My arrival in India was met with the smell many warned me of. I was expecting something of an olfactory nightmare, but on the contrary, I found it rather pleasant. Something like a mix of potting soil and plants, which brought back memories of spring time at the garden shop, picking out geraniums and planting them in small clay pots to line the walkway. I wondered in retrospect if it might be the smell of a country not completely covered in asphalt.
The first experience I've had with Indian driving was my ride from the airport. On this trip I found that the driving is more like flowing water, small tributaries slamming into major rivers with a certain dare deviling grace. It is however a mystery to me how there seem to be no accidents; I learned that signs, traffic lights, and the dividing lines are only mere suggestions, and that the constant sound of horns are more like a ships passing signals rather than an aggravated assault like back home.
Delhi is a constant scam. Even the man who owns the guest house where I'm staying owns a tour company and was immediately trying to push tour packages on me which included cities where I had not planned on going. After I explained myself he seemed to be more reasonable than I expected, so I booked my bus ride to Dharamsala through him which worked out fine. I resolved to go on my own to the Old City section, so I hopped in an auto rickshaw. I was dropped at Red Fort which is a landmark of the city but, all in all, nothing special. I stopped in a Jain temple where they have a bird hospital. Shoes and socks must be removed before entering the premises, which is true of many places, but when I visited the bird hospital there was a sticky film on the floor which I could just not look past at this point, and that was the end of that visit. I was then followed by a man on a bicycle rickshaw until I finally gave in to take his tour, which was actually very good, however at the end he insisted the price we agreed upon was a rate and not a flat charge. I had to be very firm with him and we agreed on a final price which was 50% of what he asked for and was still a total rip-off. He kept saying "no petrol, no petrol, hard work, exercise." He took me to a spice market, which is apparently famous, its in an old building which looks more like city walls with a huge open center. The market encompasses the center and the alleys along the walls. The driver took me to the roof, which he said was a good view, it turned out that he took me through someones apartment and to their roof area, where the tenant was drying clothes in his underwear. There was a lot of yelling.
More importantly this experience is testing my comfort level. At present I'm very uncomfortable. Which, I suppose is a combination of being alone, the uncertainty of my day to day dealings, and warding off constant scams. My work is therefore to be present with these constant disconcerted feelings that comes from being alone in the third world; it appears that at the moment that is my sacred duty. That being said, I look forward to Dharamsala where it is my understanding that it is much calmer and placid than Delhi.
p.s.- Yes, there are lots of monkeys. They're cool.
