India

After three long flights, bad movies, documentaries about the Lufthansa Airlines way, complementary alcohol, blankets, and pillows, we arrived in Delhi, India.  It was 2:30am, the night air was warm, and people crowded the exit of the airport.  After eyeing down an autorickshaw we bargained our way down to 300 rupees for our 15km ride to our hotel.  Perhaps still overpriced, we jumped in exhilarated about our bargaining skills and the hectic ride to come.  After a couple of kilometers, the driver pulled off to the side of the road and got out, obviously not our destination, we enquired as to what he was doing.  "Friend, friend" is all he would say, repeating himself over and over.  We sat there, confused, impatient, and perhaps scared, not knowing anything really.  Not the language, or the customs, or where the hell we were, or why he stopped, or who his friend was, or why was this friend important.  Nothing.  So many things running through our heads, yet there was no way to figure any of them out.  And then the driver, in a  nonchalant fashion, beckoned us out, pointing to his friend in the rickshaw behind.  All of that exciment, fear, and mistrust, only to find out a new rickshaw driver would be taking us their.  Our first driver took his commision and and returned back to the airport, and the ride resumed.  Simply using the lanes as minor suggestions, we cruised down the road honking as we passed in our convinient "third lane" the driver would create out of the two that existed. At one point, the driver attemped to pass inbetween two trucks.  What was a "wide" gap between the two became smaller and smaller, as our driver honked furiously.  Shit, was all I could think as we niether slowed down or sped up.  I knew we would make it somehow, thinking of Luke, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Leia narrowly escaping the garbage compactor on Death Star I.  Luckily, or perhaps logically, the driver braked as the gap closed, narrowly dodging deaths hand.  Finally we made it to Pahar Ganj, yet the driver was unsure of where the guest house was.  He pointed down a dark alley, guessing it might be down there.  Before paying I checked it out, wandering down the winding path.  Stray dogs stared me down as if it were a showdown between two cowboys, I stared back unwaiveringly, and the dogs would run with their tail between their legs.  I could not find the place we were looking for, but I did find one that was still open and would suffice.  We paid the driver and returned to the guest house.  300 rupees for the night, again, maybe overpriced, but I really didn't know and didn't care.  I just wanted a safe place to sleep.  We agreed and woke up three hours later to find morning.  Chance decided he had enough sleep and started to get up.  I couldn't disagree more, yet my excitment of the undiscovered pulled me out of bed.  It was early, 6 or 7 maybe when we decided to get some breakfast.  We looked for some cafes avoiding the street food, not knowing if our stomachs could handle it just yet.  After walking for twenty minutes, we found no open cafes and decided to go for it.  We found the next vendor curiously looking at what it was he was making.  A man approached us giving the prices. "10 rupees each, or 25 if three."  We watched the cook lathering uncooked dough patties with oil then throwing them on the hot metal surface.  They sat us down and served us one at a time with a tray of fresh yogurt.  We were pleasantly surprised to find that the bread was filled with potatoes and spices.  I was in awe of the beautiful simplicity of the food, filled with its hidden surprises.  Once finished, we paid our 40 rupees for 6 and walked back.  I took a nap as Chance wrote in his journal, waiting for the streets to open.  We left our first guest house to get to our recommended one, the Hare Rama Guest House.  At this point, the streets are bustling with backpacking tourists, street vendors, rickshaw drivers, touts, mopeds, cows, and the most heartwrenching and compelling beggars I have seen, crawling along the streets with no legs, diseased and thin.  We continued wandering until our stomachs began to growl, this time deciding to eat at a restaraunt.  We returned to our hotel where, on the top floor is a good place to eat.  We lounged, listening to the horns and living streets below, relaxed, enjoying the cool breeze in the warm air.  We wandered some more, bartering for some clothes, and soon returned to the top floor to read and write.  It was then when Chance's lack of sleep directed him to our room for a short nap.  I stayed continuing my reading for about a half an hour more until 5pm or so.  I left my books at the front desk and walked the streets.  Soon I was approached by a kind man who I had a short conversation with.  He asked where I was going and I responded that I was exploring.  He said he had a tea shop down the road five minutes and invited me over.  Wary but excited I asked what the name was.  Quickly he pulled out a card and showed me, having forgotten his name, I was not really sure if it was his tea shop or not but I decided to follow, due to the fact I had nothing else to do.  He tought me some Hindi and told me of all the places to visit in the city and in India.  He asked if I had yet gotten a map of Delhi, I said no, to which he quickly responded he knew where to get one on the way to his shop.  We get to a travel agency for tourists and instead of grabbing a free map he takes me to a private room with an agent.  Damn.  My "friend" was a tout and I got scammed.  Annoyed, I listened to the agent, got good advice, drank as much of their chai as I could, and tried to end the conversation as quickly as possible.  But soon he began making calls and giving me prices for a city in Kashmir.  It included a week stay in a boat house, flight from there and back, and food.  Only $365.  I was a walking dollar bill.  I told them I had to talk to my friend and get back to them.  I asked for the prices and info to be written down and for a card to call back.  I tried acting as earnest as possible so I could leave without trouble.  But this guy was persistent.  Instead, they said my "friend" would walk me back to the hotel to get my friend and we would come back.  I said ok just to get out of that place, that way I would only have to shake off the tout, rather than the agent too.  So we walked out and I commended the tout on his good business skills and told him goodbye.  But of course that was not enough.  Again, this guy was persistent.  Trying to take me to clothes stores, sell me bricks of hashish, anything he could think of.  Finally he realizes I am not going to buy anything and stops.  By this time we are near the hotel, and he says to meet him in the spot in ten minutes once I have talked to my friend.  Finally.  I hurry down the street back to the hotel.  A couple of hours had passed and I expected Chance to be up.  But alas, in my already foul mood he was not.  Locked out of the room after minutes of pounding on the door I climbed the stairs to my rooftop sanctuary.  Feeling betrayed, and hurt by this friendship I thought I had made, I sat to think and watch the streets below.  After an hour or so, I attempted to wake Chance out of his deep sleep.  It worked!  Finally.  Exhausted, we decided to eat in the restaurant upstairs.  We ate and rushed to the room.  Sleep.  We woke, got some street food, and are now here at our hotel, checked out, using the internet for our faithful blog followers.  We plan on taking the bus to Rishikesh tonight, and will arrive in the morning.  The city is amazing, but we want to figure out the customs, and Indian lifestyle in a more relaxing environment.  Rishikesh is know for meditation and yoga, which we are very excited for.  Apparently, the Beatles wrote a lot of the songs off of the White Album there.  Cool.  Anyways, we are alive and well.  No Delhi Belly yet.

Love,
Josh