Not In Kansis Anymore

[Hans Hotel, New Delhi, India] At the Zurich airport, a Swiss woman conducting consumer surveys took me to be a Swiss national. A compliment, I felt... and reflected that I'd better enjoy Swiss cleanliness and order while I had the chance. Our plane later touched down at the Indira Ghandi International Airport just before midnight on January 31st. To my extreme relief, all of my luggage arrived safe, sound and intact. I made a mental promise that once I have safely deposited my belongings with Grandpa Sarajudeen in Kabul, I will travel as light as possible! So much less to worry about...

I was surprised by the busy atmosphere of the airport at midnight. The decor was spacious, the walls partly faced in grey marble and punctuated by tropicals in planters. Various men and women in a myriad of uniforms - police, army, security - looked like actors in some real-theatre. It was welcoming to hear a background of Bollywood tunes, women in bright Punjabis and an eclectic mix of western and traditional dress. Twelve porters bustled our baggage to a taxi-van and we made our way to the Hans Hotel, in the Connaught Place district. We drove through a cacophony of honking, a thick layer of smog, and a multitude of smells of varying degrees of unpleasantness...

My first impression of built form was age-worn and grimey... much of the architecture classical, but with modern skyscrapers spiked between crumbling commercial buildings. We wound past Putnam's shopping market, Delhi buses proudly sporting the City's sustainable CNG fuel program to improve air quality. An Indian porter with the most unimaginably large and twisting mustache I've ever seen greeted us at the hotel, managed our bags, and brought us a cold Miranda (an orange drink) to sip while we checked in.

Inside the hotel, I sank into the small hotel desk... after over 24 hours travelling I felt bagged. But not tired enough to try to connect to the internet and see if I could get my VOIP phone working and call home... I rummaged through my suitcase to find my handy-dandy $15 round-the-world adapter... a pop-up of the UK adapter here and a plug-in there and vuuuujjjht a sudden darkness and the smell of burnt toast. Had my computer survived? I wondered as I brushed my teeth with bottled water by flashlight. I gave in, crawled under the sheets and wondered if Tariq had safely made it to Dubai and had found a decent place to sleep before catching his early morning flight to Kabul on Ariana Afghan Airlines.