Travelogue: Delhi
Where did two days go? I am greeted by the monsoon. I rub my eyes hard and thank myself for the common sense to wear a baseball cap, which is now covering up 2+ days of greasy hair. The airport is a shithole even in the dim lighting meagerly provided by an 6am overcast sky. Seconds after clearing immigration, I slip on a puddle and go flying into a gritty telephone booth. It didn’t take me long to call Dan and for him to tell me groggily to come over straight away.
The taxi to Jangpura takes me through the thick of mud and fog of the inner city. Observing the livestock wandering through the streets and the precarious balancing act of a young woman in a sari on the back of a Hero motorcycle, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing. No guidebook, no formal place to stay, no sense of direction, and not even a clean pair of jeans. I finger my small half-filled backpack and only imagine what this friend-of-a-friend will think when he looks outside of his balcony and down to the street to find a small dark stranger in mannish clothes, flip flops, and a dazzled look.
The taxi to Jangpura takes me through the thick of mud and fog of the inner city. Observing the livestock wandering through the streets and the precarious balancing act of a young woman in a sari on the back of a Hero motorcycle, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing. No guidebook, no formal place to stay, no sense of direction, and not even a clean pair of jeans. I finger my small half-filled backpack and only imagine what this friend-of-a-friend will think when he looks outside of his balcony and down to the street to find a small dark stranger in mannish clothes, flip flops, and a dazzled look.
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