In Transit

Even in this modern age of convenience, few journeys are without their obstacles. Ours involved 3 main legs – a bus to Montreal, a plane to Amsterdam and another plane to Delhi – before we would lay sandaled foot in our steamy destination.

Phase one went without incident – a brisk shuttle to Pierre Elliot Trudeau airport felt like nothing. Phase 2, however, was an early test for this so-called open-minded traveller. My seat neighbour wore a t-shirt that read: “the man” and “the legend” (see above pic). Need I say more? Of course I should.

Just when I thought I was fed up with ironic t-shirts, I suddenly found myself desperately hoping this one wasn’t to be taken literally. No such luck. He was the kind of guy who used phrases like “givin’ her balls” when the plane accelerated. Or “gettin’ ‘er dunn” when triumphantly announcing the consumption of his 9th – or was it 10th? – beer.

During that flight I became “baby”, “muffin”, “cuddles” and “sunshine”. In contrast, he became my first confrontation with culture shock this trip…and dude was only from Greely, Ontario.

After a layover in Amsterdam and a 10 hour flight (props to KLM for wicked service and a hearty attempt at ethnic plane food) we arrived in Delhi late at night. No time weariness though. We were whisked away on our first Indian taxi ride – an event where one wants to have their senses at full capacity. The chaos of our first Indian traffic experience would set the tone nicely for the incomprehensible cultural experience to come.