New Delhi

Everything we had read in our guidebook about India, and especially Delhi, put us on our guard. We steeled ourselves for our arrival at the airport, expecting to be overwhelmed by con artists and aggressive taxi drivers. However, the hotel we had booked offered free airport pickup, and we actually had our easiest arrival in a new country yet.

This first car trip in the country brought our memories back to the lawless roads of China: lanes treated as suggestions, cars driving straight down a lane marker between two other cars, and everyone honking and passing each other with wild abandon. My first impression was that Delhi was a very dusty place. We passed run down buildings and hotels on the outskirts that looked like they would crumble at the first touch, and it had the feel of a place that had just been through an apocalypse.

As we entered the neighborhood of our hotel, the driving really got intense. Cars, auto rickshaws, motorbikes, and throngs of people all jostled for space in very small lanes; India shot to the top of my mental list of Countries I Never Want to Drive In.

Our hotel room was one of the better ones we had stayed in on our trip, with the bonus of a TV with two dozen Indian channels. We watched the wild dances and cliched villains of Bollywood, live footage of bearded Sikh holy men chanting in unison, melodramatic pop music videos, and of course, the World Cup. In one reality show competition that veered unpredictably from Hindi to English and back, two men were strapped onto large spinning wheels and given large milkshakes to drink. At the signal, the female contestants on both sides spun their man-wheel as fast as they could, until there was a winner (or loser; it was hard to tell): the first vomit, replayed several times in slow motion.

We took advantage of the first affordable room service we had ever seen to order dinner to our room. One of the staff members, mistakenly thinking we were still waiting to order, burst violently into our room unannounced, Kramer-style. It seems you should keep your doors locked in an Indian hotel. The dinner was excellent, and we went to bed pleased with ourselves for having a pretty successful entry into India.




Our success was very short lived. By the end of the next day, tempers were short, tears were shed, and at least one of us wanted to just get on a plane and go home.

When we actually went out into the Karol Bagh neighborhood on foot in the morning, it was an assault on our senses. The temperature was 110 degrees Fahrenheit, everything was covered in dust and dirt, the crowds were intense, we were overwhelmed by strange and powerful smells, and we had to share the small alleys with every manner of motorized vehicle. But we could have handled all of that; we were expecting it, and probably would have seen it as part of the adventure.

But what we couldn't get a handle on was the unwelcome attention. There was an unending stream of aggressive young men on foot or in auto rickshaws wanting our attention and money: "Where are you going?" "Come this way!" "Hello my friend!" "Where are you from?" "Taxi! Where are you going? 10 rupees! Where are you going??" Most would fall away quickly when we didn't answer, but many would follow us closely for several minutes. We are well practiced in ignoring these kinds of touts, but there was such an overwhelming number of them that we started feeling very harassed and claustrophobic. Delhi is an extremely confusing and pedestrian unfriendly city, but we couldn't even stop to look at a map or catch our breath. We skipped breakfast and lunch and retreated into an internet cafe for 3 hours, only leaving when hunger and the need of a bathroom forced us to. The one thing we had wanted to do that day was buy our onward bus tickets, but we failed; the bus company's website didn't work and their office was closed on Sunday. We visited the local bus station, but it was a disaster; shockingly dirty and fly-ridden, full of aggressive touts closing in on all sides, and all of the signs were in Hindi.

Our second full day in Delhi went much, much better. We got our bus tickets in the morning, took auto rickshaws and stayed off of the streets, and saw a couple of good sites. The first site in particular was excellent: the tomb of Humayun, the 2nd Moghul emperor, and a precursor in style to the Taj Mahal. It was a beautiful and very serene place.







We also visited the crumbling fort of Purana Qila. At both sites we noticed a ton of local people, especially men, lounging around in the shady grass. In India, there are foreign and local prices for tourist sites; say, $5 versus 5 cents. With tickets that cheap and Delhi being so totally unpleasant to be out in, it seems that locals use these ancient sites as places to relax. Not a half bad idea.


While killing time and looking for bottled water before our 14-hour bus ride, we stopped in a McDonald's. It's always interesting to see how cultural differences play out in the McDonald's of the world. This was certainly the first one that had a security guard doing bag searches on the way in. There was also no beef on the menu, and locally influenced food options like McAloo (aloo means potato). By the time we boarded our bus to Manali, we had softened a lot in our attitude to Delhi. But were still quite excited to get out as fast as possible and get to the mountains.