The Delhi airport was as congested as ever. The guards barely allow you enough time to unload your luggage from the car, let alone find out which entrance is the one you should be taking. Yet the check-in has always been speedy; I rarely have to wait on line. To my dismay, my travel agent hadn’t booked my special meal. Thankfully my luggage weighed exactly the limit of 20kg, after I had unpacked some things in my mid-way resting stop at my sister-in-law’s in Delhi.
Thirty minutes before our bus was to leave from Jaipur, we realized that we should have notified the Foreign Registration Office of my departure, as per regulations. Salil rushed off to get the necessary stamps…
Fortunately, he made it just in time for the bus. Having to haul all of my luggage alone signaled to me that I needed to do some lightening up. The small bag I was pulling kept wobbling to and fro, partly because of the pocked road and partly because I had packed it unevenly with over a kilo of gul kand on one side! It turns out my medicine is not the most travel-friendly as a result of its weigh. But I’d rather be healthy & deal with the heaviness… At least I have moved on from being a snack mule (I used to have to bring lots of food with me, in case hunger struck at an inopportune time).
The stamped papers turned out to be unnecessary, since the border control didn’t ask for them. He did, however, ask if I was traveling alone (and his eyes seemed to ask, “Why?”). He wasn’t shy to ask why I didn’t have kids, and to offer his condolences for the lack thereof (“That’s too bad!”). It’s no wonder that the lady who did my metal detection told me, “You look strained.”
After my normal wait to board as late as possible, I found myself behind a very well-dressed, Euro mother-daughter duo, the latter of whom was eagerly tapping away on her Blackberry with her boarding pass stub in her mouth for verification—the steward joked, “Are you hungry?” It turned out they were in my row, just across the aisle.
As we were getting ready for takeoff—switching off all devices and uprighting all chairs—the daughter was talking on her phone. Another steward repeated numerous times, “Madam, please turn off your phone now,” which she proceeded to ignore until her mom whacked her and confiscated the phone. Though she must have been at least 18 or 20, she burst into tears which didn’t dry up until well after take-off.
Once we arrived in the Zurich airport, I set off for the chapel—my chosen spot to do my Isha Yoga practices. Although I asked for directions, they only led me to the wrong side of the wall. I stopped in a pharmacy to ask again; I was reminded of how I used to love spending what could have been hours, perusing all the European healthcare products which seem so much more sophisticated and interesting than items one might find in a CVS. The employee told me the chapel was in fact just on the other side of the wall, but to get there I had to go outside of passport control (again).
On my way, I spotted the mother-daughter duo, happily doing their duty-free dance. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity; here they are, stuck in cycles of contradictory over-communication and consumption of which they are probably unaware. On the one hand, the daughter is so hooked to her Blackberry, but most likely has very poor communication with her mother, who is prone to violent outbursts. But yet they seek some connection, which they find through shopping, until the thrill wears off. Repeat.
Then there’s me, seeking free wireless. The information desk lady laughed and explained that nothing is free in Switzerland. But I had the last laugh—I found free samples of chocolate in the Lindt store just beside her desk!
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