My India Journal part 3 of 8

In the airport building, the first thing we did was to pass through Immigration. There was a man at the front of the line directing traffic calling out the numbers of the agents the passengers were assigned to. He was very good at his job, but his accent made it hard for me to understand him. I felt like if I had to ask him to repeat himself, he’d come unglued on me or something. (I now know that their way of saying “yes” is to move their head from side to side like a bobble head. To an uneducated American, that looked like “I really don’t want to let you do that, but because I don’t want to deal with the alternative, I’ll tolerate you doing that.” I’m sure that he was very nice and saying “yes” to all of those people asking him if they had understood him correctly and I just misunderstood his body language. ) Byron’s guy processed his passport very quickly, but the guy in front of me took a really long time. Then it was my turn. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been through Immigration and the agent didn’t even so much as look at me. He looked off to his right at something or down at my passport, but NEVER looked at me. I just thought that was strange. Once I was through, it was off to grab our bags in the mayhem that was Baggage Claim and head for Customs, along with about 1,000 other people. (The way the people acted at Baggage Claim should have been a clue about the driving! J ) I was so grateful to have all of our bags! As we approached Customs, and the very long lines developing, I resigned myself to the fact that we were going to be here for a while. Then a guard started to motion us through an empty spot and passed us through customs without even being looked at, much less questioned or our bags inspected! WOW! As we moved toward the exchange counter, I asked Byron, “Is it me, or did we just make it through Customs without being checked?” I was a little worried about the orphanage donations. That would have looked weird to me, I think, if I were inspecting someone’s luggage. He just grinned at me and kept walking before someone noticed! Then Byron got in line, he thought, to exchange some money. As the man in front of him was finishing, another man from behind Byron stepped up and began doing business. Again, another clue about the driving! We got the money and headed to the Domestic terminal shuttle. We passed the Jet Airways counter, and Byron thought he’d go ahead and try to get the arrangements for Elizabeth’s paper ticket from Kolkata to Mumbai in a few days. I was standing there waiting for him, watching our bags, when behind me, I heard, “No way!” I recognized the voice! It was my cousin! I knew that he had been working in India, somewhere on the eastern coastline, but had no idea that he was on his way back there during this time! We were able to chat a little while Byron finished his business at the airline counter and while we walked down to the shuttle passenger screening area. He took a picture of us together and was able to email that to his dad who then forwarded it to the rest of our family. Little did I know, that was the only communication my family would have from us during the WHOLE trip! More on that later…. We said goodbye to my cousin and made our way to the Domestic terminal shuttle area. We had to check in with Jet Airways before we got there and check our bags. Byron asked them if they could just check them through for us since there were only about 12 hours between our “connecting” flights into and out of Delhi. She said that’d be no problem. Great! Now we thought we could do our business at the embassy without having to take our luggage! Phew! Then he asked if we could leave the airport during those 12 hours. No, because that would be a security risk, she said. But we have to go to the embassy, he said. Oh! In that case, yes, it’ll be fine, she said. Are you serious! We got that kind of a break? I couldn’t believe it! That HAD to be God working!