Jwalamukhi writing about jwalamukhi

Background


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It all started when I visited 71 year old Dad in Madras in Jan 2010. He looked older and weaker than ever before, and I felt very sad. I came back to Bombay and told Ketan I was planning a one month Europe holiday for him this summer, while he could still enjoy it. Like all corporate characters, I did not know whether I would get so much of leave to accompany him, so decided that I would first send him to UK where my aunt and cousins live.



After a week of family reunion and sightseeing in London, he was to either join a Cosmos Tour and go around Continental Europe, or if I got leave, he was to join me and Sanju for a three week holiday in the Continent. Like always in my 17 year career, my good boss gave me three weeks of leave when I told him I had to take my 71 year old father on his dream holiday in Europe before he died. Ketan had just changed jobs, so no leave for him – he told everyone that his wife was running away, and they all said if she is taking the child too, it is not a bad thing after all.



So dad was to fly to London on April 15, join me and Sanju in Geneva on 23rd April, all of us tour around the Continent and return to India from Frankfurt on May 15.



Dad was flying Emirates to Frankfurt, and connecting with a Lufthansa flight to London there. We split our holiday budget between us, so he had a thousand euros in cash on him. No, he never believed in carrying credit cards.



Now the travelogue begins

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Like all Indians, Dad decided to utilize his baggage allowance to the hilt – why? Because in India we buy groceries in INR, and in UK they buy groceries with GBP. And 1GBP = INR 68.70



So dad raided the nearest grocery store and amassed channa dhal, heeng, parachute coconut oil, papads, chutneys, mangoes, drumsticks, coffee powder, gun powder, sambhar powder, rasam powder, chilly powder, dhaniya powder, haldi powder, dried ginger powder, enough powders that would have created a volcanic cloud of their own, and have the whole universe sneezing for a week if his flight exploded in the sky ….. I deflated his enthu saying Emirates baggage allowance is 30kgs, but Lufthansa is just 20kgs, so watch out – all INR calculations will not be worth it if Lufthansa hits you with Euro 70 per kg of excess baggage charges for mangoes and mysurpak ! Dad quickly saw 1EUR=62.30INR, and offloaded ten kilos with a heavy heart all the while cribbing about inequity, why Emirates 30kg and Lufth 20kg, not fair? I said hey you are a lawyer, just check out the Contract of Carriage you signed with Lufthansa, it is 20kgs and your petition is dismissed!



Emirates said they would through check-in his bags all the way to London via Frankfurt, but I was concerned anyway – so I ask dad to get a multiple entry schengen visa just in case he needed to clear immigration at Frankfurt, claim baggage from Emirates and then recheck them into Lufthansa counter. The decision was a life-saver.



Thu, April 15



At 8am, Dad called me with delight that Emirates did check his bags through to London, so he was saved the bother of getting his channa dhal in and out at Frankfurt. They boarded at 09:15am and Dad was thrilled in his window seat. I wished him a happy journey, and left for work. No internet for the next 45minutes since I was in transit in a taxi to office, cruel fate.



A few minutes before takeoff, there was a call from dad, hey they are saying flights disrupted in Heathrow due to a volcano eruption in Iceland. I sniggered, baf, where Iceland where Heathrow, will take a very very very long time for the lava flow to inundate the runways in LHR. And in any case, your flight has another 16hours to land in Heathrow, by which time things will clear up. Whoever heard of mighty HEATHROW being disrupted for 16hours…. So get going to Frankfurt, in any case Lufthansa will give you a nice hotel and meals if you are delayed at Frankfurt. Thus spake wise Bharathi, and knew not what Eyjafjallajokull was!



I went to office and checked the internet, and knew this was going to be deep shit indeed. Emirates flew dad to Frankfurt anyway, because German airspace was still open. UK airspace had closed, so Emirates stopped all UK bound passengers in Dubai and gave them accommodation. Dad landed up in Frankfurt airport at 19:50local time, just a few minutes before German airspace was closed. I said small mercies, now Lufthansa has to take care of them, and did not worry much because Frankfurt is Luft’s home turf, and they would have things well organized.



