Priscilla Kibbee

I love to travel all over the globe shopping for textiles to add to my wearable art. I have taught quilting to school children in Nepal, seminole patchwork to seamstresses in Thailand, and jackets and embellishment to quilters in Turkey where I also served as a judge at 2 of their International Quilt Shows. I have created garments for 5 Fairfield and Bernina Fashion Shows and teach classes on embellishment and wearable art. Lately I have been leaning more toward making art quilts.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Leaving Kathmandu by Air in not for Wimps

The fun begins with a scary ride to the airport over what can charitably be called "rough" roads. Traffic in the Valley has grown way beyond road capacity and traffic rules have long been taken as suggestions at best. I consider it a good trip when my driver stays on his side of the road most of the time.

You finally arrive at the airport and your bags are snatched up (whether you want them to be or not) by three men with a trolley cart. They wheel your bags to the entrance where you must produce a ticket and passport for entry. At this point two of the men can't enter the airport and both demand tips. The third man (with a vest clearly labeled trolley collector) then wheels your bags to the x-ray machine where everything must be cleared before entering. For another tip of course.

After the usual hassles of check in and immigration you go upstairs to wait for your flight. The flights are called one at a time to go through seurity and every remote corner of your carry-on's is emptied out and gone through. You are also "frisked" by a male or female attendant. Then you are herded by guards to a secure boarding area. When your flight finally boards they are not finished with you yet.

As you line up to mount the stairs for the plane you are greeted by yet another group wanting to empty out and paw through your carry-on's. These safety guardians are complete with yet another "frisking" booth.

Apparently there are terrorists lurking in dark corners of the airport waiting to slap packs of explosives on the chest of susceptible little old ladies...then talk them into blowing up the plane. Or sneak some plastic explosives into my carryon. If they ever tried to look at how overstuffed it always is they would give that idea up in one quick hurry.

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Blogger Patricia said...

I sure hope in spite of all this, you are having fun! You are truly brave!!!--I want to be like you when I grow up :-)

September 2, 2009 at 3:18 PM  

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