Delhi: it's a mouthful

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Henri’s sofa is very comfortable. So much so that after spending two weeks getting early to hit the streets, I would take my time on Friday morning, sleeping like a baby till 9AM and getting ready for an 11AM exit.

I had a short breakfast of juice, banana and cashew cookies and took the metro to Chandni Chowk. It was a bit more crowded than Thursday and I got a bit lost. The voice on the metro was one stop off so I got out one stop early, feeling pretty dumb when I just came back to the same platform. People noticed. It was embarrassing. At Chandni Chowk, I whisked my way through the streets with the commuters to reach the main street where I hailed a cycle rickshaw to go the Red Fort.

The Red Fort was built by Shah Jahan, the same Mughal emperor who built the Taj Mahal. He transferred his capital here and needed a worthy HQ. The architecture is very reminiscent of the Taj itself with lots of white marble and red sandstone. The Lahore Gate, the entrance to the fort, is taller than I had imagined. The dungeon-like gate has 7 bulbous domes and an Indian flag towering above the gateway. I bought my ticket and rented an audio guide.

Through the Lahore Gate, I followed the path used by dignitaries on official visits: through the covered bazaar where ladies would throw petals through the windows, to the welcome pavilion where musicians would play from the terrace while the dignitaries dismounted their horses and elephants. The covered bazaar is now a succession of shops selling a wide array of crap and handicrafts. Behind the pavilion, there were lush gardens and fancy palaces, with an abundance of gold, silver, silk tapestries and semi-precious stones. It has all been looted over the years but the remaining structures were impressive enough to spend a nice time sightseeing and imagining the luxurious lifestyle of the Emperors. It all starts with the public meeting hall, supported by finely-carved sandstone pillars and featuring a white marble balcony covered in semi-precious stones in-laid in flowery patterns. The Persian-style gardens feature symmetrical fountains and marble pavilions that would be used mostly in the rainy season, when rainwater would flow into the pavilions themselves through waterfalls illuminated from behind by candlelight in neatly-carved niches. There is a sandstone pavilion in the middle of the pool that would be used by the last Mughal emperor to recite poetry with his entourage and just hang out. Other interesting features include a white mosque, the pietra dura private meeting hall that used to house the precious peacock throne and the Kohinoor Diamond, a palace for the ladies (close to the emperor’s of course) and barracks built by the British. I spent more than two hours just walking around the site, sitting in the shade, listening to the audio guide and chasing squirrels. At one point a flock of hundreds of pigeons would fly off the roof of the white palace and make ominous circles in the sky. It looks great on video. I ended the tour inside a local museum with weapons, clothing, rugs, miniatures, dishes and Persian tiles from the Mughal period. It was nice and cool in there too.

I took a rickshaw for the meter + 10 to the India Gate, which is a monument to the fallen WW1 soldiers from India. It’s located in the middle of a giant roundabout and is a popular place for tourists. There was an artificial lake with paddleboats you could rent, lots of lime soda vendors, in addition to the usual cold drinks stalls and some ice cream carts, popular at this time of the day. A few women wanted to sell me bracelets with my “baby name” on it and it was hard to lose them. A took a picture of a couple of kids who wanted it but they left saying something in Hindi and laughing, which sounded like a joke at my expense. It’s been happening a lot…

Rickshaws to the parliament area, at the other end of the huge Rajpath avenue were asking for unimaginably high prices so I walked in the shade, ignoring the many rickshaws that stopped on their way to ask “auto?” or just to wait for me to notice them while they looked in my direction. The walk was pretty long but I finally reached the Secretariat buildings that were a bit disappointing. In my memories, there were more statues and decorations on the roof tops. It’s still a very nice and imposing structure, and its silhouette in the distance from the India Gate is very palatial. The Parliament building nearby is just like its picture on the rupee bills: plain and round. Not much to look at. On my way back to the metro station, I saw this huge langur monkey on a leash, sitting on top of a wall. Apparently, they are used to keep away to other less formidable but very disruptive monkeys. It startled me a bit as it just appeared on my right side and showed his teeth.

