Greg’s Indian cell phone buzzes at 4:45AM and wakes us up. It’s our rickshaw driver letting us know he’s waiting outside. Oh sweet lord baby Jesus Ganesha and all that is holy! There are many gods. We throw everything together and rush outside to meet our savior.
He drops us off at the train station, where I was really hoping we’d get to wait a long time. Wish granted.
We rummage around in our packs and make s’mores for breakfast with what we find. #resourceful
Once in Kochi, we have our last meal with Greg before we send him off into the world alone. We picked this restaurant because of the name: GB, for Greg Bryan. Plus, it was the only restaurant around.
Kochi –> Delhi, check
Once in Delhi, we have a ton of time before our 3AM flight so we hop on the Metro to go eat at the same restaurant where we first began our journey as a group. Awwww sentiments. This guy on the train starts unabashedly taking pictures of Cerrie and me. Bobby starts taking pictures of him to show how creepy he was. Instead of being shamed into sitting down, the guy starts posing! Way to beat us at our own game, sir. Well played.
Despite a 48 hour strike, we managed to secure all the transportation we needed. Get owned, commies!
Back at the airport, this is how we occupied our time. I’d like to tell you we did this only once, but that would be lying.
Earlier, Bobby and I got held up at a security desk where we were trying to get our itineraries printed off. You would not believe what is involved in so simple a process. I’m with our bags while Bobby is at the counter, so eventually I just sit down on my pack. A security woman sees me and comes over and asks if she can bring me a chair. Bring me a chair??? Oh India. Just when I’m ready to slam the door in your face, you go and butter me up again.
Once we’re all in the terminal, Chad sweet talks our way into the British Airways members club where we can eat and drink and wait for our flight. I read newspapers with breaking headlines like these:
Chad and Cerrie fly to LA, and Bobby and I back to Houston. I swore I’d never go back to Asia, but now I have some friends moving to Bangladesh and, well…I’ll probably go.
My India posts are now done. A year later.