The cool air was punctured with the sound of a hundred horns, about 200 people pushing at the fence looking for loved ones and/or arranged pick-ups, and a mess of beggars and baggage boys looking for tips. I found my assigned driver and waited for him to get the car. When he came around, two young guys (early 20’s? I couldn’t tell b/c they had such small frames) jumped up on the curb unexpectedly and helped put my bags in the cab… it seemed ironic that I, a 6’2”, 175lb guy would be getting help from these two. They wanted a tip, of course, but all I had were 100 rupee notes (why didn’t the exchange counter give me smaller bills?), and I was flustered and at a loss as to what would be an appropriate sum. Instead, I gave them what I had left of my Singaporean money – hardly anything – and I forgot that you can’t convert foreign change. We drove off, and I felt badly already.

The weather her is beautiful at night… balmy and breezy. I rolled down the window and tried to take it all in… but the air was not fresh. It constantly smells like there’s a forest fire somewhere in the distance. Still, I liked it. As forewarned, there were practically no rules on the road – the cabbie drifting in and out of “lanes,” no stop signs, and lots of flicking of high-beams and honking to warn other drivers; not kidding, the driver must’ve honked his horn 30 times in the 15 minute journey to Google’s Guest House.

Dass (pronounced D-ah-z) seemed a competent enough driver and knew rudimentary English, so I wasn’t worried. That is, until we ended up at the dead-end of a dark road surrounded by construction, “keep out” and “beware of dog” signs, and an outhouse. Dass turned off the car and stepped out to look around on foot. Soon, two ambling “security” guards joined us, neither of whom knew where this fabled guesthouse was. So I got Dass to call Lalit (head of Google Bangalore) on his cell phone (thankfully, he was still up), and we got some new directions. We got back in the car and turned into what seemed to me to be a field of dirt and stones… it turned out to be the driveway of the guesthouse. The security guard came out to greet us and helped me with my bags up the stairs…