The idiot Buyer Abroad - part 2

40 miles to the next supplier and in Bangalore that will take another hour and half(15.30), another late night I am sure, by the time we are back to the hotel

How wrong could I be! 17.00 was nearer the time.

Firstly we were held up by a cow that fancied a rest and lay down in the middle of the road. She politely ignored everyone trying to get through. As no doubt she knew, cows are sacred in India and are allowed free roaming rights, wherever and whenever they wish. I have actually seen a cow entering a corner shop presumably to get its morning paper and perhaps a pint of milk.

Once we had navigated around the cow we encountered total gridlock, not unknown in these parts but after an hour of edging forward, changing lanes, dodging scooters and the odd friendly hand gesture we made some progress. Interestingly, when we moved ahead, I could see the reason for three lanes going into one was due to the brand spanking new mono rail being built. This is in itself a major achievement not for the technology of inserting a mono rail across one of busiest cities in the world but the myriad of local council approvals the rail company has to obtain to allow them to build. Hence this mono rail has taken years to approve and build and is still far from complete. In China it is so much easier when it comes to development. The central and regional governments just decide to build a rail link and it's done! No lengthy consultations and approvals from various regulatory and official bodies. Having said that, safety is another issue.

By 17.00 we were approaching the last supplier premises of the day. The road approaching this supplier was not tarmacked or vaguely marked, purely a crumbling, bumpy, stone strewn road that appeared to lead precisely to nowhere. Like so many small businesses in India they often start near or adjacent to the owner's property; obviously cuts the horrendous commute I was suffering but most inaccessible for anyone else!

We arrived and were greeted by the obligatory security guard in a suit two sizes too big, who smiled politely and pointed vaguely at a book; we were obviously meant to sign in. We were met in the lobby (in reality the bottom of the stairs) by the owner (MD), "good afternoon, I trust you had a good journey?" he said in a perfect upper class English accent. Not really I thought temptingly but it was not worth explaining the three and half hour trip. So I replied politely, saying "yes fine."

We entered the conference room, yes, with an air-conditioning unit not just workable but on. I smiled with relief. "Tea or coffee" the MD asked. I always opt for tea when in India as coffee is often from these small packets you find in hotel rooms and is normally the cheapest and tastes correspondingly. Tea duly arrived with a small plate of handmade biscuits; at least they looked handmade but did taste rather good, despite my trepidation.

The purpose of our visit was to review their recent samples and associated paperwork (test report, measurement report and material conformity certificates), In India like China, such documents are often submitted by the supplier but not surprisingly can have no bearing on reality. Regular checks and cross checks are always a good idea. The supplier had received my agenda a week or two prior to my visit so he clearly knew the purpose of our visit (always a good idea, as it should save time),

however the MD looked at me blankly when I asked to see the relevant paperwork for the parts in question. I thought my English was unclear so in my best slow, possibly louder and simple English I repeated the question; "Aaaaaah" he replied, his face lighting up. He jumped up and promptly left the room. I had another biscuit. Five minutes later, "We sent them to the UK via DHL yesterday" he said smiling. Somewhat confused and very slightly annoyed I asked "did you not receive my email, regarding my visit?" "oh yes" he replied. "So, why then have you sent the samples and paperwork to the UK before we arrived?" I asked struggling to keep calm. "I thought you meant we were to send them to you in the UK he replied."

Now I am totally confused and trying to regain some purpose for the three and half hour car journey just to get here I asked "do you have copies of what you sent?" "Yes of course" was the reply. "Go and get them!" I was close to the edge.

The MD duly disappeared in a flash

After the journey and the tea, I needed the bathroom. Whenever I am in India, other than the hotel room, my trepidation on entering the toilet is palpable and this time was no exception. I was directed to the appropriate room. First surprise of all there was the complete absence of a door! Was this the ladies or the gents? As I could only see the one I had to make the assumption it was shared, in India this is not uncommon. Any attempt at sitting down would be a problem as there was no seat, I was staring at what appeared to be merely two (small) ceramic foot shapes one assumes you should stand in and then stand or crouch over what looked like a long deep blackabyss. The smell was not surprisingly unbearable so I tried not to breathe at least not much, whilst trying not to look down this hole and being polite, at the same time not wanting to miss! The film trainspotting comes meandering into my head. I quickly remove these thoughts and look for a sink to wash my hands in, inevitably the hot tap lacks output and the cold trickles at best. Where's the towel? I suspect you can guess! So I shake my hands frantically to remove the worst of the wetness and exit as quickly as possible as by now I need to take in oxygen.

