The Indian Connection

It’s sleeting in Hamburg as I sit cocooned in my girlfriend and her fiancé’s flat, praying to all Gods-that-be that my 21:45 easyJet flight back to London not be cancelled. In under 72-hours Boyfriend and I need to board a plane to Istanbul, and true to form I’ve organised a million things to do before then. First and foremost, get home from Hamburg.

Girlfriend and I on a beach in Goa, Feb 2005

Four years ago said-girlfriend and I bonded for life when we endured 6 weeks backpacking through India. We survived 36-hour long train rides, 24-hour sleeper bus trips; were objectified, groped, spat at by some and revered by others (mostly native honeymooners, the wives of whom wanted to have their husbands photos taken with strange white women – us!). A strong and striking German with jet-black hair and crystal blue eyes, my girlfriend earned her degree in Australia while working in the same café as Boyfriend and I. In 2005 when I mentioned I wanted to take the summer off and explore the Wonder that is India she immediately agreed to take the journey with me. We had visions of practising yoga on the beaches of Goa and playing card games with children on the streets of Mumbai. The reality of our experience was far more wild and wonderful, with our friendship etched in the marble tiles of the Taj Mahal.

Nowadays she’s back in Germany, recently engaged and living in Hamburg. I came to visit one last time before I head Down Under, having promised to help her find a wedding dress and break down the guest list, as I may not be able to make the trip again for their wedding in August.

My flight was scheduled for 17:55 on Thursday evening. Thanks to a taxi demonstration around Trafalgar Square, my 50-min shuttle bus to Luton Airport took well over two hours; and thanks to the inefficiency of EasyJet the plane sat waiting on the tarmac for two-and-a-half hours for the snow (that had fallen on Sunday) to be removed from the wings and the plane treated with a de-icing solution. I finally arrived into Hamburg at 23:00 – both elated and exhausted.

FYI: Not the dress

Girlfriend and I had two bridal shop appointments on Friday: The first in a tiny (shabby) boutique off Lehmweg, where the attendants were pack-a-day smokers with bleach blond hair and caked-on make up; and the second on Eppendorfer Landstraße. The latter’s attendant was equally chic, wearing too-tight, pastel blue cargo trousers with a stripy blue shirt layered by a white-washed denim shirt. A diamonte hair-tie and black trainers completed her look – but the dresses on offer weren’t atrocious. Both ‘boutiques’ had a range of styles for Girlfriend to try on, with corsets and veils and all the trimmings. Typically unemotional, Girlfriend even wept a tear when she saw herself dolled-up for the first time. To be honest she would look stunning in a paper bag so I think she did the dresses more of a favour than the other way around.

On Saturday we experienced a far more comfortable and indulgent bridal fitting at Janine Kuhl Brautmoden, on Ludolfstraße. No champagne on offer but sweets and sparkling water saw us through the two hour dress marathon where Girlfriend tried on no less than ten dresses all with complicated lace-up backs. She twirled around in all that glittered, although sadly we found ourselves no closer to The Dress.

With just under seven months to go, no doubt she’ll be fine. Although reading the hoo-ha that bridal mags sell you, she should be close to wrist slitting if she’s not sorted her location, caterer, cake, guest list, photographer, seating plans and dress all before the sun sets on six months before ‘I do’.

Their wedding aside – as I’m convinced all will be fine and dandy, come August 15 – Hamburg has been a delightful host city. The sun shone brightly on Friday, retail delights abound around their flat in Eppendorfer (Anita Hass also on Eppendorfer Landstraße is a must for savvy shoppers after designer goodies) and we even managed a harbour cruise and a stop off at Hamburg's Red Light district this afternoon before the storm of hail and snow set in.

Now as I look out their window the grey clouds are clearing… Yes, I just might make it home on time.

At time of posting: My plane out of Hamburg was delayed over an hour due to further snow at London Luton. Then it took an hour to get from our 'landed' plane to border control at Luton as their ground staff had gone AWOL. Thanks to easyBus cutting costs and now hiring spaces onboard Greenline Bus Services I was then made to wait for the 00:30 bus to London Victoria (having missed my scheduled 23:00 service). A dozen stops and a few catnaps later I found myself in the middle of Buckingham Palace Road hailing a cab at 2am - but the ₤22.00 fare back to Balham was the final blow.