India: We have arrived
9:21 a.m. local time, A-92 Defence Colony, Delhi.
Wow! We're here. Lots to report...plane rides, escalator (near) mishaps,
immigration lines, lorries, autorickshaws, our flat, water, mosquitoes, and
more
All our fears of the 19+ hours in the air were
for naught. As I've already reported, the Oakland-Dulles and Dulles-Frankfurt
legs were uneventful in all the best ways. We even had a nice stay in the
Frankfurt airport (see Claire riding on the airport's tram in the picture
below), despite how confusing the airport's signage
is.
Frankfurt to Delhi is where the adventure began. First, we queued at the gate to board the flight, only to realize that Lufthansa first collects everyone into a holding pen just outside the jetway (sort of like Southwest, but less orderly, if you can imagine). Instead of getting squeezed into the pen, we decided to wait out in the terminal. Luc proceeded to fall asleep in the stroller. Then, 20 minites before the flight, Claire announced she had to go potty (OK, that's the second reference in two days to our children's bowel movements; I promise there will be less of that and more of "Wow, there was a cow walking down the street!"). Marion got her to the bathroom and back in line in plenty of time. But the mild stress of the situation, and viewing, from the main terminal, the hordes of Indians packed into the holding pen, gave me my first realization of what we are in for.
On board, our seats were not together, so I sat with Luc and Marion with Claire. Oh, I almost forgot about the ordeal with our booster seat we had brought for Luc to sit in. The previous two legs, no one mentioned that the seat was not certified for airplane use. Lufthansa are safety freaks, however, and the purser told us that without a 5-point harness system the seat would be a safety hazard. The short of it is that we decided to ditch the seat altogether, instead of lugging it with us through Delhi, to south India, and then back to the U.S., where we could finally get our $70 worth out of it in the car.
But on to the flight itself. Lufthansa was better than United, perhaps that goes without saying. Claire and Luc both slept between 3 and 4 hours on the final leg. Luc became rather restless the last 2 hours of the flight, and made quite a mess in our seating area by crumbling up goldfish and croissants, spilling salad dressing (don't ask why I let him have the dressing, it was easier than dealing with the fallout of taking it away from him). Claire also got quite fidgety in the last half hour.
Then the excitement began. First the plane stopped and everyone stood up. The flight attendants, in German, instructed everyone that the plane was not at the gate yet. Since there were only a few Germans on board, they subsequently had to go through the cabin shouting at people to sit down. We finally got to the gate, and I was nearly run over by two old Indian ladies with canes as I tried to stand up and get our bags from the overhead compartment. It was quite chaotic. And what was the hurry for? So we could go stand in line at immigration. But before that line, we headed down the escalator, not looking at the bottom first to see that there was a mass of people backed up to the very base of the escalator. There was barely room for us to get off the escalator. The real problem occurred as the people behind us pushed into us to get themselves off the escalator. Claire was in the stroller, which got knocked sideways and nearly tipped over. I crashed into Marion, who was carrying Luc in the hip hammock. For a few seconds I thought we were all going to get knocked over and trampled. Then some very nice people grabbed the stroller and helped us get into a clearing.
Next the wait in the immigration line began. I think ours was the only flight arriving at that hour, but there must have been more than 300 people on the flight. After behaving perfectly through all the flights and layovers, Luc finally started to lose it waiting in the immigration line. Indians do not queue very orderly, and Marion did her best to keep pushing her way forward, but it seemed like people kept getting in front of us. Finally a man ahead of us in line, either out of sympathy or frustration at listening to Luc cry, told us we should just skip ahead. No one seemed to mind. after immigration, we put Luc in the stroller, which meant Claire, who had been fine the whole wait in line, got upset at losing her comfy seat in the stroller. Luc fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the stroller, and Claire was placated when I offered her a ride on my shoulders.
After all the wait in the immigration line, I expected our bags to be on the luggage carousel. Instead it seemed like we waited another 20 minutes for them. Marion retrieved two luggage carts that the Delhi airport must have gotten from another airport that was retiring its old carts. One would had a grabby wheel and would not steer straight. With so much luggage (seven checked bags and five carry-ons if you include Claire's baby doll backpack and our plastic grocery bag full of food), and Luc asleep in the stroller, we weren't sure how we'd get out past customs to find the driver The Delhi Fulbright office arranged to pick us up. I decided western safety standards be damned and lifted Claire up on top of about five bags stacked in our luggage cart. While trying to push the cart and Luc, and also trying to keep an eye out amidst the masses for a man holding a sign with "Zavestoski party" on it, I did not notice the bags slipping. When I finally noticed, it was as if Claire was riding an avalanche down a mountain. Luckily she landed on top of a big bag, then rolled off to the floor very gracefully. A very old Indian woman proceeded to lift our heaviest bag back onto the luggage cart while I picked Claire up, who amazingly was not even phased.