Dad did not have International Roaming on his mobile, why because the telecom company wanted a 1500 rupee deposit, and dad said what is the need for international roaming – once I reach London in the evening, I can be contacted anyway at my sister’s house. So now daughter waited for stranded father to call, and hoped Luft would give him acco. Just as a backup reserved a bed in a hostel right across FRA main rly station because the hotel rates stood at 270 euros plus. And waited, and waited – finally 2am IST, Dad calls 10:30pm German time, Luft did give them a hotel, and I got a scolding for falthoo wasting money, a princely 24 euros, on reserving a back up bed for him at the hostel. Lufthansa also gives them a return taxi voucher to the airport next day, and meals at the hotel. So we wait, and say arre tomorrow everything will be fine. The channa dhal bags are languishing at FRA airport, and dad has only hand luggage with him.



Fri, Apr 16

Am in touch with dad, I tell him arre Lufthansa is a great airline, you relax they will take care of you till flights can leave. Dad decides the damned phone calls from hotel is expensive, and cuts back on calls. He complains that the calls cost him TWENTY TWO euros so far, I said listen that is what a pizza delivery bill amounts to in Bombay, pls forget about expenses and keep in touch. Bah, try telling that to a mathematically gifted Madrasi who is busy converting euros to INR for all transactions, two decimal places accuracy no calculator required!



2pm – the hotel throws them all out on the street. Dad goes to airport and the great airline Lufthansa says Force Majeure, I am not responsible for volcano’s antics, pls fend for your acco. God be with you! Dad calls me from an Indian co-traveller’s phone - almost weepy, Bara what to do now. I tell him give me five minutes I will call you back on this no. I quickly look up a hotel where I had a May reservation for 46euros per night, the damn place wants 296 euros per night now. I look at the hostel opp railway station, no beds sorry : ( I desperately check the Frankfurt Youth Hostel website, it says room available but today’s reservation cannot be booked online. I call the hostel dreading a Deutsch speaker on the other side, but glad Germans are better bi-linguals than say the French. I beg them to keep a bed in the 4-bed dorm for my poor 71 year old dad on his maiden trip to Europe, no private rooms available, sorry. I say boss dorm is fine, even the kitchen counter will do, better than sleeping on the airport’s floor. I call dad back, give him address and phone no and he takes a taxi to the hostel. He sobs over the phone “ sixteen hundred and twenty nine rupees eighty paisa for the taxi from airport”!



I have three windows permanently open on my computer now www.heathrowairport.com, www.lufthansa.com, www.bbc.co.uk



I send regular updates over phone and internet, dad struggles to access the internet at the hostel, he complains that the “Deutsch” keyboard feels very different from its Chennai cousin, and is unable to figure out the “Back to Inbox” in his gmail. He does manage to read his mails by logging in again after every message, poor chap, but is unable to type long messages in reply. All I get is cryptic one liner messages I try to make head or tail of! Like once, I send message “ DO NOT GO TO AIRPORT, STAY PUT AT THE HOSTEL” and he replies “Bara I have” - I ask Ketan whether it means I have gone to the airport or I have stayed in the hostel!



We all go to bed hoping tomorrow will be a better day. The hostel gives bed and breakfast for thirty euros, and lunch and dinner buffet for five euros apiece. So for 40 euros, my father got a bed and three square meals.



Ketan says what is synonym for Bharathi and Ejkaflobellajkul - the answer is Kalamukhi and Jwalamukhi. Hahahah! I laugh, and tell him if a guy can make me laugh in these circumstances, he is worth being married to.



It was a 4-bed dormitory, and there was one other stranded German flying to Ireland. Dad snored merrily and moved the sleepy German to tears, when the German complained to dad that he was keeping him awake, Dad merrily reminded the German that he had gone to drink beer and watch movie and came in at 01:30am and woke dad up anyway, so it was now the German’s turn to stay awake and suffer. The poor German begged the reception to shift him to another room, and the reception taking cognizance of Dad’s amazing snoring ( deeper rumble than what the volcano was capable of in Iceland), never allotted a room mate to Dad ever again. So he became the Lord of his 4-bed dormitory! I was only glad the sloshed German did not smother my father’s face with a pillow to shut out the snoring ….



Sat Apr 17



I knew no flights till evening, so told Dad not to bother going to the airport or calling Lufthansa. My poor concerned aunt from UK advised him to go to the airport at 6am, so that he would be first in the line when they eventually started handing out boarding passes. She even agreed to wake up the receptionist at 5am to wake up dad. I got so wild I gave everybody an earful over email, and said NO GOING TO AIRPORT TILL I CLEAR IT, NO BOARDING PASS ANYWAY UNLESS FLIGHTS CAN TAKE OFF , SIT IN HOSTEL QUIETLY DON’T GO TO AIRPORT, IT WILL BE COMPLETE CHAOS, DO YOU TWO REALIZE KNOW EVEN IF FLIGHTS COMMENCE HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS MR RAJARAM IS UNLIKELY TO BE THE FIRST PASSENGER ONBOARD and went on for a full page in CAPS in this vein, spewing more lava than the volcano itself. I banned anybody else talking to dad to avoid conflicting instructions and weeping and overwhelming him. My husband Ketan says I have become an intercontinental bully now, not content with bullying him everyday. I even bully aunts in faraway UK.



