tried to brave the situation and stay awake – there was even talk of going for a morning walk. Of course, none of that happened and we went to sleep for about three or four hours. When I got up, I was finally able to look around the lodge with my wits around me. The estate lodge is incredibly situated high above the coffee hills below, giving a great view of the rolling hills afar. It is hard for me to imagine that this sight, this sprawling canvas of green, was located in India, was located in the same country that I know for its never-ending traffic and pollution. The house itself had a more personal connection, as so much of it was familiar to that of my Grandmother’s house in Mangalore. With its high ceilings hanging over large rooms with large beds, and rustic furniture and the winding corridors at the back where the kitchen and barn and cabinet lay. It was all kind of familiar, though also kind of different, because the house is still active (Aneesha’s Brother and Father run the estate day-to-day), and it is set with all the modern trappings of satellite television and three fish tanks.

The house also served as a little farm. Aneesha has six dogs, all similar in color and breed, but with varying degrees of age and size. They were some of the most lovable, needy (in a good way), dogs I’ve ever seen. They also adorably loved to do exactly what the others do, so when we took walks with them, if one dog went over to inspect a plant or rock, they all followed right behind. The rest of the farm included two beautiful horses, both riding horses, a slew of chickens, ducks and turkeys, two cats and a cow or two (we couldn’t see the cow). This animal house (not to be confused with the movie we went some lengths to replicate with our weekend) also had a personal connection, as I remember being told that my Grandmother’s house in Mangalore also had a large amount of animals. No horses there, but they were replaced semi-ably by Pigs. The animals left the house in Mangalore long before I was born, but I can imagine they were very similar.

Despite there being a full service kitchen, we mainly nourished ourselves with the food that we brought to the estate in boxes. That itself was an ordeal, with the rain pounding the box as we left in Bangalore, and for some reason us putting the heavier cooler over the lighter box for the entire ride. But the food, and alcohol, managed to stay relatively well maintained, and the food was mostly good. In fact, the pork curry that my Cousin’s in-laws’ family cook made was among the best I’ve ever had. That and Aneesha’s Corn Bread was enough for me, both being among the top 20 or so things I’ve eaten on this trip.

The lodge is isolated in one little corner of her family’s estate, and while we didn’t venture out to every corner of that map, we did go for a drive or two down the hill. First was to the river, for dinner. Because we came a few weeks before the Monsoon Season started, the water in the river was brown and unswimmable, but the group of us sat on the rocks in the river, eating some snacks (while the pork waited for us back in the lodge, the lunch-lunch), which gave me another feeling of “am I still in India?”.

Our trip back up (this trip was done by jeep, which takes about 20-25 minutes to travel up the winding, bumpy roads built into the hills. Quite a bit of the bus trip to and from the estate was done on similar roads, which means two things: one, thank God we were asleep for that part of the trip, because it would be terrifying; and two, for once, the reason it takes eight hours to go 300 km has nothing to do with traffic. On the way back up to the lodge, my cousin’s husband, who operates his own family’s estate, wanted to see one of the offices. We stopped at one and he walked us through the different buildings in the office square, the machinery, the process and how it all ties together. It all seemed far too complex for me, as I would have never imagined the harvesting and processing of coffee beans to be that intricate, but that’s what the distance I am from the beginning product does to my perceptions.

Our other trip venturing outside the cozy, beautiful confines of the lodge was our group walk, which went down to their old manager’s house and another processing area, this one built onto the side of a hill. In front of us were hills upon rolling hills stretching far into the distance, with a series of ominous low clouds draping the tops of the hills. Above us was the hill we just trekked down (we didn’t start from the top), and the top quarter was fully cloud covered. We headed back up before it got too dark (which we didn’t really succeed with, given by the time we reached the lodge, we were walking in close to absolute darkness). We all settled in for the end of the second full day, and, sadly, my last.

My cousin first told me that the trip would be Friday to Sunday (or essentially, Friday Night to Monday Morning, factoring in night buses), to which I said I was uncomfortable with given my early Monday flight to Mumbai. She then switched the leaving date to Sunday afternoon, which meant that we were now leaving Thursday night. I still wasn’t comfortable with this because I didn’t like arriving Sunday night at my Uncle’s with just hours to do the calculus that is my suitcases and the luggage that has to go in them. In the end, I settled with taking a bus back alone on Saturday night, and while I needed that extra time in Bangalore to settle myself before the Long Haul started the next day, when it came close to the time for me to go with the driver to the bus stop, that little outpost in Haribeil, I was sad to be leaving this group of people, sure, but as sad to be leaving this place. I probably couldn’t live in an estate, but to visit, there are few better things I can imagine doing in India. It is so un-Indian. Of course, the irony is that the estate life is entrenched in my Indian Mangalorean Community’s history. I experienced part of that history, and I can’t wait to again.

