Dili How I’ve missed ya – A trip back to Delhi

There’s always a brief magic moment when you got off a flight from an altitude location.   All of a sudden your body has more than it’s been used to and you are a superhero.   Unfortunately my super powers wore off within ½ hour but I was in Delhi, a city I’d missed so I didn't need any superpowers.  I felt great :).  In this blog…

•          An alcoholic lesson in attachment
•          A small dose of luxury (and a few Dosas :) )
•          How to survive at 30 hour train journey (and appropriate use of the C word)

My taxi from the airport was typical of one picking up a western tourist.  His first question was ‘book your hotel already sir?’.  This is a query as to whether he can take you to one of his brother cousin’s choice of holes down a dark alley enabling him to make commission.  He then requested that I put my seatbelt over my shoulder.  Not put my seatbelt ‘on’ just over the shoulder (there was no device to click it into place anyways) but it needed to be over my shoulder as we went passed a police check.  Indian law defined: the rules are there they just ignored.

 

I decided to bling it up a bit in Delhi.  I had some hotel vouchers from the nice people at Agoda following a bad experience in Goa (click here to see my tripadvisor review – this hotel was a joke and if you’re there pls click on helpful vote too :) ). So  I stayed in a hotel with a few treats that I’d not had in Ladakh such as electricity, hot water and a decent mattress. 

I had been looking forward to coming back to Delhi and having a couple of days of luxury and good food before hitting the road again.  My friend Robyn who had traveled with me in Ladakh had brought me a lovely bottle of Australian Shiraz which I was really looking forward to tucking into.   I was so relaxed when I arrived at the hotel that I lifted up my backpack and emptied the contents on the floor.  A tiled floor.  The bottle of Shiraz might have been tightly packed but within seconds there was red wine all over my floor and ½ of my clothes.   Although the total value of my clothes is probably less than $100 a lot had sentimental value (bless).  I had to throw most of them away and face the fact that I no longer had wine.  It was a very good lesson in attachment.  No point in getting annoyed with myself, shit happens and I took a bin liner full of clothes down to the skip in the hotel carpark.  All of a sudden I had a FAR lighter backpack :)

Despite my lesson in attachment one thing I ‘am’ a sucker for is sunglasses.  I think it’s because I spent most of my life as a glasses wearer and had to have prescription sunglasses which generally made me look like I was doing a science project.  Since I've had laser treatment I've been buying up all the sunglasses I had missed out on.  Oakley sunglasses are very cheap in India.  They are nearly ½ the price they are in Europe (cheaper than the US) so I bought a new pair.  According to two opticians I went to no Indians like Oakleys as they are not expensive enough and famous people don’t wear them (Ray Bans are 50% more than they are in the US!).  Good.  Keep it that way :).  It shows how sad the focus on the ‘west is best’ is for the wealthy few here.

Being back in Delhi gave me a warm fuzzy feeling and it wasn't just the pleasant altitude.  Staying in Karol Bagh (my old stomping ground) meant I was greeted with joy from the local coconut seller, chai seller, security guard, phone topup guy and Deepak my guy I used to go to Bhajans (devotional singing) with.  I felt at home :)

Me out (drinking wine finally :) ) having a real treat of a meal with good friends.  Guarav and Tom & Georgie (the newly weds I mentioned in my last blog)

I indulged in a lot of good food and caught up on getting ‘stuff fixed’.  I spent a morning in Chandni Chowk a market of pure madness next to the Red Fort.   You can fix ‘anything’ there.  I got my fisheye lens fixed, my face fixed (a shave and a trim), my mobile phone and kindle covers fixed, and my flip flops fixed (my Havaianas that cost $40 and lasted 4 months.  I paid 20 cents and no doubt they will last another 4 months!

Here’s a photo of the cobbler fixing my Flip Flops.  A completely different experience to the cobbler who ended up getting angry with my shoes last time I was in Delhi (read here)

After a morning of work meetings I spent most of my last day in the GPO waiting in a queue to post my work clothes to my next project in South India.  I finally got to the front and the clerk just walked off.  Apparently he’d decided to take a break.  It’s wasn't lunchtime and he was the only person on break so as I’d made friends with the people I’d been queuing with for 2 hours we celebrated by clapping when he returned.  I don’t think he’ll ever take a break again.

I then headed to Railway for my 30 hour journey to Chennai on the Chennai Express.  Such an epic journey there was even a film about it.

