It’s a long way from Singapore to Orlando, but when I fly on the impeccable Singapore Airlines, time flies too. After 19 hours of non-stop pampering, I landed in New York, and by trotting briskly, was lucky to squeeze into a Continental Airlines flight earlier than planned.
My luck did not extend to getting a glorious seat. Squashed between two comfortably-built ladies who had already laid claim to the armrests, I tucked my elbows in and sat upright, but despite the cramped position, fell asleep. When I awoke, I was pleased that we were in the air but dismayed that my neighbours had both been served dinner, which surprisingly looked edible. The two flight attendants – grim arm wrestlers in their fifties – were several feet ahead serving others. There was a call button above my seat to summon service but in America, this is purely ornamental. You never actually press it, unless you’re ready to take on the stewardess in unarmed combat. So I watched in agony as my companions devoured sandwiches, chips and cookies with relish.
In my hotel room at 11 p.m., having reduced a giant sandwich to mere crumbs, I went to bed but couldn’t go to sleep. I tried lying on my back, my side and my stomach (one at a time). I even tried sitting upright with elbows tucked in. But sleep wouldn’t come. My body was still sweltering in the mid-morning heat of Singapore.
After tossing around for a few hours, I got up, changed and went out. In delightfully cool weather, under a star-filled sky, I ran on a path by the lake. Dawn was breaking when I returned. Instead of the usual view of skyscrapers and the muted sound of traffic twenty stories below, it was refreshing to step into my third-floor balcony and gaze at a golf course set among lakes and forests and listen to the chirping of a myriad of birds. Beyond the golf links cars moved on a highway, too far away to hear; and beyond that, the majestic tower of the Rosen Hotel loomed over the tree tops.
Sitting in the balcony was calming. I slowly drifted into a state of tranquillity. Feeling mellow, my face aglow, I wondered: was this how monks felt when they meditated in the Himalayas? But unlike the monks, I couldn’t hold the mood for long; soon a mundane predicament from mother earth cut through my serenity: should I visit an amusement park on my own, a lone idiot unaccompanied by children, or leave Orlando without visiting any theme park (somewhat akin to going to Goa and missing the beach)? After all, Orlando is a hotbed of amusement parks. Disney opened Magic Kingdom in 1971 and followed it up with Animal Kingdom, Epcot, Blizzard Beach, Typhoon Lagoon and Hollywood Studios. Then you have Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, Sea World, Busch Gardens, Cypress Gardens, Silver Springs, Orlando Paintball, Fun Spot Action Park and Magical Midway. I came up with the neat compromise of cajoling a colleague to accompany me, figuring two adults on a slide or in a picture with Donald Duck look significantly less ridiculous than one.
Entering Magic Kingdom, we were transported into a surreal world, with thrilling rides, exotic places like The Pirates League and Bibbidi Bibbidi Boutique, food and beverage always within arm’s reach, the Disney characters brushing shoulders with everyone and, above all, sparkling-eyed children shrieking with joy. I suspect I walked around with my mouth wide open.
We then went to Sea World and hobnobbed with interesting creatures like dolphins, beluga whales, and sea lions but our courage ran dry when we read the descriptions of the exotic-sounding rides like Manta (“…a head-first, face-down thrill…”) and Kraken (“… monster coaster like no other…daring you to take it on…”). Instead we opted for the rather tame, somewhat lame, Skytower, a leisurely six-minute ride up a 400-metre structure offering a grand view of the entire park and downtown Orlando.
In the evening, I drove 30 miles to the Shri Shiv Dham Temple and, as in previous visits to the USA, was amazed at the reproduction of our culture in a foreign land. Entering the temple premises, I was transported to India in terms of architecture, deities, pujaris and rituals. Driving out, of course, I was rudely brought back to America, having to immediately move to the wrong side of the road.
Orlando is also the site of the gigantic Orange County Convention Center. Since I had travelled to Orlando for my company’s bi-annual convention, there was little danger of my missing this, but even the casual tourist should take a peep – just to appreciate the size. It spreads over a mammoth 7 million square feet, with exhibit floors that stretch more than a kilometre, conference rooms the size of hockey fields and a parking lot that can accommodate a few jumbo jets.
One evening, I visited Downtown Disney, a beautiful boardwalk along a lake, with restaurants, cafes, bars and shops. It was bustling with life and colour. We had drinks at one of numerous bars and dinner at an Italian restaurant. On another night we ate at Ocean’s Grill, a restaurant renowned for seafood and steaks. My companions declared its reputation was well-deserved and, being the only vegetarian in the group, I could find no fault with the mashed potatoes either.
After the convention, our group headed to Orlando airport. It was filled with families from around the world. The adults had the relaxed, smug look of parents who had completed a major duty. The children looked starry-eyed and dizzy with joy. I glanced at the brochures and trinkets my colleagues and I had picked up at the convention and then at the Disney mementos the children clutched tightly in their tiny hands and smiled wryly. Orlando may host some of the world’s biggest business conventions, I thought, but at its core, it is a fairyland for kids.