Duncan > Kobe

*I wrote this a while ago, but wanted to wait to make sure that the Spurs made the finals before I did*

 

I’ve held firmly for quite a while that the best player of the past fifteen or so years in the NBA was Tim Duncan, not Kobe Bryant.*

*Of course, LeBron’s presence hangs over everything, but Duncan and Kobe were already solidly on a HOF-bound track before LeBron entered the league. Let’s pass over LeBron for being the best player of the post-Duncan and Kobe era*

Only one famous person of note agreed with me, Bill Simmons. Of course, he has no idea who I am, so it’s more that he too believes it more than he ‘agrees with me’. He had Tim Duncan rated one spot higher in his original Book of Basketball (Kobe at #8 and Duncan at #7), and he kept those rankings the same in the updated version for paperback. Recently, right before the start of the Western Conference Finals, he repeated his claim of Duncan’s superiority, and then even had a good debate on his podcast about it.* I want to lay out my case for why Duncan has had the better career and is the better historical player.

*-One last side note, I was talking here about Simmons' podcast with Joe House a few weeks ago. He's since basically brought this point up in every podcast of his since. This is the 2nd greatest recurring theme in the BS Report, after when he somehow, to my delight, managed to bring up Super Bowl XLII for about 10 straight podcasts after the game*

Argument #1: The Titles and the Help

One common defense for the Kobe supporters is that Kobe has five titles to Duncan’s four. Of course, that’s true, but then Robert Horry has seven titles. No one thinks he’s even a HOFer. To me, titles won doesn’t matter. What does is titles won as the best player on your team. One NBA player can have a bigger impact than one player in any other sport (with the possible exception of goalie in hockey). It’s simple math, there are only five players on the court at any time and they play offense and defense (unlike a QB in football). That’s why it was meaningful that LeBron hadn’t won a title until last year. So, how many times has Kobe been the best player on a title winning team. Two. Duncan’s been the best player on at least three, and you can make the argument for the fourth. Tony Parker may have won the Finals MVP in 2007, but Duncan was still the most important player. A similar case could be made for Gasol being the best performer in the 2010 Finals (and definitely in Game 7, where Kobe went 6-24), but Kobe was still the most important player. Either way, the count is 2-3, at best.

Kobe Bryant was definitely not the best player on the 2000-2002 Lakers title winning teams. Those were Shaq’s teams. They won because of Shaq. They dominated the 2001 playoffs because Shaq decided to finally give a shit that season after mailing in most of the regular season. They swept the Nets because Shaq abused Todd McCullogh. Shaq deservingly won the Finals MVP each time because he was the best player on those teams. Kobe had great years, but he was still the support. Teams were gameplanning to stop Shaq, and if that meant Kobe getting 30 every now and then, fine.

Duncan definitely had good players on his title winning teams, but he was definitely the best player on the first three, and probably the 2007 team as well. He’s played with one of the greats in David Robinson, but Robinson was the Kobe to Duncan’s Shaq in 1999 and Robinson was a glorified big-man-off-the-bench type in 2003. Actually, look at the 2003 Spurs roster for a second. That team had no right winning 60 games and a title. They had David Robinson who was aging. Terry Porter and Kevin Willis, who were beyond aging. Malik Rose and Anthony Johnson, who were basically role players. A not-as-cray-as-he-would-become Stephen Jackson, and the young duo of Parker and Ginobili. Those two bring up problems because Parker is a likely HOF, and if you factor in the international success of Ginobili on Argentina, he is too, but in 2003 they were basically first-year starters. Parker was so up and down there was serious talk of them getting Jason Kidd that offseason and replacing Parker. Parker and Ginobili’s best years have really been at the tail end of the Spurs title runs (2007) and since the last title when the Spurs shifted to a more offense-heavy approach. They are HOFers for the work they did after the Spurs stopped winning titles.

So, both played with HOFers, but out of the top-4 supporting cast, I would give Kobe the best support member in Shaq (who was actually the best player on those title teams), and Duncan had the relative worst in Ginobili. Parker vs. Gasol is interesting, but either way, Duncan never had a Shaq v.2000-2002 like figure to play with.

