This is the first time I have had a decent chance to journal over the six days we have been in India. Delhi was a cyclone of activity and it has taken the course of three days in Pune to get my sea legs assured and my mind calmed.
Where to begin... after a whirlwind flight from O'Hare to Zurich, we boarded a flight to Delhi and 24 travel hours later, disoriented and tired we arrived. Customs was a breeze, but the moment we stepped down on Indian soil, I was hit by the all encompassing intensity of Delhi. The word for Delhi is density. The air, the sounds, textures, movements, all swim together like a thickly woven dream. A deep breath in is somewhere between air and water but not fog. It is the same sensation of going though an undisturbed attic; thick, dense, morbidly still and wrapped in the odor of hundreds of years of other lives. To associate it with a bouquet--- it is pungent and hot like a clammy mouth. It smells of stale soot, tar and there is an undefinable sick-sweetness to it, like an old wine set out on the counter, or used pipe tobacco.
In Delhi we met up with a tour guide self name "Lucky," who bustled us everywhere, took advantage of our good natures and milked our wallets. From Lucky we have learned many things about India, foremost of which is this: in Zurich, everyone thought I looked German or French, but here in India, Matt and I just look like money.
As I have mentioned the smog that hung like low descending clouds in the air was disorienting. Mixed with the fact that Delhi is as much alive and animated during the night as the day, but far more ominiousing, Matt and I were overwhelmed. Lucky "drove" us though the city with the passion of an angry violin soloist, weaving though cars, pedestrians, cows, small fires littering the streets, at full speed, without regard lanes, signs or signals like threading a needle. Later, in thinking about Delhi, I decided it is a city of 3/4s. Buildings are three quarters built, three walls and a roof, one roof and two walls, all walls, all windows, no roof, no stairs. Large construction projects half finished and left with re-bar extending like angry fingers into the air, twisted and aged from weather and time. Totally finished buildings with an undefinable marking where living indoors and living outdoors begin and end. During the day, this existence has a quiet patterning to it. You can bathe on the street, pee on the street and pray on the street. You can cook and clean and sell inside or out. The concept of your property, my home, now sidewalk, now street, now park doesn't exist here. In the day, it has an elegance, a sense of intimacy with those around you, good, bad and indifferent.
During the night, on our arrival, it was different. I learned later that it is common to gather up the trash around where you are standing a make a little fire. Mostly men do this while they are selling food to travelers on the side of the road, preparing for bed on the sidewalk, or waiting outside of a temple. I am not accustomed to small fires in cities, fires of any shape and size, and the tiny flames sent bouncing shadows across the open walls, the undefined curtained spaces and racing vehicles. Lucky was unable to find our hotel, either as a lie or for lack of trying, and in our exhaustion, we were unable to care. Lucky rushed us off to his personal hotel, and after meager protest, at 4am local time, we fell exhausted into our bed. I believe we were safe the whole time, just out of our depths.
Four comatose hours later, we woke and crossed the street for breakfast on the roof of the neighboring hotel which was actually Lucky's hotel, but had been full the night before. In the day, Delhi is vibrant and boisterous. We sat at a little hotel restaurant in lawn chairs and ate fried flat bread with potato and pea curry dish. I remember looking out over the city and pointing to what I thought was a huge bird sitting on a building further away. If I had to guess I would have said, size: large hawk, look: crow. As we were leaving I saw the man from the concierge desk walk out onto the balcony with the bird. I realized that the patio "across the way" was the building next door which we had just left. The density of the air screens all sense of dimension, adds a fake optical illusion to everything. Finding your bearings for distance and elevation is entirely determinate on where you are inside the cloud.
When Lucky came to join us in the morning we haggled our pricing to go to Agra to see the Taj Majal, but as we were low on time, Lucky had the upper hand and new it. We wound up renting Lucky's car and he along with a driver whipped us off to Agra.
That is all I have time to post for the moment. I am headed off to meet some new friends I have met for lunch. Currently, I am sitting on the deck of our lovely hotel in Pune, looking over the city. It's clean and European, and spa like. I am sitting on under the awning on the left hand side, not the right side of the pool because the right side "has an eagle problem." It is the nuances like this that are making me fall in love with India.
Looking down the street in Agra
A seek and military band at "The Gateway of India," Delhi. Notice the mix of Indian and British influences in the dress.
