Delhi…take 2. I woke up this morning at 4 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. So I spent the next three hours planning my next two days in Delhi. Shower etc and am on the roof for breakfast by 8. I order Muesli with curd (yougurt) and dried fruit for breakfast. Only, my meal comes with fresh fruit. I don’t want to waste food, cause ya know…India and the starving, but I’m not about to eat fruit on my first day and get sick. So I eat the bananas and apples (cause they would have gone brown if they were old) and left the papaya and pineapple. I assume the yougurt will help my stomach. (Only this afternoon I met a couple from UK/Sweden {yay Sweden} who looked at me like I was an idiot…yougurt isn’t pasteurized here and they totally thought I was hours away from being deathly ill (fruit, yougurt = death…remember that kids, they don’t teach you that in school). Thankfully, I haven’t yet gotten sick. Anyway, for my first meal in India I was feeling like an idiot. If only the “stupid white woman” T-shirt wasn’t in the wash. Drat!
Next up is a walk to Connaught place to go to the REAL tourist office and American Express. (Totally should have gotten my travelers cheques in US dollars…oops). I meet the same guy as yesterday (see previous post) and start my walk. I make it about 1 block before some guy wants to “practice his English.” I lose him and all of a sudden there’s another one, and then another one and then another one. Somewhere between guy number 2 and 3 I put on my wedding ring (best fucking $10 I’ve ever spent).
Nobody wants to “sell me anything” only they all want to point out the “official tourist office” to me. Here’s the thing about these guys. I know they are lying to me. BUT they are so fucking good. From an acting perspective it’s amazing. I know they are lying but I believe them, they “believe themselves.” Katherine Shaw would be so happy. They are phenomenal liars. They have turned lying into a form of twisted truth telling.
Somehow I have managed to lose a day. I have my whole day planned out for Saturday. Only today is Sunday. Which means that all my plans for the day are out the window. I’m so used to being to by now though that it takes three people telling me its Sunday on three different occasions before I believe it’s true. Now the last guy to walk with me I can’t seem to shake and he wants me to walk down the stairs of a metro tunnel. With him. Alone. I tell him that my “stupid white woman” shirt is in the wash and I’ll go another way. He follows me. Now I’m starting to get freaked out. The street’s really busy though so I figure I’m okay. He points me towards the “official government office” which I know is not the “official government office.” He then tries to get me to promise to come do Yoga at his studio. He doesn’t look like a Yoga instructor to me. Anyway, I walk the hell away. Take out my Lonely Planet to try and figure out where the hell I am. I hate taking the fucking thing out though because as soon as I do I have to stop and then I’m harassed again. So now there’s another guy who wants to “help me” and if I don’t believe him then I should go ask the Tourist Police over there. I’m sick of people at this point and am starting to get rude. I go over to the tourist police. The balls on this guy…he follows me over and listens to me talk to them. Even as they are telling me he’s lying to me. Unbe-fucking-lievable. The tourist police send him on his way. I ask them when the pre-paid rickshaw station opens (the tourist office is closed…Sunday) and they tell me 11. The police are fantastic. They give me maps and guides and show me where to walk and are generally my new best friends (sorry old best friends but I don’t see any of your asses in India…you’ve been demoted ;))
Next, I decide to walk to one of the Government emporiums. They are slightly more expensive then street vendors but everything is pre-priced so it’s a good place to get an idea what things should cost, also I had an hour to kill. On my way to the emporium I am told that it is closed. I tell the guy he’s a liar...which he is. I spent an hour and a half in the emporium. Wanna know why? Cause no one talked to me. Once. Not once. An hour and a half of pure unadulterated bliss.
When I’m done I walk back to the rickshaw stand, and try and get a Rickshaw. The guy behind the counter gets out to drive me and I think “sketchy.” So, I ask for a slip. He tells me that the booth is closed on Sunday but that 70 rupees is the standard rate. I am too tired and angry and annoyed to care. I know that it should only be 50 rupees but I’m gonna eat the 50 cents and just get to the red fort. Really, at this point, I’m so tired of being fucked around that I wanna cry. And then I’m annoyed that I’m not stronger than that. Stupid Studio…stupid vulnerability…stupid crying.
Only, I don’t cry. I go to the Red Fort. Which, to be honest, isn’t all that dreadfully exciting. A bunch of army guys with guns want their picture taken with me. Little kids keep running up to touch me (and likely rob me). I manage to get inside and as it turns out I am actually more interesting than the Red Fort. Everyone is staring at me. You’d think I’d be used to it by now but I’m really not. I think it’s probably really good for me, cause its making me confront some issues that I have. That said, I’m currently confronting, not dealing, and I really, really want to blend into the background and have everyone leave me alone. I’ve never wanted to be inconspicuous more in my entire life. Three more men want to “practice their English.” Another one informs me that Canada is a “very sexy country.” I considering lobbying the government to change our tourism slogan from “Discover Canada” to “Canada: A Very Sexy Country.” It wouldn’t hurt tourism any.
