Gotta love airports

I just remembered a rather funny anecdote from when I was travelling to India the second time, back in 2007. I'm sorry I seem to be talking about India all the time, but I'm trying to make myself to write down more about it (especially in order to finish my So-Called Book), so please bare with me.

So, I book my ticket, go to the office, cash it out, get out on the street and start dancing and giggling uncontrollably. Movie scene. I got a really good deal, since I was still under 25 then and I was really happy about that. I pack my shit up and my friend Maja takes me to the airport. I'm not taking anything warm to wear, since the temperatures there are 25-35, but it's December here and people are giving me weird looks. I know better.

I have a cup of coffee with Maja, do some shopping at the tobacco shop and get a small but insanely appreciated gift from Maja - a Snickers. I suggest we go to the counter, so I can check in and get that over with. At this time she's completely cool, letting me do all the blabbing and all. If I get aware of the fact that I'm leaving for India for five months, I'll start running around the airport in circles. Like when a soccer player scores.

Okay, check in time.

'Hello.'
'Hello.'
'I'd like to check in.'

I give her my ticket and my passport and she's completely Mona Lisa with me. She checks the passport, glances at me and checks the ticket. All of a sudden she's all nice and all, giving me the widest smile possible.

'So, have you ever flown before?'
'Yeah, sure.''
'Out of the country?'
'Yes.'
'And you're travelling alone?'
'Yes, I am.'
'To India?'
'Umm, yeah.'
'Alright...'

Maja is standing next to me, checking out brochures like's she's taking her next vacation somewhere in Polynesia. In fact it's just a bunch of those small name tags that you can put on your luggage. So, the hostess is giving a call to Istanbul Atatürk Airport to confirm my flight and motioning me to to put my backpack on the baggage strip. All with a gigantic smile.

She puts the big label saying IST and BOM on it and another one saying Türk Hava Yollari - Turkish Airlines. She doesn't stop there, but puts at least five more saying Special Care, VIP passenger, Extra Heavy, Handle With Care and what not. I'm looking around to see where the candid camera is hidden. By this time there's at least another hostess and a host with her and I feel like there's a light spot on me. Or one of those red sniper dots, you know.

And everyone's smiling at me. Maja is just grinning, but she also has no idea what's going on. So, the hostess yells to the main desk host or whoever he was:
'This gentleman is flying to Mumbai, so please take special care of him. He's flying India by himself and he's fourteen.'

I look at her in awe and can't suppress a burst of laughter. I hope none of my saliva jetted her way over the counter. Maja is laughing like crazy, but you can her no sound coming out of her mouth. She's trying to cover herself up with those tiny name tags, but she fails completely. It's just name tags.

Not that it matters really. Thanks for the compliment, now I feel even younger. I wanna make the most innocent expression possible and even put my hands on the counter, like a puppy putting its front paws on the table. But I try to get a grip.

'Umm, sorry, but I'm not fourteen.'
'But your ticket says Young Passenger.'
'Yes, it does, because there's a discount if you're under 25. I'm 24.'
'Aah, okay.'

She's a bit embarrassed, but in a cute kind of way. My backpack and all its tags are on their way to wherever the whole machinery is located, somewhere behind the counter.

'My baggage is going all the way, right? I don't have to pick it up in Istanbul?'
'No no, it's going all the way, don't worry. It's completely secure.'

With all those tags I can't imagine otherwise, but better be sure.

'Okay, so here's your boarding pass, you've got enough time in Istanbul to look around and enjoy your trip.'
'Thanks very much!'

I turn around and everyone's looking at me like I'm wearing the fuzziest cuddly-panda-bear outfit that was ever made and I figure they've all got lolly-pops and candy prepared for me. Maja is totally grinning all over the place and I figure she'll be telling the story to everyone as soon as she gets to work.

So hang around a bit more, we say good bye and I catch a glimpse of her just standing there, her hands down and looking somewhere in my direction, but not really at me. I go behind the corner and see a bunch off people waiting at the security check, some of them knowing the routine and already taking off their belts.

