We have traveled 10,000 miles to Bangalore India to host our Global Advancement of Women Conference with EMC and Cisco. The conference is on Wednesday, but we are here 2 days early to adjust to the 10.5 hour time difference.

What a first day we have had! I woke up at 1:00 in the afternoon when Janet Wigfield, our Content Director knocked on my door to say I couldn't sleep all day. We had breakfast at the ITC Windsor Hotel's lovely South Indian restaurant. The buffet was a magnificent array of foods familiar and new--all looking very exciting. As I made my way through the buffet I was surprised to hear the sounds of an accordion. Here? In India? I felt right at home since my husband Bob plays his accordion every day. M.B. Prakash was playing all the same songs that Bob plays, and he told me that all accordionists play the same music the world over. So we tested his acumen by asking him to play The Beer Barrel Polka, which he did, and extraordinarily well too!

We hired a driver and zoomed across town to see the Bangalore Palace, where the King, whose family had ruled for 15 generations, still lives. The Palace is being renovated and is not too well kept up but was very fun to tour. Our guide was a fresh young man who told us amusing stories and asked us funny questions like why our noses are big (they're certainly not!). The King is apparently a fashion designer, and the last stop on the tour was his shop, the Royal House of Mysore, where we spent nearly an hour trying to find a dress to bring home to daughter Julia. Success: I found an off the shoulder crepe brown/orange dress with hand painted butterflies and leaves.

On to the Botanical Garden where hundreds of ordinary people wearing either magnificent colored saris or jeans were lounging on the side of a huge sloping rock waiting for a concert to begin. At the top of the rock was one of four Kempegowda Towers that were built in 1521 to mark the edges of the city of Bangalore. People were selling corn, which they cooked over low grills, and the sweet smell of cucumbers wafted over the area as men cut them into strips for sale. The garden was hosting the annual Mango and Jack Fruit Festival-complete with prizes for the best of the bunch.  This was not a sight I anticipated seeing!

Our driver then took us to the Bull Temple and told us we had to leave our shoes in the car. We didn't believe him, and argued that we wanted to wear them up to the temple and then take them off. No, he said, you must leave them here. Couldn't we wear them and then put them in our plastic bag, we asked? We just didn't want to get out of the car barefoot-it seemed so unsanitary. No, no, no he said. Leave the shoes in the car. So we did. No one had shoes on and we remembered the scene in Slumdog where the children stole the shoes at the Taj Mahal. The temple was worth the barefoot requirement. The Bull was enormous, housed in a structure built tightly around him. We walked a narrow path all around and watch Hindis touching him and then touching their faces. They prayed and looked excited to be able to touch and pray to him.

The people were even more excited in the temple at the foot of the Bull Temple where two bare-chested holy men were receiving gifts of food and flowers from people who were crowding around them held back by behind two brass railings The holy men walked up and down inside the railings and took the gifts inside a small room in the center of the temple. I'm not sure what was in there but perhaps a statue of the elephant god, Ganesh. Many people, men and women, twirled three times and then dropped on their knees and touched their forehead to the ground, got up and prayed. Others sat on the edge of the room with elaborate patterns of wax and candles in front of them.

A small band of musicians came in followed by a man with a bullhorn. They made a lot of noise and gave very fancy plates of food and flowers to the Holy men.

Everyone seemed quite happy to be there. It was loud and bustling and exciting.

One last stop on our tour: Marty, our driver now friend (after the shoe incident where we learned to trust him) took us the National Cottage Emporium, which I thought would be like a flea market. It was not a flea market. A very elegant man in a brown western suit, Sajar, greeted us and invited us to learn about the hand tied rugs of India. "How much are they?" I asked very prematurely. We saw the video, had a demonstration of durability and learned much more than I can explain about these gorgeous rugs. The Emporium also had sections for jewelry, clothes, statues--all the merchandise was lovely and well priced. They served us aromatic tea with magic spices that loosened our wallets. Janet bought some rings...and I bought a rug that will last 250 years, will never show a furniture indentation and will be passed down to my grandchildren's children, according to Sajar.

Enough for one day! We had dinner at the North Indian restaurant at the hotel and I prepared for my speech at IBM, which is tomorrow.

I love India!