The last ten days I've been travelling around the North of India, between Delhi, Agra and Jaipur, so my internet's been pretty flaky. Delhi hasn't had any monsoon rain like the other cities I've been in, so it's baking hot and has produced what are easily my sweatiest photos to date.
We've only had three days to explore Delhi in, so we've packed in as much as possible. That said, I can't help but feel like I've spent a large part of my time here being frisked. To get into the bazaars, cinemas and temples, the security is seriously tight. This can really only be a good thing, but thorough is an understatement for these frisks, which actually feel pretty Jesters worthy.
Once we'd got past all the security, we managed to get in trouble on the Delhi metro (incidentally the cleanest and coldest metro I've ever seen), whilst on our way back to the hotel, for taking a photo. We were reprimanded by a very angry Delhi policeman who conveniently spoke no English so we feigned innocence and hopped on the next metro. We never quite got to the bottom of his problem there, unless they're worried someone will steal their underground ideas, which they don't need to be too worried about. That said, they do have a 'women only' carriage which would be a handy addition to the Tube.
After that palava, once we arrived back at what must officially be the world's dampest hotel room, my
moist suitcase and I would probably have been better off staying on the metro. Just to add insult to the fact I owned nothing dry any more, a begging child pulled down my trousers in the street because I said 'no' to him. Hope that doesn't catch on with Big Issue sellers.
On our last night in Delhi we decided to follow Lonely Planet's advice to go to Old Delhi. It was then that I lost my faith in guide books.
Our rickshaw dropped us off in a very dark, delapidated neighbourhood with bodies littering the pavements and down the middle of the road (hopefully sleeping). It turns out that our guide book did actually mention, right at the back, that this area suffers from serious drink and drug problems, and we all ended up feeling a bit like prey in an unsafe area that evening. Perhaps the author of the 'Danger' chapter and the one who recommended visiting that area at night would like to collaborate a bit more next time they write books together.
On the plus side, dinner was actually good. On the downside, the poverty there means that men sleep in whatever their job is (I.e. ice cream cart, newspaper stand etc.), so on the way home we stopped in a traffic queue next to a man going commando in a skirt, facing away from us, having a very public balls adjustment at eye-level. This was shortly followed by a man having a wank in his vegetable cart. In short, Delhi taught me two things: don't always trust your guide book, and never buy vegetables off the street.
After all that excitement, we headed off on a train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I was prepared to be disappointed after all the hype surrounding this Seventh Wonder, but it actually didn't disappoint at all - it was amazing. The Taj and it's grounds are stunning, and I'd recommend it to anyone.
On the downside, while Indians pay 10 rupees entry, foreigners pay 750 rupees. Apparently this rule is acceptable in India, because they enforce it at all landmarks etc. They also wander around shouting 'NO CHINESE!' at taxi ranks, which probably wouldn't go down too well in England either.
It was in Agra that the 'photo-bullying' started. I don't really know what this is about, and I actually don't really want to know, but we couldn't walk anywhere there without men asking for photos with us, and then being far too handsy, or just walking right up to us and taking the photo anyway if we said 'no'. We worked out that at least 350 photos of us were taken that day, so if you ever come across me on an Indian Facebook, give me a shout.
The Taj is the only thing worth seeing in Agra, so we spent one night there before catching the 6am train to Jaipur. This was one of my favourite cities so far, aside from the men, where the groping and not-so-sly photos continued. In fact, my automatic response to 'hello' has now become 'don't touch me', a habit I ought to drop before I head home.
The marketplaces in Jaipur are great though, and there are some gorgeous buildings including the famous Pink Palace, but the real highlight was going to a Bollywood cinema. The fact that the guard on the door carries a baseball bat says it all. Indians just get so over-excited about the cinema, and some boys, in their early twenties, even felt the need to wear glittery gold elf shoes and sunglasses.
