Four countries in a day
Kolkata, India
Druk Air treated us to an additional scenic stopover at no cost this morning. Rainy weather in Paro, Bhutan’s only airport, prevented the plane, which flies by Visual Flight Rules (VFR) to weave between the mountains into the steep valley, from landing. After circling in thick clouds above Paro for the better part of an hour, the captain announced that we would be unable to land, and, as we were running low on fuel, we would return to Kolkata, India. The flight had already stopped once, in Dhaka, Bangladesh, for refueling and on-boarding passengers. I don’t think I’ve ever been in four countries in one day before (assuming that we reach Paro this afternoon.[We did.])
As soon as we landed at Kolkata, where the weather is clear with scattered clouds, the captain announced that the weather conditions at Paro had improved dramatically and we would be taking off as soon as possible. However, the aircraft had to be refueled, and the crew had to complete a sheaf of Indian paperwork before the plane could lift off. With short range planes, it is good to have friendly neighbors along the borders.
This year is Druk Air’s 25th anniversary, so I learned quite a bit about Bhutanese aviation history reading the inflight magazine this morning. The current aircraft, the Airbus A319, which seats 114 passengers, replaced the BAe 146-100 in 2004. The Airbus is quite a step up from the 72 passenger BAe, in which people and luggage were arranged just so to balance the plane. The first aircraft was a Dornier 228, an 18-seater, which appears similar to the tiny planes I flew on to reach the Khumbu region near Mt. Everest in Nepal. Kolkata was Bhutan’s first international destination; Dhaka was added in 1986 and Kathmandu in 1987. After the purchase of a BAe in Nov.1988, Bangkok became possible in 1989. Druk Air purchased a second BAe in 1992, and added Delhi and Gaya to its destination list. The Government of India financed a new terminal for the airport, opened in 1999, which includes duty-free and handicraft shops, a bank, conveyor belts and x-ray machines, and a restaurant that serves cheese sandwiches and Nescafe. Chicago O’Hare, it’s not.
Last fall, I was quite surprised to find myself on such a large and roomy plane, having been used to the cramped BAe’s used in the early 2000’s. With the larger planes, hand luggage is controlled less closely, and the 20 kg restriction on checked luggage seems to have loosened a bit. Even the larger planes can’t fully accommodate the demand, and I ended up in Business Class, for an extra $60, today. I have to say, the roomier seats and classy meal service – complete with a linen tablecloth over the tray table – are pretty nice. Especially since the flight time has increased by at least 50% with our extra stopover in Kolkata.
I have fond memories of Zia International Airport in Kolkata from my Asia return trip last spring. It’s the only airport I am aware of where you can walk from the airport hotel – outside the airport grounds – to the airport, past fields where wandering cows graze. Though Kolkata is famously hectic and overwhelming, the airport and surrounding airport have the feeling of a languorous cow town.
Last spring, I arrived in Kolkata in the evening on a flight from Bangalore. According to my guidebook, a simple guesthouse was less than a mile – walking distance – away. I checked my large duffel bag at the left luggage office, receiving a miniscule slip of paper in exchange for 10 rupees and, ignoring the entreaties of rickshaw wallahs and taxi drivers, dove off into the steamy night.
I didn’t quite know where I was going. A well-dressed man teaching his father to drive a motorcycle on one of the narrow lanes stopped to ask if I needed directions, and I confessed that I wasn’t quite sure how to get to the street where my hotel was located. He assured me that I was on the right track. Eventually the quiet lane opened into a bustling intersection of barely controlled chaos, screaming with taxis and buses, vegetable cart pushers, cows and bicyclists. The traffic cop gave me an odd look – I was the only foreigner and the only woman wandering around in this part of town. In such cases, I count on other people being afraid to mess with me because I am so clearly completely crazy.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking – but was probably half an hour – I found the hotel. As usual, they had no record of my reservation, and had only more expensive rooms left. I tried to wheedle a discount from the desk clerk, arguing that since it was after midnight, they were fortunate to fill the room, but he was having none of it. “Planes come in at all hours of the night,” he said.
Grumpy about the high price – nearly $20 – for a tiny, substandard room, I fell into an exhausted sleep. The next morning, the charm of the location revealed itself. I could take short path past a miniature mosque hidden in the trees, and arrive at the backside of the Lost Luggage depot. It was no more than a five-minute walk. I picked up my duffel with a luggage cart, and strolled to the terminal. It was the most relaxing, easy-going departure I’d ever had for an international flight.