My brother Arun sent dad a weepy tearful email bemoaning the situation, and he received another earful from me. If you want to weep, pls weep on my shoulder, don’t depress dad types. Ketan’s mom felt really sorry for poor dad, and wished I had not pushed him onto his solo adventures, when he would have been perfectly fine in Madras. I reacted typical Bharathi style, no tact whatsoever – hey come on this is post-facto wisdom, one cannot NOT TRAVEL on a holiday to Europe because some stupid volcano MIGHT blow its top in Iceland. She gave up on me when I declared Boats in the harbor are safe, but that is not what boats are meant for, she didn’t say anything but her resigned expression said tu jaane tera baap jaane! Noble soul, she gave up her mobile for three days to me so that I could use the ISD facility it had, and took charge of running the household and keeping Sanju entertained while I stayed glued to all kinds of exotic European airline and airport websites.



Dad was holding up quite well, he got the 2-day unlimited transport card for 8.40 euros and was amusing himself going from one bus to another in Fra. The weather was glorious and he had all his woolens on his hand luggage. He did amazing justice to the buffet breakfast, and gleefully announced he took one hour to finish his plate. The books in the library kept him happy and we were waiting it out. By now Eyjafjallajokull was enjoying all the attention it had never got in twenty million years, and was sprucing up its antics, and the ash clouds were dancing with gay abandon.



Sanju figured out something was seriously bothering mom, and she asked me what happened. I told her thatha (grandfather) was stuck in a cloud and the cloud was not letting him go. I showed her the volcanic ash cloud photos on the computer, and poor girl was really worried for thatha. Daily morning and evening she would ask me if the cloud has released thatha, where thatha was, and whether he was crying for his mother. She would declare “gandhaa cloud, thatha ko chodo” and hurl whatever choice abuses a three year old can think of – cloud ko gutter mein phekh denge, cloud ko main danda maroongi, mummy cloud ko fire mein daal do etc.



I considered evacuating dad by land, a 3 hour train from Frankfurt to Paris, and a 2hour Eurostar train journey from Paris to London. Unfortunately, millions of stranded Europeans in the Continent had the same idea, and every Eurostar train has but a couple of hundred seats, and Eurostar was quoting 250euros for a ticket three days later. That was just 100 euros less than what I paid Emirates for a return ticket to FRA from Chennai!



I had other issues to worry about, Dad’s quarter quintal of groceries were in the airport, and I asked Daddy if he was willing to abandon those two bags and embark on a train journey. He sounded so pained by the idea that it was like asking King George to abdicate the British empire in its heyday. I had visions of Shahjahan’s expression if someone had told him to talaq talaq talaq Mumtaz Mahal! I told my brother land evacuation was just not an option, Dad could not possibly go to the airport, lug his 25kilos worth of groceries, get to Frankfurt station, get off at Paris Est, and navigate the city and get across to Paris Gare du Nord, and board the Eurostar to London. So we decided to stay put. Anyway train tickets were just not available for love or money, and both the Fra-Paris and Eurostar are trains with compulsory reservations. More encouraging reports came in from a friend in Nuremberg that the police were caning and evicting desperate travelers who stormed into reserved compartments on trains. I did not think I could put 71 year old dad and his beloved groceries through that ordeal, with not even a working mobile on him!



I tried everything, ferry, train, bus – nothing worked, nothing available for next three days. Car rentals were a couple of thousand euros a day! So I told dad stay at the hostel, atleast you got a bed and three meals and library and internet access and TV and I can keep in touch with you.



Keeping in touch with dad at the hostel was funny, we set up an appointment for our next telephonic date everytime before hanging up, and he would come and sit at the reception desk waiting for me to call at the appointed moment. And all the receptionists knew this drill, dad sitting in front of them expectedly waiting for phone to ring, much like a dog in happy anticipation of his favourite meal. Bharathi had another window permanently opened on the computer “Current Local Time in Frankfurt, Hesse, Germany ”. Ketan shook his head at the two of us “technologically challenged Madrasis” I asked dad if he could figure out how to buy and use a calling card, but his reply was on the lines of “You cannot teach an old dog new tricks”. Well, he was doing remarkably well under the circumstances.



