Delhi!
Trip Start
Jul 02, 2007
1
5
38
Trip End
Aug 03, 2007
Delhi,
India
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Today was much of the same, shorter flight though. I got up early so I could wander around Abu Dhabi in the daylight for a while. Then back to the airport. I've had to work hard at switching off my 'queue-instinct'. It comes with being British, I realize. Still, not queuing is one thing, bodily pushing me out of the way to stand in front of me is quite another. I think I'll have to dig out the elbow tricks I learnt in Shanghai.
And the stares. I'm getting a fair amount of that. Abu Dhabi gave me my first true leer, and I'm fairly sure I've also had my ass checked out. When the men openly stare, I just calmly look them right in the eye until they look away. I'm not going to tally icky incidents with men, because I expect they'll happen all too often. My mantra? Water off a duck's back, water off a duck's back...
My seat was the aisle side again, so I had planned to ask to swap when my seating partner arrived. Instead, a woman in the aisle seat on the other side of the plane waved at me and asked if she could swap for the window seat. I said it wasn't mine and she decided she'd come over anyway and have mine while I sat in the window. When the man arrived and asked after his seat, she explained and he went quietly away to take her old one. Apparently the man she had been sat next to was taking up all of her seat as well as his. Naturally we got chatting when I started with a sympathetic, "Men!"
Vandana is a mother of two from Delhi who'd taken herself off for a holiday to New York. We exchanged life stories, as two women tend to do. In fact it was in the middle of this gossiping that the seat-less man arrived, so I suspect it had a lot to do with his acquiescence. She offered me a bed, which I declined, and her number for future help. I said that I'd maybe call her on my return to Delhi later on in the month. She thought I was slightly crazy to be taking myself off to India alone. We giggled quite a lot, firstly at the ever-so-helpful and keen air steward who hovered as I took my handluggage down and back up in the overhead locker. I kept looking at him in askance - did he think I was incapable of doing it myself? Vandana claimed he was handsome and that I shouldn't complain. Then as we were coming down to land the 1st officer spoke to us all, and he sounded completely stoned. Best of all was watching the poor air stewardesses trying to keep all the stupid men sat down during the landing. They came in waves and despite all the ruckus caused the last time someone stood up, they seemed oblivious to it all and decided to stand up 2 minutes later. It wasn't helped by the flight being late - we circled Delhi for about 20 minutes because the rain that morning had caused a backlog at the airport. As we had approached Delhi I could see the cloudless desert of Rajasthan and then the plains, with all the monsoon clouds stacked up and heavy with rain.
Found my bag pretty quickly and then I was finally in India proper. Thumtip the taxi man met me at the gate and offered to take my bag. I appreciate the offer - it looks heavier than it is - but I'm getting pretty good at politely turning down offers of help. Apart from anything else, taking it off when I've got my little bag hanging off the front is just as much bother as carrying it.
He was a nice little Tibetan looking guy, friendly with good English. He seemed impressed that I knew a few things about India, like when we were driving through Connaught place. The Red Fort was pretty obvious though. It is red and fort-like after all.
Interestingly, so far India doesn't seem that crowded. I'll get back to you once I've been to a market or whatever, but still... I don't know if it's a claim-to-fame thing perpetuated by Indians or tourists or what. [Same as Ethiopian's seemed to think they were the only people in the world who ate spicy food, and that we as westerners couldn't possibly manage it.] It's busy, sure, but no more than Shanghai or other places I've been.
But that first drive was great - my first look at India. Within a few minutes I knew I was back travelling again: as we pulled out of the airport carpark I saw a man having the biggest rootle up his left nostril. The kind of thing that had me and Jem saying, "Oh! Good one! Mmmm, yes dig it out!" to each other in Asia. Then there were the cows sat in the road, the poor crippled boy with a floppy arm [like Harry Potter's when that camp teacher magics the bones out of his arm], the crazy driving and liberal use of the horns, and the ominpresent pariah dogs.
I saw at least 5 people relieving themselves by the roadside. It's all fun.
Wongdhen House - the place I'm staying - is in a Tibetan Refuge Enclave. Prayer flags flutter over the narrow maze of passages, monks in maroon and yellow robes sit and talk, incense burns and everyone looks more oriental than Indian. I don't know what it is, but Indian/Chinese looking people staring at me doesn't get my back up the way Arabic men do. I guess it's the intent behind the look. Not that the others treat their women great either, but it just doesn't make my skin crawl. A man on the plane this morning was looking at me for ages. I consoled myself with the fact that he had red teeth and his fly was undone. Ick.
Then to the internet to announce my safe arrival. A man from Delhi that I met through Lonely Planet and Facebook was online. He asked if I wanted to eat with him and some friends, so I said yes. He didn't know where Majnu-ka-Tilla was [the area with the enclave] so he rang first the internet place and then the hostel to get directions. I went home and had an inadvertent nap while I waited. He had to come from South Delhi, over the other side. Bless. He [Ravi] and his mates [Riki, Manish and Suni] were really nice - friendly and funny, and they spoke English 70% of the time and tried to include me. Suni is my age and had just returned from Cardiff university. The food was excellent - all vegetarian. Even the Indians advise eating vege for the month...
Their house was very swish - these guys have all made a lot of money, Ravi through his international florist company, and the others by working for their father's businesses. India's elite, if you will. They had drivers to drive them around, and as it turned out, to go out and buy orange juice when I requested it. I know it's part of life, and it gives the population jobs, but I don't like the idea of personal servants.
It shows me one side of India, I guess. I didn't drink, mainly because I'm on antibiotics that do not mix at all with alcohol, but they did. Their stories were funny, but got progressively sillier, and at one point Ravi and Manish had a sort of pissing contest over who had had the most dental work. Very odd.
It was late by the time I put my foot down and demanded to go home. His driver took me, since Ravi was drunk. We got a little lost, but there are always helpful tuk-tuk drivers to pull alongside and shout to for help. I crept into my hostel after the curfew, oops, and then the phone rang. It was Ravi asking if I had got back safe. I'm not sure I'm exactly a model hostel guest.
Oh well, it's all good. Tomorrow I want to go to Connaught Place for shopping and also to the station to buy a train ticket. Ravi offered to help, but I need to learn to do it myself. Wish me luck!
Tally:
Days without tooth-ache: 2
Food worthy of Holly: 1
