You may remember a few weeks ago we packed up a portion of our house in Minneapolis and sent it via air to our new home. On Monday, it arrived in India and by Thursday had cleared the unbelievably, unpredictable Indian Customs gauntlet and was waiting in a truck outside our flat.
For anyone that has ever moved, anywhere, there is a bit of euphoria when you see your stuff arriving in your new location. For anyone who has moved overseas, the initial arrival of the airshipment is like pure crack cocaine. It is your first fix of really living in your new country. We had been surviving on two small, orange plastic bowls and two spoons for the last week and the thought of eating with a fork made me quiver with excitement. Yep, I said it - quiver.
The truck pulled up outside our apartment in the wee hours of the morning due to truck restrictions in the city. Trucks are forbidden to travel in the city during working hours due to the traffic mayhem they cause. So, at around 7:00a, the truck pulled up and the driver promptly went back to sleep. Around 9:00 or so, a small mob began to gather around the truck. This was either the moving crew or al qaeda had finally discovered where the Americans live. I was really hoping it was the moving crew as I was not in the mood to be beheaded.
Promptly at 9:30, there was a knock at the door and the group had arrived with their first wave of boxes. No introductions, no paperwork, nothing. I simply opened the door and they began rolling in. Box after box came up the 5 floors and into the flat. I tried my best to direct the traffic, but the crew was much more focused on the speed of unloaded, rather than the quality of service. In their defense, it was 90 degrees with 89% humidity and they were taking the stairs.
As the boxes started to come in, I noticed that some of them were crushed and others were actually open. I had that momentary sinking feeling. The majority of the crushed boxes were clothing, so this worry passed pretty quickly, but the half opened boxes continued to concern me. I mean, I know that the upstanding, honest Indian Customs Officials would never think of hi-jacking my $300 coffee machine, but just in case, Olga and I began to unpack the critical boxes with vigor.
As it turned out, everything was there. Apparently, Indian Customs unpacks every box of every airshipment just to make sure there are no drugs, guns or explosives being imported. I get it, but you would think they would reseal them a little better, so you crap isn't spilling out all over India.
As the last box arrived, the head of the crew gave me the inventory papers to sign. I asked him how he knew if all the boxes were there and got that look a child gives you when they took the last piece of candy. I made the guy go back through all the boxes and match up each number to the inventory sheet. This did not amuse him or his crew, but since my primary purpose of the day was not to entertain the moving guys, I was OK with this. In the end, we had all the boxes, minor damage and nothing stolen.
We now have most of our kitchen, most of our clothes and all of our rugs. We still have another month to wait for our furniture, but it is a start. And a very good start, indeed.
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