At a first glance

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Hello... from my hide-out, in a booth, typing away on my laptop, at none other than
"The American Center".
Yes, this is the center where Indians come to study, surrounded by resources,
books, and info about America, putting them on the track to be accepted to
American colleges- in other words, the brain-drain in India starts here!

Might I say first, what a chore it was just getting to and into this establishment.
Security (or the attempt there of) in Delhi is tight!

If you plan on carring electronics or even a small purse while conducting errands,
you better be damn sure they are necissary to your business. With regard to
survelience, taking the Metro is equivalent to flying, and in the more touristy
neighborhoods, random security stations are set up in the streets!

While the commute is one hassle, entering this Center is yet another. At the gates,
a similar search to what is experienced on the metro, is mandatory. Then, upon entering
and after showing proof of identity, a rigorous sercurity check is conducted on each
and every content held, right down to the turning on of every electronic device.
They were very suspicious of my two lone batteries with no camera in case to boot! ?

So again, it was quite a chore getting to this seat. That said, brace yourself, I'm gonna
get my efforts worth...



For those of you who worry, all is well. My first week was spent walking around in a half daze,
waking hours before sunrise, and falling asleep before sunset. I now wake up at a decent
hour and feel once again.

The journey began on the plane really...

Perhaps I should have taken a crash course in Russian. How naive of me to think that
while taking an international flight leaving from an English speaking country, my inability
to understand said language would be forgiven! And surely, there would be people from
all parts of the world flying with me (who did not have Russian in their lexicon),
mostly especially, Indians ?!

Nope! Over 20 hours- just me and The Russians!

The attendant on the first flight would shout indecipherable words at me, then hold a cold,
blank stare, hand on hip, as if to say "Don't even think about speaking english", to which
I could only resort to sign language. Assuming, on the second flight I'd be given
the same treatment, I opted to sleep through, sacrifing meals and water. Though, I recall
moments of disorentation waking every several hours to announcements that
"smoke has been detected in the back of the carrier, and that it IS against the law",
along with a chorus of drunken Russians belting jingles (mind you, it is the middle of the night),
while my neighbor shouts (behind us) at the only Indian family on the plane to shut-up his
2 year old child! To which he'd later, between swings of bourbon, admit the screaming child
was in fact normal, but that it's a cultural thing- Indians not "disciplining" their children.
Just before landing, I caught him trying to chat it up with the family. They seemed to respond out of fear.

Immediately upon hitting the ground in Delhi the thick smog crept through the aircraft and has
been lingering around me ever since...

My first impression... was a mixture of shock, disorientation, confusion, let-lag and haze.
You must understand I arrived in the middle of the night (India time, by my time who knows),
while following two other travellers, to some back alley hotel in a rather dodgy area of town;
I could make out only smatters of homeless crouching over dung fires through the thick fog.
It was not until the crack of dawn, that I awoke get my first sight of my surroundings...

It's hard not to feel vulnerable, big and clumsy when first walking the twig branched streets
in the heart of Dehli. There are street names, I am told, and sometimes they are marked.
But when they are, usually much investigation is required in finding the location of such.
Unless you like walking in circles, you'd better hope your sense of direction is keen,
otherwise paying for a ricksha (golf-carts acting as taxis) is much advised.

To give you a comparable visual:

Picture yourself walking through the lower part of Manhattan, only with more narrow streets,
composed of rocky, uneven pavement, layered with a thick blanket of mud, then sprinkled
with dust. The side-walks are not for walking, as they spand little over two feet and are
crowded with everything you can imagine (appropriate or not). While the street is for walking,
so to it is for driving- whether a car, taxi, bike or motorcycle (and always two ways, with no required direction). As a pedestrian, prepare for chaos, and you will develop a system of constant "weaving",
with the expectation that a vehicle (which always has the righter way) could come at you
from every direction. This effective system of movement is conducted by the harmonious
eloquence of loud, consistant beeping!

Now take that visual and throw into the equation a population of 11 million and you might
imagine the extreme level of concentration which "taking a stroll" might require!

In particular news:

I am still in Delhi, as I have for the past 2 weeks been making arrangements for my Pakistani
visa. If your plan is to get said visa in Delhi, prepare to be ambitious in your pursuit.
I was required to sit down with a diplomat at the embassy for an interview. At the mercy of
his descision, I found myself labouring, with reason, to keep my answers one step ahead of this questions...

The overall tone was filled with an inquisition of my religious affiliation (if at all) and the basis for
this choice. Just as relevant, were the size and structure of my family and their religious practices as well.
My session lasted nearly an hour, as the conversation ran itself in circles. Was he attempting to get
me to slip and tell him something he suspected me of?

Read up on your history. He even went so far as to lecture me on the history of conflict between
India and Pakistan and the particular territorial boundaries with regard to religious affiliation.
So passionate was he that he couldn't help but fabricate an important fact here and there.
In particular, claiming the muslims were the first to occupy the territory which is now Pakistan.
He took notice of my awareness, and immediately changed the subject.

In the end, we negotiated 7 weeks, with 2 months validity. I picked up my passport yesterday.
Today, I found myself back there again after noticing that they had given me 7 DAYS,
with two WEEKS validity. Careful not to accuse them of mistakes, I took the helpless woman route, at the mercy of their kindness.

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