At Connaught Place, I walked around, asking my way through a big outdoor market to get to Jantar Mantar. On my way, I snap a picture of an ad to save little girls: “they bring happiness to homes”. Jantar Mantar is one of the large outdoor observatories built by the maharajah in the 18^th century. Its terracotta sundials and astronomical instruments seem incredibly out-of-place and awkward. Their scientific value is undeniable but walking through the large structures was a bit eerie. Once again, the gardens around them were great hanging out areas for locals. There was a group rehearsing a play, teenagers messing around and older couples enjoying the shade on benches or picnic blankets. At one point, an exotic grey bird with a long curvy beak flew over me like a missile and landed on a branch; I’ll have to do some research. In this site full of unusual structures, I seemed to be a big attraction for the teenagers. I was asked by three different groups to be on pictures with them. I got tired by the third. It’s a pain to have to pose for 2 to 3 different pictures and then have another group jump on the occasion and ask to do the same. There was a security guard in charge of whistling down people who climbed on the instruments, kind of like one of those langur monkeys…

After that, I headed for a South Indian restaurant for a Butter Masala Dosai (I hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, just cookies) that reminded me of the great meals we had in Tamil Nadu and Kerala. I also ordered a fresh lime soda but was a bit embarrassed when the waiter came with different ingredients and I didn’t know what to do (“Do I pour this first? What’s that? I need to add salt, really?”). It ended up being a nice brew, very refreshing. German tourists sat at the table next to me (the restaurant is in the guide books…) and struggled to order anything. They didn’t understand the waiter when he described dosai as “pancake”, aqnd couldn’t figure out why they didn’t get rice with it. It was a bit amusing. I guess I was like that when I first got here. I though “Ach, tourists!”

I then went into full-blown shopping mode. There was an official government emporium with crafts from all over India, sold on different levels, A real treasure trove. I found some nice gifts and some things for myself including one of those iron panels I saw at the Khajuraho museum I like so much. I also bought elephant decorations. The rest are surprises. I hope I have enough room in my luggage for everything…

Back at Connaught Place, I walked along the brand stores (Adidas! Lacoste! Nike!) and fast food chains (MacDonald’s! Dunkin Donuts! Domino’s Pizza!)to get to the train station in what was evidently rush hour. There would be long queues monitored by policemen just to get inside the trains. Back at Henri’s, I took a well-deserved nap.

Henri and Anita convinced me to go to spend the evening in Old Delhi. I have to admit, I was very comfortable on that couch and it was hard to make the decision to leave. But I ‘m very glad I got the energy to say yes. We took a rickshaw through the avenues until we reached the narrow lanes of Old Delhi, near the Jama Masjid. The huge mosque looked very pretty but it was night and I didn’t get a real look at it. We’re coming back tomorrow anyway. The streets are filled by street-side vendors selling tandoori meat and fish, barbecue chicken and various fried foods. It all looked and smelled very good. Henri then showed us the way to Karim’s, an institution in the city. This restaurant covers about 5 buildings around one section of a back alley. There was an army of waiters going from one side to the next and an open kitchen with pots full of mutton, chicken other oily preparations. We got a table and ordered kebabs, mutton korma and qeema (minced chicken), served with tandoori rotis and the inevitable pepsi. They were out of brains curry unfortunately; I would have loved to try that. We’re coming back tomorrow. As a side dish, they always serve onions and lime in restaurants and I never had the idea of squeezing the lemons directly on the onions and eating them as pseudo-snacks. It really tastes great. The whole meal was amazing, and we finished it off with kheer, a type of sticky rice pudding cooked and served in terracotta bowls.

After that, Henri decided to make me try pan. Not the kind that you have to spit out (thank God!) but a sweet version that you can chew and swallow. I said what the heck and went for it. The pan-wallah would prepare this pan with a bunch of spices, herbs, syrup and flowers, all wrapped up in a bite-size cone of betel leaves. A big bite. Henri took the plunge first. Then I unwrapped my own pan and put it in my mouth. One big explosion of flavors. The initial dryness dissolves with a combination of syrup and saliva that gives the whole mouthful a refreshing taste of minty flowers and anis. It’s the eatable version of the great smells you get whiffs of in temples and shrines. I chewed it for about 20 minutes, swallowing small bits at a time that has dissolved in my mouth. I’m glad I tried it but I probably won’t do it again. I even have it on tape to prove it!

We then went for a cup of chai on the front steps of the Jama Masjid. It looked a bit dodgy but Henri and Anita had come before. It turned out be as dodgy as I feared. Anita was getting weird looks from the local guys, I was being harassed by a boy who kept giving me creepy looks and Henri got caught up in a conversation with a teenager that was high on drugs. That guy was acting suspiciously from the start, making unpredictable and sudden moves just to get our attention. He put his hand in Anita’s hair and hit my shoulder when he left. Cramped on our little bench, we were easy targets so we finished up our chai pretty quickly and took a rickshaw back home.

Daily nugget: In the metro, there are announcements that you would not hear in other cities like “Please do not spit in the train”, “Please do not sit on the floor of the train” and “Please do not play music on the train”.

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