Delhi Day 2

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030213

Waky waky at 0800hrs. Not as enthusiastic as yesterday, but this time at least awake befóre the alarm clock.

Han was forced to use drugs last night to prevent snoring (ok, only nose drops....) and didnt hear him all night.

Breakfast at 0900hrs. The usual omelette, daring enough wíth green spicy peppers, and by the time coffee arrives I am happy to be able to drink sómething....

Everything is at least a bít spicy, and breakfast is warm. I love it, can do this without any problems in a sustained way. The usual topics are discussed, like "you still don't have the runs yet? Nope not me. You? No, me neither". Important stuff to discuss. Really, because we share bathrooms, and would like to know this in advance....

After breakfast I even manage to block the toilet, but that is Han's problem, he is after me.

Off we go, punctually awaited by our private driver. Whatever you say about India, it is super organized. With plenty of forms, and all of them separately stamped, by five different people..... 1000hrs sharp we drive off, dangerously and without fear laying our lives in the hands of mr. Singh, our driver. He manoevres with great skills through the traffic. The traffice rulesslowly become clear. Size matters, speed matters, everything behind you is not important (that's actually a Spanish rule as well), giving in is loss of face, you honk your horn at least every three seconds, and although you do not let others pass, you will give them a little bit of space, not to let thém lose face. And most of all, and the Spanish can learn from this, you do NOT get angry. Its a way of doing things. A bicicle taxi always loses from a tuk tuk, which loses from every normal car, which on its turn loses from a truck or bus. Trucks and buses amongst eachother is not figured out by us yet. Will come back on this later in the trip, when we find out.

Indians smile at anybody who smiles at them, and its a fun game to play. You find the person with the worst mood, attract attention, and you smile. And you get a smile back. You offer them to take a picture of them, and they ask you to be ín the picture with them. Pictures though are a serious matter. They smile, up to the millisecond you take the picture, then they look serious. Immediately after they smile again. Not sure if you would even see the changes if you would film this with a high speed camera.

Plan is to drive to the Lotus Temple. Bahia belief, tolerant to all people and religions. Beautifully built like a.... lotus... well done.

Before that however, we decide to stop at a local hindu temple, and are welcomed in. Shoes off (happy to have changed socks this morning) and we get a red dot between our eyebrows. The monc stays very serious and friendly, but for sure he laughs his ass of to see two big white guys with a red dot between their eyes....which, we find out now back in the hotel, does NOT go off....at least not without rubbing, which leaves a red spot between the eyebrowes....

Free to take pictures of everything, everybody. Try to do that in our western church. First of all you dont get in whenever YOU want (here 24hrs open) taking pictures is not done (here free to whatever YOU want) and they let a donation be up to you (here the guilt raising and therefor mandatory collect box goes around during a mass....)

Then on our way again to the Lotus Temple.

On the road to the temple, we walk into two moncs. I take a picture, and one of them is making funny poses. The other one shows me a snake around his neck. Mr Funny asks for bakshis, and because i took his picture, i give him ten rupees, 13 cents. The snake man tells me that i should touch the snake with a 1000 rupee note. It will bring me a thousand times luck. I whip out a note, and touch the snake with it. He grabs the note out of my hand, says "look, now it is gone" and behold, the note really dissapears out of his hand. Never to be seen again. Well, by me that is. Mr. Singh is to late to intervene, and almost faints when he finds out i've been ripped off for 1000 rupees. 13 euro. My bad, I can laugh about it, but Mr. Singh will never be the same again.... Hey, I have a thousand times luck, and the money will be spent for the poor...... I guess......

Off to the temple. Again, all are friendly, all is beautifully built, and everybody wants to be on the picture with the whiteys.

Next stop Humayuns' tomb. An oasis of quietness (remember the honk rhythm, in a city with thousands of vehicles), green and calmness. We spend quite some time here, enjoying the environment. Eagles in the sky, chipmunks everywhere, Native Indians walking freely on the grass..... nice....

Time for lunch. A very local restaurant, recommended by mr. Singh, called the chimney restaurant. Have not found the chimney. Impossible, because it is so small that a fireplace or oven would not have fit. Packed with people, most of them Indian. That's a good sign. At the time of writing, still no high level of throughput, in case you want to know. If not, don't read the previous sentence....

All vegatarian, a beer, good food, and nicely spiced. I leave in a good mood, slightly lazy, with a full belly of nan bread, egg biryani rice, and grilled veggies.

Mr Singh has been asking us, very politely but also very consistently over the past two days, to visit a nice shop. Probably his cousins. He is nice, so we give in, and enter a very nice, chique place, full of nice beautiful things. We are taken, both of us singled out by a dedicated personal salesperson, from room to room. And there are many rooms. My head is not for buying things, and kindly deny any offer, politely look at scarfs, wooden, stone, whatever material crafted elephants, shiva gods, half naked women. Last ones very beautifully and anatomally correct crafted btw.... Three times I deny his offer to have a better look at one of the wooden statues. The fourth time the seller doesnt ask, just puts it in front of me on the table, and when he graciously gestures his hand, pointing at the incredible perfectly handcrafted details, he wipes it off the table, breaking off an undefinable part (also very beautifully crafted btw). Not a problem Sir. For sure its not MY problem....

He is effortless, he knows he will not get anything from me, but he continues without pause to try to get me. His last trick in the book appears. With an important voice he announces "And now, as a finale, a part of the shop, which you have not seen before". I ask him, "the Exit?" and he genuinly laughs. We are led downstairs, a huge empty room, with rolled up carpets against the walls. I wonder what they sell here.... cannot be carpets, the tension and suspense raised by the salesman is too high.

The first carpet is being rolled out..... total disappointment.... carpets are nice without a doubt, but i expected a bollywood performance after such suspense.... anyway. He continues to be polite all the way out. Try to do that in Amsterdam shops....

Han asks if he can make the carpets fly. Yes, he says, seriously and without hesitation. "If you pay me the freight cost up and down", gesturing with his hands the movement of a plane. Well done.

Q'tab minar is next. The oldest minaret in the..... don't know. Its very old I can tell you. 7th Century. 72,5m high, World Heritage. It also holds the Iron Pillar. Forged and constructed in a way, unknown at the time it was forged and constructed...... ? ....... Anyway. It looks like an iron.... pillar.

Again, many people look at us, we take pictures for people, of people, with people, all smiling. It's funny to watch Han walking from a distance. He is quite big for Dutch standards, and huge for Indian ones. You don't have to look for him specifically, although he stands out by sometimes half a meter, so easily spotted. It's funnier to watch groups of people staring back at him when they pass, so you see a sea of people, with somewhere a circle of Indians, all looking at this big guy.

Again, we spend quite some time there, relaxed walking around in the gardens.

On the way back we stop at a cash dispenser. Giving bakshis to people and being tricked costs constant money. Although glad to help this world economy, I discover I have left my bank card in the hotel. Of course, says Han. No, really!

Passing the reception, the receptionist automatically gives Han the correct room key, and asks me if I want a beer.... hmmmm. Everybody has its reputation after a few days....

The end of a nice day. We decide to have dinner in the hotel, write stories, app, facebook and whatsoever.

Tomorrow we fly to Jodhpur.

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