The Journey Begins

17 April 2017

An early start had me on the 8am flight out of Hobart, which was reasonably uneventful but I was aware of the 75 minute connection time in Melbourne.  I started to hear my name being paged as I got to the international terminal.  No real panic about the plane being ready to leave, they just wanted to ensure my travel documents for India were in order; then I got to sit and wait in the gate lounge.

The flight from Melbourne to Singapore was OK, 2 and a half movies occupied some of the time.  Lion is definitely a bit of a tear jerker and Florence Foster Jenkins was OK.  Passengers provided some light entertainment.

There was a delightful moment when, after a visit to the toilet, I was attempting a few stretches in the galley space, and a gentleman decided I needed some tai chi lessons.

A 40 minute connection time in Singapore was cut a little short by a slightly late arrival but the arrival and departure gates being relatively close did help.  The flight was in the last stages of boarding.  A smaller plane and an arrogant man in front of me who insisted on his right to fully recline his seat despite my requests otherwise made the in-flight entertainment obsolete as the screen was way too close to my face for comfort.

The arrival temperature in Delhi was 42 degrees!

The arrangements about me being met at the airport had gone awry, there was noone with a sign with my name, but a kind gentleman used his phone to call Tashi at the White House Hotel – where I was supposed to be booked and we had a slightly confusing conversation about him getting my room ready and just taking a taxi.

I identified a taxi rank manager and showed the address, but he needed to call for more details.

Anther slightly confusing conversation with someone from Dharamsala about whether I should go to the White House of just find somewhere else was a bit hard to deal with when I’d been up since 5:45am and my body clock was telling me it was about 1:30am.

In due course, I was in a taxi and heading somewhere.  That somewhere taking about an hour to get there and costing significantly more than originally indicated.  And involving lots of phone calls, some of which I was invited into.

I definitely need to sort out tipping.  The lady in the airport toilet who extracted paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to me obviously expected something – but I had no rupees, and the porter who (unnecessarily) pushed my airport cart with my bag from the taxi manager 50 metres to the taxi also clearly expected something – I had extracted money from the ATM at that stage, but had not small change easily accessible so that wasn’t going to happen either.

Delhi traffic.  What can I say?  Road rules?  Maybe not.  Nerves of steel.  Absolutely required.  Defined lanes?  Maybe. Giving way.  Nah, that’s for wimps.  Merging.  Assertive driving definitely required.  Cars, buses, bicycles, including with carts attached, 3 wheeler autos, tractors towing precariously balanced sacks of something, motorbikes carrying families, groups of young people or ladies in saris riding sidesaddle all vied for road space with hair-raising nonchalance.  Tooting of horns was universal.

After a number of stops for local advice, a Uturn and diversions up a side lane, my taxi driver stopped and said I should pay him now, he would leave me here, the hotel was close.  No way.  I asked him to call Tashi to come and meet me – I have been dumped by taxis before at the wrong location and this was definitely not somewhere I wanted to be left unattended – the entrance to a narrow lane with lots of men hanging around.

Anyway, 2 men came forward and introduced themselves, I thought as Tashi and his taxi driver.  Or maybe not, so I paid and picked up my bags and started to follow the aforementioned gentleman.  The taxi driver came and took my big bag and accompanied me up the lane to … a sign that said White House Hotel.  What an enormous relief.

I finally met the real Tashi (well, presumably) who said my booking had been mixed up and did I want a cheaper room without air conditioning or a more expensive one with air con.  42 degrees outside.  A body clock on something close to 3am.  I needed to sleep so that was a bit of a no-brainer. 

The room is basic, but does have bathroom attached.  The bed is large with a mattress that features a little more softness than the tiled floor, but not a lot.  I was pointed towards the blankets in the cupboard and assumed that under the bedspread there would be sheets.  Assume nothing.  I excavated the sheets I had packed for Dharamsala – an ancient set that had complemented my purple teenage bedroom back when…, ventured a quick shower to freshen up and headed for horizontal for 8 hours.  Barking dogs provided background noise to drown out other background noises, but sleep, mercifully, did come in fits and starts.