Old Delhi

Its a strange thing travelling on your own. I'm trying to imagine how it might compare to travelling in a group and what I would be doing differently, if anything at all. One of the main differences I think is 'the head voice'. I keep company with my head voice for a lot of the day. That aside, I met someone for lunch today and I'm having supper with a group of people tonight; but, as I am essentially alone, the head voice does quite a lot of narrating.

So, I'm going to begin this blog with my head voice today, because today I visited Old Delhi. Old Delhi is the medieval part of the city so gone are the long wide avenues and instead picture tiny market streets, chock-a-block roads and tiny shops piled one on top of the other. My head voice was therefore pretty active this afternoon, not least because I had to navigate my way around this maze and through the throngs of people.

"Walking out of station, good, ok, right exit. Follow the sign for the exit....the signs have stopped. Useful. Ok go on vague sense of direction. Yep good, I'm out...

and I'm walking, I'm still walking stuck in a  crowd. Tag along behind the only woman I can see for a good few hundred yards. Why so many men? Why are so many men shopping?...Still walking, can't stop. Need to read map (discreetly, so I'm not blatantly any more touristy than the billboard on my head (my hair) suggests), but can't stop. Tiny tiny lane. Woah, step over whatever that is. Completely new sour smell sting in nose. And walk through the rows of people begging. Why do the men have weighing scales? Might I want to stop a weigh myself. Hold on everyone whilst I stop to weigh myself in the busy busy street. No way. There must be another reason for the scales. Hm, man has no toes and an open wound. Infected. Don't stare. And the woman seems to be just a torso.

 Woops, don't fall over the tiny kid, holding a baby. Ah, guidebook says ignore them. Ignore. Still pushed along, still creepily close to too many staring men. Walk with PURPOSE. Oh yeah I know where I'm going, don't you offer me your rickshaws I KNOW where I'm going ( I do not know where I am going). Woops, mind the horse. Of course, A horse.  There's a horse on the pavement. And a motorbike. 

Ok main road, turn RIGHT. Good, past a shell of a building full of rubbish and men sitting round campfires. Women outside with sheet spread full of spices. Loads of food stalls. Wow nibbling on the street is a thing here. OK too many people, too many cars. Erm cross over. Nice looking empty island between roads. Good place to read a map? OH GOD (literally) its a shrine. I'm standing by/ on a shrine. Women have come to pray and have taken off their shoes where I'm standing WITH my shoes on. But its also a ROUNDABOUT (?!) so I can't move because man sweeping the shrine is sweeping me towards the traffic. OK, hop OVER the shrine and over the road. Yes, hello rickshaw man, I'm back no still don't want tour... ok and keep walking. 

First monkey. There's a monkey on the roof. Its chilling. Nice place to chill. What a view. On the mosque. Woah, back to street level where am I going?"

That was the basic theme of my head thoughts today. Old Delhi was completely different to central New Delhi and I could curse these travel books that simply describe such street carnage as 'lively bustle'. Whoever writes those books has probably been having long chats with my spiritual American friend. But that is what makes India interesting. Forget museums, just looking at the streets and the way they are organised is enough. So I will have to go back there tomorrow with a bit more time I think. At least I'll be prepared.

Otherwise had a chilled morning, and had lunch with someone I know in Delhi. Sat, again shamefully, in an English style cafe drinking coffee and eating panini. Was on the terrace above Kahn market and sun perfectly warm. Felt like a summer day in England. Except for the continual honking of car horns...Oh and I broke three of the tourist guidebook rules today:

1) I forgot to wash my hands after the metro and before eating. 

2) I accidentally ate something leafy (it wasn't salad) in my panini (vegetables can be dirty/ have high water content).

3) AND I accidentally had ice in my diet coke (in India, you should be careful about what water is used to make ice). 

So my friends we shall wait and see if I fall ill or not. I'll keep you updated. Hopefully NOT, given my appalling record for illness so far in 2012.

Off now to supper with this girl and her friends. She is deliberately cooking English food (to the irritation of her Indian friends), and has bought Caramel cheesecake which CLEARLY pleases me.

 

Namaste

Note: this is pretty long, so skip to 'obscure observations' at the bottom if you want.

So, over 24 hours and I've realised that I really am in India. No dream. More than that, I've actually been figuring out the local area and today I have been walking around the centre of New Delhi.

As I was ill for three weeks of my time here, I have postponed the Human Rights Law Firm till another time- I've got ten days in Delhi before I head off on a tour through N.India, and this doesn't leave any time to get stuck in. However, I've lined up a variety of things to do for this week, which I'm hoping (because organisation seems pretty chaotic here) will happen: I'm going to join the landlady's daughter who runs an NGO that educates girls from the slums in English and vocational skills; this morning, I helped teach at a school nearby, and I think I've been invited back for a couple more mornings. From my limited experience in other countries (mainly France, living with families), I think I prefer to do stuff, rather than buy stuff. Certainly more interested in the people than the museums, so I think that will be the theme to my travels.

