We hire a nine seater from Hertz at the airport the next day for the staggering figure of Rs 90,000 a week. It was much cheaper when we had checked from India but we didn’t book then and now it’s too late for regrets. The guys flash their newly acquired International driving licenses (Rs 500 and a day’s work), say a little prayer (it’s a right hand drive) and hop in. It takes a while to fix the Tom Tom and they give the Hertz guy some tense moments when they can’t start the car. Next, they almost ram the car into the parking gate. Mr. Hertz jumps to our rescue yet again, beads of sweat lining his forehead. Finally with a bump and a growl, the car quivers to life and we are out on the highway. Hertz guy is last seen reaching for a cigarette with trembling fingers.
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Soon red poppies start nodding at us from the roadside, the road ambles along lush green countryside dotted with patches of forest, interesting houses, churches and abbeys. The frown lines on Puneet’s brow have eased and he is comfortably overtaking trucks on the highway. The car cruises at a leisurely 100 km plus an hour and by evening we are at our destination – Tulfes – a small village near Innsbruck. Puneet gets down to check the hotel we are booked at. Tanu and I use his absence to crib about how he tries to save money all the time and how he must have booked us into some cheap and rotten place here as well. He returns with a half smile (the widest he smiles without a beer can in his hand) and invites us in. We have to eat our words. It is a beautiful old country house with red cushions, exquisite linen, lights that get switched on and off on our footsteps and a quaint restaurant with lace curtains. At Rs 5,000 a room, with breakfast thrown in, it is a steal. A balcony overlooks the gorgeous snow clad mountains. Across the road is Burnout Bar on Jack Daniels Road (no, seriously!).
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The kids take up the bedroom attached to ours and the Pareeks are left to romance in the one further away. Puneet has been resurrected from the dungeons and is a hero once again. We rush to get him his well deserved cans of beer right on the balcony where he is busy clicking pictures.
Rachna Bisht-Rawat is a journalist and writer but mostly she is mom to an 11 year old and gypsy wife to an Army officer whose work takes the Rawats across the length and width of India. She blogs at http://www.rachnabisht.com/