JC in India

“So how long are you going to be in Delhi for?”, the man in the seat next to me asked as we started our pushback, unashamedly breaking a cardinal rule of 2×2 business class seating – you do not engage in conversation with your neighbour!

Internally I sighed, as I am not one inclined to small talk while travelling. Leave me in peace and let me do my own thing, is my travelling mantra. Being stuck next to someone for a longer journey, once a conversation has been initiated can only lead to that awkward, ‘can I now watch a movie without your permission’ moment…

“I actually live there”, I replied, “so returning home.”

“Oh, what do you do there?”, he enquired.

One school of thought here is it’s interesting to meet people on such journeys, and you never know there may be a good connection built. The other is that in most cases it is pointless as you will likely never see each other again, and so what’s the point in educating a stranger on my activities just because they feel the need to converse. I prefer business travelling alone and going at my own pace. I know what I am doing and where I am going and am fully conversant with the ways around the travel biosphere now, so leave me be and let me get on with it! So much so that I often deliberately try to travel separately from any colleagues on business trips, as I just prefer the travel experience to be my own, and not have to shepherd others along at times (there are some exceptions mind – my double act with Rob during my time at Manchester Airport comes to mind mostly, as he passed the ‘ok to travel with’ test with flying colours!). But I can be a grumpy old man at times for sure…

Still, the question needed a response, “I work for the airport there. Airline relations primarily.” And then the obligatory, let’s not be rude and pretend to be interested, response of “What about you, are you heading there on business?”

“Yes, although my first time to India so not sure what to expect. I’ve heard many stories.”

“Well, it’s an acquired taste, and a bit of a culture shock, but it can be good fun”, I replied.

“Any tips?” he asked.

My hope for quick pleasantries only faded as this felt like the start of a fully-fledged conversation. And we weren’t even airborne yet, and with 5 hours of a day flight ahead my solo self was getting worried. 

“Be careful with the water, and what you eat.” was my initial reaction. “But it’s not as bad as people make out really nowadays, just need to be careful and keep alert that’s all.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m most worried about. I’m only there a couple of days and can’t afford to get ill, otherwise will be a right nightmare.” he said.

“Well, the best advice I can give is to eat cooked food. Indian food if you can, as that’s what they know how to cook best, so usually you won’t go wrong with good well-cooked local food. Personally, I go vegetarian when in India as it just removes one level of risk. You’re not going to get ill from bad meat if you don’t eat meat.” I went on, “Plus always think about the water and if you’re not used to it best to assume any water that isn’t bottled water is bad. Nowadays that’s not always the case, but if you want to be really careful be sure to avoid ice and stick to bottles. And brush your teeth with bottled water too. Do things like that and you should be fine. I think it used to be a lot worse, but it’s not as bad now, things are improving for sure.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was planning, although hadn’t thought about going Veg. I’m staying in the Westin though so food should be ok there I’d think”, he responded.

“You’ll probably be fine, but you’d be surprised actually. Most of the illness I’ve heard of has been from 5* hotels. The buffets particularly. They often make more than needed and you can’t be sure the food isn’t reheated, at even the best places. It’s less about the preparation, but more about the storage. So, another tip is get food made to order, not from the buffet.” I advised, “I’ve been in India nearly a year now and the only times I’ve been ill have been while staying in posh hotels ironically.”

“Ok, good tip!”, he said.

At this point we had reached the runway, and it was time to fly. I still love the surge of take-off and I will always sit by the window if I can. I enjoy watching the rapid acceleration needed to get airborne. You cannot beat the sense of this in a B747 in my opinion, with the original ‘jumbo jet’ still being my favourite aircraft with its distinctive look and stately presence. For the real aviation nerds, and to be very specific, my favourite aircraft is the B747-8 ‘Intercontinental’. There’s something about that aircraft that just has a presence.

Sadly, the last one has just come off the production line, and the days of new ‘jumbos’ will be no more. The twin jets (two engines) are now the way forward in a more cost and environmentally focused world. Particularly now the engine technology has moved on so much, allowing such power in one engine that two engines are now all that is needed for the next generation of wide bodies. The A380 has its own charm, but even now these are not being made any more. From a passenger experience perspective, the A380 is a great aircraft to fly on, quiet and solid in its gracefulness. But it is almost too sleek and smooth, whereas the B747 still carries that ‘how does that get in the air?’ feel to it when on-board. Mind you, the business class bar on the Emirates A380 at the back of the top deck is a real asset, and I can say from a lot of experience and time at such it makes a long journey much more comfortable!

I watched outside as the countryside started to go by in more and more of a blur, until after a short time the nose came up and into the air we went. I doubt I will ever tire of watching the world go by beneath me. I have an abundance of wing shots on my phone, and I try not to bore by posting them much nowadays on social media, but occasionally they are too good not to share.

