It was my second day in Delhi. I had traveled there for work and was constantly amazed by the differences in culture. I grew up in a pretty diverse place – Hawaii – but India blew me away. Our neighborhood in Honolulu is Japanese, Chinese, Hawaiian, Filipino and Haole (and of course the mandatory Hawaiian/Chinese/Haole mix).
I woke up to the sound of the muezzin making the call to prayer for the first time in my life. It was hauntingly beautiful and although I am not a particularly religious person, I understood the call to prayer completely. I heard it as “be grateful, be kind to people, take care of the earth and the animals” and then kind of a la la la la because I had no idea what they were saying. I am an early riser (which is why I used to be able to show up at raves at 5 a.m. and convince everyone that I was there the whole time), so I went out for my morning walk at 6 (this time with our country director. His wife won't let him leave me unescorted since the fondling episode at the market, which is silly because many times I have gone out in an effort to be fondled and been unsuccessful, although not generally dressed as a Pashtun.
We decided to walk through the neighborhoods behind the main street - they were beautiful and filled with big, mildewey mansions. I have a thing for mildew stained houses as an island girl from the mauka side, so it was very comforting. We found a little park in the middle of the neighborhood and followed it for a mile or so. It was the cleanest place I have seen so far and it was deserted except for a group of men in their early 60s doing yoga. It was drizzling and had cooled off, so was only about 90 degrees and I felt like I needed a sweater. We headed back to the main street and walked along a huge open garbage pit - it kind of blew my mind. I had gotten used to the piles of stones and trash all over Delhi. Nearly every block has a designated stone pile for some reason. It is kind of the like the "have a penny, leave one, need a penny, take one" sign at the convenience store except this was “have a bunch of random construction material, leave some, need some, leave more of it here anyway”.
We decided to walk through the neighborhoods behind the main street - they were beautiful and filled with big, mildewey mansions. I have a thing for mildew stained houses as an island girl from the mauka side, so it was very comforting. We found a little park in the middle of the neighborhood and followed it for a mile or so. It was the cleanest place I have seen so far and it was deserted except for a group of men in their early 60s doing yoga. It was drizzling and had cooled off, so was only about 90 degrees and I felt like I needed a sweater. We headed back to the main street and walked along a huge open garbage pit - it kind of blew my mind. I had gotten used to the piles of stones and trash all over Delhi. Nearly every block has a designated stone pile for some reason. It is kind of the like the "have a penny, leave one, need a penny, take one" sign at the convenience store except this was “have a bunch of random construction material, leave some, need some, leave more of it here anyway”.
This trash heap was exceptional. The thing was a block long and in front of a Catholic Church and had people and animals living in it, gathering trash. The smell was kind of overwhelming and although I didn't want to look like a wussy tourist, I had to put a scarf over my face.
We heard music and followed the sound down to the end of the street. We walked into a chill room right out of Earth Dance. Dear ex ravers, it was exactly like a Seeley Court chill tent with rope lights, carpets, nag champa, some Tuvan throat singing sitar player and it was 6:30 a.m. Apparently, it was the dregs of a wedding the night before. At least they didn't hire Goa Gil for the wedding - that guy is sketchy. I wanted to stay and dance, but our country director insinuated it might cause an international incident.
We heard music and followed the sound down to the end of the street. We walked into a chill room right out of Earth Dance. Dear ex ravers, it was exactly like a Seeley Court chill tent with rope lights, carpets, nag champa, some Tuvan throat singing sitar player and it was 6:30 a.m. Apparently, it was the dregs of a wedding the night before. At least they didn't hire Goa Gil for the wedding - that guy is sketchy. I wanted to stay and dance, but our country director insinuated it might cause an international incident.
During my work trip to India, I only had about two days for sight seeing, so on this day, we hired a car. Unfortunately, as soon as we got in the car, the monsoon started - hard. The streets were flooded and the water was 2 feet deep after about 20 minutes. They are not messing around with rain here. We decided to press on and visit the red fort. It is a several mile long fort that contains a number of palaces, administrative buildings, barracks, mosques and an old harem. The harem is pretty rad and I would seriously consider living in this one.
As I was getting out of the car, a group of about 20 aggressive kids surrounded me and tried to sell me an umbrella. I live in Seattle and don't DO umbrellas, so I said no. Ten minutes later, I ran back and paid 300 rupees for an umbrella because we don't have monsoons in Seattle. It was bad, cars were stranded, stuff from the slum dweller's homes were literally floating away and people just kept zooming by - dad on the front of a motorcycle with a helmet on, toddler balanced off the hip of his wife (no helmets on either) who was inevitably perched delicately on the side of the bike so as not to be unladylike, zipping through 2 feet of standing water.
The fort was the seat of power for the Mughals. The palaces were amazing - all of the art is a combination of Roman, Islamic, Hindu, Italian (don't ask) and Turkish. You can literally see the styles change wall to wall. Indians are very proud to be a multi-cultural people and talk about it all the time, which I really like. There was a beautiful hand built mosque and hammam that we got to walk through - it was a powerful reminder of the strength and cultural history of India. Apparently, the throne that sat in one of the main buildings now resides in Tehran where the government charges people 5 Euros to sit in it - the Shah of Iran was the last one in possession of this throne before the overthrow of the government in 1979. Now it is a tourist attraction, which is better than an Imperial Lazy boy.
