You cannot walk anywhere in this town without someone falling into step with you and firing the request twenty questions at you. Almost always it leads to ‘You come to government emporium. Is verrry good shopping!’ or, if you’re in Paharganj, ‘Why stay in Delhi – nothing to see? You take car to Rajasthan. I get you driver!’
They all profess to want to help you, but when you’re walking along with a destination in mind, shaking one off after another really slows you...
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I have been in Delhi less than a week and I’m already nursing ‘chai lip’. My lower lip is raw from constantly sipping the scalding brew, so I’m having to slow down my morning imbibition (or find someone who does takeaway!).
Today’s journey treads a now familiar path to Connaught Place in the heart of Delhi. The grassy area at the centre of the three concentric circles is another place Delhiites like to catch up on some zeds and the colonnaded shopping area of the inner...
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Today’s sortie sees me cruising through Connaught Place yet again. Much to my amusement an enterprising lad tries to sell me a big fat Collins English dictionary. I mime lugging the book around and I think he gets that he has the wrong niche market somehow.
Beyond CP I head south to an area full of embassies. Like most cities in the world, they are usually in one of the nicest parts of town and Delhi is no exception to this rule. The streets are broad and lined with...
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The eastern end of Paharganj is flanked by the New Delhi train station. To get there, I pass under a spider web of electricity lines and cables, as well as past the usual suspects: the man who tries to sell me a toy helicopter every day, the man with the embroidery depicting a house and the man with the badminton racquets. I dodge the red splats of paan and worse, and try not to think of my own sooty congested lungs. Maybe if I live long enough they will turn into...
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As originally foreseen, there have been many opportunities to mail home this last week (particularly when I have been resting my weary buns after a day’s non-stop walking), but I am fully expecting these to dry up overnight with my departure to Rajasthan imminent. Not only will Internet connections be of diminished quality, but I also know what is ahead of me for the next three weeks of touring with Imaginative Traveller. Lots of rushing around, time keeping and...
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We unload ourselves out of the bus and our tour leader Shivani is sucked into the night and immediately surrounded by a clutch of bright-eyed porters. The haggling is vigorous and a deal takes about five minutes to strike. The backpacks are loaded onto a cart and we trek into the labyrinth that is Old Delhi train station. We pass families and piles of household possessions and eventually find our own resting place at the far end of platform 16.
It is Christmas Eve and,...
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‘Okay Fluffy Lips, looks like it’s you and me,’ I say to the long-lashed camel nonchalantly chewing its cud with teeth that would make a dentist’s eyes go ka-ching. The camels are all sitting with their articulated legs all folded up beneath them and their handlers are waiting to see which of us gets allocated to them for the two-hour ride.
The Indian camel saddles are different to those I encountered in the Middle East. They are metal-framed with smaller silver...
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