“Tomorrow is another day” acquired a new meaning for millions of travelers globally!





Sun Apr 18

Another day, no flights in sight, London and Frankfurt were closed, 23 countries shut down their airports. I joked to Ketan that Dad looked set to be in Germany till Oktoberfest. Obama could not attend funeral. Millions of passengers stranded across the world, all European carriers closed flights worldwide for the day….. The volcano, oh how it was enjoying itself, erupting even more happily, leaping higher and higher into the stratosphere, ionosphere and exosphere.



Called my ever resourceful friend Sambhavi in Toronto, an amazingly sensible woman and dependable in a crisis. She called back saying in the worst case Dad could stay with her nephew Nitin who was working in Nuremberg two hours away by train from Frankfurt. Nitin promised to cook rice for daddy and source sambhar and avial from a Malayali housewife close by. I felt slightly better!



Dad called to say Lufthansa was trucking his bags by land to UK, I was relieved. Now land evacuations were a better possibility. Located a friend who located a friend whose daughter was stranded in Frankfurt, a guardian angel called Jayada. She was a software engineer, who had been in FRA for six months, and had just completed her project due to fly to India when Frankfurt airport closed. She agreed to take care of Dad and went over to see him.



Dad was coping remarkably under the circumstances. At Chennai airport, he discovered he could have loaded a couple of kilos more in his hand luggage, and had bridged this gap with mysurpak and mixture at Sri Krishna sweets. He distributed them to the staff at Youth Hostel, and I died laughing at the thought of bratwurst and sauerkraut eating Germans gingerly eating mixture and mysurpak. By then they became quite fond of him! And they sent me reassuring emails, don’t worry we taking good care of your dada!



Dad obviously had travel insurance, so I called ICICI Lombard reg a trip cancellation and interruption claim. By then I read the small print myself, and figured out I had virtually no chance of getting a cent out of insurers far less chor than ICICI Lombard. For starters, Acts of God are excluded. Meanwhile even the sharif insurers abroad said they will pay if volcanic eruptions were specifically covered, bastards next they will say eruption of Eyjafflobellakull was not mentioned specifically in the policy. Airlines said boss Force Majeure Act of God no compensation for cancelled flights, if we really feel like it, we will give you one night’s acco and thank your stars for that. Governments were too busy with Tharoor and Modi to give a damn about stranded Indians abroad with visas running out, media was busy with Sunanda Pushkar’s armpit shots when taxis and hotels fleeced stranded foreigners at Mumbai airport.



By evening, it became apparent that no flights on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…. I got DESPERATE



I paid 245 euros to snare a eurostar ticket from Paris to London on Monday evening. Next was getting a train to Paris from Frankfurt. Whacked the shit out of the German railway website www.bahn.de for almost six hours, tried everything to get dad to Paris – Thalys via Brussels, City Night Line via Munich, TGV from Karlstruhe – the website would tantalizingly hold out a ticket, by the time I entered the kundalis of father, myself and my credit card, it would say fuck you you took too long now that ticket is sold. We went on and on with this exercise, no luck. Called Sambhavi in Canada who called a friend in Germany who could speak in German to the Deutsche railway help centre, she said no place in any reserved train, but a slow and painful way was change trains 4-5 times and get to Paris on the slower regional trains which did not need a reservation. I sadly gave up on that – cannot tell a first time 71 year old traveler to Europe to pls change trains at Freiburg, Basel, Olten, Lausanne, Lyon and MAY BE Annecy and Dijon too, and get to Paris!



Angela Merkel landed in Lisbon, flew to Rome and drove for two days across Italy and Austria to reach home. I wrily told Ketan why is she doing all that, all she has to do is take the City Night Line sleeper train from Rome to Munich. Ketan looked at me like the Thomas Cook European Railway timetable had sprouted legs and hands and a head and had walked into his house, and worse, he had had the misfortune of marrying it.



