India: the great equalizer

Last evening on the way back to the hotel, we decided to stop in a rooftop restaurant to gaze on the market here in Pahar Ganj and just take it all in. I noticed for the first time that there were people up on the rooftops of all the buildings we passed by on a daily basis; one of them looked as if he was pulling on a rope that wasn’t there. My eyes shifted downward as a stray cow meandered out from a side street. It stopped right in the middle of Main Bazar St. and took a ginormous dump as tuk-tuks and rickshaws deftly maneuvered around their new obstacle. Smirking, I glanced back to the skies to see that our rooftop friend was actually pulling on the strings of a kite, along with half a dozen other Delhi denizens. Perhaps it’s the one joy he has in his busy day trying to do as little work as possible. My eyes shoot back down to the fresh pile of cow dung left by the cow, now halfway through the market across the street, watching dozens of pedestrians sidestep and hop around. Eventually, a store owner walks up and drops an egg carton on top of it—out of sight, out of mind, I guess. We talk about the differences between Cambodia and India, then wax philosophical on how the caste system is to blame for the perpetual state of abject poverty that so many Indians are subjected to with no prospect for upward mobility. We sip on shakes and juice from our lofty thrones, untouched by the world below. After four days here, I think we’re finally starting to settle in.

I’ve been plenty of places, but India has a certain reputation for being the great equalizer of travel. It’s like this place is a test of traveling acumen—if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. I suddenly feel like all the tools we brought and preparations we made were all for this very moment and place. We were introduced to all this early on, only a few short hours in town.

Streets of New Delhi

A rude introduction

We rode the bus from the airport into town around noon with no hiccups, all ready to carpe the diem and find us a hotel in Pahar Ganj. We missed our stop at New Delhi station by a few blocks, but found our way back. The bus drops you on the metro side of New Delhi station, which as anyone who’s been there would know is the opposite side from Pahar Ganj, and crossing to the other side of the massive station isn’t exactly intuitive to new arrivals.

Just when I thought we were getting close, I stop to look at the map on my iPhone; this is where it all started unraveling. For whatever reason, the GPS locator wouldn’t tell us where we were on the map, and I wasn’t exactly sure where we were. Poor preparation. A local comes up and offers directions—Pahar Ganj is just south of here, but maybe we should stop in a tourist shop to pick up a free map. He’ll talk to a tuk-tuk driver to get us there cheap, he says. Red flags and whistles should’ve all been going off in my head, but we were tired, and a map sounded like a good idea at the time.

We arrive at the tourist office for our map, and the guy there offers to check on some hotels for us. Not knowing how to get to where we were originally headed, we figure what the hell. The review for the place he was selling was in Hostel Hero, and the review wasn't half bad. We decide that in our situation, staying anywhere the first night was fine, as long as they had wi-fi and we could head off looking for better accommodations the following night.

He then gave us his spiel on a 2-week tour that’d show us “the real India,” but we declined and he gave us a free taxi ride to the hotel. His tour actually wasn’t all that bad in terms of locations, but there’s no way we could afford a private taxi around Rajasthan—the consensus cultural center of (northern) India—for two weeks on a backpacker’s budget. I’m sure it was overpriced, just like his hotel. The hotel was clean, but a little more than we wanted to pay and far from the center of town.

After dropping off our packs, we go downstairs to check in and talk to the owner. He offered to drop us around Connaught Place in the center of town so we could find some food as there wasn’t anything around the hotel, and he says everywhere is closed for the holiday. While we did know it was a holiday, this should’ve been another red flag.

Lo and behold, he takes us to ANOTHER tourist shop! We told the guy there that we just wanted to go find some food, and 5 minutes later we were out on the street. The hotel owner offers to get a taxi for us to Khan Market for 300 rupees—a laughably high price, especially considering there was a metro station in sight and the taxi didn't appear to be laced in gold or serving Cristal. He then proceeds to insult our intelligence by saying we wouldn’t want to ride the trains because they’re too crowded and transferring is too complicated. Anyone who’s ever been on the last train out of Shibuya on a Friday night or even seen a map of the Tokyo train system(s) will know how flippant his assertion was. At this point, that really rubbed me the wrong way.

We shirk him off once and for all and take the train to Khan Market in search of food and wi-fi so we can get back on track. This was not as simple as it sounds as wi-fi is certainly not as ubiquitous here as one would expect from the country that provides online support for seemingly every company in the US. After an overpriced meal that wasn’t that good and a couple hours lost, we regroup and find a suitable place in Pahar Ganj for the next night, then head back to the hotel feeling good about finally starting to reign things in and get our bearings.

New Delhi streets after heavy rain

The next morning, we awake to torrential downpour. Normally this would be a nuisance, but in Delhi it’s a game changer. En route to the metro station, the road had turned into a raging moat of turbid, trashy filth. No cars were getting past, and we certainly weren’t wading through it. We hop up on the curb and wind up paying a rickshaw 20 rupees to ford about 100 meters across the makeshift river to the station.

We got to the our destination safely, but were not yet enjoying ourselves. Our meals the day before were unsatisfying, and this town was the dirtiest place I had ever laid eyes on. We couldn’t trust anyone, because anyone that approached us had some ulterior motive.

Fast forward to 4 days later. We’ve now learned the basic scams and even just picked up our train tickets for the month from the station with no issues. (Surprisingly simple, by the way.) We’ve had a few mediocre meals but also a few spectacular ones, and we just spent an enjoyable afternoon roaming around Jama Masjid and the Chandni Chowk area. We even managed to find nice people that weren’t selling anything, and the streets are much better now that things have dried out and people have had time to sweep up. More importantly though, kites are flying, cows are shitting in the streets and all is right with the world. Another beautiful day on the road.

Tonight, we head off on our first overnight train to the deserts of Jaisalmur and a chance to see how well we’ve learned our lessons. Stay tuned.