Tales from Delhi

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As the monsoon rain pours down, I jump over muddy puddles while trying to avoid the constant streams of bike and auto-rickshaws that whiz past.  People call out from all directions "Madame, come this way" as they try to hawk their merchandize.  The smell of urine and incense hang in the air.  In all the madness I find myself walking behind several holy cows - I have to laugh, I feel like I'm truly in India.

I left early in the morning for my flight to Delhi.  I sat next to a wanna-be Bollywood actor, who during the flight proceeded to show me how he was covered with scratches and bite marks from where his girlfriend attacked him (something to do with seeing him with another woman)!.  It felt like I was listening to a soap.  Anyway, I arrived safely, and proceeded to find a taxi to the guest house I was staying at in the busy Paharganj district.  The taxi driver dropped me off a few blocks away, saying cars were not allowed down the street.  Which might be true, it seemed to be packed with people, cows, and rickshaws.  A guy immediately swoops in saying he is from a "tourist office" and can show me where I need to go.  I'm hesitant, but at least he knows English and we are on a busy street.  (India is full of fake tourist offices every few block trying to sell you travel packages).  Anyway, he walks me down the block to my hotel the whole time saying that he wants to get to know me, how I'm so pretty, and he would like to have coffee later on, yada yada - the same BS several people had warned me about.  I'm quite pleased when we arrived at the place and give him a dubious "maybe" about meeting later for coffee, instead of the "Hell No!" I'm thinking.

Monkeys on the Sidewalk!
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The rest of the afternoon goes pretty smooth, I negotiate with an auto-rickshaw driver for a sight seeing tour around New Delhi.  I visited the Gandhi museum, a temple, the natural history museum, India Gate, and the government district.  The problem with auto-rickshaw drivers is that they are constantly trying to get you to go shopping.  They get gas vouchers from stores if you spend at least 7 minutes looking around.  Again you must negotiate how many stores you are willing to go too.

Man and Goat
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I finish up the city tour around 6p, which means I have time to get the next day's train tickets and some dinner.  I begin walking down the main bazaar to the train station several blocks away, when it starts to pour.  Indian train stations are always packed - not only do you have all the people taking the train, but all the people outside sleeping (waiting for other trains?).  No wonder so many people were injured from the July bomb blasts.  The papers are still full of human interest stories about 7/11 - the day of the train attacks.

Boy with Monkey
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I booked my tickets and prepared to leave the station, luckily it had stopped raining.  Unluckily I took the wrong street back, then proceeded to get lost and turned around as I tried to find a short cut back to the main street - ugh!  I finally gave up, and hired a bike rickshaw back to the guest house - which is good, since I was walking in the wrong direction!  As we roll through the busy streets, guess who I should see - the tourist office guy from the morning! Oh no!  He proceeds to chase after the rickshaw for the next block until we stop at the hotel.  He begins talking - "I thought American women didn't lie?!  I thought we were meeting for coffee."  I pointed out that he was obviously wrong, in which he replied with a "Fucking Americans."  Another female back packer over heard the exchange, and asked what was going on after the guy left.  I explained the situation, in which she replied "Welcome to India."