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Delhi!!
I arrived here more unprepared than for any trip I have ever undertaken. And that’s really saying something. In the last two weeks I have finished my (4th year med school) exams, moved out of my house, gone home to see my parents, spent a week at Glastonbury festival, made it back to Leeds for my results then to London then to India. And I have been accomplished all this despite being drunk pretty much the entire time. YEAH.
Delhi is a mess. The whole city is in bits because the government is overhauling everything in preparation for the commonwealth games in October. Seemingly this involves, mercilessly ripping up every road in the place. I am staying in Paraghanj, the official backpacker ghetto (think Koh San Road but infinitely, exponentially grimmer), which is simply wrecked. They’re demolishing the front of all the buildings in order to widen the road, so walking down the street involves careful timing of your ever move in order to dodge showers of rubble and holes in the ground. The air is like dust soup, it settles on your skin and your clothes, in your lungs. It was 40 degrees when I arrived, at midday, with my backpack on my back and that classic just-off-the-plane wide eyed stare that instantly attracts touts. Tough going.
I have time to write this now because there are nationwide strikes today, protesting against the rise in fuel prices. I knew about it but I really didn’t expect the industrious Indian people to take it quite so seriously. Wrong. Even here in tourist town, all day nothing was open aside from this one crappy internet café. I have had literally nothing better to do.
I’ve written this once already but it was cruelly taken out by one of Delhi’s frequent power cuts. Last night I went for a wander to find something to eat and a net cafe. I was happily typing away when pretty much simultaneously the power went out and a huge thunderstorm kicked off, complete with dramatic light and sound effects, but no rain. The guy who owned the café clearly didn’t hold out much hope that the power would come back any time soon, so he booted us all out into the street. It was dark outside. I got out my trusty wind up Aldi torch (cheers dad) and started trying to pick my way around the cows, ditches and potholes. Then the RAIN came. In buckets. It was just like when the monsoon arrives in one of those Bollywood movies and everyone goes crazy and starts dancing in the streets. Except obviously less choreographed. Suddenly dozens of little kids appeared from nowhere and formed screeching packs, chasing each other around through the sheets of rain. I love India. I ran for the nearest shelter and hid under a leaky tarpaulin in one of the construction sites (bad choice) until a random Indian family took pity on me and invited me into their little shop and fed me pancakes. Unfortunately the power didn’t come on and the rain didn’t ease off, so I had to don my sexy army surplus poncho and brave it. So while yesterday was hot and dusty, today is cooler but the street has totally dissolved. Since all the surface has been ripped off there’s nothing but mud, glorious mud. This is hilarious and perilous in equal measure. I lost a flipflop. Even the locals were taken aback, so all the graceful sari wearing woman lost their usual poise and resorted to shouting and sliding around.
So Delhi has been pretty intense, especially with the CONSTANT BANGING AND SHOUTING from all the construction which slowly, slowly starts to kill an important part of your brain… You do get hassled, especially being a lone female, but it’s nothing that can’t be sorted with a little calm and patience, plus my well practiced stoney glare, and it’s actually not much worse than what I’ve dealt with in other parts of the world. Anyway, I like a challenge. I expected to hate it at least for a few days while I got my travel sense back, but actually I’ve been loving it right from the start.
My first day I mostly napped and wandered around enjoying that slightly shell shocked feeling you get when you first find yourself somewhere out of your element and everything is amazing. I love that feeling, but it wears off so fast and things that were initially amazing (cow induced traffic jams, general chaos) become routine and then irritating.
By day two I had found my feet so I booked a taxi through my hostal for a tour of Delhi. This was at smart move at 500 rupees (7 quid) for the whole day. My driver was a chatty and eccentric bloke who spoke good English and gave me a personalised if slightly bizarre tour of Delhi. When I told him I’m a medic he decided I might like to drive through all the hospital car parks of his fair city and be given a running commentary on the merits of each. So now I’ve seen such highlight as the hospital Indira Ghandi was taken to when she was assassinated, the TB hospital where some famous person I have never heard of died, and the most expensive hospital in Delhi (MAX hospital, looks snazzy, that’s where I want to be taken when I inevitably get mown down by a riskshaw). I also saw the more standard attractions (Ghandi memorial, Red Fort, various sites of historical interest) as well as my driver’s favourite temple and favourite Veg Thali canteen. The best place was India Gate, where we went last. Like everything else it was encased in scaffholding and crawling with workmen who made me nervous scaling the poles without ropes or harnesses. There is nothing special about the gate itself, but on Sunday afternoons Delhi dwellers bring their families to picnick on the surrounding grass and go boating on the lake. All the little kids were playing in the fountains and wielding little bottles of bubble mix that the venders were flogging, filling the (hot, dusty) air with pretty bubbles. Amazing carnival atmosphere, though I did eventually have to leave cause I was mobbed by Indian boys with camera phones.
Now despite the many warnings about travelling India as a solo female, I haven't had too much hassle here yet. Couple of times I’ve had to stop and stare down boys who have been non too subtly taking photos of me with their phones, but they all just looked embarrassed and sloped off. When I was at India gate one lad came up to me and asked politely if he could take a photo. This amused me, so I thought sure why not. At least he asked. Unfortunately this opened the flood gates and I was then surrounded by a crowd of boys with phones. Now I don’t really understand this, since I was covered in baggy clothes from wrists to ankles and drenched in my own sweat. I think perhaps once one person started taking photos people mistakenly assumed I was someone famous and decided to get involved. Either way, after tolerating it fairly stoically for 30 seconds or so I actually had to do a proper hand in front of camera no more photos please celeb style retreat.
Oh just a note on Air India - it was FINE. I don’t know why it has this rep for being a terrible national airline. The plane was new and comfy and I saw no evidence of the staff being rude. Yes you may be the only white passenger, catering options are curry or curry, the films are all bollywood and people push and shove when boarding as if they haven’t grasped the concept of reserved seats, but if these things are an issue for you then DON’T GO TO INDIA.
My tips for Delhi - Namaskar hostal. Rooms are shit but so are they all… at least here the staff are really friendly and there is no hassle whatsoever. Their taxi drivers are sound as.
Tonight I’m off to Rishikesh on the night sleeper train (wish me luck!), then off towards the Himilayas where it’s not so hot.
Yes Dad, photos to follow.
Xx
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Alix Fonfe
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lol Paraghanj is def a dump! My flatmate who is from Delhi told me under no circumstances should i stay there and i knew sraight away it would be my backpack hole i was looking for! Me and Shush had god knows how many people take photos of us in Bangladesh, it is very strange! You must go up North to Dharmsala and go to Raj - we absolutely loved Jodhpur, was amazingly beautiful. Im sooooo jealous!!! Ive got my OSCE next week to get through before i can safely say i've made it through 4th year. xxxxxx