Day 1 - South Coulsdon to South Delhi in a day.

Having not left Europe for nearly 10 year perhaps Delhi wouldn't be the first choice as a sampler of Asia. But there's only one way to find out. Monday 4th Oct after a hearty home cooked meal from my mother I was dropped at South Coulsdon station for the 4250 mile journey to Delhi. Despite the tube strike this seem preferable to putting my father through a 90 mile round trip on the M25. Quick train to London Victoria (why aren't all London stations prefixed London, London Balham, London Blackfriars ... London London Bridge ... so good they named it twice). Next the tube, thankfully almost every employee of TFL that wasn't striking was on hand to give advice. 15 mins delay then off to Acton and 25 mins later arrive at Heathrow. Having been accustomed to Liverpool and Murcia airport LHR is a bit of a colossus. T3 found, it's off to check in. This is done at a trendy kiosk, a nice idea but you still have to queue for bag drop so ... why?
Thankfully the Virgin Atlantic girl took pity on me and sent me to the "secret express queue for people with 1 bag and no attitude ...". All done, straight through security and then an hour of watching stupid tourists buying any old tat with a Union Jack on it.
Boarded on time, decent seat and a business man type next to me. Take-off, free drink, G&T lots more G than T. Dinner (it was nearly midnight) lamb curry, special airline 'amuse bouche' size portion and a Gu choc-pot desert.
Virgin's in flight entertainment had teased me with the latest albums from The XX, Arcade Fire and Robyn. Great, about time I listen to them rather than passing off newspaper reviews as my own. Two track in and the system died ... unlike Jesus there was no second coming. Thankfully the G kicked in and 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep followed. Awoken by the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs I forgot I was on an airline and when they said breakfast I said yes ... school boy error. Landed 14 minutes late having done a tour of Delhi by Airbus A340-300.
Delhi International looks like any other International airport ... except LHW. Opulent, airy, Roca bogs ... W H Smiths. I'd feared a long wait at passport control but no chance. A passport office the size of Liverpool Airport meant a wait of 90 seconds before being called forward. Now the fun started, the Immigration Officer was an aged Indian gentleman with badly dyed RED hair, the sort that looks cute on rebellious teenage girls. On a government official it looked bizarre. I was torn between laughing, crying or taking a photo ... common sense prevailed and I just kept quiet.
Once in arrivals the CWG logo was everywhere, as were a swarm of soldiers. As a group they don't seem to happy, like somebody just cancelled their annual leave and replaced it with babysitting duty. My rough guess is one soldier per CWG visitor. 
Once out of the pristine airport the real India started to appear. While I looked for my contact I got to see the full array of Indian 'official' taxis. They seemed to consist of 1960's jalopy and a selection of micro-minis. I'd love to see a couple of well padded yanks being ushered to a Suzuki Swift or Diahatsu Srixon. For me it was stretch limo ... almost, as my A/C diahatsu no-name sped me to town. On the way I saw the 10,000 place car-park (not finished), new metro (only just finished), coach park (not even started) and assorted government and military buildings. All to the beautiful strains of a thousand car horns. I'm sure the brake, accelerator and indictators are all wired straight to the horn. Oddly I never feared for my life like I do on the M6. 
So 13.5hrs after leaving I arrived in one piece and surprisingly lively.
Next stop a trip to the CWG swimming pool ...