Tuesday June 1 Day 90
I shall recount the entire trip from the mountains of India to Seattle in this final blog.
The first was that the taxi I had ordered failed to show up at 2 pm on Sunday May 31. My cook at Kilmarnock gat me a taxi 40 minutes after I needed to leave. Most of us have been to Disneyland (world) and ridden “Mr Toads WIld Ride”. I have now surpassed any riding experience in any of the multiple continents I have visited. You have not lived until you ride down a from the mountains of India in a beat up Omni van (the size of a postage stamp on steroids) with brakes that work only at the last possible instance and only with much screeching and grinding. Now the driver is a former mountain road racer, to hear him tell it, and has never had a accident in his 12 years (I was under the deeply impressed impression that it was closer to 12 days) of driving the road from Mussoorie to Dehradun. This is the road that has 39 curves of over 180 degrees, 56 curves between 180 and 90 degrees and 109 curves between 45 and 90 degrees. It is not a good example of the straight and narrow road that leads to heaven (you only feel like that exalted residence is only moments away on multiple occasions). The young man spent several curves spitting out the window, sneezing out the window and then having to wipe is nose with his extra hand (the one that rarely got close to the steering wheel). Perhaps his greatest handicap was the horn was broken and so to get the attention of drivers in the lead of the race to to bottom of the hill. He solved this problem by yelling out the window and actually got the attention of several enough for us to get past. He never actually passed on a blind curve but on ones that you could see if oncoming traffic was approaching. We only had one narrow miss but that was solved by our cutting off the vehicle we were passing. I genuinely had visions of the brakes failing and us plowing into the rear end of anyone unlucky enough to be in the lead. After our leisurely stroll down the hill we arrived at the railroad station with 56 minutes to spare. I needed to be early because there are only 2 spaces for oversized luggage in the train carriage. I got them both because the coolie banged on the door and we got into the carriage early. Indian culture is a strong lever of first come, first serve.
I got run through the squeeze play twice in 5 hours by the Indian taxi services. Ii had my luggage on the curb outside the railway station in Delhi trying to get a taxi to go 5 kilometers. I had paid 100 rupees for my original trip to the railway state in March. The price started at 950 rupees and I got them down to 700 rupees ($16 USs). The excuses for these charges was 400 for the taxi, 200 to load the luggage, 300 for night time taxi etc. When I told the desk clerk at the hotel what I had paid he was really shocked. I was stuck and the taxi man knew it because the coolies had left and how was I to get my luggage off the side of the road. I was told by the desk clerk that the price to the airport would be 350 rupees. I had paid 272 rupees, a government controlled price, to get to this hotel from the airport. Well, at 4 am this morning the price was now 400 rupees because it was no longer night but early morning. When I added everything up, the cost of taxis and coolies came out the same in March and May, very interesting!
I was in my hotel room (after a short, uneventful ride) by midnight. My alarm was set for 4 am. I was up and out of the hotel by 4:20 and to the airport by 5am. Getting my boarding pass was slick and I was able to get an isle seat. On long flights the isle seats are prized because you do not have to walk over others to get to the restroom. I was selected (lucky me) for a random additional security check by Indian personnel. The first question asked was if I had any Rupees on me. I answered in the affirmative and was informed that I was not allowed to take the money outside India. I had 5,000 rupees to be used to get me back to the mountains in September. I was informed that I needed to exchange to rupees for dollars before passing a particular sign. I was not allowed to go back behind the sign and exchange my rupees. I asked if they expected me to give them the money and they said no but the next time I leave India, get my rupees changed before passing “The Sign”. When I entered India, I was informed that it was not possible to exchange rupees for dollars. Evidently the one exception is when leaving India with a foreign passport. I expected the officials to take my money and pocket it, but if they did I could raise a stink and they would get in trouble.
I went through security quickly and was waiting to board my plane at 5:30 am. Flight left at 8:15. The airport requests that you get to the airport 3 hours before your flight. I guess at 5 am there is not that much traffic. I wanted to have my video tapes “hand checked” by security to avoid possible damage to the tapes by the security x-ray machines. There was not a single soul at security that spoke english and would not even respond to any attempt to speak to them. I took the risk. I shall find out in the next couple of days if my video tapes were damaged when I can find the various connecting cables for my video player. (If the tryping of this is poor, it is becasue I have my fingers crossed about the video tapes. It is dificult to type with fingers crossed.)
As we boarded the plane most of us had our bags searched very throughly by British Air personnel. I do not know why and no explanation was given. I was questioned because I had 20 Insulin syringes in my bag. They suggested that I put those in my check luggage in the future. I had not even thought of doing that (genius, huh!!)
The readers of this blog know that my eating in India has been slightly lacking (complete lack of taste and enjoyment). It is a sad commentary that the best thing I had to eat in 90 days was a breakfast of airline food. There was noting to recommend it to anyone except there was a brown, meat gravy for the corn meal mush (how that is a breakfast food I do not know). My next culinary delight was a sandwich at the airport in London. The British are not well know for tasty sandwiches, but the BLT I had was rapturously delicious. I guess the taste of foods is comparative to what one has had in the recent past.
During my flight from London to Seattle I actually had a nap. I was listening to Frank Sinatra and was tapped on my shoulder. The people sitting next to me had to use the sand box. The airline’s Frank Sinatra CD had a skipping problem. I had missed 5 songs (the thing must have skipped) or I had fallen asleep. This couple had ended my one nap on the 9 hour flight after about 20 minutes. My son picked me up at the ariport, he walked into to baggage claim area as I was dragging my first suitcase off the carrousel. It was 6:00 pm. My son lives in my home in Maple Valley so I had dinner (a real home cooked meal) and talked with my sons, their wives and 4 children. I was a bit pooped. I had been up for 30 hours, except for the famous 20 minute nap, traveled half way around the globe and carried on reasonably conscious conversations and it was time to go to bed. My calfs had other ideas. I was awakened at 2 am with a major cramp in my left calf. and hour later I was attacked by my body with cramps in both of my calfs. The next morning I could hardly walk at all. It was 2 days before I could walk with any semblance of erratic comfort.
I arrived home on Tuesday night. Today is Saturday morning and I am finally able to think clearly enough to finish writing this posting. I guess my experience in India for 90 days has really set me back. My recovery is not anywhere near a quick as I had hoped but it is coming along.
