It was -21 when I left Edmonton yesterday morning, or was that this morning. I don't think I warmed up until Vancouver. As I sat sipping a latte in the International terminal, with its gardens and comfortable benches, designer shops and cafes, I thought how very fortunate I am to be able to explore new places around the world. But I need not go any further than the terminal itself to see what a global village we live in. Chinese lanterns, cherry blossom bouquets, and a brightly coloured Chinese Dragon celebrate the New Year. Faces of every shape and colour greet the day. Not one of the baristas at Starbucks is fair in complexion. I watched these two tiny but worldly travelers (they looked to be about 7 and 10), one with a cello, the other a violin, pushing their own carts, as they made their way from our Edmonton flight to places unknown. Mom was a few steps away, but clearly they'd been here before! Maybe I'll be able to get a photo up one day. So far that is not working for me!
So after an hour delay at YVR and 14 hours of flying followed by a good hour and 45 minutes of car travel through the smoggy streets of Delhi we are here. The hotel is in the "New Friends Colony". We are told it is safe and quiet here. It is definitely secure. Both the boot and front end of the car must be opened at the gate to the hotel and inspected by an armed guard. Purses and bags go through a security screen at the hotel entrance and we were shepherded into a private cubicle for passage through. I've been "inspected" more hands-on at YEG, so I guess they decided that a white haired old lady traveling with another white haired old lady doesn't pose much of a threat. Our room is quiet and comfortable. We've reorganized our gear and had dinner, a somewhat disappointing start to what ought to be a feast for the taste buds. A rooftop dining room doubles as cabaret with a mediocre sixties band, lacklustre food primarily borrowed from Vietnamese, Japanese and Chinese menus, a watery martini, and a view of not very much. We are off with our guide after breakfast tomorrow cautiously optimistic that things will get better. It is 1100 in the morning where you are, 1100 pm here, but I'm going to try to sleep anyway!
2 am, 230, 3am. Margaret is putting on her headphones plugged in to white noise. She can't hear what I hear anyway. I have booted up this iPad. Is it possible that the Lionel Ritchie/ Whitney Houston swoonin' and croonin' duo of the Cabaret have undergone a conversion to techno? It is not so much that I can hear it but I can feel it. It's in the bones of the building vibrating through the pipes to my pillow. I sit, my head suspended in air, hands tightly pressed against my ears. Relief. Let go, lie down, and it starts again.
Read for a bit. 530 am. It's going to be a long day.
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| Yeh, photos. Here they are! |
So after an hour delay at YVR and 14 hours of flying followed by a good hour and 45 minutes of car travel through the smoggy streets of Delhi we are here. The hotel is in the "New Friends Colony". We are told it is safe and quiet here. It is definitely secure. Both the boot and front end of the car must be opened at the gate to the hotel and inspected by an armed guard. Purses and bags go through a security screen at the hotel entrance and we were shepherded into a private cubicle for passage through. I've been "inspected" more hands-on at YEG, so I guess they decided that a white haired old lady traveling with another white haired old lady doesn't pose much of a threat. Our room is quiet and comfortable. We've reorganized our gear and had dinner, a somewhat disappointing start to what ought to be a feast for the taste buds. A rooftop dining room doubles as cabaret with a mediocre sixties band, lacklustre food primarily borrowed from Vietnamese, Japanese and Chinese menus, a watery martini, and a view of not very much. We are off with our guide after breakfast tomorrow cautiously optimistic that things will get better. It is 1100 in the morning where you are, 1100 pm here, but I'm going to try to sleep anyway!
2 am, 230, 3am. Margaret is putting on her headphones plugged in to white noise. She can't hear what I hear anyway. I have booted up this iPad. Is it possible that the Lionel Ritchie/ Whitney Houston swoonin' and croonin' duo of the Cabaret have undergone a conversion to techno? It is not so much that I can hear it but I can feel it. It's in the bones of the building vibrating through the pipes to my pillow. I sit, my head suspended in air, hands tightly pressed against my ears. Relief. Let go, lie down, and it starts again.
Read for a bit. 530 am. It's going to be a long day.
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