First, I woke up on the day of departure with a bad throat and fever. I loaded up on herbal tea all day, hoping that I'd be better by the time I took off in the evening. Unfortunately, I got worse. Flu and a terrible cough developed, and I had to stuff myself with Panadol everyday during the trip. Resting in my room back at the hotel was out of the question, as we were quite short-handed and I had to get news copy for my China features.
Second, the state of the exhibition hall was ghastly. The air was heavy with dust, which aggravated my throat because my nose was congested and I had to breathe through my mouth. It was no fun eating dust.
To understand how dusty the hall was, imagine this: every morning when I arrive at the press room in the hall, I had to wipe my desk and chair with wet towels. And the wet towels would become black rags after a few swipes. It amazed me how filthy furniture could become overnight.
The roof of the exhibition hall was also leaking and I had to huddle under an umbrella to write my stories. Just so you also know, whatever that was leaking through the roof and from the air-con vents above me was black. Black!
The toilet was also something from a horror movie. The toilet seats were coated with brown slime. Don't ask me what that slime was; I was not brave enough to take a closer look. Thank goodness, though, an army of cleaners was sent in during the actual days of the exhibition and they turned the toilets into facilities seen in developed worlds.
Third, the Delhi High Court was bombed on Wednesday, the third day I was there. It killed 11 people, the last I heard on the local news. And the bomb site was just 2km from the exhibition hall. If the terrorists were just a tad smarter, they would have bombed the exhibition hall, where hundreds of foreigners were and created a ripple of mass hysteria across the world.
Minutes after being informed of the attack, the first thing I thought was, please don't let this be like the 2008 Mumbai attacks, which saw a series of shootings and bombing across the city in three days.
Despite my anxiety, the locals seemed nonchalant. It won't happen to us, many Indian trade people said to set me at ease. Hello! Are you god or the head honcho of the terror group? How would you know for sure? I bet those poor souls at the Delhi High Court did not think they would die from a bombing when they got out of bed that morning.
Fourth, 10 hours after the bomb attack, a sturdy vibration rattled my bedroom in the hotel just as I was about to fall asleep. I thought it was another bombing close by because the vibration was so regular, starting out strong and tapering off after mere seconds. It didn't help that I saw hotel security running from the main gate towards the hotel's lobby. I called the front desk and was told, "It's just an earthquake. It is safe to return to bed."
To be sure we were not in danger, my brave (and more decently dressed) colleague went out of the room and asked a patrolling guard what was the tremor all about. He gave her a blank stare and continued walking down the corridor. Several guests had also emerged from their rooms, and were given the same blank stare when they approached the guard. How very helpful!
Then, in a stroke of genius, I turned on the telly, and the local news channels were awashed with reports of an earthquake. It was first reported as a 6.6 quake, but later revised to a 4.2. I've never thought that Delhi was in a quake zone, but after that night, I came to learn that it was ranked a high 4 on a scale of 5 as a high-risk seismic zone. Experts also said that Delhi's infrastructure was not quake-proof. Urgh.
I kept awake for the next hour, terrified that the brief shake-up was a prelude to a more sinister one. But eventually, my fever and headache won and I fell asleep. It was a fitful sleep, as I dreamt of running frantically from a collapsing hotel. :(
Fifth, the worse thing that could happen to a girl on the very day she's wearing white bottoms happened to me. Yep. The bloody period arrived - a full week ahead of schedule. My uterus must have been scared shitless the day before and decided to shed its lining ahead of time. Thank goodness my make-up pouch is always in a perpetual mess, with all sorts of things in there. It threw up a tampon, which helped plug the leak until I got back to the hotel a few hours later.
Sixth, we found out how obsessed the airport policemen were with printed flight tickets. Without a printed flight ticket, one was not allowed into the airport. One has to go to a special counter at the end of the Indira Gandhi International Airport to print that bloody ticket. Oh, and a printing fee of Rs30 is levied. Who the hell prints their flight tickets anymore? Hasn't the push for ticket-less flying been happening for years now?
Fortunately, I had my printed e-ticket with me, only because I made a last minute flight change and the editorial secretary printed the new e-ticket for my information. The big boss woman did not, and she freaked out big time, screaming at the airport police to let her pass. The screaming did not help because the airport police did not understand English. All the dude said was, "Gate six!" Amazing, considering how India is said to be the country with the biggest number of English speakers!
Several Caucasian travellers behind us had the same problem and a commotion ensued, as nobody wanted to leave the queue and impatient locals pushed forward to get through. "Move!" they shouted at us, and one rammed his trolley against the back of the big boss woman.
Frankly, I don't see how screaming can help matters. Being stubborn and insisting on being let through might not help the situation. Stepping away and going to gate six, as directed, might just be the solution. So I took the big boss woman's passport and went to gate six. To cut the story short, the staff was not able to print the ticket because he insisted on a PNR number as a reference to call out the ticket detail, but no such number was indicated on our e-ticket. The big boss woman was eventually let through after one quick-thinking airport police (possibly the only one who bothered to use his brains!) got a name list from the Singapore Airlines counter and found her name on it.
Seventh, we found out out how obsessed airport security was with luggage tags too. You know how the counter staff would pass you paper luggage tags with the airline's branding? Most of us won't bother to use them, right? At Indira Gandhi International Airport, you had better plaster those luggage tags all over yourself and your belongings, otherwise you will not be able to pass through the immigration gates.
Eighth, I was seated next to an irritating asshole on the flight home. At first, he was just chatty, despite me giving him one-word answers. Where are you from? First time in Delhi? For business or holiday? Where did you go in Delhi? What do you do for a living? He was too inquisitive. After a minute's silence, he said: "I'm not trying to be funny. I just thought we should chat, since we are seated together."
I looked at him and realised he was just a young chap, probably in his early or mid 20s. I know how guarded and stuck-up us Singaporeans can be, so I decided to be a little more kindly and said to him: "OK, I will talk to you, but once the movies come on, please be quiet." He grinned and agreed.
Unfortunately, he started downing whisky too early in the flight and was tipsy after an hour. And that was the start of my nightmare. He talked nonsense, telling me that his girlfriend is a married woman in Singapore and he uses her for sex, that Singaporean girls are hot, and other things in Hindi, which I did not understand.
When I ignored him, he jabbed my arm and cheek, and pulled out my earphones from my ears. At one point, he tried to lean on me and I gave him a huge whack on his head. He backed away from me in shock after I hit him, and gave me some peace for a while.
Later, dinner was served and halfway through his meal, he started to take food from my tray and played with my cup. That was the last straw. I felt like I was a mother travelling with a young child who would not let me eat and watch my movies peacefully. I asked an air crew to please give me another seat. They did and I was able to fly in peace for the next few hours.
Considering all that had happened in one single trip, I should count my blessings and be thankful I was able to return home in one piece. Oh, and another thing to give thanks to - I was not afflicted with the dreaded Delhi Belly.
But before you think my trip to Delhi was all horrors and nothing nice, I have to tell you that I found time to go around and see some of the heritage treasures, such as the India Gate and Humayun's Tomb.
More photos on Facebook! :)
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