Delhi madness

September 22, 2011 All I could recall from my brief readings in the last weeks of the 2.5 inch thick Lonely Planet guide to India was how one is going to get bamboozled, and to not head up to Jammu & Kashmir region. What did I do my first night in India? Sign up for a 1 week stay on a boat house in Kashmir! I've attempted twice now to obtain a refund for signing away US$440, but have somehow lost that piss 'n vinegar in me to argue for it. After all, it is not that high a price I suppose. Yes, way more than what it should actually cost I'm sure. But we're not talking thousands of dollars here. (And that's exactly what the tour guide operators feast on!) I don't think I've ever been this paranoid when in a strange land before. But I realize much of the fear comes from feedback from many friends and relatives about visiting India, and even Russell Peters, the indian comedian. It got to the point where I was wondering if I should even gargle with the tap water after brushing my teeth lest I contract malaria.

The traffic in New Delhi beats any adrenaline rush I've ever felt from roller coaster rides. Or rather minuscule heart attacks. Cows, bullock carts, wheelchair bound folks, tuk tuks, scooters, rickshaws all trying to cross a major intersection while cars honk on every half a minute for all the others to get out of the way! And then, there are the desolate beggars knocking on your car window asking for food while they tote their babies through traffic. Twice I've wondered if my cab driver was going to ensue in road rage. And funny enough, as I write this on my second night in New Delhi, I'm strangely getting used to the humdrum of life outside the hotel. I just have to remember not to sit in the front seat of the cabs.

Tomorrow morning, I am heading to Srinaga, to the house boat on a lake up north. I finally resigned to the idea of spending more than I'd intended (and being had) for the sake of not being kidnapped and held for ransome after a fellow traveller, Reuben, and I discussed thoroughly our stake. Or fate. Funny how when one is about to potentially befall danger, company is equally welcomed. I must say I'd never been so happy to see a hippie looking caucasian. The Japanese tourists I tried to corner earlier could barely understand English!

I realize I just have to learn to stop smiling less, which has become a semi-permanent etch on my face. Just in India. Or maybe just in New Delhi. The sim card seller called three times before I finally realized he was asking me out. The tour agency guys keep telling me I have a nice smile...never mind a gullible face! Wish me much luck and good karma on the lake! ~m.`