66/ 100 Airport Coffee

I don’t want to linger too long on the extremely lengthy journey we took through Varanasi airport (story 63, story 64 and story 65), suffice to say that the chaos and confusion there merely mirrored the way we often found everything else to be in India. If everyday life in India was pretty crazy then why should I expect the airport be any different?

Our plane’s departure time had come and gone and we were now a couple of hours late. Still, we were now in the departure lounge and could see the runway just meters away in front of the tall glass viewing windows. If the aircraft arrived we would see it so I was a little more relaxed, despite the fact that none of the Spice Jet agents could tell us anything about the whereabouts of the plane. At least they didn’t blame non-existent fog like everyone else did.

By now it was very late in the day. In an effort to keep alert for whatever surprises the remainder of our journey held in store I figured it was time for a coffee, and as luck would have it there was a kiosk right there in the lounge. Oh my goodness, were we in for a shock. On the streets of India a coffee was always more expensive than a cup of chai. Deliciously spicy chai tea would usually be around 10 rupees for us (or slightly less for locals) and that amounted to around 10 pence. A coffee was usually about 20 Rupees / 20 pence. We were so accustomed to paying these prices that seemed standard all over the country that when the barista in the airport asked me for 600 rupees for two coffees I thought there must have been some mistake.

Six pounds for two coffees? That was about the limit of what I would pay here in the UK, never mind India. To be clear, imagine your average £2.50 single cup of cappuccino coffee in the UK suddenly costing £37.50 because that, without any exaggeration, was the scenario that we were faced with. A coffee inside the airport cost 15 times more than outside on the streets. We begrudgingly paid it because to us it was pretty immaterial; we had the money. What about the local people, how did they pay? It turns out that they don’t. We spoke to our Indian friends about it and they told us that usually they simply can’t afford anything in the airport at all so they just go hungry and thirsty. The only people who could afford it were tourists and the much wealthier Indians.

To rub salt into my wounds the coffee was horrible (why was I surprised) and served at the same temperature as the sun. I asked if they could put a little cold water in the cups and they told me they couldn’t because of hygiene reasons. Predictably, our flight boarding began just a few minutes after the coffee had arrived. By that time our drinks had now cooled to the temperature of molten lead we had to leave them behind with barely a sip taken. They were worth so much money I can only hope that someone else drank them as I couldn’t bear to throw them in the bin.