Day one: A Hostel Environment

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I’ve promised not to go on ramblings about Birmingham Airport and overpriced Wetherspoons (bites lip) and thus I will not. There was a large amount of confusion about our flight. We flew with Air India. (Now I love a pun, and I think this company have missed an absolute treat by not calling their company IndiAir. Firstly, it says India for fucks sake, and secondly it tells you where the plane is taking you (In de air? Get it? Get it? Come on tell me you get it) Never mind. Just another one to be copyrighted at a later date.) We were originally set to stop in Dubai but that had changed to Amristar. We were originally meant to leave at 6.45 but this changed to 7.45. It would have been nice to have known but we were told repeatedly we were on the right flight and the right day, so we got on and the plane took us IndiAir (SEE!).



The flight was 11 and a half hours overnight, I thought this would give me time to sleep but asides from the odd twenty minutes here and there I struggled. Planes aren’t the most comfortable of beds, and there were TVs in the seats and when that happens I’m a goner. By the time we’d got to Amristar Thanos had snapped his fingers and Dwayne Johnson had shown me how to sign to a CGI Monkey. There was a weird moment at Amristar where we were asked to remain aboard the plane whilst the staff cleaned before the new passengers got on. I’ve never been party to this before but it was as bizarre as it sounds. You sit down, and a plethora of Indian men and women scuttle around the cabin, picking up as many peanuts off the floor as they can.



So we hopped off the plane at Delhi (I was very close to descending into Miley Cyrus lyrics then), and asides from a quite rude bloke at the visa office (Yeah mate, saying ‘faster’ repeatedly means jack all if you aren’t going to tell me what it is I need to do) we were home and dry, out the other side with 42000 Rupees and all our other money hidden. So lets get to the good stuff.



Taxi: Now we had read various trip advisors and a few friends had also warned about various Taxi Driver scams in India. Suffice to say we were doing our best to look as un-tourist like as possible, but that’s hard in Delhi when you’re pale and carrying a backpack and a hold all. Swarmed early on by many drivers, who don’t just ask and wait for a “No Thank You” but then proceed to hover and follow you telling you about the area, like an informative Mosquito with a prius. We did what we’d been told to do which was to pre-book at a booth. No hassles, a bloke grabbed a bag of mine and put it in the boot of the car. He wasn’t a driver, I had been blighted by a man wanting money. Thats ten rupees gone straight away. The cheeky git even said “No! English Money”. Don’t think so pal.



The first time you travel in a taxi or on Indian roads be prepared. There seems to be no rules regarding road crossing, and the only rules of the road we gathered seemed to be:



a) The driver in front always has right of way, regardless of what their eyesight or state of mind appears to be.



b) Beep your horn, all the time. The person in front is too close? Beep your horn! See someone you know? Beep your horn! Decided what you want to eat when you get home? Beep your horn!



We got to the hostel for 700 rupees.







Hostel:



We are staying at the Nomadia Hostel, in Chittaranjan park, a block in the Greater Kailash region. Now the hostel wasn’t exactly as advertised, unless “Shower” is Punjab for “bucket of water on the floor complete with running tap at knee height” (I checked, it isn’t), and we did never see nor hear of the roof garden that was also advertised. However, that being said, we didn’t come to Delhi to see a rooftop garden.



Out and About



The first thing we did was chuck all our belongings into the top bunk of our beds, smile and nod politely to the 5 other gentleman in our room (poor Meg) and went for a nap. A couple of hours later, slightly fresher than we were before and combatting the bucket for a wash, we set off to acquire some food. A lap around the block brought vast insane amounts of traffic. Don’t bother trying to cross roads at corners, its pointless. Walk half way down the street and cross there. We attracted a fair amount of attention from passers by for our British way of crossing where we wait for it to be safe and stuff. Our first lap was fruitless, so after stepping back inside the hostel and using the Wi-fi to find the location of a market we headed down the road. After half an hour of walking and standing on street corners looking terrified to cross, we found our way to a market. Again being overcautious, and reading stories of pickpockets being on every corner of every street, we were super apprehensive, performing a lap first. Huge amounts of fast food available, including one stall were you seemed to be given some bread and were just invited to dip the bread into the pot as it was being continually cooked (not a chance - at this early stage we are still holding our rucksack in front of us for safe keeping.) we settled on a stall that sold Kathi rolls. This was basically a chapatti made in front of us with cooked chicken (me) or vegetables (Meg) along with a skilletted egg and various spices and sauces inside. Insane. Looks small, but was packed with a meals worth of chicken inside. A large hint of chilli inside which I love (and am hoping becomes and underlying theme in the food portion of our Indian adventure). We stocked up on bottled water (Meg’s GP said she couldn’t have a cholera vaccine) and we trotted back to the hostel stomachs full. It was only 7pm when we decided to call it a night. This went very well until 11.45 when we were woken by all of our room mates who decided now was the time to take a shower. Our roommates also don’t like to lock toilet doors, as I discovered at 2am when I walked in on an Indian lad having a poo. Lovely.



I was about to write to say that I have not yet been bitten, til I realised I’ve been scratching the back of my calf for the past 5 minutes. Fuck.



Total steps: 8,500



Bites amassed: 1



Top Tip:



1) Spaghetti straps make Indian men stare

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