I LIKE THAT Frank and I escaped from India into Nepal in the summer of 2007. We had our patients frazzled by having to trudge through three levels of body searches to leave the Delhi airport. I got a big surprise when I tried American mustard, and patted myself on the back for having toilet tissue on hand.
The flight scheduled from the Delhi airport in India to the airport in Katmandu, Nepal, was delayed an hour which doesn’t require as much patients as does a taste for hot mustard, which I sampled at the airport Subway outlet. I thought that yellow mustard was mustard, but American mustard was offered and it was not a familiar taste to my Canadian pallet. Another thing that was not familiar at the Delhi airport was an ATM, those must-have automated teller machines. Sadly, there was not one in the Delhi airport.
What was also not familiar was the filthy condition of this international airport. It was difficult to stand near any of the windows to watch the jets come and go to pass the time. The windows were so filthy with handprints of all sizes that you couldn't see out.
Another surprise came when I visited the washroom, because the acid smell was not as strong as I’d experienced everywhere else in India. And oh, here’s the exciting news – there was a toilet paper dispenser in the western-style toilet stall. But, ooops, it wasn’t working so take a squat and love the fact that you always, always carry toilet tissue. Indian women don’t use toilet paper. They supposedly douche themselves with the hose that protrudes from the wall. I suspect it’s still a bit tricky, what with all the clothes they wear.
|Smart travellers always carry tissues|
|Ladies walking about in Mumbai|
|Life in Mumbai|