Argument 2: The Dominance

Another common defense is how dominant Kobe has been for such a long period. He was just 3^rd in the NBA in scoring this past season. People say that Kobe’s had the higher peak, the more dominant career. To that, I say that’s true if you are only considering their scoring value. Basketball is about a lot more than just scoring, but the number of points stands out more than anything else. Kobe supporters say that Duncan never had seasons like Kobe’s in 2006 (where he averaged 35, had the 81 point game),and while Kobe might have had a better peak, there are a lot of ways to measure players without simply looking at their PPG.  Tim Duncan did everything, and did it all well. If you want to go playoffs, just look at what Sir Duncan did in the 2003 Playoffs, again with a team whose roster really wasn’t all that good outside of Timmay. He started his run in Game 5 of the 2^nd round against the two-time defending champ Lakers, with the series tied at 2-2:

Game 5 vs LA: 27-14-5-1 (pts-reb-ast-blk), Spurs win  by 2
Game 6 vs LA: 37-16-4-2, win by 28

Game 1 vs DAL: 40-15-7-1, lose by 3
Game 2 vs DAL: 32-15-5-3, win by 13
Game 3 @ DAL: 34-24-6-6, win by 13
Game 4 @ DAL: 21-20-7-4, win by 7
Game 5 vs DAL: 23-15-6-1, lose by 12
Game 6 @ DAL: 18-11-4-3, win by 12

Game 1 vs NJN: 32-20-6-7, win by 12
Game 2 vs NJN: 19-12-3-3, lose by 2
Game 3 @ NJN: 21-16-7-3, win by 5
Game 4 @ NJN: 23-17-2-7, lose by 1
Game 5 @ NJN: 29-17-4-4, win by 10
Game 6 vs NJN: 21-20-10-8; win by 11.

So, to recap, that averages to this:

26.9-16.6-5.4-3.8 per game. 

Which is ridiculous. He had a  34-24-6-6 in game 3 against Dallas in the WCF, and that was his 4^th best game in that stretch (his epic Game 6 of the finals is probably his magnum opus, but Game 1 of the finals and Game 1 of the Conference Finals are about as good). The advanced stats of Duncan’s 2003 playoffs make that stretch one of the most dominant postseason of all time. It was like LeBron’s 35-8-8 postseason in 2008-09, except the Spurs won the title. Please, don’t tell me that Kobe was more dominant than Duncan at his best.

Argument 3: The Ridiculous Consistency

Duncan’s Spurs have only once not won 50 games. That’s because that season they only played 50 games. Of course, that year they went 37-13, tied for the best record in the NBA, which translated to a 61-21 record in an 82 game season. Even in the other strike-shortened season, where they played 66 games, the Spurs managed to win 50. The Spurs have gone, in Duncan’s career, gone:

1997-98: 56-26 (68.3%)
1998-99: 37-13 (74.0%)
1999-00: 53-29 (64.6%)
2000-01: 58-24 (70.7%)
2001-02: 58-24 (70.7%)
2002-03: 60-22 (73.2%)
2003-04: 57-27 (69.5%)
2004-05: 59-23 (72.0%)
2005-06: 63-19 (76.8%)
2006-07: 58-24 (70.7%)
2007-08: 56-26 (68.3%)
2008-09: 54-28 (65.9%)
2009-10: 50-32 (61.0%)
2010-11: 61-21 (74.4%)
2011-12: 50-16 (75.8%)
2012-13: 58-24 (70.7%)

Total: 830-368 (69.3%); 56.8-25.2

That’s kind of insane. Kobe, in the prime of his career, missed the playoffs once, finishing below .500 in 2004-05, and was the 7^th seed in 2005-06 and 2006-07. Kobe’s team may have made more finals, but they weren’t as relentlessly consistent. They didn’t make winning seem boringly efficient. They didn’t have the Spurs robotic existence. The Spurs also did this during the iso-era, the defense-heavy era, the offense-heavy era, and then the superteam era.

Duncan has had to battle injuries and, more importantly, battle reduced minutes and Popovich tried to keep him fresh, which puts his volume numbers down the last few years, but I love Bill Simmons’ point that his per-36 minutes stats are ridiculously consistent. Now, in Kobe’s defense his per-36 numbers are about the same as they’ve been throughout the past five or six years. But he’s fallen off from his ridiculous peak. Duncan’s fall is more just less minutes.

Conclusion

It isn’t clear-cut. My argument delves into areas I don’t like entering in other sports, namely  QB-wins in the NFL. But basketball players have a disproportionate impact on games. Singular NBA players are just more valuable than their counterparts in other sports. But, I think it comes down to the Shaq factor. Shaq was the primary force on the Lakers three-peat. Shaq is himself one of the 15-20 best players ever, and a healthy, motivated Shaq (like he was throughout 1999-2000 and became again in the 2000-01 playoffs) was even better than that. Kobe got to play with that. The best player Duncan got to play with was either Robinson in Duncan’s rookie season, or Parker in recent years. That doesn’t approach Shaq in his prime. Their careers are both winding down, and this debate will probably rage on for years. It doesn’t have the fire and intensity of Manning vs. Brady, but it really should.