Where to begin... after a whirlwind flight from O'Hare to Zurich, we boarded a flight to Delhi and 24 travel hours later, disoriented and tired we arrived. Customs was a breeze, but the moment we stepped down on Indian soil, I was hit by the all encompassing intensity of Delhi. The word for Delhi is density. The air, the sounds, textures, movements, all swim together like a thickly woven dream. A deep breath in is somewhere between air and water but not fog. It is the same sensation of going though an undisturbed attic; thick, dense, morbidly still and wrapped in the odor of hundreds of years of other lives. To associate it with a bouquet--- it is pungent and hot like a clammy mouth. It smells of stale soot, tar and there is an undefinable sick-sweetness to it, like an old wine set out on the counter, or used pipe tobacco.
In Delhi we met up with a tour guide self name "Lucky," who bustled us everywhere, took advantage of our good natures and milked our wallets. From Lucky we have learned many things about India, foremost of which is this: in Zurich, everyone thought I looked German or French, but here in India, Matt and I just look like money.
As I have mentioned the smog that hung like low descending clouds in the air was disorienting. Mixed with the fact that Delhi is as much alive and animated during the night as the day, but far more ominiousing, Matt and I were overwhelmed. Lucky "drove" us though the city with the passion of an angry violin soloist, weaving though cars, pedestrians, cows, small fires littering the streets, at full speed, without regard lanes, signs or signals like threading a needle. Later, in thinking about Delhi, I decided it is a city of 3/4s. Buildings are three quarters built, three walls and a roof, one roof and two walls, all walls, all windows, no roof, no stairs. Large construction projects half finished and left with re-bar extending like angry fingers into the air, twisted and aged from weather and time. Totally finished buildings with an undefinable marking where living indoors and living outdoors begin and end. During the day, this existence has a quiet patterning to it. You can bathe on the street, pee on the street and pray on the street. You can cook and clean and sell inside or out. The concept of your property, my home, now sidewalk, now street, now park doesn't exist here. In the day, it has an elegance, a sense of intimacy with those around you, good, bad and indifferent.
During the night, on our arrival, it was different. I learned later that it is common to gather up the trash around where you are standing a make a little fire. Mostly men do this while they are selling food to travelers on the side of the road, preparing for bed on the sidewalk, or waiting outside of a temple. I am not accustomed to small fires in cities, fires of any shape and size, and the tiny flames sent bouncing shadows across the open walls, the undefined curtained spaces and racing vehicles. Lucky was unable to find our hotel, either as a lie or for lack of trying, and in our exhaustion, we were unable to care. Lucky rushed us off to his personal hotel, and after meager protest, at 4am local time, we fell exhausted into our bed. I believe we were safe the whole time, just out of our depths.
Four comatose hours later, we woke and crossed the street for breakfast on the roof of the neighboring hotel which was actually Lucky's hotel, but had been full the night before. In the day, Delhi is vibrant and boisterous. We sat at a little hotel restaurant in lawn chairs and ate fried flat bread with potato and pea curry dish. I remember looking out over the city and pointing to what I thought was a huge bird sitting on a building further away. If I had to guess I would have said, size: large hawk, look: crow. As we were leaving I saw the man from the concierge desk walk out onto the balcony with the bird. I realized that the patio "across the way" was the building next door which we had just left. The density of the air screens all sense of dimension, adds a fake optical illusion to everything. Finding your bearings for distance and elevation is entirely determinate on where you are inside the cloud.
When Lucky came to join us in the morning we haggled our pricing to go to Agra to see the Taj Majal, but as we were low on time, Lucky had the upper hand and new it. We wound up renting Lucky's car and he along with a driver whipped us off to Agra.
That is all I have time to post for the moment. I am headed off to meet some new friends I have met for lunch. Currently, I am sitting on the deck of our lovely hotel in Pune, looking over the city. It's clean and European, and spa like. I am sitting on under the awning on the left hand side, not the right side of the pool because the right side "has an eagle problem." It is the nuances like this that are making me fall in love with India.
Part of the day / night dichotomy was that many of the unfinished buildings, sitting lonely at night, were being actively worked on during the day.
ReplyDeleteWhen we first arrived I saw those buildings as construction projects abandoned before they were completed, probably because that's what they'd be at home.
Well, what an adventure! Meg and Matt, your writing makes us see India in our minds, with the vivid descriptions and commentary that you are providing. Is there a book in the works? We are thinking of titles already!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much! It is nice to see that you are following the blog. I have always journaled, but sharing it in the open is a fun way to keep up with the trip!
ReplyDelete