15 November 2023

This airport is special to me

Exactly 30 years back, I landed in Frankfurt airport – completely dazed and out of sorts after staying awake most of the night on a Lufthansa flight. That was my first international flight. This was my first international airport.

I did not understand the language. Nor could I follow the instructions. And the scale of operations were unnerving to say the least. I had started from Bombay airport the previous night. Most people today will not realize how small Bombay airport used to be those days. I doubt it handled even 100 flights every day then. Today, it handles 1000 daily.

My first reaction watching two airplanes take off within 30 seconds of each other in Frankfurt was that there must have been a big mistake. Surely, the next day there was going to be front page headlines about a flight accident. Except I noticed that the pattern continued. Plane after plane kept taking off and landing. I figured that was what the famed German precision was all about.

Later in life, this airport became my monthly calling. A quarter million Lufthansa miles from all those trips to Asia and India ensured that I knew every nook and corner of the terminals and the staff at the lounges and some stores in the airport.

Now that I think about it, I think this was Natasha’s first international airport too. Lufthansa used to fly to Kolkata those days and Natasha’s first trip to check out her grandparents in 1999 at the age of 18 months was thru this airport.

4 November 2023

Admittedly, I was dripping like I was causing my own monsoon season

This, after finishing my run in the rains. Two property buses stopped to enquire if I needed a lift. I declined, of course. Running in the rains in mid eighties temperature… very few feelings can beat that.

As I finally pulled up to the lobby area, everybody stepped aside lest I got them wet too.

At least, I lived up to my T-shirt. “Wine drinker with a running problem”

3 November 2023

When in this part of the world…

… I have to pick up some cotton, short-sleeve shirts (like I used to wear in India). Some of my favorite shirts were from a village about 165 km away – called Valladolid. This time, instead of going there, checked out the local markets – Mercado 23 and Mercado 28 with some of my old i2 friends. When it came to comfortable shirts, the local markets did not disappoint.