It’s been more than two years since I’ve travelled over +3 time zone difference alone.
Though technically I was with two other travelling companions whom I’ve just met today; but sitting on the aisle seat all by myself did feel a bit nostalgic, a bit scared and a bit strange.
It’s been two years too long to know how this feels, which used to come so naturally.
For the first time for what seemed like forever, I was venturing into unchartered territory – India. The big peculiar unknown lies in the east to our west. It felt stranger to be venturing into a nation that was so similar to China in many sense but all so different together. For one thing, no one is going to look like me; well, 99.99% locals, at least.
I’ve heard so much about this place. The noise, the pollution, the delhi belly, the people, the taunts and tricks of making a living out of squeezing every penny out of you. There were two sides of stories from my peers, one of high praises of intense cultural exposure and food whoring; the other, well, of hell.
It’s not halfway across the globe, but it might as well be, I’ve never been more unfamiliar and anxious crash landing into this part of the world without any research at all; careless of me.
I suppose it’s a good sign that I didn’t find the plane ride, which composed of 90% Indians, less satisfying or comfortable than it should be; as opposed to what I’ve heard from a couple of friends, one a stewardess who swore the damn hell out of flight consist of mainly people of this part of the world, what with demanding passengers and very unaccommodating and loud attitudes, the other a travel junkie, mainly for business, seemed to have successfully convinced me my flight to New Delhi was going to be a pain; suddenly, flashes of my Nepal journey popped into mind then.
None of that; lavatories, for one, were still clean as spec halfway through the flight; which would not have been the case if it were a flight to or from China. The trip was in fact, thus far, a very peaceful flight; despite the hyperactive baby sitting next to me whom I’d sworn would be the living hell of my six hours journey, and who, surprisingly, fell into a deep coma as soon as the airbus was in the air. Nice baby.
And you know what the other good news is?
I’m writing again; as in really penning down my thoughts. This has not happen, except for the occasional rage rants, since the last time I lost my touch with life (abstract meaning here which you don’t need to know), then with travelling, and then with writing.
Maybe this isn’t going to be such a bad trip to start with afterall.
In the meantime, I’ll cross my fingers in case I have just jinxed myself.