Taste by Veer Sanghi: Re -looking at Amsterdam with a new praise

Another journey was for IIFA, the film award function that was sponsored in HT those days. We stayed in a very good hotel with a French restaurant run by the mythical Roux brothers of London, so I remember that food is food.

A third visit was to speak at a global media conference, and wanted to know all the oppressed editors and media execution, ‘Why is the media flourishing in India?’

I hummedted before saying this and said that I was not sure we were flourishing.

This year, luck intervened. This was my wife’s birthday, and like any dutiful husband, I asked her what she would like to do on her special day.

She said that she wants to see the painting of the girl with the pearl earrings of the wormier, she said. I knew that it was a beautiful painting that inspired one of the best -selling novels and a film starring Scarlett Johansson by Tracy Shewellier. However, I was not sure where physical paintings were located.

My wife, of course, knew everything about it. It is in a museum in the Hague, he explained.

“Hague?” I asked. “But it is in the Netherlands.”

“Actually this is,” he said. “But we will stay in Amsterdam for a few days because I want to first go to the Wan Gogh Museum. Then I need to check the rambrands and verrars in the Rijksmuseum. And when we are there, I want to go to Anne Frank’s house.”

Long story short, I went back to Amsterdam and enjoyed it more than ever. I am still a bit from Palestine, but the years of marriage to an art fond have educated me a little.

We were one of the world’s major hotels in Hotel Day L ‘and the most famous in the Grand Old Hotel in Amsterdam, where our first floor balcony ignored the canal and experience was spectacular atmospheric.

We pledged to eat too much; We had no snacks with our drinks at Amsterdam Soho House, ate very well at the Duchess restaurant from the next door and enjoyed imaginative food, but enjoyed a badly organized service, which was only in the short-off-ani-gud van Ostaon.

And we did the standard Amsterdami accessories such as Resustatfel (an Indonesian rice table (Dutch was used to rule Indonesia), Strurupwafale (do not see the point of itself) and to go to the ‘coffee shop’, one of the Amsterdam institutions, where coffee can be served, but canbis will always be consumed. My wife, whose childhood was a shelter, never smells weed, so as soon as I discovered the art on the journey, she discovered the aroma of the cannabis. But as neither of us smoke, we could not pass the ambient smoke in passively.

The main attraction of our journey was Hague’s journey to see the girl with Pearl earrings. It was as amazing as we expected, and although we made our rounds of other demonstrations, we kept returning to it again and again.

I could see why it was my wife’s dream to see it close and spent hours in every detail.

But there was a story about our return to Amsterdam. Dutch has many good properties but being able to run the transport system is not one of them.

The hotel advised us to take a taxi or Uber for the Hague. He said that one hour door would take an hour, he said, and it would take longer to take a train if you are spread over stations in the cab.

We disregarded this advice because we wanted to try the Dutch railway system. We managed to find a straight train for the Hague (with the help of Kansij in Hotel Day Lor Europe) and rode in it.

When we proceeded, we were surprised to know that although many Dutch people speak very good English, all signs and announcements were only in Dutch. Quite appropriate, we said; This is their country. But given that they earn so much money from tourism, perhaps they should give some concessions to visitors whose money they are in pocket.

It didn’t really matter much until we were back in Amsterdam. At the first station on the way, everyone in our car got out. It was not a very full compartment, so we thought they were catching the connection.

But then we saw the stage. The entire train was empty. Finally, a brief English declaration took place

The train was terminated here as an accident occurred on the route.

We came out and saw the boards. Everything was in Dutch. We went to the information kiosk. It was unattainable. Finally, a kind person who saw us staring at the empty information booth, pity us. There was a collision near Amsterdam, he said. Railways did not bother to convince the trapped passengers what we should do. But he suggested another, more complex passage with the changes of the train.

Given the absence of any personnel on English signage, English announcements, or information desk, it looked very complex to handle. We ordered a Uber instead and although it took age to come, we got it in Amsterdam.

Back to the hotel, I told the story The Story. He said that he was always angry with the refusal of Railways to use any English. For the collision of the train, it seemed a consensus that they were not as rare as anyone could imagine.

“I will never travel by train in the Netherlands,” Head Kansiaz smelled.

It is not that it is easy to travel by plane. I now know that most European airports are frightening, but somehow, I hope Dutch would work better. I was wrong. They are completely useless in running airports.

I saw it on my way in Amsterdam. Like many European airports, Shifol does not offer earlier-and a fast-track immigration queue option to travelers in business.

It seems suitable egalitarian, but not. I came to know that there is actually a secret fast-track counter. You just have to pay extra for this.

Seeing that it was my wife’s birthday, we splashed on it. We were assigned to a very young immigration officer who did not know how the hotel booking works or how the flying is read. When we explained to him all this and he was not finding anything wrong (by the time the officer cleaned four passengers next to him), he was staring at the explosion and tickets through the pages of my passport, as if he was reading the latest Dan Brown Blockbuster.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself, at least delay would mean that our bags must have reached by when we reach the Hindola.

No such luck. He did not even start giving the first bag for another ten minutes. And when my reliable Tumi suitcase, which has been around the world with me many times, appeared on the belt, I could see that the baggage handle broke the handle.

The trip to Delhi was worse. We queued up to get safety, and when our turn came, they suddenly announced that the section was closed and we all sent them to another part of the airport where there was another security area. One of the two belts was not working for the X-raing bag. There were endless queues, and no attempt was made to hurry things. When people asked questions, they were reprimanded rudely. Bizarrely, white people were more humble in security. Rude came from South Asian employees of the airport.

I thanked God and made myself feel better that these people had migrated. Otherwise, we will be trapped with them!

Finally, it was time to return to Delhi in my Air India flight. I stopped criticizing Air India after the accident as there were big issues to worry.

But I think it is long enough, and it’s time to exclude the inability and misunderstanding of top management.

Essentially, we are looking into the scooter of Air India, Junior Tata’s pride and happiness, low -cost carriers, which Campbell Wilson used to run in front of Tatas, in an error of decision, hired him to rip JRD and Ratan Tata’s legacy.

Wilson has destroyed Air India’s domestic trade class and is now in the process of repeating this barbarity in international regions.

I could indicate many examples, but let’s stick to this one flight. There was no dinner menu in business class. He was not uploaded in Delhi. Also with wine. Passengers who paid huge business class fare were told that there was no champagne. He did not upload that either in Delhi.

I usually do not complain about the airline food because I know what is the catering process, but I would say that if the Indian non-vegetarian food (GATER GORAMET I was told) was served in Taj or Oberoi, the chef would have been dismissed.

Whenever I am served a nonsense airline curry, I use pickle to make it food. But they also forgot to load pickles. Papad improves the texture of any rice and curry dish, so I asked for it instead. He also forgot to load Papad.

My heart went to the cabin supervisor, who went to the guest to apologize to the guest which was not his fault. Earlier, he had tried to get the Shipol team to clean the dirty Aero Bridge, through which the passengers boarded. When he said that there was not a firm, he started cleaning it himself.

These are the people who have worked for Air India for years. They feel that they give it to the airline to maintain a certain standard. And yet, even when they are trying to improve things, their owners are trying their best to make them worse. No wonder that morale is so low.

I really do not care about the Helhole that is a shifol or a Holland -collision trains. Dutch can solve its problems.

But I care about Air India. And it makes me unhappy to see the loss that is doing its current management for the reputation of Tatas, for whom I am so honored.

If they are committed to Wilson, they should transfer them to a low -cost Air India X that may be more visible for them. Or perhaps they can just ask him to scoot.

Both, Air India’s legacy and good names are in danger, this mismanagement continues for a long time.