On my way to India

As I sit here in the fancy lounge in the Kuwaiti airport sipping Camoimille tea, I find myself immersed in gratefulness for this journey.   It has been a blessed one so far.  

So far I have managed to get my clay pot crockpot (the Vitaclay) through four security check points.    First I had to go through security in Albuquerque where they patted me down and emptied my bags as we had a delightful conversation about my upcoming trip.   Then once I succeeded the first security check point no less than twice, I then met my next challenge.  Amazing that my carefully planned styrofoam protective casing for the cooker made the bag *just* above the size that the security guard at the plane gate deemed allowable via his tester baggage compartment.  In a very less than yogic fashion,  I crammed the backpack, styrofoam and all, into the "allowable" space (to the amusement of everyone watching) to show the kind gentleman that the bag would indeed fit into the overhead compartment.    He told me I'd have to take a bus (and this was in Albuquerque mind you).   So I took out all my belongings for the third time, removed the styrofoam and made the bag fit to his satisfaction.    Whew.  

Dallas was a breeze.   On my flight to JFK, I befriended my Italian seat companion, who told me she lived five minutes from the airport and offered to show me a good Italian restaurant in Queens so that I might eat and kill a few hours of my five hour layover.   In a thick barely understandable Italian accent, she told me she'd been ripped off by the taxi cab driver who took her to JFK the first time and was consequently suspect of them all.     The cab driver, poor fellow, who picked us up received a fair bit of nearly unintelligible Italian instructions as to the location of her house.   Sheer comedy here:  Chinese cab driver can't say the words,  Italian lady can't speak properly and I'm just watching it all go down.   Predictably he missed the turn, she yelled at him more relatively unintelligible instructions while he was shaking his head and I'm feeling amused and somewhat embarrassed for the Italian's behaviour.   Alas, we make it to her house, she tipped him well, pointed me in the direction of a good restaurant and everybody was happy.

Instead of Italian, I found a Sushi restaurant, which given it's garlic and gluten free nature is by far a better choice for me.   In the same block is a manicure/pedicure place where a cute Asian girl,  who is kindly cleaning up my nails and scrubbing my feet, laughs and asks "does that hurt?" everytime she jabs me with her cuticle tool.    I'm grateful for the massage chair, the place to sit down and the attention as I smile and say "yes" everytime she asks.

Across the street is a grocery store, where I pick up my last minute items of Pomegranite Juice, and organic apple and cucumber.   I like to be prepared food wise on airplane trips.    Food on airplanes is like winning the lottery:  you might win but most likely not.

I call a cab company to pick me up outside the grocery.     The cab company tells me it will be about a 40 minute wait as I'm standing on a now dark, windy and cold street corner in Queens carrying 27 kilos of yoga props and food to India.   Just then, I look up and stopped at the light is an empty cab with a nice Haitian fellow, who tells me that I would have been outta luck ever getting a cab on that corner had he not been driving from his house to work.    Oh sweet angels! was I glad he picked me up.

After I manage to naviage the long check in line to Kuwait Airlines, I'm told that the flight is full and there is no way that they are going to let me take both bags as carry-ons.     I'm only allowed 7 kg of carryon baggage.   The vitaclay cooker and german devices was 11 kg.    The food is in the other bag.   I repack again (this is the fourth time): the cooker, the laptop and the airplane food must all go in one bag.   Now the bag weighs 13 kg.   Luckily, the manager took mercy on me and let me take it onboard anyway.   I checked the other bag.

Security in JFK was much more reasonable...as I was waiting in line the security guard suggested that if it doesn't fit in your pocket, take it out and put in a bin.  This time I managed not to get taken to the side and patted down.   I repack for the fifth time.

I nice mathmatetics professor from Bangladesh with broken English sits next to me this time.    We laugh at the terrible service, the fact that my remote control works his tv, my tv doesn't work at all which is exactly how I like it, and the horrific food.  Thank god I brought my own.     I spot a place where I can lay out my sticky mat (behind the last row of seats in the middle of the place, backs up to a "wall") to lay down on my neck german device to sleep.   He is grateful for the two seats to stretch out.

The Kuwaiti airport is small, crowded and packed with smiling faces.   People are obviously friendly here.   I escaped and paid my $30 to this Lounge to have a hot shower, a great meal of saffron rice and hummus and vegetables of all kinds, a two hour nap on the massage chair listening to the iPod, an Internet moment (ie right now) and a bit of yoga (that's next) in the Ladies Prayer Room.   Perhaps I'll take some Pumpkin Soup on the next flight......