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Published: February 6th 2010
Feb 6, 2010
Day 2 - Delhi
I was greeted at the airport by a hostel staff member and was subsequently escorted through an insane 40 minute web of foot and vehicle traffic to where I am now. The driver spoke little English but (in addition to having a printout with all of my flight info) had me talk to the possibly Australian hostel owner, who assured me that all was in order and they were waiting for me to arrive. When I showed up I introduced myself to fellow bunk-mates and, feeling completely satisfied and exhausted, passed out within minutes.
This morning I awoke before my alarm, and to my delight there was a chatty Michigander breakfasting in the lobby next to me that was eager to talk to another American for the first time in a month. He’s been living in Mumbai (Bombay) for the last 30 days and is flying to another country tomorrow, but despite this is expected to return shortly and marry a Muslim girl he met just two weeks ago. Really…5 dates (all accompanied by her uncle) later and all the Indians he knows as well as her family agree that it’s probably time to propose marriage. He met her parents at a dinner earlier tonight and gets “I love and can’t live without you” text messages and phone calls all day. In regular fashion, however, he seems to like that she scares him and admitted that he was going through with meeting her parents because - despite leaving for Brazil in the morning with no real intention of coming back - he likes to “keep his options open.” So I’ve sat by today and listened to the developments of his saga in total amusement. Who needs TV, anyway?
Aside from chatting with fellow travelers, I’ve done little today besides venture around the neighborhood, which was a little crazy. The traffic in this semi-residential area is as totally insane as it is on the main roads, only there are dogs, cows and heavy foot traffic added to the mix. It’s complete lawlessness. I read a statistic recently about how many pedestrians met their untimely fate in Delhi last year and was astonished. Now, not so astonished. There’s a constant drill of horns coming from every direction; rickshaws, motorcycles, even delivery trucks whiz by at impossible speeds while simultaneously managing to weave around everything in their way. The open sewer (or other extremely suspect dirty and smelly water) runs along the road and separates many businesses and homes from the street. Unfortunately, the only way to cross into the establishments is over the murky water on makeshift bridges, which consist of dilapidated pieces of wood whose strength would seemingly not withstand even the likes of even me.
In the midst of the sewer water and near-death experiences surrounding me stood an oasis of cleanliness and calm. What’s this, you ask? McDonald’s, of course! No beef was up for grabs, naturally, but an equally unappetizing menu featuring local fare as well as all of the standard chicken products was available for purchase at slightly cheaper prices than one could find in the States. I was told today, however, that the chicken is even worse than in America, and large brown “chunks” as well as cartilage and other mystery components were found in the only meal they had there. It somehow pleases me that McDonalds has managed to maintain their reputation of grossness no matter where in the world they operate, and that only the type (and not the level) of grossness varies from region to region. Awesome.
Other random reflections for the day:
-The dust along the streets was really rough (to say the least), and I found myself coughing on a few occasions.
-I wasn’t stared at as much as I was told I would be, however everyone in my hostel agrees one of the reasons India is so safe is that men are extremely shy. This might be (in a sweeping generalization) true… every guy that’s spoken to me has said what he needed to say and turned away in a kind but rapid fashion reminiscent of a nervous teenager. And I’m not flattering myself here…trust me, I am no sight to behold right now. I did feel a lot safer today than I anticipated, though, and it was nice. Hopefully that holds true for a while longer.
-The drug store I went into to get SPF face moisturizer had, to my relief, Oil of Olay! Then I looked closer. All but maybe five of the 100 moisturizers by every American and foreign company I could think of were all marketed as “whitening” moisturizers. “Beautiful white,“ “Natural white,” and “Fairness Enhancers” were everywhere. I was a totally creeped out by the desire for everyone that could afford to shop at this place to want to be whiter, and then I remembered that I bought Jergens’ “Natural Glow” lotion a couple of months ago so that I could be darker. Go figure.
I've taken some pictures of the hostel and neighborhood, but my computer says that I have to install something to upload them and I have about two minutes of battery power left. Turns out that American-style plug-ins arent so popular on this side of the world, so I'll post pictures and another update after I'm able to locate an adapter in the next few days. Adios!
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Lonna
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Grandma
Please send a link to grandma Hill, if you haven't already, I know that she would love to read all about this.