It's 5pm now, New Delhi time, and I'm sitting in my hotel room typing this. "WHY ARENT YOU OUT THERE?!" some of you might be screaming. Well, that's just because India is really Incredible India.

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Off on an Adventure
Yesterday was a day of excitement and apprehension as we travelled to Delhi. Besides the crying babies, restless hyperactive kicking-banging-stomping children, and the entertainment system and overhead lights that didn't work, the flight was rather pleasant.

Having no overhead lights meant I couldn't read after dinner. 2 hours to go. Options slowly made their way into my mind...

1. I could humour the little girl in front of me who kept on popping up and waving her hands in front of my face. And consequently blocked my view of the inflight video. Even when I was reading earlier, she tried to hit/touch my book to get my attention. Scratch it.
2. I could try to sleep. But my mind was so alert to all the new sights and sounds, plus I had the joys of a manually-operated massage chair. Forget it.
3. I could indulge in an hour of prayer. Sweet Hour of Prayer anyone? =)

When we touched down, passed through customs smoothly, and took forever to get our baggage, BAM! India hit us in full force. I felt like a mini-celebrity when I walked out. Maybe it was because I got more smiles from people around than usual (Indian men apparently like oriental women. ok...). But mostly it was because of the HORDES of people lining the walkway out. Looked a bit like the scene from 'Devil Wears Prada' where Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway are walking up the stairs, hounded by photographers and reporters, just that India was more orderly. Imagine searching for the placard bearing your name. It was like we were characters in Where's Wally? the Indira Gandhi International Airport version.

My senses were already shot through the roof, especially because of the jasmine scent that seemed to lace the air. So when we reached the hotel after an extremely smooth car ride, I felt like I was in heaven. The restaurant in the hotel (Zaffran in Palace Heights Hotel) smelt wonderfully welcoming, a foretaste of the breakfast we would have the next two days. And even though we didn’t order anything from the restaurant, they still served us water, and fussed about as our tour agent went through the paperwork with us. Ah, Indian hospitality… it puts Singapore toshame,

The room was wonderful too. Comfortable beds, fashionable clean-cut design (think blacks, browns, white)... and my favourite - the plasma TV. =) A room that has a plasma TV and cable tv channels can't be all that bad. I usually don't sleep well on the first night in a foreign room/bed. But I slept particularly well that night. Despite not being made of Egyptian cotton, the covers were cottony soft and oh-so-warm. My fingers and toes were nice and toasty the whole night. And, my friends, that was the first day.
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Expect the Unexpected
We had breakfast while overlooking the streets. Had some sambar (a vegetable soup), idli, vadar, a tomato paste that had ginger and some other spices in it, and a sweet coconut sauce. Beautiful. The best part? That was just the beginning. I finished breakfast with a curry potato stew served with fried indian bread, and washed it down with a cup of Chai. Ahhhh... I've not eaten so much in ages, and it was really wonderful.

With all that good food in our tummies, we went out, and a friendly Indian man started talking to us, that I shall call Mr. leather-jacket-with-pop-tee. Remembering what our waiter told us earlier this morning, "a lot of people will offer to show you places. Don't follow them because it's not worth it", we turned him down. Then another one spoke to us, telling us it's too early for the shops here to be open, and it's not safe for the foreigners because security only starts from 11am. Why not safe? Because of all the street people that lived under the aluminum sheets. It looked like a construction site lining the streets, and it was. But it was also home to many people with considerably darker skin than most of the other well-heeled Indians walking along the streets. They were undeniably of the lowest caste.
That was our undoing. No, we didn’t get held at gunpoint or anything like that. Rather, we were brought to those very touristy (and super expensive) emporiums that sold crafts, clothes, shawls, carpets, handicraft, jewellry, and spices. As we walked out, we also saw Mr. leather-jacket-with-pop-tee lounging in a nearby chair. He was obviously in the same organization as the guy who "conned" us. The shop people were extremely pushy, wouldn’t let you think, and kept on trying to sell the over-priced goods. Three or four shops later, we decided to head back to the hotel and walk the markets on our own. Even then, our automated rickshaw driver (yes, we took one of those little tuk-tuk things haha) tried recommending other places. No. “Take us back to the hotel” were our final words.

From there, the real fun journey began. We walked out for a coffee, and found a place that sells liver on toast. On top of brain cutlets with fries. And they were so innocently listed – just above chicken on toast and chicken cutlets with fries. They didn’t have a good variety of Indian drinks either, so we left.
Then we walked along the inner market circle of Connaught Place, popped in and out of a couple of salwar and costume jewelry stores, and finally came across a shop selling shawls. What a steal. Beautiful silk stoles for 500 rupees each, and he threw in a cushion cover as well, free. It was a sort of trade, because Madeline gave him her pilot pen with this bright electric blue ink. Still, a pilot pen for 2 such cushion covers? Remind me to bring along more such gadgets next time. =)

Lunch was at MacDonald’s. I like going into Macs in each country, and seeing what’s so different about it. I had the McAloo Tiki (25 rupees) and a coke (30 rupees). Wonderful veggie-potato-green peas-lentils patty with oh-so-fresh tomatoes and onions. Total cost? Less than $2 back home. My tummy was again, nicely satiated.

We walked some more, and came across this fruit seller who displayed his wares in a truly enticing manner! The pomegranates were displayed alongside one fruit that had been cut open to reveal its ruby red flesh. One cut pink guava flanked it, the pale coral of the pink guava playing off the ruby juiciness of the pomegranate. We bought 3. =) And amazingly, I managed to exchange 500 rupees with this fruit seller for smaller currencies, when MacDonald’s refused to accept my 500 rupees. Dad’s words came floating back “don’t see all of these hawker centre uncles wear thin white singlets, brown shorts and the Tai Sing slippers and assume they’re poor. Many of them drive Mercedes and wear Rolex.” Guess that applies all around the world.

Walking around after that was not quite as fun, as the shops started looking rather similar, and we ended up in the locals’ leisure land. Given the crowd and the lack of security guards there, we backtracked, and headed back for the hotel.
Eating the pomegranates was such an adventure! The translucent ruby red flesh revealed black seeds. The flesh was also divided into little kernel-like things (like corn), and encased in white fibre (like mandarin oranges). It was sweet sweet sweet! We dug out every last bit of goodness, and sipped the juice. Ah… bliss.

So now it’s coming to 6pm, and I’m getting hungry. Dinner’s going to be at Zaffran, and I’m looking forward to more good Indian food.

Don’t miss me too much! I’ll be back again telling the stories when I can. Till then, take care!