Here goes.

Somewhere in Iran, 2008

You can also check India (Take One), India (Take Two) and India (Take Three) for some more stories.

India (Take Three)

TWO

The second time I was travelling alone, but I knew where I was going to and what was waiting for me. Or at least I thought so.

You wouldn't believe what kinds of things run through your head. Names of neighbourhoods in Kathmandu, my French friends' middle names, specific flags of the world and strange words in half-dead languages.

So I'm trying to figure out what time it is (because after the connection in Istanbul I simply wasn't sure anymore), but it's hard with this Indian guy sitting next to me. Or should I say lying. He keeps dozing off and, from what it seems, almost consciously and intentionally leaning off to my side. Luckily, there's the video screen that keeps me occupied with documentaries about the diamond industry in home-looking factories of wherever or just the snowy screen. Thanks.

In front of me is a so-much-in-love-it's-disgusting German-speaking couple that, with no consideration at all, pushed their seats fully backwards, squeezing me between Snow White and their unconditional love. The head set is astonishingly broken, so I can only listen to one station at a volume nine out of ten. Another big no-no for me.

The only ray of hope seems to be the eventual appearance of the world map, showing how we're flying over Ankara, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Karachi and hitting Ahmedabad heading south towards Mumbai.

That city is so insane that Delhi seems like a merry-go-round now. It's said to be more cosmopolitan and open than Delhi, but with its seventeen or so million people, I just saw it as a place I had to get out of as soon as possible. Same as Delhi, it just seems to be a place where you land and start your India tour or spend a day or two before flying out.

Although I really enjoy roaming Delhi, Mumbai simply seemed too much at that time. As soon as we landed I started sweating immensely and got reminded how it felt the same three years earlier. Hot hot hot. I had to get used to it as soon as possible, so I took the taxi to the Central which would give me a chance to cool down a bit.

Everything that I imagined - how silly of me - was the exact opposite and it felt like waking up into a nightmare. The colossal and supposedly magnificent building of the Victoria Station wasn't visible to me. I just saw this huge thing that seemed to contain all the possible horrors of big cities. I was aware of the fact that I was gonna get hassled over and over again, but I clenched my teeth and went inside the station with what I hoped looked like cool, confident and independent expression.

I didn't make more than a couple of steps when I found myself standing in the middle of the immense station (it's the world's third biggest station), turning on my heel and hoping for a familiar signpost or an arrow of salvation. I decided to run for the counter that sounded a bit odd, but was hopefully going to help me get moving - Freedom Fighters. The funny thing is that I felt exactly like that at the time, like I had to fight my own way through this big mess to reach the freedom that was waiting for me more than five hundred kilometres further south.

It took me around an hour to check dozens of windows, storeys and platforms and my plan to roam around the city for a while quickly evaporated. I took the first train out, sat by the window and watched a mega city wake up.

Two thirds of the city's population live in slums, small shelters made of any material that could be put in use, from carton to nylon, with little or no water, power and living conditions. I thought I'd be used to this since I've been to India before, but it was way too overwhelming. There's supposedly less poor people living here than in Delhi, but they sure seem to be way more exposed to the eye.

I got pulled back to reality, other than that outside the window, by the conductor. Since I left a bit more abruptly than I intended, I didn't have enough cash on me, so I went around the train trying to get the money I was owing the conductor. Soon I realized that being without money in India is one of the worst things that can happen. It took me what seemed an eternity to get one Euro worth of rupees from a group of Australians, with hundreds of Indian eyes staring and somewhat enjoying the situation.

This hit me a bit hard and I even started questioning this whole trip, my decisions and doings for the passed while. It happens to me quite often, but I wasn't expecting it in India. I had enough time to think about people, life and everything on a thirteen hour ride south anyway. After another train change, a ridiculously expensive rickshaw ride and a night in a fancy hotel, I was there.

At last.

- - -

And this is all I've got for the So-Called Book so far. I will try to work on it...

Karnataka, 2007

You can also check India (Take One), India (Take Two) and Gotta Love Airports for some more stories.