And so it begins.
After a night in Bahrain, I flew, overnight, to Abu Dhabi, from Abu Dhabi to Delhi, and from Delhi to Mumbi. I slept, in and out, as is to be expected, I suppose, from a guy who usually sleeps really well, even on planes, but who would get interrupted every couple hours to land or change planes or eat.
Eating wasn’t bad. I’d heard horror stories about Air India, so I was pleasantly surprised when I got not one, not two, but three meals on the way to Mumbai. And it’s India, so of course we got Indian food, which I love.
Speaking of love, let’s talk about flight attendants. I’ve written about Korean flight attendants, all looking the same, same plastic surgery, but stunning nonetheless. Indian flight attendants, though, take it in another direction, and I don’t mean a bad direction. Instead of all looking the same – same big eyes, same delicate faces, same hair neatly twisted into buns behind their heads – Indian flight attendants – surprise, surprise – don’t all look the same.
At least on my flights, they wore roughly the same clothes: red saris with yellowishness (actually gold, but I’m calling it yellowishness because I like yellow better) around the edges. Their faces, though, and their hair didn’t all look the same. They didn’t all stand the same height to within half a centimeter of each other. They didn’t all create the same silhouette. Various skin tones instead of all porcelain white and festive colors instead of nothing bright, they gave off a sense of texture I appreciated.
The Korean flight attendants foretold a lot about Korea without saying a word. I’m guessing the Indian flight attendants do too. We’ll see.
As the doors closed on that first flight, that first little hop to the UAE, mist filled the passenger area, pumped in from just above our heads, cooling us calmly, a pleasant touch. I’d never felt or seen this before. I took a photo of it, the first of this trip.
And so it begins.
