Several times during this trip I have been driven to distraction by the all-encompassing riot that is India. Delhi is in extremis. Compound that with blistering heat, and it becomes obvious to me why this is my least favourite spot. But visit I must to try on my new teeth.
This time I return to the warm embrace of Swaraj and his friends who drag me out to the market to buy fresh Afgan bread and lassis for breakfast. I am easily persuaded, and we join Anand and his Italian wife Lucia on their rooftop nearby who have also prepared a spread. It’s a very warm welcome, and after a 24-hour journey from the hinterlands I am starved.
Continue reading “PART 6: Trying Toy Train”
There’s slow, and then there is contemplative. I chose the latter frame to appreciate the scenery passing by at walking pace. I seemed to be in a state of suspended animation, possibly induced by the previous night courtesy of Indian Railways sleeper class, or it might be that hypnotic clickety-clack of the wheels of the train moving at a pace that seemed to be very much in sync with my mood. Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, wheels turning on the track.
Continue reading “PART 6B: The Monastic Life”
Nobody, but nobody has small change in India. Your average auto driver looks in amazement when you offer him 100 rupees for a 50 fare. There is some insane rupee collector who must be massing quadrillions of small notes. I generally make a point of breaking large bills at places like restaurants where they have lots of change.
Continue reading “PART 7: No Change in India”