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Hitting New Delhi, running
Entry 2 of 33 | show all | print this entry |
... in which the hero meets India and a billion Indians meet the hero...
Delhi makes me giggle. "Mostly harmless" is how intergalactic guidebook-writer Ford Prefect described Earth, and after a day in Delhi I think the same can be said for India. If I were to do the next update, I may add 'lightly amusing'. Arrival was as smooth as you could expect, and first impressions are good. First things first, though: Istanbul.
DELHI
The first thing I saw of India after landing, in the bridge from the plane to the airport terminal, made me grin (and much of what I've seen since too). A sign 'Mind your steps' seemed not just an advise for reaching the terminal alive, but more of a general advice for the country. Once in the terminal, my first impression was that of a hospital. Coolly airconditioned, brightly lit, and lightly smelling of detergent, the first Indians I spotted were some bored staff members with what at first looked like bandages around their heads (those must have been Sikhs with turbans) who were using battered wheelchairs (meant for disabled passengers) to take a nap.
There was more fun ahead: a large wooden statue of some Hindu goddess in an impossible position that would certainly help against the cramps you get on long-distance flights. And the many signs like 'Inconveniences deeply regretted' and 'We are renovating for your comfort, please bear with us'. The 1980s floral wallpaper pattern on the passport check desks had me smiling through customs, and bag in hand, I found the representative of hotel Ajanta waiting outside to whisk me to the hotel in the heart of Delhi's bazaar-like old centre. Traffic was low at that time of night, and first impressions were actually similar to Romania - people along the roads, cars parked everywhere, shoddy buildings. The driver complained of the cold weather (below 20 degrees at night, brr) and blasted any rickshaw bicycles out of the way with his horn.
The hotel room, apparently not particularly cheap at 550 rupees (at 57 rupees to the euro) is a small box with marble on the floor, a balcony stashed with rusting old beds offering a view of the open-air restaurants across the road, and a decent enough private bathroom. No mosquitos here, so just earplugs were enough to get me a few hours of sleep before facing reality.
An unused Turkish Airlines cheese sandwich was my last offering to my stomach in the way of Western food for the coming months, and with slight anticipation I headed out into the sunshine. Having been warned of endless hassles, people clinging to you, or dragging you into shops that you don't want to visit, Delhi was a pleasant surprise. People (and there are thousands of them milling around) are generally uninterested, with only a few saying hello or staring at this strange, tall, blond foreigner.
I set off to New Delhi station to collect the ticket I had booked online for my trip to Jaipur on Friday, and instead of the expected hassle was only met by friendly folks helping me find the way. The station was like Bucharest's Gara de Nord station at night - families camping out on the floor, waiting for trains, and huge queues before the counters. On the platform, impressive-looking Sikh railway staff with purple turbans and curly moustaches were checking tickets of boarding people.
At the internet booking collection centre, they were interested to know why I had just one reservation, instead of the 10 or so that most foreigners booked - in my case, it's because all options are open after my Jaipur trip, and using the internet ticket booking and delivery service I can get a ticket and have it delivered to a hotel anywhere in India (about the size of Europe) within 24 hours. I'd like to see the Dutch railways try that.
On the streets, there was a Muslim festival procession going on. Thousands of people lined a bridge to watch it pass. It consisted of hundreds of excited, stick-waving youths at the front followed by a few rickshaws (tricycle taxis) that had high, colourfully decorated floats that sometimes got stuck under low-hanging electricity wires. The police was out in force, trying to stop traffic from cruising through (nearly impossible), and trying to calm down the kids with the sticks a little. A small boy standing next to me on the street worriedly pointed out the safety of the pavement after he saw the police use their sticks on one or two of the kids. I took his advice.
Afterwards, a stroll through the bazaar area showed how many normal Indians live - in tiny one-room houses facing narrow alleys, with noisy workshops on the streets, music and trash everywhere, holy cows wandering around or tied to a wall, the occasional wild monkey walking on the roof, and hundreds of colourful handpainted shop signs. My favourite shop sold bricks - imagine a garage facing the street, completely filled with bricks, and the owner sitting in front in his wheelbarrow, ready to cart his products off to a client. Next door, the sand shop was similar - a room full of sand.
In the evening, I phoned my Finnish friend Anu, who works here for a Finnish internet travel agency, and headed out by puttering 'auto' (a covered, three-wheeled taxi) to South Delhi. I met her at the the huge Meridien hotel (because her mother is in town, and is staying here). The gigantic marble-clad atrium with lifts shooting up and down its sides was an incredible contrast with the trash-strewn alleys I was 10 minutes before. We ate at a good Indian restaurant, I had cheese in curry with rice - not too spicy on my first day, and delicious. At 60 rupees good value for money too.
As the only white foreigners in the restaurant, I realised that I had hardly seen other tourists all day long. Even in Delhi, the bulk of the 1,1 billion Indians is enough to counter the western tourists. Maybe this is something the Czechs should try in Prague too (and I'm sure the expat population is doing its best to help the locals a hand).
Back at the hotel I bumped into Michele and Meike, German girls who I met while surfing around the net for India information; we're visiting the National Museum tomorrow (apparently one of the few museums in this country that is not boring and only there to provide a quiet place for guards to sleep). I'm off for a Kingfisher beer now.
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Next up: Strolling through Delhi
Mood: upbeat
Weather: warm, sunny
Stomach: accepting it all, for the time being.
Sign of the day: 'Don't worry, there's always an afterlife' (inside Delhi airport)
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| 2. | Hitting New Delhi, running - Delhi, India Mar 02, 2004 |
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