Passage to India (2)

Looking back and over my life I have when forced into them made a series of successful judgements but equally have had a plotted course blown off track by what Harold MacMillan called “Events,dear boy, events” or as John Lennon observed “Life is what happens between events”. I have also experienced another phenomenon of thinking that I am on the wrong course after an ill-judged call but actually it all worked out well. Thus it was that I booked 3 weeks already in Thailand when Duggie Heath suggested I should join him in India over some of that period. It seemed extravagant to have 2 holidays booked at the same time but I really would not have fancied another 2 weeks at the resort which is off the main island of Phuket with limited resources. Truth be told I could not face another Aussie over a sludgy meal in his singlet tattoos and hairy armpits.

However I had mixed feelings of India. On one hand travellers there described it as a mystical spiritual experience, always wanting to return, whilst I thought I must get Delhi belly and travelling the sub-continent is a nightmare. There are also the extremes of wealth and poverty.

I set off at 12-40 pm Thai time. I have noticed that in the airport Thai staff rush around officiously jabbering into their walkie-talkies but the overall system is inefficient. Signage is poor, my flight to Bangkok was not even listed on the board and, when a gate was announced, it was different to the one on my boarding card. Hand baggage was checked 3 times in 5 minutes, my visa to India scrutinised for 5 minutes. The Bangkok flight was delayed for 45 minutes causing concern to those of us with connecting flights. Eventually I boarded the New Delhi plane on an airline jet of which I have never heard. My neighbour had a noisy row over the food he was served. It made me think that, if it had been me, how ashamed I would feel as the polite cabin staff did their best to placate  him. I then had an attack of anxious dread, as Freud called it. The travel agent in the itinerary notes stated that medicine can only be brought in with a supporting prescription. This was in my safe in Phuket. Supposing they confiscated my blood pressure medication?

More anxious dread. Would there be a ground staff rep to meet me and if so how would I find him/her in the confusion that is Delhi airport? I had emailed my concerns to the travel agent. She informed me that there would be a rep waiting for me off the plane and another once through customs. The uniformed (Indians respect uniforms) lady rep Vanita could not have been more helpful and immigration and customs were uneventfully negotiated. On the other arrival side was the SITA rep a smiling young  man called Mohishu – if I got his name correctly. His first act was to present me with a red cord bracelet from the temple to bring me enjoyment and good luck.

He was the guide, another fellow drove, which is just as well as Delhi traffic jams are amongst the worst in the world. The other significant  problem is severe pollution. As I write this at 9.00 am there is fog outside which will not lift till 11-00 am.

I soon found myself warming to Mohishu who explained the “monestar ” greeting of hands steepled together in front of the heart to indicate warm-hearted friendliness. As Daffers always says greeting is so important. Far from travelling through slums, as one does en route from Cape Town airport, there were wide green boulevards and elegant housing and we soon arrived at the prestigious Taj Mahal hotel for more monestars all round.  Even at 1-30 am it was lively and I could appreciate one of the great hotels of the world. The service was super efficient, everyone so helpful, but at 3-30 Thai time all I wanted was to unpack, shower and sleep.

I think I am going to like India.