After stopping on the way to eat at a very expensive and amazingly western-style roadside eatery, "The Food Resort" (View image) we rode into Delhi for the second time in three weeks View image: Rolfe had to return his rented motorcycle and fly back to LA. I also needed to be here to meet a German lady who had agreed to bring my parcel (warm clothes, hiking shoes, etc.) from Kathmandu in Nepal, where I had posted it, six months ago, when I thought I’d be going to Nepal in the springtime -- this was before the King fired the government, and before I decided to cut my trip short to go back to LA and work The lady kindly agreed to bring my parcel, if I was prepared to meet her off the plane at Delhi airport. Rolfe and I arrived there 10 minutes after her flight landed, after a grueling seven-hour ride from Rishikesh, and I got my parcel back!

Then we went into town and met up with a lovely Australian friend, Kate, who was leaving India that night. It was good to see her again, and hear about her time attending the Dalai Lama’s teachings in Dharmsala, and other adventures, which left her feeling inspired by Mother India.

The next morning, was Holi – which is one of the major holidays in India, during which everyone throws water, pigment powder and paint at each other. It was pretty frightening, seeing Indians even more excited and crazy than usual, and we tried our best to keep out of harm’s way. As we ducked through 100 meters of street to get to a safe rooftop restaurant for breakfast, I suddenly somehow recognized a completely covered tourist as Peggy, and American girl we’d met in Kajuraho! (View image) She seemed to be getting into the spirit of things and really enjoying the madness. View image, View image, View image. But half an hour later, Peggy came and found refuge on the roof with us. She was crying, and distraught. A gang of Indian men had turned the fun into nightmare, by cornering her and feeling her up, until she fought her way free. She was shaken, but recovered quickly enough, and got her humor back. Her tears had made streaks in her heavy coloring. (View image).

As Rolfe was flying out the next day, today – Holi, was also the agreed date to return the rental bike. We called the shop mobile several times, but each time they kept saying that it was not possible to return the bike, as today is a holiday. On the fourth call, they agreed to meet us at the shop. The motorcycle-ghetto streets were deserted in the afternoon. The guy turned up an hour late, and it was getting dark. He could not open the shop with his keys, and left again for an hour to find other keys. After opening the shop, he took possession of the bike, but refused to return the $200 cash security deposit, saying that there was a City fine of $75 for opening on a holiday, and we would have to pay this. HE was not the boss, with whom we had agreed to meet today -- he was conveniently away on family business for the next few days, and was not contactable. At first I was suspicious, but then I knew we were being ripped off, because the guy kept telling us he’d give us a receipt for the money, and that he was not ripping us off!!!

We both got pretty angry at all this – after all, the total rental price was $100 for three weeks, and now they were trying for another $75 for the hell of it. At one point I took the keys to both the rental bike, and the man’s own motorcycle, and suggested we take the keys back to the hotel, until they bring us the full $200. We even set off on my bike to do this, but then chickened out, realizing we could be making things worse, and making ourselves vulnerable at the hotel, in a city where we are not at home, and the police are unlikely to help or see our side of the story, especially if we steal their keys. So we went back, and Rolfe asked me to let him just allow them to rip off his money, so that we could leave and have our last dinner together before he leaves. By this time we had been there over three hours, arguing for much of that time. So that’s what happened: the bastards did steal their $75, and we let them do it, just to get on with our lives. It was a hard pill for me to swallow. I have too much pride about some things, and I had been the “experienced” one, who negotiated the cheap rental, and now it was all just a waste of effort, and we had both been screwed royally – and we were going to just let them do it!!!

Dinner was weird, but gradually the mood swung back to happy reminiscences of our amazing 2000-mile, three-week, trip together. And Rolfe had gathered so much intense biking experience in India in that short time, that he was now already an excellent bike rider. We had been through a lot together, and looked forward to having this experience to share when we are both back in the States.

Then next morning, I took him to the airport on my bike, and we said our goodbyes. As I rode home, feeling a strange lightness without Rolfe and his luggage on the bike, I came across this very strange graffiti, and could not decide if it was ironic or serious -- after all, anything is possible in India!: (View image).

I stayed on in Delhi to work on my blog, taking advantage of the fast connections and comfortable and interesting tourist infrastructure in the Pahar Ganj area. I also got to visit a couple of sights that we did not have time to see while Rolfe was here. I went to the Bahai Lotus Temple, which has amazingly become a symbol of Delhi, despite the fact that it belongs to a minor and little-known religion, rather than being a truly public building. The architecture is remiscent of the Sydney Opera House, and is really quite beautiful: View image, View image, View image, View image, View image.

I also went to visit the Jami Masjid, the biggest mosque in India. It was great to see such an old building being used so intensively today, but as the architecture was from a similar period to the Taj Mahal, but no where near as beautiful or interesting, there was frankly not much to photograph, except this lovely view of the carpets from the minaret tower: View image, and these shelves for private Koran prayer books: View image.

I loved walking the busy streets of Pahar Ganj at night -- wait, what am I saying? Can it be that I have finally accustomed myself to big, noisy Indian cities? -- and watching all the action, and animals living in their parallel but separate universe: View image, View image, View image.