I'm staying at a really lovely guest house, four metro stops from the centre of New Delhi. The landlady is extremely caring, and generous, although she is also quite bossy and wants to know every detail of your life (sorry guys). This is a small cost to pay for the all inclusive meals, and her help with getting to know Delhi. I wish this blog had an audio feature to it because some of the things she says are hilarious, including: "You must buy yourself a beautiful sari. Yes, yes very berry important that you take one back. You never know when you will need one." ..... The food is intense. I thought I was pretty good at handling hot food, but there seems to be a perpetual heat to every meal that is ever served. Except for breakfast. At breakfast I have been consistently given an Indian chicken egg. Now, I do like eggs. But even in England I'm quite fussy about them. So it took quite a lot to eat the first small, misshapen white egg on my plate. Turns out it was totally fine. Except that I'm not sure if I can handle them everyday. Oh and I've also learnt to say 'no' to food, because if you're too polite you end up with a HUGE plate. eg. Sunday: she made what I'd call Indian eggy bread, and piece by piece at a time she cooked it up, hobbled to the table and put it on my plate. It got to piece five, when I realised she wasn't going to stop, and the toast was just stacking up on my plate.

Yesteday, then, I joined another girl (American) who is also staying at the guest house, and all her friends for the day. They are all here to learn Hindi at a college. She's only been here four days and she's pretty keen. She's bought all the attire of traditional Indian wear, and actually, in a place like Delhi where alot of girls wear 'Western clothes' (so to speak), she looks more Indian than an Indian. Oh, and she's very 'spiritual'. She keeps telling me how I must look after my inner eye, and somehow manages to link stuff up to a scientific explanation. I guess you'd say she's an out and out hippy. She proudly showed me her tattoo (one of 6) which says 'one love' forwards and backwards, and says that she enjoys feeding off energy (I prefer cake). There is, to be fair, a lot of energy in India. And I suppose you can learn things from people who have slightly different ideas on life. She said she has only one goal in life, which is to be 'happy' and that just stepping out of the door each day is enough of an achievement for her. She must, therefore, be extremely happy. As someone who likes to micromanage life, her opinions were 'refreshing'. But sadly conversation doesn't progress much beyond spirit chat. It seems like she's so relaxed, the conversation level never reaches above neutral. Crack a joke and she'll just nod and say 'I see, ok, I see'. And she also keeps getting lost everywhere because she's too relaxed. The landlady keeps having to pick her up and bring her home. It pays, to micro plan sometimes I guess. 

Wow, I go to India, and I spend a whole paragraph chatting about an American. Anyway, I joined 'Team America do Hindi' for lunch and an Art festival. Not much to it. They all take themselves very seriously and are continually saying 'namaste' to each other (hello), pleased that they have begun to learn the new language. Fair play. 

Today, was more interesting because I took myself on a little trip in the afternoon. I went to central Delhi and went on a long walk past very impressive government buildings, down down down a big parade road to India gate (a big war memorial, the big cousin of Marble Arch), then along to beautiful Lodi gardens and C15th tombs, then up to Khan market- a jumble of tiny shops from Indian brands to Accessorize (Ellie, you'd feel totally at home). I'm sorry to say I purchased a diet coke from SUBWAY,  having felt I'd done enough of the culture thing for one day. So, I sat in the stinky Subway listening to comparatively slutty western music which was completely disjunct to the surrounding market stalls...So far it seems that if you walk confidently, and say no firmly, people just let you get on with it. I do, however, wear my scarf over my head when walking between places just for the anonymity and because otherwise a gazillion scooters (literally little tin cans on three wheels) see my white hair and try and offer me a 'berry berry cheap tour'. I'm aware of quite a few Westerners wearing what they want, but despite that my hair is just too much for anyone here it seems. 

Weather is perfectly warm which is a lovely lovely change to England weather. I haven't felt warm sun for a very long time, and you forget how nice it is. 

Obscure observations and notes:

- I am now a road crossing PRO.  Give me a busy London road any day, because here there's not the same concept of 'Pedestrian crossing'. There are road markings but no nice flashing green men to tell you when to go. Instead you dodge traffic, stand in the middle or...as you can all imagine...run.

- Most of you have met my lucky brown trousers. I have taken them back to their birth place and am now wearing them fondly. Except that a bird pooed on them. Gross, but also a sign of good luck...yes, you lucky brown trousers.  I DID, however, feel slightly guilty when the landlady marvelled at my Primemark handbag and said how nice it was. 

- The Metro here is extremely efficient, cleaner than London, but security TIGHT (body check and bag check). Most curious (/alarming) was the army man who had built himself a fine defence wall out of sacks and, was crouching behind them with his gun in the MIDDLE of the station ticket area. Was he playing pretend soldiers? 

- What is on with road signs/ signs in general? Some are great- tell you where you are. Some are non existent. Some advertising signs are cemented across the pavement (which seems to be pretty redundant in places anyway) and the map sign to Khan market was nailed sideways on to a post. To see it, you'd have to cock your head to try and decrypt it. 

- Honking of car horns seems to be a hobby as well as a survival method whilst driving.