I kept at it with a maniacal single mindedness, poor Sanju got very dejected because I was home and yet ignoring her entreaties to play with her, Ketan’s mom cooked dinner or we would all have starved, Ketan cleared the dishes since the Maid had bunked that day. I kept pounding away, and Ketan was looking at me and the laptop with increasing concern as the hours flew by. But like all sensible husbands, he knew when to leave his mad wife alone. Buses take thrice as long as trains in Europe, so did not consider it first, and anyway tickets were not available for Sunday departure or Monday morning departure, to make it to Paris in time for the eurostar. And there is only one bus a day from FRA to Paris! Stupid Europe I thought, two great cities FRA and Paris, and one bus a day between them. Come to India man, ST bus in six variants, Neeta Volvo, Raj Travel, Konduskar buslines, Ajinkyatara semi-sleeper, …..



After hours of increasing desperation, and praying even to my dead mother’s soul for divine intervention to get a Deutsche Bahn train ticket for her stranded husband, got the last seat on the overnight bus from Fra to Paris on Monday night, reaching Paris on tue morning.



Then began the unenviable job of getting another Eurostar ticket because the old one was useless. Eurostar website had more traffic on that night than it normally gets in a year, and same rigmarole – show you a seat, type father details Bharathi details credit card details then be told fuck you what took you so long, the seat is gone? The going fare, 338 euros for a two hour train journey!



Mon Apr 19



I slept at 3am, and got up at 5am to bang the eurostar website when even the most desperate Europeans would be sleeping away on railway station platforms and airport floors. One hour of fight, and finally at 6:43am, got a 338 euro ticket for wed morning. Booked dad a hotel in Paris 200 mtrs from the Rly station.



Tried cancelling the earlier 245 euro ticket, and the website said fuck off. Wow I said 575 euros fatka for a train ticket, Dad was setting new records! I called and cribbed to Eurostar customer care because that was a flexi ticket and I should get a 100% refund.



No flights on Monday so we decided to commence the evacuation by land at night. Jayada patiently took the printouts of (a) the bus ticket, (b)train ticket, (c) hotel reservation in Paris, (d)my briefing for Dad for his Transcontinental voyage, (e)my request to Euroline coach and Eurostar train and Ibis Hotel and the world at large to pls honour all the tickets for my poor dad, though he did not obviously have the credit card which I used for the bookings - and gave everything to dad. She dropped him off at the bus-stand and sent me an all-aboard message. God bless her, I don’t even know her face!



Dad was very excited about all this adventure, he said I was born in 1939 and brought World War 2 to Europe. Now I just visit Europe and 25 countries close airspace for six days. I hoped he would be fine on the overnight bus, he said arre what Europe bus, I have travelled in Tamilnadu State Transport bus from Madras to Kanniyakumari 26 times in a six month period! I said yeah dear, but you were 40 years younger then!



Those Germans at the hostel gave him a fond farewell, and waived charges for his last day’s stay since he was leaving at 9pm. Amazing what mysurpak can do to mussel eaters … Srikrishna Sweets might open his next store at Frankfurt!



Tue Apr 20



Found a friend’s sister Nayna who agreed to pick up Dad from the bus station and take him to his hotel in Paris. She picked him up, another guardian angel, gave him a guided tour of Eurostar terminal at Gare du Nord, deposited him at the hotel 200mtrs away and left after he checked in.



The hotel had a problem debiting my credit card, and I asked dad to pay in cash euros at the reception. He was aghast when he had to pay 99euros,

He quickly calculated 6207.30 INR @ 62.70 INR per euro, and wailed like a soprano. I said listen buddy, the euros are mine, and I am not complaining will you pls stop squeaking like a trapped mouse and enjoy yourself in Paris? Buy yourself a Mobilis one day ticket at any metro station for Eur 5.80 and unlimited bus tram and metro travel for a day, just chill out.



He came up with a brilliant idea – he says I will dump the hotel, save 6207.30 INR and will try getting onto an earlier Eurostar today itself, Bharathi do you know there are twenty eurostars in a day? I said sweetheart, I know the entire fucking Eurostar timetable by heart, I just spent six hours yesterday night on that fucking website trying to get this fucking ticket. A confirmed ticket on Eurostar is worth its weight in gold now. Chill out and enjoy Paris and get onto to your train tomorrow morning! And treat your ticket printout like the Kohinoor, they won’t let you board the train without it. You can lose all the euros and pounds and swiss francs that you have, but whatever you do, don’t lose your passport and the eurostar printout.



He would have said let me swim across the channel and save both hotel and eurostar fare, but changed his mind when I said I will have to spend some more euros to get him a wetsuit by DHL courier. And in any case the Royal Navy was too busy to escort him on his mission, it was rescuing stranded Britons from the Channel ports.



