Long Post Written Mostly in the Airport (Day 11)

I don't think he has a permit

First on the agenda: dinner with the prospective student (who we will call S) and her parents (who we will call M & D). This is the first time I have had dinner with a prospective student. I know some reps do it often while traveling. I suppose one must be careful with this, not to get too close (academic bedside manner and all), in case the student is not accepted, or can’t find the resources to attend if they are accepted. The former I’m not too worried about. S is very bright and talented. The latter is the question. S and M meet me at the Taj Bengal. Their car and driver are waiting outside (clue one). M speaks flawless English, as does S, with a cultured accent (clue two). We are meeting D at a Chinese restaurant. He has just finished teaching a college course on international marketing, which he does as a sort of hobby. He owns his own manufacturing business (clue three). This business calls for him to travel quite a bit, at least once a year to the US (clue four). During dinner I let M & D grill me all they want. S is very set on going to my university. M & D are warming up to it, even though when she first proposed going to school in America they thought it was crazy. By the end of dinner, they say it is up to her. They will go along with it, but they want S to get some sort of financial aid through scholarship. I get the feeling they could pay for it without, but they want her to help defray the cost of this crazy thing she wants to do. Perfectly understandable. After dinner, D’s car and driver (different from the first, clue five) pick us all up and drops me at the hotel.

Today’s First Digression: “As you please.”
When a cabbie says this to you (as mine did in response to my query as to the price of his services for the day, as he dropped me at the hotel [yesterday]), it means, “You may or may not know the going rate, but I know if I leave it to you, you will pay me more than if I quote you the rate.” This is true. I do know the going rate. However, unless I am explicitly and directly instructed to pay this amount, a very feeble sum, I cannot do it. It just isn’t enough. So I over-pay, but I don’t feel like a sucker, because I do know the going rate and over-paid voluntarily. It is still a lot, lot less than you’d pay in the states. Besides, this is the first cabbie I’ve had who has not once had to stop and ask directions.

My wake-up call roused me at 5:30am. Shower, pack, breakfast, check-out, cab to airport. Now, my same cabbie from yesterday was supposed to be at the hotel to get me. He was not. I even waited a bit for him. My over-paying (see digression) probably led to his absence, as he probably went out on the town and blew the wad of cash I threw at him.


No, not the entrance to Arlington


At the airport I discover that my ticket says the 17th. Today is the 18th. Hmmm, I put off wondering how the mistake was made and go to the counter fully expecting to be bent-over for a new ticket. However, they fiddle on the computer, then simply scratch out yesterday’s date and write in today’s. Wow. This brings me to…

…Today’s Second Digression: Indian airport oddities.
1) Friendly, helpful employees. Ahmedabad aside, which might be the exception that proves the rule, all my airport experiences in India have been very pleasant. The people who work here are friendly and seem to enjoy it. Great, now I’ll get even more pissed off when facing the insulting, moronic quagmires that are American airports.
2) I have never been asked to show ID of any kind in an Indian airport. If I ever do anything very bad in the States, I will immediately fly to Mumbai, then buy a ticket to another city with cash. My new name will be Raj.

Delhi: check in and then wait an hour for my box of pre-shipped materials to be brought to my room (Did I mention I needed it quickly? Only three times). Then I load up and go to the local Fulbright office. There I speak to some employees and then one-on-one with several interested students.


No, not the Washington Monument

Rather than go straight back to the hotel, I decide to walk around a bit. Delhi feels deserted compared to other Indian cities. In parts it seems that the wide, tree-lined boulevards serve no purpose other than to link lavishly landscaped roundabouts. Then there is the Indian version of the National Mall. Quite impressive, what with the huge India Gate and all. Oh, and there are monkeys all over the damn place. I’m kind of afraid to make eye contact with them. Will they attack? Throw feces? I just avoid them. I walk ‘til me feet are killing me, then grab a rickshaw.

Confession: McDonald’s for dinner.

Cause for joy and celebration: I’m going out tonight! Woo-hoo!