The night before flying to India (Newark to Heathrow, five blissful/bleary-eyed hours in blighty and then to Delhi) I took the train from Boston to New Haven, to stay with Ellie’s family. I couldn’t really have asked for a better place to start my trip, as it served as a magnificent point of contrast with what was to come.
Both of Ellie’s parents teach at a very prestigious high school called Choate Rosemary Hall, and they live on the school’s laughably beautiful campus. To me, Wallingford felt like a toy town, the likes of which I’d only ever seen on telly. Manicured lawns, shiny cars still fizzy with soap-suds and star spangled banners dangling from every available pole, window, and porch. As Ellie took me on a tour around the campus, she told me that when Choate was trying to raise money for a new concert hall or some such, they held a fundraising gala, and made almost $10 million on the first night. Although this anecdote boggled my tiny mind at the time, the weight of it didn’t really really register until some weeks later, when I’d seen what felt like another world entirely.
On the morning of our flight, we treated ourselves to an all-American, serious-diner breakfast. After eating what must have been the majority of a pig, dwarfing some enormous pancakes, there would be no more meat (for me) for a month. A chilling prospect.
We arrived at the airport a cool four hours early, but spent most of this time laughing at my ridiculous ‘suitcase jacket’ on loan from my mother. Black and sleeveless, with elbow-deep pockets, and made out of some sort of tarpaulin, I’m amazed they’re not more popular. I was traveling with only hand luggage, but had a last minute crisis of confidence about my backpack being overweight (it wasn’t) so I shoved all my books, toiletries and some clothes into the capacious pockets. Say what you like, but I know a thing or two about traveling in style.
About 30 hours later, I arrived - pockets still bulging - at the Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi, just shy of midnight.
Toto - a friend of Ellie’s from Berklee, our extraordinarily generous host in Delhi, and our compadre for the duration of the trip - was there to meet us at the airport. Ellie’s flight got in a few hours before mine, so I was very grateful that they waited for me (thanks guys!) especially as it was a sultry evening. As soon as I stepped outside, I was hit with that first whoomph of heat and the whole trip suddenly became real. Adventures never feel like they’re really happening until that moment when I step off a plane, hop out of a car, or saddle up my horse. (I wish that last bit was true - what a life that would be!) Until that point, I feel always just like I’m just having a weird little rest, with some nice ladies bringing me tiny cups of tomato juice. I’ve had stranger days.
A quick, pre-India-for-a-month breakfast at Rick’s. Thanks Rick!
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