Finally we found our driver and the next adventure began. Outside the airport, even at 3 a.m., which time it was at this point, cars were beeping and honking and there was chaos (I'm realizing it might be redundant to say that there was chaos since so far much India seems to be defined by chaos, elegant though it may be). Claire at this point was truly excited. After so much talk over the last six months about India, and after three long legs in the air, she was finally in India. She absolutely loved the honking and beeping, and let everyone know it by joining in. The first ten minutes of the drive to the flat she was singing variations of a honking and beeping song, and then a chimpanzee/ape song (I'm not sure how she settled on the latter set of lyrics). We saw lorries, festively decorated, motorcycles, and of course the ubiquitous autorickshaws. I think Claire's enthusiasm came in part from finally witnessing all that we had talked about (not that I knew what to expect).
In the above picture, Claire is safely standing in the back seat of the old SUV that brought us to our flat while we pass a lorry in close enough range to reach out and touch it.
In fact, I was a bit shocked at the air quality when we stepped outside the airport, especially since many people have told us Delhi's air quality is much improved over what it was just five years ago. Motorcyclists rode with covered faces, and even inside our car I was beginning to feel a mild burning in my throat and taste dirt in my mouth. I immediately began wondering why anyone who had a choice would live here, but I'll discuss this more in a post to the "Life in India" thread of the Zavelogue.
Our driver stopped once to ask for directions, then finally got us to A-92 Defence Colony (which seemed to me to be insufficient information to find a flat in a city of 9 million). Dev Gupta, the manager of the flat and a wonderful host, was there waiting for us. He got us oriented, we unpacked just enough to get everyone ready for bed, then at about 4 a.m. we all climbed into bed together. Marion and I woke up at about 8 a.m., and as I write at 11:45 a.m. Claire and Luc are still asleep (see picture below; it's grainy because I did not want to wake them with the flash, which was illogical since they've been sleeping through honking horns, sirens, street vendors calling out "hindi word, hindi word, hindi word, CHAI!," and other noise).
Phew! That brings us more or less up to date. I can talk more about water and mosquitoes later. It's great to be here. We've already gone through a range of emotions--wondering what we've gotten ourselves, and out children, into on one hand, and on the other feeling like we can handle this and the experience will be well worth whatever difficulties we face. When the kids wake up, we'll find an ATM, get some rupees, go to market, maybe try to purchase a cell phone, and call it a day. There's no need to try to do too much. As some Indians we met with back home before leaving told us, the one thing everyone in India has plenty of is time.
Frankfurt to Delhi is where the adventure began. First, we queued at the gate to board the flight, only to realize that Lufthansa first collects everyone into a holding pen just outside the jetway (sort of like Southwest, but less orderly, if you can imagine). Instead of getting squeezed into the pen, we decided to wait out in the terminal. Luc proceeded to fall asleep in the stroller. Then, 20 minites before the flight, Claire announced she had to go potty (OK, that's the second reference in two days to our children's bowel movements; I promise there will be less of that and more of "Wow, there was a cow walking down the street!"). Marion got her to the bathroom and back in line in plenty of time. But the mild stress of the situation, and viewing, from the main terminal, the hordes of Indians packed into the holding pen, gave me my first realization of what we are in for.
On board, our seats were not together, so I sat with Luc and Marion with Claire. Oh, I almost forgot about the ordeal with our booster seat we had brought for Luc to sit in. The previous two legs, no one mentioned that the seat was not certified for airplane use. Lufthansa are safety freaks, however, and the purser told us that without a 5-point harness system the seat would be a safety hazard. The short of it is that we decided to ditch the seat altogether, instead of lugging it with us through Delhi, to south India, and then back to the U.S., where we could finally get our $70 worth out of it in the car.
But on to the flight itself. Lufthansa was better than United, perhaps that goes without saying. Claire and Luc both slept between 3 and 4 hours on the final leg. Luc became rather restless the last 2 hours of the flight, and made quite a mess in our seating area by crumbling up goldfish and croissants, spilling salad dressing (don't ask why I let him have the dressing, it was easier than dealing with the fallout of taking it away from him). Claire also got quite fidgety in the last half hour.
Then the excitement began. First the plane stopped and everyone stood up. The flight attendants, in German, instructed everyone that the plane was not at the gate yet. Since there were only a few Germans on board, they subsequently had to go through the cabin shouting at people to sit down. We finally got to the gate, and I was nearly run over by two old Indian ladies with canes as I tried to stand up and get our bags from the overhead compartment. It was quite chaotic. And what was the hurry for? So we could go stand in line at immigration. But before that line, we headed down the escalator, not looking at the bottom first to see that there was a mass of people backed up to the very base of the escalator. There was barely room for us to get off the escalator. The real problem occurred as the people behind us pushed into us to get themselves off the escalator. Claire was in the stroller, which got knocked sideways and nearly tipped over. I crashed into Marion, who was carrying Luc in the hip hammock. For a few seconds I thought we were all going to get knocked over and trampled. Then some very nice people grabbed the stroller and helped us get into a clearing.
