Upto Heathrow

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Saying Byes
 
 
It’s the 30th of July and my husband has just informed me that we need to in less than a week. Leave home. Pack ALL bags. Pack ALL our stuff. And leave. In under 7 days.
 
Only men can assume the impossible is possible - which is why I suspect we (as in humankind) are where we are today.
 
I spend an emotional and heavy-hearted weekend with my folks (who live in the same city - much to my spouse’s chagrin!). And before I know it, the Packers and Movers are in.
 
I walk in Day II of the Packing activity and my beautiful house has been reduced to a cardboard and bubble paper dump. There are strange men in every room. Even my husband, grubby in shorts, shirt and sweat seems strange. There is a flurry of activity all over and that is very difficult for the controlling woman in me. For those of you who are not yet accustomed to the breed of Indian ‘Packers’ - they are slightly peculiar (like most Indians). They enter your house and make it there own - without being told. You’ll find them all over the place. Not just packing - but even commenting on the stuff they are packing. Sample this:
 
‘Yeh bahar ka hai. Pata nahin kya ajib garib janwar hai’ (A comment on my precious ‘sheesha’ from Dubai - roughly translates into ‘Its from outside; who knows what animal it is’)
 
They will put a value, date, opinion on everything they can lay there hands on. (‘Why are they bothering to pack this? They should just sell it off - even donate it - the packing material is worth more’).
 
We did sell stuff. Our first car. A 2000 Daewoo Matiz. The car we courted around in for a year. A car I thought would be out first born’s jalopy. And I didn’t like the &^%!$(MISSING)£ we sold it to.
 
The packing over, we moved into a friends house with 10 bags. 8 check-in and 2 handbags. The only problem is, we are flying Lufthansa. The only airline that can beat British Airways when it comes to baggage (mis)handling.
 
I spend an emotional last day at work - the only organization I am getting emotional about leaving. I almost choke at my farewell lunch. And then get practical…I have to rush back and try and reduce the 8 bags to 6. Only my husband ditches me. He gets home at 6 instead of 4. And 6 is when we had to be at our folks’ place. A fight and a kiss later, we are off…in a Qualis courtesy Cdr Lakhanpal. Only that since the back is stuffed with our belongings, I climb onto my husbands lap (and after 30 months of marriage that is not romantic - only heavy and uncomfortable).
 
Two hours later and I am saying bye to my folks and my sister. I always howl when I say ‘Bye daddy’. But today I know I must not. My sister is close to tears. My mom is the only one saying ‘Accha ab jao’ (Okay, get going now). I still give daddy the tightest hug. I’ll miss him. The most.  
 
The journey till Heathrow
Miracles of miracle - we are flying Austrian. For the budget traveller to Europe  - I recommend this airline strongly. The on-ground staff is terrific and the cabin crew even better. The flight leaves on time. The aircraft is well furnished and in-flight entertainment is good. (For a person like me who is absolutely terrified of travel - that IS important).
 
Austrian airways has a code sharing with Air India. So it will fly to anywhere in Europe with Vienna as a hub. It has good summer deals (such as hotel stay etc) and you’ll never have a problem with baggage.
 
Immigration at Heathrow seems to be a long long wait till a woman in the queue mistakes me for Spanish. (I take these things as a HUGE compliment). A Spanish lady is having a problem at the immigration desk and cannot speak a word of English. And I speak Spanish so I go over to help out. Seems there are two others with the same problem…so the officer at the Immigration desk clear my husband and me as well. Buena suerte I suppose!
 
(I will of course also not fail to mention that the customs officer mistook me for French).
 
 

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Comments

[anonymous]

well.....
.......i am thinking ...that was bloody honest..mebbe that's why i like u ...keep them flowing lady...