I made it here alive, but I had a bad transit. When I arrived in New Delhi, my bag failed to appear on the luggage belt. The next two hours were a blur of queuing, customs and paperwork. I point out to them the the only bag left on the belt is almost identical to mine (a dark rucksack wrapped in polythene), and if they can find that owner they may find my bag.
But no luck, and they release me (bagless) into arrivals.
My main concerns are internet and local money. I need an Indian phone number to access the free wifi in the airport. And I need rupees to buy a SIM card.
But every ATM and travel cash desk has large red signs saying ‘No Cash’, so I can’t source either Rupees or Dollars.
As I can’t download the address of my hotel, the immigration officer tells me to write down the address of ‘any hotel in India’. I settle on ‘Hotel Punjab’ 😛
After an hour of kicking a bin, I’m thinking about coming straight home; moving on without my stuff is neither smart nor safe. Moving into Denge fever country without my mosquito net is not an option.
I decide to locate a Turkish Airlines desk to assess my options and (maybe) yell at them a bit. While exploring the airport, I chance upon the loose baggage terminal, and another customer taps me on the shoulder and hands me my bag. The dopey idiot had walked off with it, then returned, and was waving at me through the (one way) glass in arrivals. After reuniting him with his bag, we exchange Facebook and I promise to visit his restaurant in Goa.
I catch my connection to Jodhpur, and end up about three miles from my Hotel with no cash for a taxi. The guy running the tourism stand gives me a lift into town on the back of his motorbike, and I finally find an ATM with cash. Everyone says it’s Mr Modi’s fault.
Armed with a single 2000 rupee note, I check in and crash out, I have been awake for forty hours. No real photo’s yet, I have other things on my mind.