Next the wait in the immigration line began. I think ours was the only flight arriving at that hour, but there must have been more than 300 people on the flight. After behaving perfectly through all the flights and layovers, Luc finally started to lose it waiting in the immigration line. Indians do not queue very orderly, and Marion did her best to keep pushing her way forward, but it seemed like people kept getting in front of us. Finally a man ahead of us in line, either out of sympathy or frustration at listening to Luc cry, told us we should just skip ahead. No one seemed to mind. after immigration, we put Luc in the stroller, which meant Claire, who had been fine the whole wait in line, got upset at losing her comfy seat in the stroller. Luc fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the stroller, and Claire was placated when I offered her a ride on my shoulders.
After all the wait in the immigration line, I expected our bags to be on the luggage carousel. Instead it seemed like we waited another 20 minutes for them. Marion retrieved two luggage carts that the Delhi airport must have gotten from another airport that was retiring its old carts. One would had a grabby wheel and would not steer straight. With so much luggage (seven checked bags and five carry-ons if you include Claire's baby doll backpack and our plastic grocery bag full of food), and Luc asleep in the stroller, we weren't sure how we'd get out past customs to find the driver The Delhi Fulbright office arranged to pick us up. I decided western safety standards be damned and lifted Claire up on top of about five bags stacked in our luggage cart. While trying to push the cart and Luc, and also trying to keep an eye out amidst the masses for a man holding a sign with "Zavestoski party" on it, I did not notice the bags slipping. When I finally noticed, it was as if Claire was riding an avalanche down a mountain. Luckily she landed on top of a big bag, then rolled off to the floor very gracefully. A very old Indian woman proceeded to lift our heaviest bag back onto the luggage cart while I picked Claire up, who amazingly was not even phased.
Finally we found our driver and the next adventure began. Outside the airport, even at 3 a.m., which time it was at this point, cars were beeping and honking and there was chaos (I'm realizing it might be redundant to say that there was chaos since so far much India seems to be defined by chaos, elegant though it may be). Claire at this point was truly excited. After so much talk over the last six months about India, and after three long legs in the air, she was finally in India. She absolutely loved the honking and beeping, and let everyone know it by joining in. The first ten minutes of the drive to the flat she was singing variations of a honking and beeping song, and then a chimpanzee/ape song (I'm not sure how she settled on the latter set of lyrics). We saw lorries, festively decorated, motorcycles, and of course the ubiquitous autorickshaws. I think Claire's enthusiasm came in part from finally witnessing all that we had talked about (not that I knew what to expect).
In the above picture, Claire is safely standing in the back seat of the old SUV that brought us to our flat while we pass a lorry in close enough range to reach out and touch it.
In fact, I was a bit shocked at the air quality when we stepped outside the airport, especially since many people have told us Delhi's air quality is much improved over what it was just five years ago. Motorcyclists rode with covered faces, and even inside our car I was beginning to feel a mild burning in my throat and taste dirt in my mouth. I immediately began wondering why anyone who had a choice would live here, but I'll discuss this more in a post to the "Life in India" thread of the Zavelogue.
Our driver stopped once to ask for directions, then finally got us to A-92 Defence Colony (which seemed to me to be insufficient information to find a flat in a city of 9 million). Dev Gupta, the manager of the flat and a wonderful host, was there waiting for us. He got us oriented, we unpacked just enough to get everyone ready for bed, then at about 4 a.m. we all climbed into bed together. Marion and I woke up at about 8 a.m., and as I write at 11:45 a.m. Claire and Luc are still asleep (see picture below; it's grainy because I did not want to wake them with the flash, which was illogical since they've been sleeping through honking horns, sirens, street vendors calling out "hindi word, hindi word, hindi word, CHAI!," and other noise).
Phew! That brings us more or less up to date. I can talk more about water and mosquitoes later. It's great to be here. We've already gone through a range of emotions--wondering what we've gotten ourselves, and out children, into on one hand, and on the other feeling like we can handle this and the experience will be well worth whatever difficulties we face. When the kids wake up, we'll find an ATM, get some rupees, go to market, maybe try to purchase a cell phone, and call it a day. There's no need to try to do too much. As some Indians we met with back home before leaving told us, the one thing everyone in India has plenty of is time.
Posted: Mon - November 28, 2005 at 08:01 PM
Quick Links
Zavelogue Overview
The Zavelogue chronicles the travels and travails of Stephen, Marion, Claire and Luc during our six months in India on a Fulbright.
Categories
Archives
Calendar
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
XML/RSS Feed
Statistics
Total entries in this blog:
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Jul 15, 2006 12:54 AM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Jul 15, 2006 12:54 AM