By the time I return from my experience, the MD has returned. He asks why I am panting (quick thinking is needed, I can't say I held my breath in the toilet), "I ran up the stairs" I reply, he looks at me strangely as the toilet was of course on the same floor. He says nothing more. We agree my QA engineer should review the findings or not as it transpires, while the MD and I resolve some pressing commercial matters; we have not paid him for some time.

By 19.30 it was time to leave, no doubt at least one hour back to the hotel but I prayed that by now the rush hour was more or less over.

The trip home was (I hope), uneventful, as inevitably I fell asleep. It is far less stressful than watching the manic traffic, frantic pedestrians, overloaded buses and our old friends the cows all vying for their position on the road. I can never sleep well at night whilst away, thus 30 minutes here and there on each journey allows me to keep going. India at night is just like India in the day, busy, confusing, noisy and the scene is lit by very low light emitting street lights which gives everything a dim depressing look.

As we arrived at the hotel, a well oiled machine sprang into life. Firstly, two rather sleepy looking security guards wheeled out a large saucer shaped mirror to check the underside of the taxi, another

checks inside the boot but not inside the car! We then drive the further 20 metres to the front entrance where the door is opened by one of the bell boys, eagerly searching for bags to carry, the bell boy manager smiles and asks if you had a good day, (I decline to respond, just force a smile) while placing your laptop bag on an x-ray machine. My mobile sets of off the metal detector as I pass through it but I am cheerfully waived through. Obviously I do not have the face of a terrorist. Such security is normal now in India since the Mumbai bombings in 2008.

Exhausted, I enter the lift and insert my key card (another minor security precaution); as I ascend slowly but smoothly heading to my room. All I can think of is a nice shower, a cold beer and an early night. Then it hits me and I remember a dinner engagement with another supplier scheduled for 21.00. I look at my watch 20.55....I swear under my breath, as I exit the lift at full speed to quickly freshen up.

In China the supplier is always very keen to eat lunch and dinner with you, indeed it can be very difficult to avoid especially within the Chinese culture that believes relationships, trust and understanding are critical to a successful business relationship. In India such dinners are certainly more random and are not perceived in the same way. Nevertheless this dinner was at my request and was the only way to ensure I met all the suppliers I wanted to see in such a short visit.

He had chosen a nearby traditional Indian restaurant, full of locals who inevitably stare at the only westerner in the room. However, my presence isn't a topic for long and they soon ignore me. The menu is helpfully written in English, which was a nice touch nevertheless I suggested our host order, He asked if there was anything I didn't like. I replied in the negative other than it must be cooked (something I always insist on; to try and avoid the infamous Delhi Belly), A cold beer was quickly in front of me but the host drank juice. Most Indians do not drink due to their religion, again totally different to China who like nothing more to "Gan bay" (bottoms up!) every time you pick up your drink. It seems to be their idea that it is essential to get you, or them, or both of you more and more intoxicated. Their rice wine >40% proof always kills me.

Dinner arrives, it smells great, looks very similar to every curry I have ever had in the UK, although the bread (naan) and the vegetables are a lot more varied and the bread is so fresh. I notice that my host is using no knife or fork nor indeed do I have a knife or fork so I follow his lead using my bread in one hand (the right of course for those fellow travellers) to sort of scoop up my food, I ask why only the right hand? I am politely told that the left is unclean for reasons we won't elaborate on here! Bit of a problem if you are left handed, I think to myself.

Only two beers but a very nice meal and meeting over, I jump into the car with the driver still awake and waiting for me, it was a hot sticky night and the ever present problem is the aircon; if you sit in the back you cannot feel it! It is like an invisible wall between back and front, freezing the driver and steaming the passenger in the back. Through experience I always sit in the front.

Fifteen minutes I am back in the hotel, the quickest journey I have done all week in India. I fancy a late drink but at 11.30pm all bars, including Hotels are closed to reduce drinking and driving, which has become a serious problem apparently. I mull over the thought that this must be strange considering 90% of Indians should not drink for religious reasons.....I ponder this further as I read my emails before going to bed 1.00am and prepare to tackle another sleepless night!