Don't worry, blogs wont be this long normally. Especially because internet will be limited from next week for two and a half weeks.

Have added the last of my pictures to make me draw more in India. A mixture of commissions, and playing. Apologies if they're massive- as you've noticed, I can't seem to achieve a consistent size. 

AH, and I nearly forgot: the rest of my English picture. Going to add them all now so it will force me to draw new ones in India. 

I have arrived, at last.

So, I've arrived. At last. Much to everyone's surprise, I did actually leave this time.

However, someone could pinch me and I might wake up from one of the many odd dreams I've had about arriving in India. Having flown through the night, I can barely remember what happened so it does seem surreal to have been in Somerset one second and Delhi the next. I have pretty much been running on automatic since leaving England. Not one to cry, I have been laughing (almost hysterically) at myself, as I find myself firstly, on a plane, secondly in Abu Dhabi, thirdly, on another plane, fourthly, in a taxi that is squeezing through two heavily loaded lorries, fifthly, ringing three door bells to find the one that would wake my landlady, sixthly....the list goes on. I think that I have managed to (so far) split my minds into two components: one- the hypothetical Imogen that, hypothetically speaking might be on an aeroplane to Delhi; the other- I couldn't give it a name, but this Imogen has made a nest in her head whilst she watches hypothetical Imogen put actions to words. Both Imogens think overall Imogen is patently mad going to away for so long without anyone.

And on that note, this blog should come with a disclaimer. I am well aware that the majority who read this blog are extremely well travelled. You may therefore be bemused by my self-pitying for leaving/ pat on the back for arriving, having already done it yourself. This blogger does not try to sound like a well travelled blogger. Neither will I attempt commentaries on the countries I visit as if I'm some travel writer waiting to burst out. I will write events as seen through my Devonshire nurtured eyes, and hopefully it'll raise a smile or two on your faces because you'll remember the strange things that first occurred to you and your unprepared eyes when you first travelled. Furthermore, the world is, actually, a strange place with such diversity that, no matter how well travelled you are, things will always appear bizarre. You, however, are probably not anticipating just how low my threshold for 'noteworthy oddities' is.

So. Rather than bore you with the full tale of my journey here, here are some 'noteworthy oddities' I noticed. or that happened:

1) Typical 'India travellers' appear to be: Indians; gap yaaas; hippies with quaint knits; and a notable number of 'Eat, Pray, Love' women: women in their 50s/60s looking to find a new lease of life. Where did I fit in?

2) Very pleasant on board food, except for the 'Dory fish pie'. Next on the menu...Nemo.

3) I have been invited to a wedding. This happened on the flight from Abu Dhabi to New Delhi. It is the wedding of the sister of the couple I sat next to. I have been assured that 2000 people are expected.

4) I was goggled at for the first time on this trip. Yes, I looked beyond pale having just got off the plane, but did they actually spot a third arm?

5) Who are these men that walk down the motorway as if it were a warm Sunday afternoon, and not 3.00am?

6) If you want to push past traffic, honk your horn. If you take a wrong turning, turn the car around and go back down the lane you came from- avoid the oncoming traffic.

7) The taxi man's English translator has, according to him, only got three friends in the whole world. He studies Russian at university and does night shift taxi airport pick ups. Which part of that is true I wonder?

8) Imagine the UK police putting up a half-hearted barrier of plastic fencing across a main road, leaving a car-sized gap in the middle for traffic to swerve through. Also picture them having a camp fire by the side of the road whilst mayhem ensues. Interesting.

I am extremely tired, a little out of my depth but...one can only laugh.

Thursday 19th of January.

Just the smallest of updates to say that I am slowly emerging from my snotty, duvet embalmed tomb of illness. Therefore, I have rebooked my flight to Delhi for the 19th of January (next Thursday). I will be uploading my plans and whereabouts before then; until then, let your beady eyes have a little gander at the illustrations below. No purpose to these ones, but more illustrative than others.

Till *COUGH COUGH* then *cough COUGH Cough...*

Goodby...

No, I have not left and cruelly ignored your good bye messages and texts. In fact, as some of you may or may not have gathered I have usefully gone and caught the flu. This means I will not be flying out for another week or so.
And so, hold back on the good byes. Based on some of the voice mails I've been receiving, I'd like to save you the effort of composing your emotional good byes, parting words of wisdom or quirky sound bites (and if you haven't already done this, you better start drafting your speeches); not least because this is all hilariously anticlimactic given the fuss I've made about leaving. I feel a bit like a theatrical act who has politely been asked for an encore by her audience purely out of courtesy (["no, no! Don't go!" you cry]), and the player, ill-judging the situation, has  returned the pleas with an extremely loud rendition  of John Denver's 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', glasses, bowl cut and all (["TA DA, I'm still here!" I reply]).

Well, I will be updating you all with my new flight dates and plans. Until then, have a gander at some more drawings to keep you all vaguely interested in this blog. These were commissioned by a friend for her magazine and I have her kind permission to show them to you. They feature 'Marilyn Monroe in London' and an ape-like creature leaning over the rails of South Bank (purely accidental).

Goodby...