It feels now though that the majesty of flying has passed with most people, and the awe is lost. It is taken for granted, particularly with the younger generation who have grown up being so used to flying. To a lot of people now it is just the norm. I remember once giving up my window seat to a young lad of probably about 10 or so, who had been sat next to me on an aisle seat with his mother across the other aisle from him. He seemed to be keen to see out, so despite my usual window seat preference I offered to swap so he could get a better view, and he jumped at the chance. However only a few minutes after we had taken off, he promptly shut the window blind and got out his game machine and started playing on it. Little git.

My inquisitive neighbour re-engaged, “Do you like living in India?” 

Now there is a question. “Yes, I do actually”, I replied, “It has its challenges for sure, and it isn’t always easy, but it’s a fun place to be once you’ve got used to it.”

“What made you go there?”, he asked.

“It was a job offer I got during the pandemic. I could have stayed where I was, but I figured that after a couple of years of living through the pandemic and staying at home mostly it was time for a new adventure. It’s also just a fixed term contract so it helps having a set horizon of time to be there too. Keeps me sane at times knowing there is an end in sight!”

“Interesting, I spend a lot of time travelling, but never actually lived overseas.” 

“Where do you live now?”, I asked

“Melbourne is home, but originally from New Zealand.” he replied.

“Ah nice”, I said, “I’ve only been to New Zealand a couple of times and only to Auckland, but I’ve heard such good things about the South Island it’s definitely on my want to go to list”.

“Yeah, you should it’s a great spot” he stated. “Lord of the rings land of course as everyone seems to know it by”.

“Yep, for sure. One day soon, I hope. Easier now the world has re-opened again. I’ve an old friend who lives out that way, and my sister travelled around there when she was younger”, I replied.

We chatted away a bit more, and I gave him a few more pointers, but soon we each settled into our own worlds leaving each other in peace. I do not mind occasional pleasantries, so this had worked out just fine. Not too intrusive, or wanting to talk the whole way, just enough to be friendly. 

My worst experience of an inflight neighbour was when on a flight from Nice to London once the woman next to me was so scared of flying she just wanted to talk and talk to keep her mind off it. Plus, she was working on drinking the bar dry at the same time, and the BA cabin crew certainly didn’t seem to mind helping her on that mission. Ninety or so minutes of nervous chatter getting louder and louder is not what you want when you are on the way back from a business meeting, with the boss sniggering away at my seating misfortune in the seat behind me!

I’m not an incessant watcher of inflight movies, and enjoy catching up on my books when flying. My Kindle is most at use when airborne. But that said, flying is probably now where I do watch most new movies. As much as I love the cinema and support that format as the best way to see the real big screen action, I mostly see most new releases now while at 40,000 feet. There are a few staple movies to revert to when flying if there’s no new films to watch – Guardians of the Galaxy is my personal favourite plane film. Easy to watch and light-hearted! Although I have watched Interstellar and First Man on too many occasions to count while flying. I remember watching the moon landing sequence of First Man over and over again on one Emirates flight where I was fortunate enough to have been upgraded to a first-class suite. A living room size tv screen, a dark environment, great quality headphones and sound system, while cruising through the night is the perfect environment for that movie. That sequence I recommend as probably one of the best pieces of cinema ever made.

And so, as myself, my inquisitive neighbour and 150 or so other people cruised back to Delhi, I settled into my happy place – a cheeseboard, a glass of good Red, and Cyrano on the inflight entertainment (one of my new all-time favourite films) – what’s not to love!

Descending into Delhi, the one thing you cannot help but notice at this time of year is the transition into the pollution. At around 5,000 or so feet there is a visible haze layer that you descend into leaving the clear skies behind.

At times in the height of pollution season the visibility is so low the airport has to adopt low visibility procedures and operationally this can be quite challenging, leading to delays, occasional diversions, and the associated disruption. It is more evident at night when the lights are visibly obscured and almost hard to see through the haze.

This time it was my turn to start the conversation, “One thing you will notice at this time of year is the pollution sadly. It’s not just the traffic, but the farmers in local areas burn their fields and that smoke washes over Delhi. Combine that with other factors and you end up with that.” I pointed out the window at the hazy atmosphere outside.

“Not looking forward to that”, he said, “Guess it’s pretty dangerous to stay out in for long?”

“Yes, the key now is to stay indoors with air purifiers running like crazy. Having a range of air purifiers in the house is staple diet for us expats over here sadly! But you can’t avoid it really, just got to live with it for a while.” I said.

“Is it bad all year round?”, he asked.

