Showering in India was never a regular experience. We had a few nice showers while we were there... otherwise it was either too hot but usually too cold. A lot of the places had a tiny little water heater in the shower and you would turn it on for each shower.
We didn’t want to stay another night at the YMCA so we got a taxi that took us to Lodhi gardens. We were still a little flustered from our horrible taxi ride and our horrible night at the overpriced YMCA. But after a few minutes in Lodhi gardens we forgot all about it. Parks in the middle of cities always have wonderful atmospheres. (Ogden should have made a park in the middle of the city instead of the hideous commercial development that has gone in instead.)
We had not seen very many Indian couples together let alone holding hands or snuggling. Lodhi gardens had a lot of that going on. As well as children dancing for money and grown men hustling us for money by doing tricks.
We spent a lot of time at the gardens and then started walking down the street to see if we could find a place to stay. We had all our bags with us and we eventually got to a little café. We ordered some food and Sarah saw a cockroach running across our table. The owner of the café was a woman who was very helpful to us. We asked her if there was a place we could stay near the café. She immediately got on the phone and started calling around. She tried one place and when that didn’t work she called her husbands office. Her husband sent a runner out to find a hotel near his office for us to stay at that was reasonably priced. Then the husband called back with the information and this was all done while we had dinner and dessert. We left a rather large tip and thanked her.
She directed us to a place just off the Delhi’s main bazaar. We found a three wheeler and he took us downtown. There was this narrow road that was packed with people and it didn’t seem like there should be traffic other than pedestrian on it but there were bicycle rickshaws and three wheeler rickshaws and every now and then a car. We were caught in traffic jams that were literally traffic jamming together making it impossible to pass unless one or the other backed up or was moved to the side... all the while people flowing like water through any open crack between the vehicles. Our driver constantly had a look on his face as if he were doubtful he would ever find anything mixed with a look of being constantly berated by someone. He didn’t inspire much confidence. But we finally found the hotel. It was right in the middle of all of this craziness but it felt comfortable and safe.
We left our stuff in the room and went out and wandered the bazaar. It was incredible. Everything was priced cheaper than Bombay and those prices we could get even lower if we haggled. We bought quilt squares made out of old silk sari’s and numerous other cloth and curio items. Everything gets recycled in India automatically. Old registers are stripped of their paper and made into pieces of art and the leather is then rebound into journals. Anything that can be made into something is scavenged and remade. We bought tin cans that had been made into birds that flapped their wings and squeaked. We bought journals and photo albums made out of recycled fabric. It’s a constant cycle of use and reuse.
We started hearing bits and pieces of news that a train had been bombed in India. It was going from Delhi to Pakistan. The first news report we saw was in Hindi and we could only guess at what had happened by the images and the sparse English that is always mixed in. We later found out that about seventy people had died. Some organization was trying to stop peace talks between India and Pakistan.
Quote of the day from our café lady, “the food is yum”.
Sarah and I imagined American drivers in India. It was funny to us actually. We just imagined them screaming and running headlong into cows, motorists and pedestrians. The Indian drivers would squeeze four or five vehicles in what should normally be a two lane road and then motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians added. When you were stopped you would be able to reach out of the window and touch the other car. They handle it with a lot of honking to let the other motorist know where they are or to tell them to move over because they are going too slow.
Next to our hotel was a little corner where a tiled open urinal stood. It was really just a faux doorway, a step and then a gutter with drainage facing away from the street. The men chew this beetle wrapped in a tobbaco leaf or other types of flavored chew and they spit it everywhere. It’s usually red and the urinal was caked with red spit and urine splashes and it was all out in the open. Normally the men don’t even need a designated area to relieve themselves. Just turning and facing a wall is perfectly fine.
The military presence was fairly strong where ever we went. The international airport arrival looked like barracks for the military complete with a crew of uniformed men standing at attention when we arrived. There were always a lot of military men with machine guns walking around.
On our last day in India I was talking back to a man with a machine gun.
“India makes you use all five senses.” -Sarah
That night a wedding procession passed underneath our window. The weddings are all night events and it explained the fireworks from the previous night. They light off fireworks, bang drums, march through the streets and dance.
I slept with ear plugs.
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