Do not travel to another country without proper entry documentation unless you plan on consuming mass amounts of Tums for the duration of your trans-continental flight and/or like to live on the edge of Locked Up Abroad.
Backstory: On Sunday morning, before my afternoon flight, I managed to write a blog post, cook a batch of homemade macaroni and cheese, prepare a pork roast, homemade BBQ sauce and fennel slaw, dismantle two bookshelves and conduct a Craigslist transaction to get rid of them, and finish packing, all before my 2pm departure.
In the midst of running around the apartment, I had an OH. NO. moment when I realized I never got an Indian visa for my trip. Every time I’ve flown through Delhi in the past, I’d actually left the airport and therefore acquired a tourist visa for my stay. My itinerary this time included 8 hour layovers in Delhi in both directions but given that I wasn’t planning on leaving the airport, I forgot about the visa. Until about three hours before my departure.
True, I wasn’t leaving the airport but my USA-Delhi and Delhi-Kathmandu tickets were booked separately, meaning my bags would have to be picked up and rechecked in Delhi, meaning I would have to clear immigration and customs and go through again.
My stomach dropped. It’s not like me to overlook such a vital part of travel, one that involves legal requirements and documentation and potentially negative, Locked Up Abroad-style consequences, but I’ve been incredibly busy lately with marathon training, fundraising and buying a home that I guess I overlooked it. I began frantically Googling and found several travel forums in which people who traveled a similar itinerary stated they didn’t need the visa for staying in the airport, that someone took care of their bags for them. A slight consolation, I had no other choice but to head to the airport, completely nauseous, and hope for the best.
My first flight, a two hour jaunt over to Atlanta, was delayed by over an hour due to mechanical problems, meaning I would definitely miss my next two connecting flights. I resigned myself to the fact that it was going to be one of those trips, but que sera sera. We landed in Atlanta literally 10 minutes before my flight to Europe was scheduled to depart. As the cabins doors opened, I flew to the front and overheard two gentlemen ahead of me were on my next flight. As the three of us pushed our way off the plane, there was a Delta agent waiting outside the plane in a Porsche SUV. She gestured to GET IN! and peeled away, speeding towards our plane on the other side of the airport, explaining to us that this was a new service for Delta Elite members. We ran up the jetway from the tarmac, were hassled by the crew who were concerned that we were not boarding from inside the airport like normal passengers, and like VIPs, strutted to our seats (in coach. Super VIP-like).
So after explaining and showing my continuing ticket to Kathmandu at all three stops along the way, my nerves were somewhat calmed and I was able to relax for the majority of the flights. Until we were about two hours away from Delhi and the flight attendants handed out landing cards with a mandatory section for visa information. I thought I was going to throw up and or sweat through my clothes since I had to leave it blank.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths for those last two hours and concocted my best sob story slash explanation that I could tell the immigration officer. I convinced myself that the worst that could happen would be that they put me on a plane back to the US. I’d get to see Mark in another day or two – yay!
The plane landed and I joined the mass of people walking slowly towards the terminal. I stopped to use the bathroom twice and finally, FINALLY I saw my salvation. INTERNATIONAL TRANSFERS! No immigration desk! No need to explain my lack of visa and illegal traveling papers!
The rest of the story is not exciting. They found my bag which actually made it all the way to Delhi, despite my tight connection in Atlanta, and put it on my flight to Kathmandu. They let me back into the terminal without having to go through immigration and my lack of visa was never questioned. I slept a bit, ate McDonald’s for breakfast? lunch? dinner? at 12am and then Domino’s pizza for one of those other meals, I guess, at 6am.
As I paid for my $4 pizza, stress and lack of sleep having gotten the best of me by that point, the Domino’s man exclaimed to me, You are sooooo cute!
And just like that, the pep in my step returned and I vowed to make every minute count these next two weeks in one of my favorite countries. (In case you were concerned, I do have proper documentation for entering Nepal and am safely settled in my former palace-hotel.)
Cool, huh? You should see the facade of this place and let's just pretend this was not taken with an iPhone.
We were back to Kathmandu before lunchtime and I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, eating bad fried rice, crossing incredibly dangerous traffic circles by foot and being indecisive in several Thamel shops resulting in one meager $2 calendar purchase and three paintings and a rug regretfully left behind.
