Woah...
I mean...woah...
I've only been in Delhi for about five hours now, but Ive already forgot half the things that I've done/have happened to me. This is partly from sleep deprivation on an attenuated night from Paris to Delhi, arriving at 4am, but mostly due to the bewildering intensity, pace, and volume of everything going on in this city.
I was going to do a quick blog from Paris, but got frustrated with the French keyboard and gave up. I now regret this, since that city seems ages ago at this point. Needless to say I had a good time, and it was about as inappropriate a prelude to this trip as possible. Clean, mild-mannered (despite it's reputation, and certainly in contrast to Delhi), and rather slow-paced. My best souvenirs are my battered and torn maps of the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay, and my battered and torn feet. I logged many hours staring at paintings and sculptures, a similar amount walking the neighborhoods (all of which that I went to, rather strangely, look as though they were built at the same time, by the same architect: white, three or four stories tall, with beautiful wrought-iron balconies). The Musee Rodin, with its pleasant landscape and powerful sculptures was an unexpected highlight, though there was rarely an hour that I wasn't enjoying myself. I do wish I spoke the language, however, not just to have been able to communicate, but almost moreso to be able to eavesdrop at the cafes. Next time, I suppose...
Delhi will take some digesting. It's certainly unlike any place I've ever been. After wandering the airport looking for a working ATM (all I found were broken ones and staff disinterested in my plight), I finally got a taxi to drive me to our hostel, generously accepting the meagre two euros I had. I remembered in the cab I had some US dollars, so I could pay him fully, but when he found this out, he wanted more than was reasonable. I said I had no more money, then he asked if I had anything else: "Chocolate?" he queried.
"No," I replied, but then I remembered my last remaining Cliff Bar. Wanting to shake him off, I offered it, but he was confused by it. "It's an energy bar," I explained.
"Oh!" his eyes lit up, "For sex?"
"Sure."
He then let me off a couple blocks away from my hotel, located down a difficult-to-navigate street. I stepped out of the taxi, not sure where I was going and not seeing any street signs for help (I still haven't seen a street sign, after a LOT of walking and rick-shawing), I wandered off a dim dawn-lit street full of wandering cows, dogs running wild (keeping their distance from humans, don't worry, Mom), trash burning in piles all over, and many, many people (it only grows more crowded as the day goes on). It's crowded, cramped, dirty, and utterly fascinating; full of many helpful (and many too-helpful) people--I was generously treated to chai in the first half-hour I was here by a complete (but genuine) stranger--and impossible to figure out.
Off I go to try my best. Two days hardly seems like enough, but I'm sure arriving in Ladakh (A mountainous, comparatively sparsely populated Buddhist community) will feel like a welcome relief after only 48 hours. And I'll have more chances to take a stab at this city in the coming months.
Hope you're all well--I'm thinking of you all while I'm here,
Dave
