What Day Is It?

Dubai International Airport

Arriving in Dubai 1.5 hours ahead of schedule due to a strong tailwind, I enjoyed only 13 hours in the air instead of 14.5, eating 3  traditional Indian meals, playing Solitaire (high scorer, Thank You), Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (I suck),  and sleeping. Dubai has an ultra-modern international airport, matching the surrounding landscape of skyscrapers seen flying into the city. Apparently an up-and-coming desired tourist destination with white sand beaches, numerous golf courses, 5-star hotels and various cuisine choices. The city breathes money and has an arrogance that can be felt in the energy at the airport. Dubai was described to me as a city of massive steel and glass buildings with little culture and lacking soul compared to Delhi, an ancient city with amazing history, a lovely culture and exceptional soul. 

Traveler's Waiting for the Delhi Flight

The layover was about 4 hours, allowing my biorhythms to adjust. Boarding the plane for Delhi I was delighted to hear it would be only 2.5 hours, rather than the 8 hours I had anticipated. Rather than doing any research, I approach travel more from an intuitive place allowing my body to simply move with the flow in a general direction, without knowing or caring about the details—a practice that would drive many people crazy, but for me it simply works. I never know if I’m headed north, south, east or west, what time it is (unless I have a plane to catch), where the next meal will be, or how long it will take to get there. I allow things to unfold naturally by getting out of my own way. One thing true in west culture is we feel like we must control everything, this is how we usually approach life. Stepping away from that concept is liberating and allows for a more interesting journey into another culture. The key word is to Breathe, taking it all in as it comes. I exchanged $100 for 5000 rupees in Dubai. My cab ride was 500 plus 150 airport fee, and my room was 2000. I think all of that is less than $50. Traveling abroad with alternative money (not facts) that looks and feels like play money, makes spending it easy.  

French Wine

Another meal of chicken curry with wine (last glass for a month) before once again falling straight asleep, sitting upright,  even before coffee was served. How embarrassing, really, maybe my mouth was gapping open or worse yet, maybe I was snoring.  Somewhere in the last 24 hours I have developed a stuffy nose and sinus issues. The human condition, we’ve all been there. And why should any of these worries really matter. They don’t.

Arriving in Delhi my instructions were to meet the La Sapphire Hotel car at Pillar #17 outside baggage claim, confirmed by email from Yog Peeth, the school in Rishikesh. I noticed on the confirmation that the driver would be there promptly when the plane landed. How, I wondered, would that work? Finding baggage claim in the enormous foreign airport and clearing customs with my E-Visa proved to take another hour.  Arriving outside, I was lost in a sea of people waiting for transportation,  and it was apparent that finding my ride was going to be a challenge. I saw a couple of Indian guys in a car waiting, so I approached them thinking maybe they were it. Nada, these locals were here to pick up a few blind cricket players for an international event in Delhi. They did offer to call my hotel and were told the driver was on his way, arriving in 5 minutes. They also invited me to the event.

The cricket organizers were happy to share conversation with me. One guy had retired from the State after 25-years because he wanted to devote his time to helping the handicap—finding this work more rewarding and fulfilling than working for the State. After twenty-minutes, I was beginning to wonder if the cab would ever come. My new friend reminded me not to stress about my ride, to remember yoga and relaxation (the reason I am here), and that this was India time and the hotel driver would arrive soon—meaning. . .  whenever. I was merely exhausted and a bit rummy from the time difference. And in case you are wondering. Yes, he did want to talk about the Orange one, and the bad decisions being made in America—apparently a lot had happened in the last 24 hours while I was flying. I was not up to the challenge, all I wanted was a bed of my own. 

He made another call to the driver on speaker phone and all I heard was: “I’m coming, I’m coming, in 5 minutes.” I still wasn’t sure how he would find me. A few more minutes pass, and at last I see a man carrying a sign that said: “La Sapphire Hotel, Koren Roush,” close enough. He grabbed my bag and we began running across 6 lanes of traffic to find his driver, jutting in and out to avoid getting smashed. As tired as my body felt, this provided the rush of adrenaline needed to get moving. It’s a good thing because I was about to experience my first cab ride in India, and oh what a ride it was! The drivers here make New York cabbies look like novices in comparison. Driving on the left, there is no consideration of the lines in the highway, these guys are all over the road, weaving in and out, blowing horns and just when you think they are going to crash into the bus in front, jerking the wheel to the outside and squeezing through three other cars where no lane exists. Thank goodness for small cars. And don’t forget the people on the road walking, the carts being pulled by the sacred cows, bicycles, trucks, tractors, dogs and just about any other thing with wheels on the freeway, including mopeds. It was 10:35 PM in Delhi, I cannot imagine what driving must be like at rush hour. 

Arriving at the hotel my girlfriend’s words echoed in my head. Do NOT drink the water, only bottled water—that means in the shower keep your mouth shut, and brush your teeth with the water in the bottle. She also asked me if I had toilet paper. Apparently there is little provided so it is a good idea to take wads of it in case you need it, and you will—especially if you are traveling across country. She also gave me two Imodiums in case of a sudden attack of the dreaded diarrhea so common to westerners. This is also true in Mexico and Thailand, other places where water is a concern. Fortunately I have not had the experience, and don’t intend to start in India. 

La Sapphire Hotel looked to be in the red light area of the city, a most interesting place if only I had energy to hit the streets and photograph. This budget room was in typical Indian fashion, minimalistic with the bare essentials provided with the exception of—you guessed it—toilet paper. Fortunately I had wadded some up in the Seattle airport and placed in my carry-on. Otherwise I would have been up shit creek without paper. In India there is a hose attached to the toilet for spraying yourself off instead of wiping, but the water coming out of that hose is frigid! I know, way TMI but that’s how it’s done here. BTW, on a side note, I have read that the Buddhist monks start their day with an ice-cold shower. That’s one way to wake up. Can you imagine?

With only a 30-day visa visiting the city will have to wait until next time. I leave at 6:00 AM in the morning for yet another adventure in a cab. This time it will be a 7-hour ride to Rishikesh to the Ashram that will be home for the next month. I'm assuming the pace with be more leisurely when we get out of Delhi. The energy and people are so delightfully appealing in this lovely country. I was able to stretch out in my hotel bed after many hours of travel. Quickly falling asleep only to be awaken by people laughing and enjoying life, after all it is Saturday night. I remember my first few nights in Mexico when people would dance and laugh late into the night on weekends. It doesn’t bother me, it makes me smile. I am able to roll over and return to my dreams that often incorporate the festive sounds surrounding me.  

On to Rishikesh tomorrow morning at 6 AM, which could mean 6:30 or 7:00, but who really cares? I'm on India time.