Banga Wars: Revenge of the Tuk Tuks

We started our day off with another free breakfast courtesy of our hotel, then prepared for our cooking class with Manju. We had high hopes since we were able to customize this class…. We chose a number of traditional South Indian dishes: naan, chutney, sambar, dal, chicken chettinad, vada, and masala dosas.

But then the wifi cut out, our hotel wouldn’t get us a taxi, and we were running out of time to get to the class. We also had to run to around to 3 ATMs in the pouring rain to get some cash. After getting our cash and dealing with 5 tuk tuks with dreams of outlet mall commissions, we finally got a tuk tuk to take us where we wanted to go – for more than we wanted to pay, but what choice did we have?

As it turned out, the tuk tuk driver didn’t actually know where our cooking class was. Fortunately, we had data on Kim’s phone, so we pulled up google maps and shouted directions at him as he drove like a complete mad-man. We found it’s actually quite easy to give directions like “TURN RIGHT NOW” when your tuk tuk driver does not give a single fuck about going through 4 lanes of oncoming traffic on a whim. We arrived at our cooking class on time and in a bit of a state, we’ll do a separate post on the class shortly.

Kim says that the reoccurring theme with Bangalore was perseverance met with crushing disappointment, and she wanted to write this next bit in full… enjoy.

Since we couldn’t get to Nandi Hills the day before, we tried to go after our cooking class. Unsurprisingly, this proved impossible. Why? Because for some reason in India, you can’t f*cking do anything without an Indian phone number. You need a +91 number to get an Ola, an Uber, an airport taxi, to gain access to wifi… and you can’t even get an Indian phone number without being an Indian resident, or buying a special sim card at select airports (allegedly)! So we decided to just give up and go to the airport 5 hours early. But we also couldn’t do that, (no # = no taxi). We were so distraught because we literally could not do anything. Then, once again, a tuk tuk turned the corner and asked us where we wanted to go. We desperately wanted to just GTFO Bangalore and get to the airport. This tuk tuk was cooperative and said he would take us to an airport taxi stand. At this point we were so so discouraged that we just took the offer. He drove us 2km to the side of a busy road and got out. We didn’t see a taxi stand… so we peered out and saw that our tuk tuk driver was being paid by some guy. We looked at each other and got out of the tuk tuk asking what the f*ck was going on. Apparently, this guy was our airport taxi. It turns out this “airport taxi” was an Uber driver, but was in cahoots with the tuk tuk driver to give him commission for any passengers he delivered. Whatever, you win tuk tuk drivers. He turned up the AC and played some English music for us, and we made it safely to the airport (Celine Dion’s: My Heart Will Go On). We were 4 hours early for our flight but we were just glad to be at our favourite place in Bangalore: the airport. We headed straight for the Plaza Premium Lounge (yolo) and spent the whole time there until our flight to Jaipur. See you never Bangalore!