The Long Journey Home

First our Air Canada plane was delayed three hours in leaving Calgary; we were served by a surly non-communicative flight crew and the captain neither apologized nor explained our tardiness.

We arrived in Frankfurt only to find that our scheduled plane was gone and we were now going to be rerouted via Dubai. Security at the Frankfurt airport was tight and tight-lipped. But once on board the plane the Lufthansa crew, whom we would traditionally anticipate to be efficient but impersonal, were everywhere, friendly, going the extra mile or two, anxious to make everyone comfortable.

We finally boarded the United Arab Emirates plane, with the most international crew I've ever experienced, and had a wonderful flight to Bangalore.

Once there we discovered that three of our five bags had somehow got left in Frankfurt, but it was to be hoped they would arrive in the wee watches of the next morning.  They did.

We have been in three places: in Bangalore, the hub of e-commerce, the location of the greatest number of Thomson Reuters employees, I could get NO internet connection. In Coimbatore, where I am now, the connection is spotty. But in the back waters of Kerala, the connection was fast, sure and stable.

I've had food poisoning.

I've had heat poisoning.

I've cooked up a storm and played the piano for services.

I've visited an orphanage cobbled together for children of the tsunami.

I've met up with people I met a couple of years ago in Pennsylvania, of all places.

The water has stopped because the well needed to be pumped.

The power goes off more than normal because of the extraordinary heat.

I'm with my Dad and Deborah Joy.

Oh, it's good to be back home!