“Purple is a fruit!”

This is the claim made by Homer Simpson when he was trying to justify his continuing delight in donuts and why they are just junk food. This morning while I had breakfast in the coffee shop of the Centaur Hotel, near the IGI airport, I got closer to a sense of what he meant when I had toast with a mix of confitures – honey, strawberry jam and orange marmalade. Whether there was any fruit in either of the jam or marmalade was definitely open for consideration but there was no doubting the colour and so I would be moved to say, if purple is a fruit, then so is “red” and “orange”.

I had enjoyed the toast after an excellent masala dosa (even better than the one I had had the night before, with vegetable somosa as an entrée), and along with a most interesting conversation with the waiter about the developing economies of Australia and India (and the growing relationships between the two countries); the likely competitiveness of the upcoming Test cricket series between Australia and India; and the failure of the Europeans and the Mesopotamians (the waiter’s term) to appreciate the enlightenment reflected in Hindu lore and the experiences of the great Hindu holy men. Accordingly, I was somewhat reluctant to leave the breakfast table in the hotel’s café, but the day beckoned.

Because you are perceptive dear reader, you’ll have noted that I write this blog, not from Kochi where I was supposed to arrive yesterday evening, but from a hotel in Delhi. Another reason for my observation about the Indian airline schedules in the “Time after Time” blog is that I was a victim of them once again yesterday. My flights from Patna to Delhi to Kochi were originally supposed to begin at 9.00am on Saturday morning (with a 4 hour layover in Delhi, while I waited for the 2.15pm Spicejet flight from Delhi to Kochi). Jeena from the KiBS office had already alerted me to a 2 hour delay in the Patna-Delhi flight several days earlier, so I was pleased that my “lay around” in Delhi would be reduced by two hours. I duly arrived at the Patna airport at 10.15, only to discover that the flight from Delhi had been delayed such that the flight would not leave now until 11.55am. Again, I was “happy” to have the layover time further reduced.

Unfortunately, the delay extended, and extended, and extended so that we did not leave Patna until 3.00pm and duly arrived in Delhi, just after 4.00pm. I was hopeful that the delay was generic and that I could count on all the other flights being duly delayed but it was not to be. The Spicejet flight (from 2.15pm) had only been delayed by just over an hour and so I had missed my last opportunity to get to Kochi on Saturday afternoon.

The IGI airport experience was a series of frustrations as, first, the Spicejet booth at the baggage counter was unstaffed. Then I was to discover that I needed to go the Departures Hall (a separate building at IGI), where, having finally convinced the Indian Civilian Security Force (ICSF) member that I needed to get into the Departures hall even though my flight had already left, I found the Spicejet ticketing counter labelled with the “Counter Closed” sign. I made my way to the check-in counter to be told I needed to go to the “Counter Closed” counter (by this stage, someone from the “Counter Closed” counter, which wasn’t really closed – it just looked like it – had spied me and chased after me to take me back to the counter). Having been made to walk back to the “Counter Closed” counter, I was told there were no more Spicejet flights to Kochi that day (why I couldn’t be told that about 3 walks earlier is beyond me, but there you go).

A phone call to Ajith in Kochi and eventually I was booked on this afternoon’s 3.15pm Kingfisher flight to Bangalore (yes, dear reader, Bangalore) and then the evening Bangalore-Kochi flight (all the other direct flights to Kochi having already been booked out). But the fun wasn’t finished yet. I needed to get back into the Arrivals Hall to make arrangements for hotel accommodation. The ICSF man, who clearly had minimal English, would not let me into the arrivals hall, then his 3-striped boss (whose English was also minimal) would not let me in. Serendipity had a Kingfisher employee with reasonable English passing by and, following a discussion in Hindi between the three, in the context of a growing horde, I was ushered into the Arrivals Hall with flourishes from all in attendance.

Ajith had given me the names of the Airport Hotel (right at the airport) and the Centaur Hotel (a little further away) and I presented these to the government tourism operator in the Arrivals Hall (hence my need to return there). His response was a reasonable, “Which one?”. My response, in turn, was “Well, which one would you stay at if you had the choice?” First, he pointed out the locations of the two on the map and then said, “Well, the Airport Hotel is close and the rooms have recently been refurbished”. “What about the Centaur?” and it became clear that his concern was about which cost more. I refined my “search question” and asked.”What if you had the choice and the money?”. Without hesitation, “The Centaur”, he replied.

Off to the Centaur via a car duly organised by my tourism operator friend, where I discovered that, while the Airport Hotel has recently been refurbished, the Centaur is somewhere in the middle of being refurbished. Still by this time of the day (6.00pm) and a desperate need to just lie down, I was not overly troubled. Checking of emails and so on, a quick dinner of masala dosa and veg samosa, and it was sleep time, which I extended to a luxurious 8:15am this morning (I’m not sure how I’m going to get back into the 5½ hour time difference in Sydney when I arrive on Friday night, but right now, Sydney looks a very attractive proposition). And so I pack up to head off to Bangalore and Kochi (eventually).