A transportation to india

Early rise - too many people on the shuttle – taxi provided for travellers.

Indian taxi driver – been here 15 years - don't eat the food says he – I had to have an injection – last time i was home says he – my body has acclimatised to Australian food and conditions – says he.

Where are you going Delhi – Agra – Shimla – I’m from Delhi – terrible – crowded - says he. Ah Shimla says he – beautiful! says he – like Tasmania says he.

Seamlessly through immigration – pause – look back - Australia 2 India 4 – another penalty goal – poor Chinese lady doesn't understand – border force employee points – points some more then ignores – the lady stand confused – the border force last looks back – yells “anyone speak Chinese?” – no one does – the women wanders of in the direction of the border forces extended finger – no attempt to help! – surely she could have taken her up to a translation terminal! – the essence of a letter to the head of Border Force starts to bounce between synapses.

At the gate – crew arrive – door is opened for them to enter – entire crew stands aside so the chief steward can pass through first – more British than the British.

Later on the pilots arrive – no such compliance with british inspired protocols – first there is  first through the door.

Loading commences on time – off to our assigned seats.

Australia 3 India 4 – penalty goal against India -  I have lost the prized Dreamliner seat pair at 39a and 39b – bugger! – we have to make do with a pair of standard economy seats next to a very nice young Indian girl – she proves  to have been endowed with exemplary  bladder control – she is from shimla – beautiful she says – shimla is starting to have a lot to live up to.

Australia 3 India 5 – the Dreamliner departs on time. A3 I6 – lunch is served – superb vegetarian – as tasty an aviator's repast as I can recall!

All is good save for the shoulder that has decided to constantly remind of the reality that I have been asking my left arm and shoulder to do the heavy lifting of our travel paraphnelia – Ian Crossley will understand exactly what I mean! – a mental note has been made to relieve my left side from shouldering any responsibility for portage for the remainder of the trip.

The Dreamliner electrically dimming windows are dimmed – why dim the windows for a daylight flight – a mental note is made to make an appropriate enquiry of Mr. Google.

Australia 4 India 5 - Try the Indian white wine – bears a slight- just a slight resemblance to American street corner lemonade.

Another delicious Indian vegetarian meal – some sleep – some walking tours of economy class - more conversation with the delightful Indian girl.

The windows are rendered transparent – the plane is filled with sunlight – we arrive in Delhi – 5pm

Australia 4 India 6 - A civilised and polite transit through border control – officials go out of their way to assist us when we arrive at the wrong queue – border force officer leaves his station to come and guide us to the right window.

The guide is waiting – escorted to our car – into the Delhi traffic for the first assault on our senses – he issues his first piece of advice that could be roughly and perhaps unfairly translated as “watch the pedestrian crossings – they are only marked with white lines so that cars have a better chance  of running you over” – I did not even have to ask my mind to take a note!

I decide to prematurely end the commonwealth transport contest!

The road rules are clear – there are only two rules – blow your horn and don't hit anyone – that means anyone regardless of the size, vintage, cost or passenger inventory of their vehicle – indicators appear to be used only to indicate that as a driver you have completely erred and that you have a desperate need to change from random lane 6 to random lane one.

Bernie exercises her iPad's image capturing capabilities - an Indian version of a family people mover!

The motorist have to concentrate - look at our driver's eyes.

The Indian motor bike rider is a generous individual.

The bikes take multiple forms

Something of the main street

The hotel is reached – security guards everywhere – guard houses and access control gates – an inspection under the bonnet – no bombs – the security gate retracts – into the hotel compound – old but impressive!

More security – into reception – lovely hotel – nice room!

12 hours sleep and practically no jet lag.