It happens every trip. The day that things that never go according to plan.
After the reception and packing, I set the alarm for 4:15 am for the 5 am cab that has been reserved. I never heard that alarm, but somehow I awoke at 4:56. It is about to be a rough start to the day. Scrambling, I wash my face, brush my teeth, throw on some clothes, and get my things together to get checked out and on the way. Only 15 minutes late, but I hate being late. The flight is at 6:45, so really dude, chill out, plenty of time. I arrive at the airport at 5:45, so no problem.
You've read this before I think, on the Italy/France trip. Indian airport security is really strict, with a sort of double security system and fraught with complications. Well, for me anyway. But, tolerance, right? Roll with it. My backpack had to go through security twice, because you need to remove all devices - cameras, tablets, ipods - not just laptops. Frustration and irritation level rising. Probably blood pressure, too. But I am through, gathering my belongings. Now on to the gate, still with 30 minutes to go and the passengers now boarding. Relaxing a little. Then the security guard at the gate checks my bags and says, "No Entry!" You have to have carry on items tagged and stamped at the initial security checkpoint. They and I have been screened and x-rayed. And you want a stupid tag? I was an ugly American. I yelled and screamed and cussed and tried to go passed the guard anyway. It isn't my fault security didn't stamp the damn bag. I probably could have been arrested, but I backtracked past the gate check-in counter, all the way back to security to get the back re-screened through x-ray, tagged and stamped. I meet my favorite Indian guard at the gate, properly credentialed, and allowed to board, still steamed. But also relieved that I am finally on the plane to Delhi. Breathe. Relax. Tolerance.
**Note: when I first wrote this and experienced this, I did not know about a missing and possibly hijacked plane in Indonesia. This may have been a factor in the increased security. Or it may have been just coincidence, not knowing the timing of events to our east.
You just thought that was the end.
In Delhi, I have arranged a car tour to major sites in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, including hotel stays each night in each city. Upon landing, everything is smooth sailing finally. I meet the man holding the sign with my name, and we're off to start the tour. Now, I've been stranded before in a foreign country and was able to find a way around it each time. This time, I thought I was toast. My driver drops me off at a mosque, Qutb Minar, and says wait inside. Forty five minutes later, no guide, no driver, I am in full panic mode. I call the tour operator and get a strange message: "This number does not exist." WHAT!!! Poor Vennela gets my phone call and starts to make some calls. She too gets the strange message. She starts to check with her friends in Delhi to at least be a guide or get me to my hotel, if the reservation is still valid. But that still won't help get my luggage back. Ah, foreign travel. But just as I was texting with Vennela again, I see the driver, with the tour guide. Seems there was just a timing miscommunication. Relief comes in spades and my tour, my driver, my luggage and I are intact. Hence, a one-on-one tour begins with my tour guide. All is well. What a day! And it is only 11:30.
Next entry, the Golden Triangle.
Until then, Peace and Tranquility,
Darryl
After the reception and packing, I set the alarm for 4:15 am for the 5 am cab that has been reserved. I never heard that alarm, but somehow I awoke at 4:56. It is about to be a rough start to the day. Scrambling, I wash my face, brush my teeth, throw on some clothes, and get my things together to get checked out and on the way. Only 15 minutes late, but I hate being late. The flight is at 6:45, so really dude, chill out, plenty of time. I arrive at the airport at 5:45, so no problem.
You've read this before I think, on the Italy/France trip. Indian airport security is really strict, with a sort of double security system and fraught with complications. Well, for me anyway. But, tolerance, right? Roll with it. My backpack had to go through security twice, because you need to remove all devices - cameras, tablets, ipods - not just laptops. Frustration and irritation level rising. Probably blood pressure, too. But I am through, gathering my belongings. Now on to the gate, still with 30 minutes to go and the passengers now boarding. Relaxing a little. Then the security guard at the gate checks my bags and says, "No Entry!" You have to have carry on items tagged and stamped at the initial security checkpoint. They and I have been screened and x-rayed. And you want a stupid tag? I was an ugly American. I yelled and screamed and cussed and tried to go passed the guard anyway. It isn't my fault security didn't stamp the damn bag. I probably could have been arrested, but I backtracked past the gate check-in counter, all the way back to security to get the back re-screened through x-ray, tagged and stamped. I meet my favorite Indian guard at the gate, properly credentialed, and allowed to board, still steamed. But also relieved that I am finally on the plane to Delhi. Breathe. Relax. Tolerance.
**Note: when I first wrote this and experienced this, I did not know about a missing and possibly hijacked plane in Indonesia. This may have been a factor in the increased security. Or it may have been just coincidence, not knowing the timing of events to our east.
You just thought that was the end.
In Delhi, I have arranged a car tour to major sites in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, including hotel stays each night in each city. Upon landing, everything is smooth sailing finally. I meet the man holding the sign with my name, and we're off to start the tour. Now, I've been stranded before in a foreign country and was able to find a way around it each time. This time, I thought I was toast. My driver drops me off at a mosque, Qutb Minar, and says wait inside. Forty five minutes later, no guide, no driver, I am in full panic mode. I call the tour operator and get a strange message: "This number does not exist." WHAT!!! Poor Vennela gets my phone call and starts to make some calls. She too gets the strange message. She starts to check with her friends in Delhi to at least be a guide or get me to my hotel, if the reservation is still valid. But that still won't help get my luggage back. Ah, foreign travel. But just as I was texting with Vennela again, I see the driver, with the tour guide. Seems there was just a timing miscommunication. Relief comes in spades and my tour, my driver, my luggage and I are intact. Hence, a one-on-one tour begins with my tour guide. All is well. What a day! And it is only 11:30.
Next entry, the Golden Triangle.
Until then, Peace and Tranquility,
Darryl
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