Heathrow

I have never managed to fly into or out of Kathmandu without some kind of drama, and this trip was no different. I arrived at the airport yesterday morning and went directly to the Jet Airways counter to check in. I was informed that I would need to pick up my bags in Delhi and then re-register for the remainder of my trip. In addition, because I had two stops in India, and was therefore taking a domestic flight within the country, I needed an Indian visa. Needless to say, it had never occurred to me to get a visa simply to transit through a country, so I didn’t have one. I was going to have to stay in Kathmandu for a couple of days while I navigated the illogical labyrinth of the Indian embassy and changed all my flight arrangements. I almost broke down and wept.

Then a wonderful woman came to my rescue and managed to change my flights so that I flew directly from Delhi to London, bypassing Mumbai altogether. This meant no domestic flight in India and no need for a visa. She was a bit taken aback by my over-exuberant expression of thanks, and kept muttering “don’t cry ma’am, don’t cry ma’am”. Note to self: in the future don’t be above using tears to get your way.

When I arrived in Delhi a couple of hours later, Jet Airways’ computers were all down, so they had no record of me being confirmed on the Delhi-London flight. A Jet representative ran off with my ticket and passport to check things out, immediately triggering a panic attack. I sat in the transit lounge for a tense 90 minutes or so, my stomach churning at the thought of being stuck in India or sent back to Nepal to secure an Indian visa (and all that without any travel documents). Finally my ticket, passport and boarding card arrived, the latter hand-written to compensate for the still malfunctioning computers.

As I settled into my seat on the half-empty plane, I was counting my blessings at having avoided a potentially miserable situation, as well as getting out of India about 12 hours ahead of schedule. Then I did the math. Because I wasn’t flying to Mumbai, or sitting through a lengthy layover at the airport there, I would have 18 hours at Heathrow. Oh well, I thought, at least it’s not India.

When I arrived here, I immediately went to the Air Canada desk to ask if they had an earlier flight to Ottawa than the one I was booked on. Not surprisingly, the last one had left about 15 minutes before I landed. I opted out of clearing customs and going to the ticket counter to see if there was a more circuitous (but earlier) flight to Ottawa. First, I wasn’t sure if they’d let me through customs and second, I really didn’t want to fly all over North America to get home. I figured that with a book and my computer I’d be able to fill the time here no problem.

It turns out there was a problem. You can’t stay in the transit lounge between midnight and 5:00 AM. I was sleeping happily on a bank of chairs oblivious to everything closing down around me, and was then wakened (very gently, I must say) by security who escorted me to customs. They had no problem letting me through but by this time there was nothing to do but sleep in amongst the baggage turnstiles in the arrivals lounge. I was happy to see that there were a half dozen other people in the same situation, so I didn’t feel like quite so much of an idiot. I have to admit, it was a very strange night. In spite of the airport being closed, there was a ton of activity by maintenance and security staff. The noise they created, added to the uncomfortable “bed” I had, meant that I only slept in 15-minute spurts over about three hours. Every time I woke up and looked around me, I felt like a homeless person, and got a bit of a feeling of what it must be like to sleep on the street night after night. By 3:00 AM, my internal clock, set to Kathmandu time, was thinking it was time to get up. Fortunately one coffee shop was open so I had a huge cup of tea and watched a movie on my computer until the airport opened.

I am now back in the transit lounge, breakfast settling in my belly, teeth brushed and fresh makeup applied. I only have about four hours to kill before I board my flight and am waiting in giddy anticipation of my flight appearing on the departures board. I’m guessing it will show up in about 30 minutes or so. I am trying not to let myself get too excited about worst being over – I still have to clear Canadian customs which will likely be more hellish than the rest of the journey combined. But at least everyone will be speaking English and standing nicely in a queue.