Goodbye Goa!!

I have left Goa, which means that I have left India and Clare and Jess :(

The last week has been amazing and I know I said I’d write a blog on it, but I did so much and remember so little.

The days were spent on the beach drinking endless $2.50 Pina Coladas and the nights at some of the many bars on Palolem Beach. The weather was perfect and the knick knack shopping was to die for. I made sure I bought many useless items. Look, here’s a picture of me drinking from a coconut.

Yesterday I checked out of my accommodation, said my sad good byes to Clare and Jess and then headed to Goa Airport to catch a plane back to Delhi. I boarded yet another safe Indian internal flight operated by a company called “Spice Jet”, who I have renamed “Safe Jet” because of their strict safety procedures and their willingness to adhere to them.

“Oh the plane is on the runway taking off, of course now is a good time to undo my seat belt, vacate my seat and casually stroll to the bathroom”

“Emergency exit? Nah, that just means there is more room for all of my belongings”

I settled in to my 2 hour and 15 minuet flight of death with a packet of Spicy Jalapeno flavoured Cornitios because Safe Jet ran out of my preferred flavour, Nacho Cheese.

Of course they did.

The flight was full of turbulence and screaming children so I was more than happy to welcome the Delhi smog when we arrived 2 hours and 15 minuets later. Ask anyone from India why there is so much smog in Delhi and they will tell you it’s actually “Winter fog” not smog (except that its 4pm in the arvo and the “Winter fog” is brown and smells like burning plastic and dead fish).  Safe Jet operates out of Terminal 1D and my international flight to Abu Dhabi departed from T3, which I was told was only a short complementary bus trip away.

Wrong.

I trekked out of terminal 1D with my backpack on my back and attempted to find the “T3 Shuttle bus” which I have since decided doesn’t actually exist.

I found something though. A big red school bus like vehicle with no doors and a passenger demographic of Indian men aged above 50. The smartest move I thought would be to board this bus, so I did (well tried to because I boarded it with my backpack on and I got stuck in the space where a bus door is supposed to go. I had to step back a bit, take off my b-pack and fling it into the bus before I could get on). Now it may not have been a short trip, however EVENTUALLY the bus with my new friends and I arrived at T3 where I got out and once again because lost.

Delhi Airport doesn’t make sense. The signs lie and the power outlets don’t work. Somehow I managed to check in and get through customs (as well as completely bypassing the duty free section, spending money win) and find the food court. Seeing as I enjoy eating Western food in India, I opted for a Dominos Farmhouse pizza. Unfortunately they had run out of lava cakes, which made me really angry.

I made it to my gate and boarded my 4 hour flight of death to Abu Dhabi (where I am currently).

Next stop a 9 hour layover in Jordan where I’ve been told they only have 1 knick knack shop. //wrists//.