I only hope he does not get a heart attack when he figures out I paid 338 euros for the train ticket, I will pretend it is 338 INR, just two hours train journey rey. So our brave adventurer is at Paris now!



My brother Arun hopes that Dad’s luck won’t puncture the roof of the Channel Tunnel drowning the poor train and all its passengers in sea water!



Hopefully Admiral Rajaram will make it to Nelson Square after all. I told dad I will call him at 6pm, but repeatedly could not get through to his hotel room, the phone just kept ringing. Then on a hunch, I asked the reception to see if he was in the lobby, waiting for my call. Yes he was, I said hey mister, you are not in a youth hostel anymore, you can wait for phone calls to be transferred to your own room. He said oh yeah, it never occurred to me. I have never stayed in a 6207.30 rupee hotel all my life! I lifted the ban on his calls, so all our tribe made calls to him merrily at the hotel, and I told my brother no crying on the phone. Lufthansa hand-delivered the two bags of groceries at my aunt’s residence in London in the evening, news which pleased my dad no end. He asked if the drumsticks had dried up, they had no way of knowing, the bags were locked and Daddy had the keys on him! I said you caused each airline 200million dollars a day in loss, for six days, globally, and all you worry about is drumsticks?!!!



He conducted a trial run to the Gare du Nord to see there would no hiccups next morning.



I told him the Queen would be there to welcome him when he got off the train at London, hey Meester Rajaram – you very powerful man, nobody ever do this to Europe for six days in living or dead memory, let me marry you and make you EU President. Well I don’t know about the Queen, the Rajaram clan will certainly be there to welcome him. Ketan says hope they won’t cancel his schengen visa for all the havoc he has wreaked there!



I told dad he was on a business class ticket on eurostar, so can eat and drink at the Business Premier Lounge for free, and be served a free full three course meal on the train as well. He has assured me he will drink as much juice as possible to vasool karo atleast a few euros of his fare. Hope he doesn’t throw up in the bargain, he must be looking a sight already, no change of clothes for six days running, and unshaven – his razor went in the checked-in baggage. Airlines have themselves to blame for unkempt travelers! I told dad to buy himself a change of clothes, but I guess he looked at the price tags, did a EUR to INR conversion and ran away as fast his arthritic knees would let him.



I slept like a baby, for the first time in four nights.



Wed April 21

I called the hotel to wish Dad all the best, at 6am his time. The sleepy receptionist connected the call to every room other than Dad’s, and I woke up sleepy Frenchmen telling me they were not Rajaram for God’s sake, then I gave up.



No calls, so I hoped no news was good news. I had London local time flashing on my computer, and the last ten minutes was palpable tension, will he be onboard or not. Called aunt and got pissed when the mobile was switched off. They called back the next minute, yes the transcontinental veteran had sailed into family arms.



If you hear about a bunch of Mad Madrasis jumping up and down in a London railway station, take no heed, must be my family celebrating!



Almost immediately, the EU Commission and all the airlines said, hey now that Rajaram has gone off on the bus clutching his 338 euro train ticket, don’t you think we have been overreacting for the last six days, and we should start the flights immediately. Thus Dad’s departure brought relief to millions of stranded travellers , sobbing hysterically at the very thought of their next month credit card statements!



Dad called me from London, and said hey I drank apple juice, orange juice, tea AND yoghurt at the Business Premier Lounge to vasool karo a few euros. I said wonderful, ask Latha to tell you what it will cost for you to see a doctor in London if you get a tummy upset. The immigrations guy looked at him suspiciously, Dad hardly looked like a Business Premier Class traveler, he must have looked more like a Carpetbagger from Eastern Europe! Dad waved all his pounds and euros and swiss francs at him and they let him through…………



Thu Apr 22

Dad is set to fly to Geneva tomorrow, and I and Sanju are flying Geneva tomorrow. Hopefully happy and easy reunion, have warned the Swiss about the impending doom - my dad is coming! My mother in law is hoping the plane does not get diverted to Magnitogorsk or Vladivostok or something like that. I told her don’t worry, we will hire a Bactrian camel for an overland journey back to India, and Sanju will be a teenager by the time we get back. Ketan has resigned himself to a wife who will not listen to him, but will proceed on the holiday anyway.



Screw you Ejkaflobellojkul, you can delay the Rajarams but you cannot stop us : )

europe trip

Europe trip