After walking around the fort, we hit the underground bazaar to get some gifts and take in the vibe. The vendors were all very aggressive and kept trying to sell me Gucci or Pucci purses or whatever - I was 39, unkempt, wearing a backpack and Keens- I don't think I am a purse girl.
The fort was the seat of power for the Mughals. The palaces were amazing - all of the art is a combination of Roman, Islamic, Hindu, Italian (don't ask) and Turkish. You can literally see the styles change wall to wall. Indians are very proud to be a multi-cultural people and talk about it all the time, which I really like. There was a beautiful hand built mosque and hammam that we got to walk through - it was a powerful reminder of the strength and cultural history of India. Apparently, the throne that sat in one of the main buildings now resides in Tehran where the government charges people 5 Euros to sit in it - the Shah of Iran was the last one in possession of this throne before the overthrow of the government in 1979. Now it is a tourist attraction, which is better than an Imperial Lazy boy.
After walking around the fort, we hit the underground bazaar to get some gifts and take in the vibe. The vendors were all very aggressive and kept trying to sell me Gucci or Pucci purses or whatever - I was 39, unkempt, wearing a backpack and Keens- I don't think I am a purse girl.
One shop I found some Pashminas for the women on my list and our country director was giving me advice on price and haggling. When we finished, one of the shopkeepers asked the CD if I was his wife, the CD looked at him strangely and said "no". The guy high-fived him and patted him on the back. I was kind of offended - they openly celebrated the fact that he wasn't dumb enough to be married to me. I love the CD, he is one of my favorite people at work, but he is a 60 year old Mennonite missionary and not really my type. Plus, his wife would kill me at the mere thought. I had conflicting feelings - I thought I might be good enough. Maybe it was that slutty salwar kameez I was sporting again that gave me false confidence. The CD told me later they assumed I was his mistress. Yeah, whatever. Don't try to make me feel better.
While we were in the bazaar, an alleged terrorist attack took place outside in an area we had just passed by outside of a mosque. Two tourists were shot and a red alert was issued. So we went to have lunch a few blocks away because I am hanging out with some hard-core people. Indian fast food is awesome. You can get the equivalent of a happy meal that comes with masala dosa (fries), sambar (big mac?) and pickle and raita (special sauce) and chai (coke) for $2.
The CD thought we should hit the Baha'i temple on the way back to town after driving through the diplomatic district, Parliament and India Gate. We walked down a long path and had to take off our shoes for the final 1/4 mile to the temple. It was gorgeous and had finally stopped raining and we entered the temple with a few hundred Indians. Baha'i faith accepts all religions as one, so there was an impressive group of people represented in the temple. It is a little like a Quaker gathering, you just sit and contemplate. It was beautiful and we walked down to the reflecting pools to bless ourselves with holy water that came out of a garden hose. I’ll take my holy water in whatever form – rain, ocean, river, temple, cathedral or garden hose. It is all good.
We decided to take a break from Indian for dinner because the CD really wanted a beer. I figured after he had to spend all day with me as his mistress, he had probably earned one so we went to what we thought was an upscale pub. Inside, we found mid 90's modern Italian decor, Indians dressed like Westerners (I was the most ethnically dressed person there) and the music was non stop, loud, new American Country. Like Kenny Chesney. And no, I don't know who that is, I had to ask the waiter in the Wranglers with the cowboy boots who gave me his complete discography.
While we were in the bazaar, an alleged terrorist attack took place outside in an area we had just passed by outside of a mosque. Two tourists were shot and a red alert was issued. So we went to have lunch a few blocks away because I am hanging out with some hard-core people. Indian fast food is awesome. You can get the equivalent of a happy meal that comes with masala dosa (fries), sambar (big mac?) and pickle and raita (special sauce) and chai (coke) for $2.
The CD thought we should hit the Baha'i temple on the way back to town after driving through the diplomatic district, Parliament and India Gate. We walked down a long path and had to take off our shoes for the final 1/4 mile to the temple. It was gorgeous and had finally stopped raining and we entered the temple with a few hundred Indians. Baha'i faith accepts all religions as one, so there was an impressive group of people represented in the temple. It is a little like a Quaker gathering, you just sit and contemplate. It was beautiful and we walked down to the reflecting pools to bless ourselves with holy water that came out of a garden hose. I’ll take my holy water in whatever form – rain, ocean, river, temple, cathedral or garden hose. It is all good.
We decided to take a break from Indian for dinner because the CD really wanted a beer. I figured after he had to spend all day with me as his mistress, he had probably earned one so we went to what we thought was an upscale pub. Inside, we found mid 90's modern Italian decor, Indians dressed like Westerners (I was the most ethnically dressed person there) and the music was non stop, loud, new American Country. Like Kenny Chesney. And no, I don't know who that is, I had to ask the waiter in the Wranglers with the cowboy boots who gave me his complete discography.
Although it took 9 hits of valium, two handlers, a service otter and a very understanding nurse to get me all the vaccines I needed for India, I am really glad I took all that stuff because I stood in some pretty gross standing water and I kept thinking I was walking in liquid Cholera or Typhoid. Yes, I know they are different diseases, but I wanted to impress you with my knowledge of obscure infectious diseases that might also be bands like Dengue Fever.
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