Beginnings in New Delhi

So I have arrived in India. Surprising really that they let such a master criminal into the country. After all, what else could explain the fact I don't seem to have fingerprints! Already when applying for my visa, fingerprinting became an issue. After four attempts at each finger, all they could get fingerprints for were my right index and little fingers.Their attempt to rectify this at the airport was doomed - and so the endlessly long queue to passport control got to enjoy a repeat performance of the popular show: "Smooth Finger Kati". At one point the official was lovingly holding me by the hand and staring at my dainty finger tips muttering "look at that middle finger!". I could feel the gazes of about 100 frustrated travellers boring hotly into the back of my skull. But eventually the officials decided to live dangerously and let me in to the counttry.

The first day in a new country always has a special vibe. And the hefty dose of jet lag, which usually goes hand in hand with the premiere day, adds its own, futuristic Blade Runner quality to the whole affair (I write, flicking an approaching cockroach away from my iPad, which is resting on the restaurant table).

Any new country takes a little getting used to. It takes time to figure out, whether you need to purchase the bus tickets before hand and if so, from where. And to figure out how much you should be paying for your bottle of water, or hot meal, or tipping the guest house receptionist for bringing up the towel and a roll of toilet paper (yes, I travel in style!). It takes perseverence to determinedly side-step the scores of helpful touts, who would like to guide you to your hotel - well, to a totally different hotel probably - when you aren't really all that sure if you are even walking towards, rather than away from your original accommodation of choice. (This cockroach is really persistent! Flick again.)

But finally the guest house in the middle of New Delhi's main bazar is found - coincidentally right next to one of the many public urinals. But a room is a room is a room and this one is well located (well, especially is you need the urinals), clean enough and has no visible signs of bed bugs (or even cockroaches) and only a very slight damp odour. It even has an ensuite bathroom with a shower spouting either very hot or very cold water. The choice is yours.

Tomorrow I am off to Bhutan and uncertain internet connections if all goes according to plan and they don't need to fingerprint me before entry. In the queue to change money at the airport, I was next to a local looking girl, who unexpectedly spoke Finnish. And it turned out she was, in fact, one of the only eight Bhutanese, who live in Finland. More specifically in Seinäjoki! The world moves in mysterious ways.