Day 314: Delhi-Zurich

The new day had just begun when I arrived at the international airport in Dehli. Since I could not find a taxi that would hold still assembled Wolter, I rode the fifteen kilometres to Terminal 3 and was soaked in sweat after the little effort.
Arty the entrance they would not let me pass with the unwrapped bicycle until the check-in opened and they sent some ground staff from Aeroflot to convince the guards. To pass the gate I had to deflate the tires of tje still loaded bike before reaching the check-in counter. Whatever... Then I had to wrap the bike immediately in this foil, to make big bulky thing out of my beautiful bike. After checking in everything, bulky Wolter was x-rayed at the big-object-counter. Then the foil had to be cut open to inspect the contents if the tent bag which was wrapped with the bike. After re-wrapping the bulk, for which I kindly was not charged again, I finally could proceed to the security control. The time was just enough to grab a bite and a short stay in the smoker lounge before boarding. But I was not stressed at all, felt not nervous and kept my calm and good humour through the long but rather smooth procedure. I actually was prepared for worse scenarios concernig the transport of Wolter.
After six hours during which exhaustion plunged me in an uncomfortable sleep we reached Moskow in the brand new Airbus. It was funny observing the completely different looks of people in the transit area until I realised that I had not two (as expected from the booking) but ten hours to kill here. I have no clue what went wrong, remembering that the transit time was one of the main features when I was comparing the flights.
This rather small section of the airport I was trapped in was packed with duty-free shops. To my annoyance all the booths selling print-media limited themselves on russian literature, this however was compensated when I found a free wifi. But I could only so long occupy my dizzy self with surfing and I ended up spending most of the time staring on the tarmac. I did not find sleep during the entire time but I found a bottle of whiskey among hundreds and the soundtrack for the spectacle happening outside the aquarium I was trapped in; Mars Volta, De-Loused in the Comatorium. This music did justice to the violent, aggressive and forceful reality I was looking at. The glass-windows would insulate me from all the sounds that would reveal the character the events I observed. From this perspective the starting and landing planes rolling slowly between runways and docks was looking like a weird ballet of bulky objects. But the music bridged the insulation and my dizzy self was transported by the in some weird way re-established coherence between the inputs of my senses right in the middle tarmac. And there I sat, losing all linear perception of time, tired, slightly drunk.
By the time we boarded the plane it did not feel like a long time waited but rather like being suspended in time and between worlds becoming a ghost myself, semi-transparent to the environment and utterly misplaced.
And then I finally landed in the arms of my sister Carmen and in then embrace of my father whose names I share. Now I'm home.