“It’s never great, but this time of year is the worst and lasts pretty much from November to February or March. I’ve even got an air purifier in my office, but the AQI is still about 200 even with that running at full steam”.

“Wow, not great!”, he said.

“You just have to deal with it. Delhi is the most polluted city in the world, so getting out of town as much as possible is also a good option over the winter too.”, I said. “Wearing a mask outdoors is one way to help if you have one”.

“Thanks, will do for sure.” He sounded worried.

Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi (to give it its proper title) is a big and bustling airport, and one of the busiest in the World. I am personally proud to have it in my portfolio, as to be responsible for the aviation development of such an important global asset is pretty cool! Its sheer scale is enormous and there is a lot of development work underway to further extend and increase the capacity of the airport from its current 70 or so million passengers a year (similar to London Heathrow) to well over 100 million. The scale also means that if your aircraft parks at the end of the international pier there is a 1km walk awaiting before you get to immigration.

As we parked my neighbour and I said our farewells and, as is the norm with such interactions, seamlessly moved from travelling companions into strangers again, disembarking and never again interacting. I walked up the air bridge and as I entered the main pier space there was one of the guest relations guys with my name placard waiting for me. Funnily enough they always print out my full name including my middle names, “Julian John Frank Carr”. It is as if they think that just putting “Julian Carr” would have me missing them and only by inserting those extra middle names can I truly be sure it is me they are waiting for. 

It is a benefit of working for the airport that when I travel on business I get ‘protocol assistance’ as it is technically known. This basically means a guest relations guy (from here on referred to as a Minion – which is not derogatory, it has just become a bit of a comedy reference really) meets and greets and does his best to get you to the front of every queue and ensures no issues occur. It is actually very helpful when departing or arriving on an international flight as having a local guy help smooth the process and formalities, plus the rather unashamed queue jumping certainly makes the whole process easier. I asked to stop getting such assistance for a domestic arrival though, after having it provided a few times. With a domestic arrival you basically get off the plane and walk out the exit of the airport. Having a poor chap meet me, name placard printed and held aloft to then simply walk next to me for a few minutes until I have left the airport was rather embarrassing, so I stipulate not to book that anymore. But for international travel, for sure it is useful.

And on this occasion my Minion had the buggy to drive me the 1km down the pier to the immigration hall. Being a mobile and relatively fit middle-aged man, it is the drive of shame sitting on this vehicle trundling past everyone walking. When I first had it, I remember being quite embarrassed by the whole thing, but now I have kind of got used to it. Most Indians actually see this as a thing of status, and it is more viewed from a curiosity of ‘who is that’ rather than any feeling of negativity. I think…

We got to the immigration hall, way before anyone else off the flight. My previous neighbour on-board probably saw me being whisked away on the buggy and was not aware of the length of walk ahead. The immigration hall queues were long. It can be hit and miss – sometimes you get there and breeze on through with virtually no queue. Other times they are long… This time was the latter, but while I waited patiently at the back of a long queue expecting an hour of my life to be lost to this, my Minion disappeared, and I could see him going counter to counter with the immigration guys to see who would accept me directly. Shortly he returned, “come come”, and so obediently I followed. Tensator barriers lifted, ushered through, and straight to the front of one of the desks. Rather sheepishly I did the British thing of trying to look apologetic to the long queue of people who I had effectively just queue jumped, but I was not going to turn down the chance to beat them and a few minutes later I was out. Back in India again, the pollution engulfing me during this more challenging season.

The last part of the journey is the 10km back to the apartment. Initially on my first few travels back into India, I would book Ubers once I got out of the terminal, but often would end up waiting for a while for them to arrive. So now I simply go to the local taxi desk outside the terminal. There is another taxi desk inside, just before you exit the building but there is a marked premium on the price you pay by booking one there. It is because it caters primarily from visitors who want to have taxi certainty before emerging into the bustle and melee that is the real India beyond those terminal doors. However now I know what I am doing I know that this local desk is easy to use and relatively cheap. A taxi booked there to take me home would cost about 500 rupees (about £5), whereas an Uber would be about 400 rupees, so not a lot more. But the taxi is usually right there, and no waiting needed.

I booked the taxi in my usual ‘Indian get things done, confident manner’, which is a style you soon learn to adopt and quickly distinguishes you from a visitor, and hence you get left alone and less harassed. However, I could see out the corner of my eye a Western couple who were being surrounded by local Indian taxi hawkers trying to convince them that theirs was the best way to travel. I could see they were a bit overwhelmed – a feeling often experienced on first arriving here – so I caught the man’s eye and pointed to the taxi desk I was stood at.

“This is good and safe”, I said knowingly pointing at the desk, much to the chagrin of the locals trying to convince them otherwise. They pushed away and came to the desk, looking relieved.

I felt like a proper local.