Fight or Flight!

Why do very healthy people jump of the edge of a cliff with an elastic rope tied to their feet and bounce up and down over the chasm of nothingness beneath them?  I’d often contemplated this apparent flaw in human nature whilst sitting on a beach in Greece, watching the bus pull up across the street to load a seemingly never ending supply of adrenalin junkies.  I mean, for what purpose, would you ever willingly throw yourself off a cliff?  I got the answer to my question as I stumbled through the arrivals terminal in New Delhi.  A bungee jump suddenly seemed like a very reasonable alternative to getting my kicks and if there had of been a cliff edge on the other side of the terminal doors, I may well have jumped with little consideration as to whether I had a rope attached to my ankle or not.

I arrived at 11am to 47 degrees of the driest heat.  The frenetic energy in the arrivals hall was tangible, overwhelming and pure chaos.  It comprised a mass of local people all looking for business with a particular and precise ability to pick out those of us that had ‘My-1st-time-out-of-Europe’ stamped across our foreheads.  Within moments, I was surrounded by around 12 Indians, all talking to me at once, offering to take my bags, take me to a hotel or to tell me that the hotel I had booked, had been burned down just the night before!.  They all had uncles, cousins, parents and brothers who were all hotel owners and they all had a taxi waiting outside.  I tripped, stumbled and fell out of the airport with all 12 of my new best friends and in my English politeness, attempted to graciously answer and decline their offers of help, coming at me in stereo!  My heart was visibly pounding to the very well trained eye of the Indian and I had no space, physically or mentally, to think.

‘Madam, this way, come!’ No Madam, with me please, I have best taxi!’ ‘Madam, I take your bags, only a few rupees!’ ‘Madam, all of New Delhi has burned last night, no hotels left!’  Madam, my cousin has very good hotel, is best for you!’

Follow that cab!

Through the chorus of my entourage, I stared at the array of transport outside the terminal doors in disbelief. Quite unlike the orderly line of black cabs I had been used to back home, all I could see was a tangled mess of what I can only describe those kiddies coin operated cars, except these were for real, had engines and could drive for miles!  The noise was deafening as my group of 12 was duplicated many times around me and every vehicle was sounding its horn to manoeuvre into a better position, or out of the airport.  Total gridlock is not a concept the Indian driver either understands or accepts!  In amongst this metal mass of confusion, stood a random elephant, complete with ‘driver’ sitting on its head and several cows, goats and bullocks, all un-phased and totally at home amongst the bedlam.  Well, I thought, if they can leave the comfort of a green field for this, I need to take a few lessons from them on how to do that.  I later learned that the motivation behind our four legged friends to live in the inner suburbs and cities of India, was their penchant for exhaust fume intoxication! Hmm, Ok, so that’s how you do it, just get stoned!

I wanted to run, to flee.  I had no idea how to fight.  I was in an environment that was utterly alien to me and I knew that somehow, I was giving off easy prey signals!  I did not know the game, how to play the game, the rules of the game or the psyche of the players of the game.  Trouble was, of the bundle of damp tickets tucked into my money belt which had been wrapped around my perspiring self  for the last 20 hours, only one of them had ‘Destination London Heathrow’ stamped on it, and that was in 12 months time and leaving from LA.  And so, in the absence of a cliff, I gathered myself up for the fight!

A driver eventually took decisive action with me and I found myself climbing into his Metal Mickey cab.  Fortunately, the deafening sounds from the engine and the multitude around us, prevented him from hearing the fear in my voice.  The decibels I had to rise to, to answer his never-ending persuasion to take me to his cousins’ hotel gave off the illusion of assertiveness and I finally arrived at the ‘hotel’ I had booked for the first three nights of my 12 month long adventure.

What do you do when your mind and body switch in to fight or flight mode?  Do you take the time to learn The Game, to adapt to a new environment, or have you retreated back to safety.  How many times have you decided to fight, to move forward and noticed that your fear soon turns into excitement and all that was missing was familiarity in the unknown? How did you create familiarity?  How did you embrace the uncertainty of new surroundings to find previously undiscovered depths within yourself?  I’d love to hear from you on my travel blog!

For a life gifted twice

And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves

Jacqui Lane

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