Dear Reader, this the fourth time I am preparing this post, the previous three complete versions disappearing into the ether. You’re now getting a shorter version which may be no bad thing.
Mishaps at Delhi airport as the check in staff do not issue us with bag tags, meaning a short run through the terminal to grab some, when Indian Interlude reaches the front of the security queue and can go no further.
This morning’s flight reveals a welcome change in the landscape – flat featureless plains are replaced by hills and lush forest. Again our pre-arranged car fails to meet us at the airport. Eventually we take a taxi from Dehradun where we land, to Rishikesh, our destination.
We are met by the local tour representative who apologizes, reimburses my taxi fare, and says either that the driver was at the train station, or that our plane was early. This latter point is true, however we knew about the flight change several days ago, why didn’t they?
In the afternoon we set off on foot, across the suspension bridge known as Ram jhula, to the area known as Swag Ashram. Many market stalls, small temples, and big idols. Mistakenly believing he has left the power adaptor in Delhi, Indian Interlude take an auto-rickshaw to the town market to get a replacement. When Indians say an electrical store, they don’t mean Keith Bowden. They mean a small stall that looks like the electrical section of your local hardware store.
Indian water is harder than Adelaide’s.
Indian accommodation houses usually do not include top sheets on their bedding.
Indian accommodation houses expect you to leave your room key behind, if you want your room serviced.