Although there were no explosions or girls in bikinis I preferred my experience.  It was typical of any train journey in India.  Pure comedy.

In my bay (6 beds) was an Auntie (there’s ALWAYS an Auntie in a bay).  She has been packed up by her son who carried all her luggage on board and enough food for more closer to 300 than 30 hours (more food than I had bags). But then again she was a big lady.  Within 10 minutes of her lying out on her bed both her low swinging nips had flashed out of the Sari at hip level and much to my horror I think there was also a growler flash.  It should be noted, however, that no matter how many nipples and growlers you've been exposed to the Auntie is the political player in the bay and you should make friends with her.   I guaranteed that by being the only white guy on the train and putting my hands in prayer position in front of my chest and saying ‘Namaste auntie’.  No matter what situation occurred on the trip I’ll be sorted.

Second in line are the 20/30 year olds who've had a good education and speak English.  The giveaway is a lack of moustache (unlike the rest of Indian males they don’t believe the bollywood myth that girls drop their pants if you've a tash), jeans and a t-shirt or shirt with the words ‘polo’ somewhere on the shirt.  

Then there is the ‘businessman’.   From the underpant boys I described up in Raj (click here) they usually have a life’s supply of pens in their top pockets (cause you never know), a briefcase with their name on and a chain with which they secure it to the seat.  Their briefcase usually contains food, a calculator that looks like it belongs to a control room of a spaceship and more pens (seriously, you never know).  Some businessmen also have laptops but unlike the 20/30 year old guys described above who will actually be using them productively the businessman will only ever open them to look at the screen.  Work will not take place.  Why?  They are carrying 20 pens, they are never gonna move away from the pen and pad!

 

After telling you they are ‘Businessmen’ then wiggling their heads and not answering when you ask ‘what kind of business’ they will sleep for the entire journey.  Sleep that is until 30 minutes before they get off which is usually an early morning stop, something like 3am and then they will call up all their friends and tell them loudly on their mobile that they are on a train coming into town.

 

As I've said many times before, food on Indian Rail is amazing.  This train, however, didn't have a pantry car.  We still had the Chai Wallahs and people selling everything from ice cream to locking chains shouting down the carriage but no meals.  When this happens you have to get off the train at stations along the way and get fresh food from sellers on the platform.  I've done this many times before.  This time, however, being a 30 hour journey I’d made few friends and was very social on the platform.  As a result I was still second in line when the horn on the train started blowing and the train pulled out of the station.   My backpack was on that train but I was hungry.  Not even the Auntie could fix this.  I finally got to the front of the queue and the seller, clearly used to this rushed scenario served me in less than 10 seconds.  I then ran as fast as I could, Biriyani in hand and overtook about 5 carriages before I jumped on mine.  I got applause from the guys by the door and the Biriyani was yummy.  Pure India :).  Reminded me of the beginning scene in Darjeeling Limited (although I'm not nearly as cool as Adrian Brody!)...

My one confrontation on the train was with someone about litter. Travelling in India you get used to the constant actions of locals throwing litter at any chance.  On the train you’ll often see people see throw huge carrier bags full of rubbish out of the train window.  Unfortunately you have to swallow the anger and ignore it knowing that it’s a class of Indian’s who know no better.  I, however, saw a guy who was wearing a suit (a rarity on a train here) throw a big bag of rubbish out of the door so I confronted him. 

It went something like this:

Chris: “Hi, could you please tell me why you threw the rubbish out of the door”

Rubbish throwing cunt: “The bin is full”

Chris: “I know, that’s a shame but would it not have been better to wait until the next station and put it in a bin on the platform”

RTC: “No, it’s all recycled plastic anyway.  Besides, you are foreign, you don’t understand, everybody does this here.  This is India, this is how we do things”

Chris: “I understand, but it’s a real shame that you have to pollute the environment”

After this it got a little bit ‘heated’ and I was told to go back to the UK he then walked off in a huff.  It’s rare I use the C word, but I’ll use it again.  He was a cunt.   

Chennai (a far prettier a 'c' word) was a complete surprise.  The 6th busiest city in India I was expecting a little bit of madness and instead found new roads nearly empty of traffic.  I was only there for 24 hours passing through to catch the cheapest flight I could to renew my visa in Sri Lanka.  A flight from Delhi was $150, from Chennai just $70, the train $10 plus I got to spend time with RTC - Bargain!

Here's a pic at Marina Beach, Chennai of the a local amateur photo group looking at me looking at them: