The arrival of an old friend

Waking up on yet another noisy Mumbai morning Al and I went down to breakfast wondering if my bag would ever turn up. The day before we had bought a return ticket to Goa on the basis that I could manage down there with just a pair of shorts and if my bag turned up later then I could pick it up when we swing by Mumbai again in a few days. As I did every morning, I prepared myself for battle and gave Turkish Airlines a call and was put on hold for an eternity (like usual), but only this time the news was good… they had found my bag and it was clearing security at the airport. They offered to send it to my hotel in a taxi, but based on my last experience of Turkish Airline baggage handlers I declined and said I’d pick it up myself.

An hour and a half in the back of a beat up old Volvo in 35 degree heat later, we rocked up at the airport to pick up the bag. Getting into an airport in India is a bit of a mission it seems and it took a good while before we actually managed to work out how to get to speak to someone from the airline without being told to go away by an armed guard! Whilst waiting to collect my bag we got chatting to two German girls who had also been without luggage due to Turkish Airlines, they had asked the airline to get it sent to them as they were moving away from Mumbai… turns out that was a bad idea as they had been without it for 2 weeks and were now going home…

Finally after a lot of waiting around my bag got wheeled out the front doors of the airport and that was it. I have to be honest, I was pretty excited. The boss apologised but I told him I was still going to complain, he then tried to tell me there was no point as my bag had arrived now and I would only get $50 back in compensation. We both laughed! When we asked if this happens a lot his response was “yes, all the time”. So the lesson here is… don’t expect your bags if you to fly Turkish. Their airmiles card is called Miles and Smiles, I’m not sure there would be many smiles after lots of miles with them!

Another short taxi ride to the domestic terminal (past a pool of blood and some brain splattered all over the road) later and I was straight into the toilets to put on some clean clothes and more importantly than anything, some flip flops… I’d been wearing DVT flight socks I got on the plane for the last few days!

One flight and the most hilariously badly driven taxi ever and we were in Palolem, Goa. Typically we arrived in a power cut but managed to find a room and headed out for a “quiet” beer. As I’m sure you all expect from us by now, it wasn’t so quiet, we befriended a couple of Swiss guys and 3 Russians and the next thing I know we’re sat around a fire on the beach and its 5:30am..

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