A Glimpse Of Old Delhi

We drove through the (relatively) cleanly streets of New Delhi and progressed into Old Delhi, where our hotel was located. Old Delhi is, as you would imagine, older than surrounding areas. The buildings are solid stone structures with simple but classical Indian architecture, though it is sometimes hard to see since the fronts of buildings are often covered by numerous signs. (Some memorable signs from our street in Old Delhi: Hercules, Steel Balls, Solid Steel Balls, looots of bike shops-it was sort of the bike shop street, so. y'know). The road was as wide as the usual two lane road, but it seemed much, much more narrow. On one side of the road large trucks (dump-truck style, and pimped out. they decorate the trucks and rickshaws hardcore), rickshaws (often with their owners asleep on top of them; on our street mostly bicycle rickshaws), and on both sides of the road were stalls, kiosks, tables and rugs on the ground offering wares. It was fabulous.

Even that late/early, there were plenty of people on the street to witness us fall out of the taxis, dragged down by weighty packs and jet-lag. After paying the drivers, we filed down an alley-passing a double door with the famous King Kong scene (King Kong on top of the building, raging at the planes) painted onto it-and turned left, through the glass door of our hotel and into the lobby. The lobby was small, but still very nice, with a computer, television, front desk and even a lift! The old school sort, with the metal cage behind the wood door, and then the lift. The hotel had three floors, all tiled, and the roof. After rooms had been sorted out, and luggage thrown into the respective rooms, we split into two groups: the total nerds, who stayed to wash up and sleep; and the adventurers, who went on a little walk about Old Delhi.

We walked down the alley in the opposite direction we had come from, and ended up on a wider street where vendors and merchants were already setting up shop for the early crowd. We passed fruit stands, carpet sellers, and people frying up some breakfasts. As we were passing rickshaws parked on the side of the road (already hassling us, wanting to give us rides-one dude even followed us along for quite a while) about to turn onto the main road that the Red Fort was on, a young boy (maybe 10 or 12) came up to us, begging for money purportedly for chai. This claim caused Eric to question the boy "someone wanna buy this kid some chai? here, oh yeah, where's your chai? what chai you gunna buy? take us to the chai, we'll buy it you some." And with that Alex grabbed the kids hand, and he took us back the way we came, (not all the way of course) turning left into a little enclave of a community. Here, there were few shanty houses-just blankets on benches or the ground, people lined up, as the phrase goes, like sardines, on the ground. Sometimes there was a blanket strung up to create a barrier. I don't know how far the scene went, as it was very dark, but to the edge of my vision was this sorry sight.

The little boy had led us to a table where a man was boiling water, surrounded by a few men having a chat before work began. Eric ordered chai for anyone who wanted some, feeling generous since it was five rupees a cup (appx. 10 cents). I took him up on the offer, and oh am I glad. It was the most delicious drink I've ever had, legitimately. I scalded my fingertips as I held the cheap plastic cup, and my taste buds were burnt beyond tasting for the next few hours, but that chai was the best chai I had the entire trip. By the time everyone who wanted chai had some, our small group was completely surrounded. (Entirely by men, by the way). Hillary was sitting on a bench in front of the chai table and two men sat next to her, requesting photos. We were being pressed in upon by all sides, but mostly it was innocent curiosity. Eric made two 'best friends,' who spoke absolutely three words of english max, and we all had a lovely time. On our way back to the hotel we got sort of creepered on, but no worries. Then Cecily, Eric and I made our way up the third floor and went to bed.

If I die young, fill my empty room with the sun ~ Empty Room by Marjorie Fair

Hello, New Delhi

The first day of the trip consisted almost solely of sitting in an airborne vessel or, worse, simply sitting. Our first flight was from the SLC airport to Chicago - a very quick flight (or it seemed so at the time). Our plane encountered some technical difficulties once we landed though, and we all ended up sitting for two hours on the tarmac. That made us late for our flight from Chicago to New Delhi, but luckily our group was so large that they held the plane for us - though we felt awful about holding up the other passengers, so we ran through the Chicago airport to our gate. Running through a ridiculously large airport with backpacks on was sort of an adventure, but I would be fine never doing it again. Once we boarded, I had 18 hours with which to experience my first transatlantic flight. (Also the longest commercial flight offered in the world). It was dreadful really. I sat next to Sonora and Owens and Cecily. Take that as you will. I did however watch The Men Who Stare At Goats, and it was pretty fabulous. I recommend.

The flight was long, and I hardly slept. The plane ride was, in its defense, not an exercise in amusement, simply a mean to an end, and what an end it was. After everyone had collected their baggage and gone to the bathroom and changed their money (good god, we lost approximately 2,000 dollars from some cheats at the airport-I was lucky, and didn't go to the money changers that were sneakily charging people, but some children lost quite a chunk) we all piled into taxis and off we went through the streets of Delhi, to our hotel The Tara Palace.