Druk Air treated us to an additional scenic stopover at no cost this morning. Rainy weather in Paro, Bhutan’s only airport, prevented the plane, which flies by Visual Flight Rules (VFR) to weave between the mountains into the steep valley, from landing. After circling in thick clouds above Paro for the better part of an hour, the captain announced that we would be unable to land, and, as we were running low on fuel, we would return to Kolkata, India. The flight had already stopped once, in Dhaka, Bangladesh, for refueling and on-boarding passengers. I don’t think I’ve ever been in four countries in one day before (assuming that we reach Paro this afternoon.[We did.])
As soon as we landed at Kolkata, where the weather is clear with scattered clouds, the captain announced that the weather conditions at Paro had improved dramatically and we would be taking off as soon as possible. However, the aircraft had to be refueled, and the crew had to complete a sheaf of Indian paperwork before the plane could lift off. With short range planes, it is good to have friendly neighbors along the borders.
This year is Druk Air’s 25th anniversary, so I learned quite a bit about Bhutanese aviation history reading the inflight magazine this morning. The current aircraft, the Airbus A319, which seats 114 passengers, replaced the BAe 146-100 in 2004. The Airbus is quite a step up from the 72 passenger BAe, in which people and luggage were arranged just so to balance the plane. The first aircraft was a Dornier 228, an 18-seater, which appears similar to the tiny planes I flew on to reach the Khumbu region near Mt. Everest in Nepal. Kolkata was Bhutan’s first international destination; Dhaka was added in 1986 and Kathmandu in 1987. After the purchase of a BAe in Nov.1988, Bangkok became possible in 1989. Druk Air purchased a second BAe in 1992, and added Delhi and Gaya to its destination list. The Government of India financed a new terminal for the airport, opened in 1999, which includes duty-free and handicraft shops, a bank, conveyor belts and x-ray machines, and a restaurant that serves cheese sandwiches and Nescafe. Chicago O’Hare, it’s not.
Last fall, I was quite surprised to find myself on such a large and roomy plane, having been used to the cramped BAe’s used in the early 2000’s. With the larger planes, hand luggage is controlled less closely, and the 20 kg restriction on checked luggage seems to have loosened a bit. Even the larger planes can’t fully accommodate the demand, and I ended up in Business Class, for an extra $60, today. I have to say, the roomier seats and classy meal service – complete with a linen tablecloth over the tray table – are pretty nice. Especially since the flight time has increased by at least 50% with our extra stopover in Kolkata.
I have fond memories of Zia International Airport in Kolkata from my Asia return trip last spring. It’s the only airport I am aware of where you can walk from the airport hotel – outside the airport grounds – to the airport, past fields where wandering cows graze. Though Kolkata is famously hectic and overwhelming, the airport and surrounding airport have the feeling of a languorous cow town.
Last spring, I arrived in Kolkata in the evening on a flight from Bangalore. According to my guidebook, a simple guesthouse was less than a mile – walking distance – away. I checked my large duffel bag at the left luggage office, receiving a miniscule slip of paper in exchange for 10 rupees and, ignoring the entreaties of rickshaw wallahs and taxi drivers, dove off into the steamy night.
I didn’t quite know where I was going. A well-dressed man teaching his father to drive a motorcycle on one of the narrow lanes stopped to ask if I needed directions, and I confessed that I wasn’t quite sure how to get to the street where my hotel was located. He assured me that I was on the right track. Eventually the quiet lane opened into a bustling intersection of barely controlled chaos, screaming with taxis and buses, vegetable cart pushers, cows and bicyclists. The traffic cop gave me an odd look – I was the only foreigner and the only woman wandering around in this part of town. In such cases, I count on other people being afraid to mess with me because I am so clearly completely crazy.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking – but was probably half an hour – I found the hotel. As usual, they had no record of my reservation, and had only more expensive rooms left. I tried to wheedle a discount from the desk clerk, arguing that since it was after midnight, they were fortunate to fill the room, but he was having none of it. “Planes come in at all hours of the night,” he said.
Grumpy about the high price – nearly $20 – for a tiny, substandard room, I fell into an exhausted sleep. The next morning, the charm of the location revealed itself. I could take short path past a miniature mosque hidden in the trees, and arrive at the backside of the Lost Luggage depot. It was no more than a five-minute walk. I picked up my duffel with a luggage cart, and strolled to the terminal. It was the most relaxing, easy-going departure I’d ever had for an international flight.
Comments
Were you able to get your passport stamped all over the place?