I BECAME a frequent flier long before my days of traveling for the wine industry.
My friends and their families usually loaded up a station wagon to visit relatives in other parts of Ohio, where I lived as a child. Not us. We always went to India to visit our relatives.
I love talking to seatmates about wine and India, two of my favorite subjects. A lot of people are intimidated by wine, and I always say it doesn't matter if you drink a $5 bottle or a $500 bottle. It's just important that you like it. I think wine should help you enjoy life more, not terrify you.
Seatmates often ask me questions about India, and I'm happy to talk about a country I love.
I speak Tamil, which is mostly spoken in southern India. Some people have a tough time wrapping their heads around the fact that I don't speak Hindi. I've spent a lot of time explaining how many different languages and dialects are spoken in India, and how it's a cultural point of pride.
 My early travels to India prepared me for today. I don't let anything bother me.  In India, we often had to travel by train or in the Hindustan Ambassador - a classic car in India that you used to see everywhere.
It didn't have air-conditioning, or much of a suspension, and we felt every rut in the dirt roads. We'd go on long car trips that would make us car sick. The only way to recover or stave off bouts of nausea was to take a cold shower, which by the way, involved ladling water from a bucket onto yourself.
 We used to have to travel through four different cities through dirty airports, wait in 45-minute lines for standing-only toilets while combating Delhi belly. Indian airports had no lounges back then, and the chairs were barely usable. So I became accustomed to sitting on airport floors and keeping myself occupied.
Recently, I was traveling back from a two-week jaunt through , Burgundy and the Loire for my company, Lot18, an online wine site.
I had absolutely no hesitation plopping down on the floor of Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris to wrap my wine finds in socks and duct tape. I attracted plenty of stares, but every bottle survived the journey perfectly.
 At least one piece of my luggage was misplaced by the airline every single time I traveled to India. And, of course, it wasn't the one suitcase filled with gifts, but rather the travel essentials.
So carry-on is a must today, but I've also learned it's important to get familiar with local products. Now I know where to get the best cough drops in Italy, the most comfortable shoes in Morocco and where to buy great clothes in Vietnam.
 I was only about 9 months old on my first trip to India. I wonder how my mom dealt with the 14-hour layovers in Bombay with me screaming the entire time. By comparison, I only scream now when I'm on a flight and if I'm waiting for food. Just kidding.
But I do play on a cultural quirk to make sure I always get what I want. Indians have a unique respect for a hot meal, no matter how dire the situation. The answer to pretty much any form of hardship or discomfort is, “ or nonvegetarian meal?â€
So when I'm on a flight to India, I try to convince the attendant that this weary American girl needs two dinners. Sometimes, I wind up with a feast. I'm on the thin side, so I think the attendants may take one look at me and figure I need to be fattened up.