My luck did not extend to getting a glorious seat. Squashed between two comfortably-built ladies who had already laid claim to the armrests, I tucked my elbows in and sat upright, but despite the cramped position, fell asleep. When I awoke, I was pleased that we were in the air but dismayed that my neighbours had both been served dinner, which surprisingly looked edible. The two flight attendants – grim arm wrestlers in their fifties – were several feet ahead serving others. There was a call button above my seat to summon service but in America, this is purely ornamental. You never actually press it, unless you’re ready to take on the stewardess in unarmed combat. So I watched in agony as my companions devoured sandwiches, chips and cookies with relish.
In my hotel room at 11 p.m., having reduced a giant sandwich to mere crumbs, I went to bed but couldn’t go to sleep. I tried lying on my back, my side and my stomach (one at a time). I even tried sitting upright with elbows tucked in. But sleep wouldn’t come. My body was still sweltering in the mid-morning heat of Singapore.
After tossing around for a few hours, I got up, changed and went out. In delightfully cool weather, under a star-filled sky, I ran on a path by the lake. Dawn was breaking when I returned. Instead of the usual view of skyscrapers and the muted sound of traffic twenty stories below, it was refreshing to step into my third-floor balcony and gaze at a golf course set among lakes and forests and listen to the chirping of a myriad of birds. Beyond the golf links cars moved on a highway, too far away to hear; and beyond that, the majestic tower of the Rosen Hotel loomed over the tree tops.
Sitting in the balcony was calming. I slowly drifted into a state of tranquillity. Feeling mellow, my face aglow, I wondered: was this how monks felt when they meditated in the Himalayas? But unlike the monks, I couldn’t hold the mood for long; soon a mundane predicament from mother earth cut through my serenity: should I visit an amusement park on my own, a lone idiot unaccompanied by children, or leave Orlando without visiting any theme park (somewhat akin to going to Goa and missing the beach)? After all, Orlando is a hotbed of amusement parks. Disney opened Magic Kingdom in 1971 and followed it up with Animal Kingdom, Epcot, Blizzard Beach, Typhoon Lagoon and Hollywood Studios. Then you have Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, Sea World, Busch Gardens, Cypress Gardens, Silver Springs, Orlando Paintball, Fun Spot Action Park and Magical Midway. I came up with the neat compromise of cajoling a colleague to accompany me, figuring two adults on a slide or in a picture with Donald Duck look significantly less ridiculous than one.
Entering Magic Kingdom, we were transported into a surreal world, with thrilling rides, exotic places like The Pirates League and Bibbidi Bibbidi Boutique, food and beverage always within arm’s reach, the Disney characters brushing shoulders with everyone and, above all, sparkling-eyed children shrieking with joy. I suspect I walked around with my mouth wide open.
We then went to Sea World and hobnobbed with interesting creatures like dolphins, beluga whales, and sea lions but our courage ran dry when we read the descriptions of the exotic-sounding rides like Manta (“…a head-first, face-down thrill…”) and Kraken (“… monster coaster like no other…daring you to take it on…”). Instead we opted for the rather tame, somewhat lame, Skytower, a leisurely six-minute ride up a 400-metre structure offering a grand view of the entire park and downtown Orlando.
In the evening, I drove 30 miles to the Shri Shiv Dham Temple and, as in previous visits to the USA, was amazed at the reproduction of our culture in a foreign land. Entering the temple premises, I was transported to India in terms of architecture, deities, pujaris and rituals. Driving out, of course, I was rudely brought back to America, having to immediately move to the wrong side of the road.
Orlando is also the site of the gigantic Orange County Convention Center. Since I had travelled to Orlando for my company’s bi-annual convention, there was little danger of my missing this, but even the casual tourist should take a peep – just to appreciate the size. It spreads over a mammoth 7 million square feet, with exhibit floors that stretch more than a kilometre, conference rooms the size of hockey fields and a parking lot that can accommodate a few jumbo jets.
One evening, I visited Downtown Disney, a beautiful boardwalk along a lake, with restaurants, cafes, bars and shops. It was bustling with life and colour. We had drinks at one of numerous bars and dinner at an Italian restaurant. On another night we ate at Ocean’s Grill, a restaurant renowned for seafood and steaks. My companions declared its reputation was well-deserved and, being the only vegetarian in the group, I could find no fault with the mashed potatoes either.
After the convention, our group headed to Orlando airport. It was filled with families from around the world. The adults had the relaxed, smug look of parents who had completed a major duty. The children looked starry-eyed and dizzy with joy. I glanced at the brochures and trinkets my colleagues and I had picked up at the convention and then at the Disney mementos the children clutched tightly in their tiny hands and smiled wryly. Orlando may host some of the world’s biggest business conventions, I thought, but at its core, it is a fairyland for kids.
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