I know everything I say from here on out will be the utmost in ridiculous clichés, but, as a friend once told me, clichés have become cliché for a reason.

Stepping out of the air-conditioned plane, the cool (for Delhi) night air seemed almost stifling. Though I became accustomed to it (and even enjoyed it) quite quickly, there was an awful lot of bitching from others in the group. *cough* Eric and Carl *cough* We snaked our way out of the airport, finding it necessary to form a double- or single-file line because of the sheer number of people. This was not average airport crowding. There were seas of people, and (much more pleasing to my eyes at least, no offense, but I miss family) they were all brown. As our group quickly got used to, everyone in eyesight, was staring (well, most of our group accepted it. Winter still threatened to punch people far into the trip, if they stared too much or for too long). I couldn't blame them, I mean. We were quite a sight: 24 white people, with hefty baggage trouping around in single file. I laughed at us a few times myself. What a motley crew we made.

Into the taxis we went. A note about 'Indian' cars (cars in India, dunno where they were made, so): they look very small and cramped, but inside are quite spacious. So I know it's very possible to fit eight or ten people into a seemingly four person car. And we saw that a lot, participating only a few times. In my taxi was Marcy (my new bffsie, I love that girl), Cecily (she called shotgun, it was terrible), and Eric. I somehow got stuck in the middle (not somehow; our driver almost left Eric, who was running around making sure every student was accounted for, so he had to run and jump into the side seat), but I encroached on Eric's side of the car and looked out his window. It was...beautiful. Not in the "lovely looking" sort of sense, but. Well, it was dark so it was incredibly difficult to see (legally blind and what not) and the pollution was so thick in the air that there was a permanent fog. But that added to the look of the place. Speeding down the road (at least 100 km/h, and in Indian traffic that is no small feat) I caught sight of buildings built the way I love - square, stacked, dilapidated concrete buildings set close to incredibly old, beautifully constructed (Indian architecture is possibly my favorite, ever) temples, minarets were everywhere, and in the skyline rectangular and spire-like (is that how you would describe the top of buildings such as the Taj Mahal? If not, then just imagine the top of the Taj Mahal) shadows dominated above the palm trees. Even in the dark, I could see the greenness surrounding us.

As we drove past the ambassadorial/government streets (those were the first we passed in order to get to our hotel) the sweet smell of blooming flowers and fruit mixed with the humidity and thickness of pollution. It was (despite what you might think after that botched description) delightful, and somehow fresh. Very sweet. Though it didn't last long. Quickly we passed the perfectly manicured mansions of foreign diplomats, and got on to the real city. Here, the smell of sewers and spices and fruits intermingled, in a not immediately pleasant aroma. But once you adjust to it, it's quite alright. It is the smell of people and living and working and food.

Well, I know this is too long to be pleasant light reading, but. Alas. They all sort of come out in a kajumble, memories do. I have a college interview, so more later. But also wish me luck! Belated luck though it will be once you read this..whatever.

Life goes on the same, you bury the pain and hold onto love ~ Somewhere Else by Travis

Back In The U.S.(S.R.)

So. I happen to be back in the Americas again. Adjusting is difficult. Incredibly so, actually. I know nothing is probably different but. Goodness, that does not seem like the case.

Now, I know I should have been writing from India, but good lord. It is a bitch and three quarters to get internet in India, and whenever there was internet, 21 teenagers were scurrying to check their the Facebooks. Here is a quick little recap while I write some decent blogs about my fabtastic journey.

(Jamie, this is literally copy-paste what I wrote to you, by the by):

- I rode a camel! All by myself.

- I tried opium (bitter, with too much sugar)

- I rode a train for the very first time (quite enjoyable - not the 23 hour ride though)

- I talked to the Maharaja of Jodhpur's uncle (I love him)

- And I swam in the ocean? Not really swam. I sat in the ocean and Eric tried to drown me.

- I figured out how to compartmentalize very well. (Incredibly useful)

- I made some lovely new friends (Indian and our very own Waldenites alike - we have some darling children)

- I solidified broken ties. (Dare I say I cauterized the wounds? There are no chances of reattachment now)

- I love Jodhpur and I love Jaipur and I love Delhi.

- I love the Himalayas.

- I love overcrowded cities and bustle and too much going on and I love cows in the road and honking and noise.

- I love the smell of fresh fruit and spices and tobacco and cheap foreign cigarettes.

- I love monkeys in the streets and the warmth and green and buildings that are hundreds of years old.

- I love laundry hanging out to dry; I love the brilliant colors of saris and salwar kameezs freshly washed in water from a holy river against the murky blue sky.

- I almost died five times a day; I love Indian traffic.

- I only got lost once, and it wasn't just me - three other people.

- I have awful jet-lag (not really) and I'm really tired so I'm going to bed.

Tomorrow, in depth adventures?!?