Grand Voyages, Great Lies

Well after a fairly cozy but long night (13hrs meant to be 10) which had required skillful bladder control we reached Delhi, we had shared a double sleeper compartment on a an over night bus and it was surprisingly comfortable. unlike other buses however which usually stopped near a station of main street this one threw us off at a petrol station on a busy highway…..our only option which no auto-rickshaws crying for our attention we ventured along the side of the road for a while before giving into a cycle rick-shaw which looked less up to carrying a 60 litre rucksack then me or Kate….the driver insisted it could take the weight of two rucksacks plus us girls…..and surprisingly it did. after our first 200ms we learnt our lesson- we hadn’t arranged the bags well atop the wooden struts at the back and we’d only traveled for 60secs or so when we heard shouts from the petrol station behind….our duffel-esque bag (newly bought in Pushka for the purpose of transporting Christmas presents to be sent home) had fallen off the rick-shaw and into the middle of the busy highway. Indian traffic of course had no problem swerving round the duffel but the embarrassment of yelling stop and running to retrieve it added to the pain of being pulled slowly with our heavy luggage atop a tiny cart propelled by the legs of a man half our size. the drivers spluttering and coughing in the polluted Dehli air made me sure he as going to pack it in (drop dead rather then give up) halfway to the main bazaar. despite our insistent requests to ‘stop here, we walk from here!’ he drove (half pushed) us to the main bazaar…then also half way down before we got him to stop.

We found the guest house in which Merav was staying and bumped into her between buying necessities and checking in. The main bazaar is busy as one would expect and stocked with guest houses and many a shop selling everything from cheap poor quality garments to magnificent Rajasthani and southern materials. lots of curiosity/antique shops also mixed in with the usual tourist smoking paraphernalia. plenty of cheap places to eat as well with food ranging from pizza to dosa (a southern Indian pancake) of course the usual local street vendors and tali restaurants. The area is cheap in city terms with dusty or scummy but habital rooms for the price of a deluxe in other towns. No shining polished brass of prestigious hotels or expensive shopping malls thankfully so appart from the other western faces on the streets you do feel like your experiencing a slice of the Indian city.

Your more then experiencing it, your inhaling it. You can feel the effects on your respiratory system within moments of stepping off the bus or train. the hazy smoggy that hangs round the buildings is visual proof of the pollution and if you still want proof of the awful air quality blowing your nose after an hour of walking the blocks around the station and main bazaar turn your cheap white tissue paper a nice grubby black. Lovely.

Its an immense city of which we are only frequenting a fraction, remaining around the main bazzar, steeping out only to a nearby cafe, bar, post office or hardware store (British girl in search of pliers and wire cutters only adds to the bizarreness of her red hair and multiple nose piercings)

I was surprised to find street cleaners here…but it made sense with so many people living in close proximity and all no notion of or recycling 0or even bins..They’d be walking on a carpet of litter within days. While staying here we mainly shop for Christmas presents on the main bazaar. we only had a few days before Kate was to fly home to surprise the masses for Christmas. I would be heading to Varanasi with Merav they we too would go our separate ways, her to China and myself to Nepal. it was an very exciting prospect. all be it a tad stress full sorting out things i no longer wanted to carry and thing that Kate carried that i would need…on top of that wanting to shower people back home with gifts, but only having a limited amount of space. We would all be back in Delhi at some point and after a month of sight seeing round Rajasthan we took a break and kept away from the main tourist attractions. one morning however we did take a sly trip to The International Doll museum dragging a sweet Israeli boy in tow. Merav introduced us to some acquaintances she had made in our absence, a British stoner and a creepy Hare Krishna Brazilian dude along with some book another of his com padres had written….we were ‘krishned’ out.

All of us with colds (Kate with no voice) we said goodbye to the blond one and headed for out train to Varanasi. the train system in India is impossible to work out…but some how it works. we had paid the guy we booked our ticket through (the same guy we bought mobile phones from) an extra fee to ensure we would get two seats rather then one on the train. we thought we had been swindled when the ticket inspector told us we only had seat 15….but it strangely worked out as conveniently bed 16 was free the entire way to Varanasi too…

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