Germany part I

So following the visit of the bhaji from Germany, they were hosting a European Sikh conference in Germany (Cologne), so I thought I'd go.

Of course the older geezers had decided they were going and were the ones representing Sweden, so there was apperantly no place for me (boohoo!) After a lot of ifs and buts, my friends from Denmark who were also going sorted my accommodation and my trip from the airport to the conference. Their flight was to land at Dusseldorf Airport (an hour from Cologne) one hour after mine.

Excited as I was I booked my ticket through ryanair to Dusseldorf, not realising there was a "Weeze" added to the destination name on their website. What do I care? As long as it's Dusseldorf airport! After landing, I ask one of the workers where the Air Berlin flights land (the flight my friends were coming with) and to my great distress he informs me that only ryanair flights landed at that airport, and the other one was 80km away! My Gosh!

My heart beat frequency sped up quite a bit. Ok so I find out there's busses from this airport to Dusseldorf (I thought it must be like the London busses where the buss goes from Standstedh airport to Heathrow.) An hour or so later when the buss stops, I realize I wasn't at an airport - I was at the central railway station!!!!!!!!!!! Bloody Germans! At least they could have been more clear and informed that it doesn't go to the airport!!!

I find a travel mate (a black lady who also flew from Sweden) who was also going to meet someone at the airport. So we share a taxi to the REAL Dusseldorf airport where I was meeting the Danes (who's flight was delayed one hour.) After paying 50% of the fare, (yes yes I'm a cheap Indian bastard! ) and saying greeting the black lady farewell, I go into the airport and ask about the airberlin flights, and am directed to the gate where it's landing.

After walking around for a few minutes (realising they weren't coming before half an hour or so), I take a seat, pick out a magazine from my bag and start chewing on a toast my mum had packed for me. Out of nowhere this young lad suddenly bends down and looks at my face (and scares the sh*t out of me...) and goes: "Denmark?" I jumped up in chock and quickly packed the messy toast into my bag. It was a turban wearing young lad, I realized. Our lift from the airport had arrived. To be continued...