The Last Post

We spent the last day in Delhi walking around the Aerocity hotel enclave trying not to shop at the upscale boutiques.  It's quite obvious that no one walks for walking sake here - the cab drivers looked very confused when we refused their offers to take us someplace.  About the only place people go from here is the airport 15 minutes away, and since we didn't have any bags, it was unlikely we were headed there.

As directed, we arrived at the Delhi Airport 3 hours ahead and had a smooth check-in, other than our last-minute scramble to move all the spices we bought from our carry-on to our checked luggage.  I'm not sure what drug chai tea looks like, but I wasn't taking chances; didn't want some hyper-active beagle taking a little too much interest in my bag.

We did think it was odd when the check-in girl told us to be at the gate at least an hour ahead of boarding. Being good, compliant Canadians, we hustled through the first level of security where we were firmly instructed to remove articles of clothing, use bins for electronics, get rid of liquids, do the Hokey Pokey and then we were out the other side.

We went to our gate thinking that we would refill water bottles, buy some snacks and visit the washroom at least 2 more times.  Because we were flying United Airlines, and transitioning through that jewel of the East coast, Newark, we were subject to "additional security measures" per order of the Homeland Security Brotherhood.  The security was at least as invasive as the airport security gauntlet

and included wanding, air puffing and ex-rays.  If they could have introduced water-boarding they probably would have.

Once through that rigmarole, we settled into our seats and started looking around for washrooms, snack bars and neck pillow vendors - nada.  We were in a "secured area" with no access to anything in preparation for a 15-hour flight.

Debbie and I went into drug-induced meditative comas for the majority of the flight.  They did wake us up for dinner at 1am and breakfast 12 hours after that.  Was I the only person on the flight that mistook the blazing hot green chili for a string bean??  The drink trolley hadn't quite reached me so I was forced to stuff any white rice I could find on my plate down my throat. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I waited for the drink service. Hey, we got a 5-alarm situation in 43G; could we hurry it up a little?

I won't bore you with the details of our OJ Simpson run through the Newark airport.  More security, bad weather, more security, and a short flight home. Our bags took a later flight and arrived 3 days later, spices intact.

Now comes the real culture shock as we navigate jet lag, pre-Christmas madness, our social-media focused, Trump-dominated culture.  Sometimes you just need a wandering cow to bring you to the present. Oh, and the colour of the Rishikesh dust?  Just about the same colour as my shoes...

Namaste!