Mark and I arrived in India a bit late due to leaving late from Bangkok, though nothing to do with us. I just remember the longest taxi that I thought possible. If it were any longer we would have rolled all the way to India. Luckily we eventually took off.
On arrival I desparetly looked for a phone to call Khushboo from within side the terminal, unfortunately there appeared not to be one. We proceeded to wait for about an hour in immigration, apparently the arrival of some Afghanis was causing all the delays. During the long wait I sent Khushboo a couple of messages but didn't get any response.
Leaving through customs we noticed that the complaints email address was a hotmail one. Talk about official feeling. Just walking through the seething throng of people that were waiting for who knows who was very intimidating. I couldn't believe how many people there were. A veritable horde. My Uncle Naryna and Aunt Saraswethi spotted us and allowed us to use their mobile to call Khushboo who was waiting for us outside.
Khusbhoo's father took us on one of the most nerve wracking drives (only one of the most because I've been on a bus in India, more of that later). From watching him drive I've come to the conclusion that road rules are more vague suggestions than anything binding. This idea was developed as I hung on with a death grip to the door handle as we tore through red lights, only using our horn to convince people that we really did have right of way.
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