Montreal - Rishikesh

You'd think I'd have it figured out by now, but even after practicing 3 times, I still left in a bit of a frenzy, throwing the final items into my bags as I rushed out the door at the last minute. But as always, I made it to the airport on time, ready for my fourth Indian adventure. Here are a few highlights - and lowlights - of my journey.

Flight from Montreal-Doha: I notice as I walk up the aisle to my seat that someone is in it. I put my backpack in the overhead compartment and look at the man, waiting for him to scoot over to the middle seat (I always book the aisle for the long stretch). He looks up, "Is this your seat?" Well it ain't yours is it?? He reluctantly moves over and when I take my seat beside him, I notice a strong smell of alcohol. After a few minutes, he strikes up a conversation, reminding me that these seats are our home for the next 12hrs, and to remain calm during the flight as everything will be fine. Um, yes, thanks, I'm calm. But soon calm and annoyed... things he did during the next 12 hrs: decided that getting up to go to the bathroom right after the pilot asked everyone, including flight attendants, to remain seated and buckled in preparation for take-off; went to the bathroom 6 more times during the flight, clumsily tripping over me and bumping my head every time, while yanking the seat in front for dear life, giving the poor lady a scare each time as she thought her seat was being ripped out from under her; got down on all fours in the very small space between our seats and the ones in front of us, looking for his lost shoes; talked to himself for several minutes at a time; picked his nose for several minutes at a time; elbowed me multiple times while he slept, preventing me from also doing so; and when the flight finally came to an end, and the seatbelt signs went off, he immediately shot up and tried making his way into the already packed aisle, but could get no further than the very small space where my legs were. And he stayed there. Still sitting, knowing the line-up wouldn't budge for another 10 minutes, I looked up at him and said, "Are you kidding??" while pushing him back to the space in front of his own seat.

But life always balances out, doesn't it? After strolling around the Doha airport for a couple hours, I was sitting at my gate writing in my journal (about booze-breath, who when asked by the stewardess what he'd like to drink with his meal, said, "I need a beer." Yes, you sure do mister) when my name was called on the intercom, asking that I report the desk. Well that's a first. What now? The man asks for my ticket, rips it, and gives me a new one. "Has there been a change?" I ask. "Yes ma'am. Upgrade to business class," and with a little smirk, "If that's ok with you?" It most certainly is! So I figure business class - we're not talking first class here - will mean a little more footroom and slightly better food. But it turns out that on this particular flight, business and first are one and the same. I was giggling as my semi-private attendant led me directly to my seat and I looked around. Actually, scratch seat, it was a full-on private booth with a large flatscreen tv, a sofa that turned into a bed, along with bedside shelves and a pillow more comfy than any I've ever owned. (I seriously considered taking it with me when I got off.) There were so many courses to the drinks and meal that I just ate and drank the whole flight while watching a movie. When the flight ended (much too quickly - it was less than 3 hours) I realized that due to my constant dining, I hadn't even made use of my bed. So while everyone was gathering their things and lining up to exit, I started playing with the seat buttons, moving into full recline mode, and lay there until business class was empty and I had no choice but to leave. I wasn't going to waste a minute of it!

So, about that balance. It seems my 3 fancy hours were worth more on the universal balance scale than my 12 frustrating ones, because things were about to tip the other way again. I'll get to that in a moment. After landing in Delhi at 3am, waited 2 hours at the airport for the metro to start running at 5. Walked across the street to the metro, took it to the train station, and boarded at 6:45 for the 5hr ride to Haridwar. From there walked 20min to the bus station, finding the bus to Rishikesh, and hopped on for the hour-long ride. In Rishikesh, myself and two other ladies from the bus who were going to the same area as me negotiated a tuk-tuk price with one of the 8 drivers who swarmed us as we stepped off the bus, all hoping for our business. The one we picked was so enthused about being the chosen one and just couldn't wait to get going, which he did when the two others, but not me or my bags, had made it onboard yet. The wheels started turning as I was hoisting my pack up onto the seat, rolling right over my foot. When the driver heard the yells, not being able to see what was happening from where he was sitting, his reaction was to back up before I could remove my foot, rolling onto it again, and when the yells continued, he figured he better stop moving, leaving the wheel and the weight of his vehicle (plus three people plus luggage) on my foot. I was frantically yanking at the bars, trying to pull the tuk-tuk off my foot, and the two ladies were yelling at the driver to move, which he finally did. My eyes started welling up as I shook my leg and a crowd gathered. The poor driver looked so distraught about what he had done, offering to take me to the hospital and pay for the doctor. The ladies kept yelling at him, but of course I felt bad for the man who had just crushed my foot. I told him I didn't need a doctor, since I could tell nothing was broken. I could bend my foot and wiggle my toes and was anxious to arrive and settle in and rest. So off we went, but on the way, he stopped at a roadside clinic, getting me some pain gel and a bandage, which he applied and wrapped around my foot. The ladies are still yelling at him, insisting we get a free ride for what he has done, but I smile at him through my tears, feeling bad that he feels bad. I think the ladies were a bit annoyed at my lack of anger towards him. When we got dropped off  at the Ramjula bridge, I felt guilty about not paying him, but there's no way the ladies would have let me. They helped me carry my bags to ease the weight, as we still had a 20min walk to our destination. While my foot was sore and sensitive, I was amazed and relieved that I could walk almost normally. I kept thinking how much worse it could have been with just a slight difference in my foot position when it was rolled over - a broken bone, crutches, no walking, no yoga. That would have thrown me for quite the loop. It would have had to be a very creative stay in Rishikesh. So despite the incident and scare, I am confident that my Indian guardian angel continues to watch over me as always. And balance has been restored once again.