I stop to put on sunscreen, drop the bottle by accident and end up with sunscreen all down the front of my pants. See, this wouldn’t be such a big deal except I have to wear hardcore sunscreen that doesn’t wash away very easily. So now I have what looks like a giant “protein” stain all down the front of my pants. If people weren’t staring before…
Leaving the fort I meet an English guy, a Swedish girl, and a Dutch guy who live in Delhi and go to school here. Had a really good chat with them. Even got to practice my Swedish. ;) I’ve discovered, Maria, that you have only taught me to say things that can be construed as very dirty. I was telling her all the things I knew how to say and she just looked at me and said “wow, you’d have an interesting time in Sweden if that’s what you know how to say.” I’d blame you and your dirty, dirty mind but I remember you being such a nice girl before we lived together. So, I suppose you are not solely to blame for your descent into debauchery. They were really cool and gave me some good tips.
Rather than hassle with another rickshaw I decide to walk to the biggest Mosque in Delhi. Not such a great idea. I walk down a road where I don’t think any tourists go EVER. I think I managed to find my way into the slums. And if those aren’t the slums then I have a very rude awakening coming when I actually hit the slums. Anyway, it’s busy and there are lots of women so I don’t feel unsafe, per se. Just unsettled. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starting to get light headed but I can’t find the restaurant Mr. Hill insisted I try so I go into the Mosque instead. These guys tell me I have to pay to bring my camera in, but at this point I’m so suspicious that I walk right past them. Only, I actually do have to pay to bring my camera in. So, after all of that I leave my shoes and go in.
The mosque is beautiful. I walk to the other side and these adorable kids start talking to me. Then they ask me to take their picture. So I do, thinking “awww…that’s sweet”, then they start harassing me for money for the photo. Which they don’t get. I’m furious with myself for not being more suspicious and at the same time don’t want to be so suspicious of people that I automatically assume the worst and miss out of good experiences. I try and go up the tour but am informed that I may not go up the tour by myself because I am a woman and it is “unsafe.” So, now I need a man. So, I start wandering around the temple asking every white guy I see if he’ll take me up the tour. Most of them are on big group tours and won’t. I totally understand that it’s a cultural difference etc. but not being allowed to go up the tour made me furious. I felt bad about myself, like being a woman made me less of a person, frustrated that I couldn’t find someone, and for the third time today, almost started to cry. Then, I let it go, and asked this nice couple if they’d gone up. They said they hadn’t and I explained that “I need a man.” He said that I made his day, he’d never been propositioned like this before and that he charged by the hour. That made me laugh and the world was right again. They were from this small town in Israel where everyone except for them was Indian, which was pretty funny. Went up the tower with them, and then decided to get the hell out of the mosque.
I get my shoes and go sit down in the shade. I pull out my Lonely Planet to try and find the restaurant that I want. Next thing I know it’s getting harder and harder to read cause it’s darker and darker. I look up and I am completely surrounded by men and children who are standing around me staring. Frustrated, I go sit down next to this woman on the other side of the stairs. She turns out to be Irish and traveling with a colleague. The three of us go on a wild goose chase trying to find this restaurant. We finally manage to locate it. Food’s fantastic. Thanks to Mr. Hill for the recommendation. The dahl was scrum-didly-umptious. (Daddy, could you please find out if the Hills want to be on my e-mail list and what their address is?) She’s grand and tells me to send her an e-mail when I’m in Dublin cause she’d love to see a play with me.
Bargain my ass off to get an auto-rickshaw back to my guest house. Write these ridiculously detailed posts (expect them to get a lot more concise as time goes on I imagine), have some Chai on the roof, strike up a conversation with these English guys who turn out to be total pricks, have a nice chat with a woman from Scotland on the street, and now home to bed. I think I’m gonna get the hell out of Delhi tomorrow night. I’ve seen what I want to see and I’m sick of being frustrated. I know that it’ll get better and I’ll adjust etc. but what I really wanted all day today was a friend. Being by myself is turning out to be different then I thought, not worse or better, just different. It’s an experience, and at the end of the day this is what life’s about. I’m angry at myself for not coping with everything better, and for making stupid mistakes that someone like me shouldn’t be making, and for not being too trusting, and at the same time not trusting enough and disappointed with myself for not being “stronger.” That said, I came to India because I knew it would push my boundaries and my buttons. Everything should look brighter in the morning. Reading this over, it sounds like I’m miserable, which I’m not, so please don’t worry. I’m leaving it as is because it’s what I’m feeling right now but please don’t panic at home. I’m safe and sound. Though, rereading this post and the proliferation of the F word, I may need to expand my curse vocabulary. (Shari, told the Israeli couple I could swear in Hebrew but that was it...the guy insisted I tell him what I could say. I told them I could say "Cous Ima Shel Ha" which they told me was Arabic. I said I thought "Cous Emech" was Arabic. The guy totally freaks out and says "It is too. But don`t say that...it means `your mother`s vagina.` I knew that but his reaction was too funny since he was the one who wanted to know. Thinking of heading to McLeod Ganj tomorrow night. Which makes me think of Highlander. Which makes me giggle. Love you guys.