So this is one of the crazy things I didn't have the time to talk about during my (useless, apparently) exam prep:
My friend Kara and I thought it would be great to go to India together. We have been speaking very vaguely about this until a few months ago, when we both confirmed that we weren't just talking out of our respective asses. 80% of our conversations on the matter have been done via cross-continental text messaging, so it seemed fitting that the final decision was made (for me, anyway) when I received a texto that said, "India it is! Should we go north or south?"
She is an airline stewardess, and thus she gets free(ish) airfare. She also doesn't exactly know what flight she'll take and when, as it all sort of depends on free seat space. The airline is generous, but not so generous as to give preference to non-paying flyers. In other words, her date and times are TBD, and will be approximative until she actual gets on a damn plane headed east. That means I'll have something like 15 hours of advance notice.
So this all lead us to come up with August 12 as a potential date for meeting up in Delhi. Kara warned me that she might not be able to make it to town until the 18, but she thought I should go ahead and get tickets because they're not getting any cheaper. And she's pretty sure she can get there on the 12th. Maybe. We hope.
I started checking prices, and they were floating happily in the 700-something range for awhile. But then they started going up, and I started panicking. And then I checked again a week or so later, and there were only two flights in the 700-something range and the rest were well into the 1,000+ range.
My decision was to possibly reserve a flight, but only if I read that I could change the dates with little trouble. So I clicked on a 700 euro Air India flight and I got a message to the effect of "We're sorry, we cannot access your flight information. Please try again later." So I figured, ok, maybe they're updating the site or something. I'll try again in 20 mins. Which I did, of course, but I still couldn't access the flight info, and other flight prices were rising.
I freaked and called Air India, who then referred me to a travel agent. She was very nice and helpful, and she also informed me that Air India is really weird about online reservations, and that they'll give you ticket info but not always let you reserve online. They pretty much require you to go through a travel agent. Before I knew it, I heard myself saying, "Well, as long as I have you on the phone, could you tell me what the real prices -- for planes with actual seats available - might be?"
And suddenly she was saying frightening things like, "Only one seat left at that price... " and "Friday there's absolutely nothing at all... " and "The only other option is over 1,000..."
And wouldn't you know, I reserved myself a ticket. For August 10, actually, so now I am not only running the risk of spending some quality alone time in Delhi, I am pretty much guaranteed to do so. But, the chick got me a super sweet deal (even 50 euros than the flight I had seen online!) and it would have cost 200 euros more to fly 30 hours later, and I just couldn't justify it.
Honestly, this is all a bit unexpected, so we'll see how it all goes down. I've never really done the travelling alone thing. I mean, sure, in Europe, but that so doesn't count.
I remember the moment of absolute panic that I felt when I first landed at the Dakar airport two years ago. I had had hardly any email exchanges with my friend who was living there at the time - Laura - even though I took the trip there to pay her a rather exotic visit. I knew she knew my flight date, but we never agreed to meet at the airport; never set up a plan B. And it dawned on me, as I smelled the fishy, sticky African air for the first time just above the turmac, that I might have just stumbled my way into a very strange adventure indeed. When I gave the customs controller my passport, my hands were fumbly and weak, and I realized - with a mixture of disapproval and awe - that I was actually scared shitless.
The panic didn't mellow very much when I started to filter out of the dinky airport alongside all of the boisterous Senegalese passengers. While I tried my best not to draw any attention to myself, I was convinced that everyone was staring at me. Of course, this is not true: most people were reuniting with loved ones or bustling their way home. It was 11 pm after all. But I had no idea how to get anywhere, and where exactly where I would have gone should I have to come up wtih a destination. I had visions of myself asking some random taxi dude to take me to a hotel, any hotel. What a bad idea that would be.
I paused for a moment of reflection near some windows before stepping out the main airport door, and jumped out of both excitement and fear when I realized it was Laura's face that was plastered against the window on the opposite side, trying to get my attention. Oh, she got it alright. And I was relieved... especially since the screaming taxi driver chaos that awaited me outside was definetly a force to be reckoned with. It was nice to have Laura, and her Senegalese no-nonsense friends, there to do the dirty work for me.
But I'm glad I had that little experience, because I have a feeling I might have a similar reaction upon landing in Delhi. Sure, I've travelled a lot more now. And yes, I think I'll be a little less freaked out in general. But I am pretty sure I'll still have a moment where I'll think to myself, "What the hell are you doing?"
A good question to ask oneself from time to time, I suppose.
Also, something very cool about going through the travel agent: I get to pay my ticket in three monthly installments. I really don't have enough to pay for the ticket as it is, but I only had to put down 200 euros to make the reservation. And now I have a few months to pay the rest. Seems reasonable.
And finally, my boss has told me that he wants to buy a better, more high-tech camera for the store (and web site). He's getting very into the whole thing - apparently he's going out to buy the whole deal - lights and reflectors and special boards and God knows what else - so that my photos can be all extra professional. I'm thinking about requesting that he bequeath the older, CRAPPY camera (it's so not crappy, it's so hard-core nice) to me for the duration of my trip. Is this a risky move? I don't think he would even notice, and I know for a fact that he's never going to learn how to use it himself. I am determined to take more photos this trip, and why not do it with a "crappy" camera that takes perfect photos?
So anyway: I'M GOING TO INDIA.
Sigh. I love travelling.
I don't know about you, but I always get these air flight panic attacks when I try and reserve a flight back home. It doesn't help that I my hometime is considered backwards Canada and that there are no direct flights... And prices rise WAY to quickly. I consider myself lucky if I find anything under 800 euros (and considering I have to take my at least ONE of my kids with me, that means a LOT of moolah...)
Sigh. India. It's on my list.
Sigh. Apologies for my horrible nonsensical post.