From pages scribbled in Ink

The following narrative extract is taken directly from a journal I attempted to maintain for a while during the Journey.

December 13, 2006

I'm writing in the domestic airport in Delhi, as I wait for the arrival of the Jet Airways plane that will be carrying me to Sikkim. It seems that the last four days (or however many it's been-I've lost count), all I have seen is the interiors of airports and carrier planes. If I were to recognize people, I would probably identify them by how many seats away they sat from me in the plane, and how close to the washroom they were, rather than their name or smile. There is something dehumanizing about long journeys.

Our flight from Toronto to London was delayed by over two hours, and that in turn, made us miss our flight from London to New Delhi. As a result- my mother and I were expected to wait in line for four hours, without water, for compensation tickets. Around me were humans of all races, from all corners of the world..all bearing the same looks of frustration upon their faces. As each family progressed towards the tickets counter, one heard a fresh set of arguments, and knew that it would take another twenty minutes before the next person would progress towards the counter. That moment was, perhaps, the most "human" part of the journey thus far...there was something about the common frustration that led us to bond with one another. I befriended a wonderful woman from Malta who was travelling home to be with her family for Christmas. She spoke of how excited she was, and how she would miss her cat.
Fast forward(37 hours later): we landed in Delhi after a 12 hour detour to Singapore to catch the next available flight to Delhi. (not fun). On the up side, the food at Heathrow Airport in London was darn good, and the alcohol was darn cheap.

Added Note: I meet bluesy boy in five days.
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