Of course, as soon as we got in, one very short cinema-goer hassled us for gropey photos to the point of shouting and chasing us up a fire escape. This actually worked out in our favour somehow, as we found a back door to the posh upper lounge. Sneaky.
After much screaming and scarf waving action, we had an early night to prepare ourselves for what was an exciting day for me, because elephants were involved. We got to ride a baby elephant (with hilariously big eyebrows) up to the Amber Fort, which I found so exciting that I went and bought an elephant bracelet and earrings in a mini elephant-frenzy.
I'm now back in Delhi, clad in various bits of elephant jewellery, elephant Aladdin pants, and an elephant scarf in case I'm ever lucky enough to come across air con (unlikely). We're spending one night here before we fly down to Kochi in the South, and we managed to pre-book another cracking Delhi hotel - this time with no name on the front, and with four male staff sitting outside our bedroom door for no reason. Not only is this a bit disconcerting, but both they and I were shocked when I opened the door in my vest and underwear, spraying DEET insect repellent everywhere outside, because it's horrendous to breathe in. That'll teach them.
It's impossible to fit everything here into a weekly blog, and right now I'm going to try and drive away the corridor lurkers again (perhaps with the very dodgy Indian deodorant I bought the other day...), so I'll post again from down South soon!
We've only had three days to explore Delhi in, so we've packed in as much as possible. That said, I can't help but feel like I've spent a large part of my time here being frisked. To get into the bazaars, cinemas and temples, the security is seriously tight. This can really only be a good thing, but thorough is an understatement for these frisks, which actually feel pretty Jesters worthy.
Once we'd got past all the security, we managed to get in trouble on the Delhi metro (incidentally the cleanest and coldest metro I've ever seen), whilst on our way back to the hotel, for taking a photo. We were reprimanded by a very angry Delhi policeman who conveniently spoke no English so we feigned innocence and hopped on the next metro. We never quite got to the bottom of his problem there, unless they're worried someone will steal their underground ideas, which they don't need to be too worried about. That said, they do have a 'women only' carriage which would be a handy addition to the Tube.
After that palava, once we arrived back at what must officially be the world's dampest hotel room, my
moist suitcase and I would probably have been better off staying on the metro. Just to add insult to the fact I owned nothing dry any more, a begging child pulled down my trousers in the street because I said 'no' to him. Hope that doesn't catch on with Big Issue sellers.
On our last night in Delhi we decided to follow Lonely Planet's advice to go to Old Delhi. It was then that I lost my faith in guide books.
Our rickshaw dropped us off in a very dark, delapidated neighbourhood with bodies littering the pavements and down the middle of the road (hopefully sleeping). It turns out that our guide book did actually mention, right at the back, that this area suffers from serious drink and drug problems, and we all ended up feeling a bit like prey in an unsafe area that evening. Perhaps the author of the 'Danger' chapter and the one who recommended visiting that area at night would like to collaborate a bit more next time they write books together.
On the plus side, dinner was actually good. On the downside, the poverty there means that men sleep in whatever their job is (I.e. ice cream cart, newspaper stand etc.), so on the way home we stopped in a traffic queue next to a man going commando in a skirt, facing away from us, having a very public balls adjustment at eye-level. This was shortly followed by a man having a wank in his vegetable cart. In short, Delhi taught me two things: don't always trust your guide book, and never buy vegetables off the street.
After all that excitement, we headed off on a train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I was prepared to be disappointed after all the hype surrounding this Seventh Wonder, but it actually didn't disappoint at all - it was amazing. The Taj and it's grounds are stunning, and I'd recommend it to anyone.
On the downside, while Indians pay 10 rupees entry, foreigners pay 750 rupees. Apparently this rule is acceptable in India, because they enforce it at all landmarks etc. They also wander around shouting 'NO CHINESE!' at taxi ranks, which probably wouldn't go down too well in England either.
It was in Agra that the 'photo-bullying' started. I don't really know what this is about, and I actually don't really want to know, but we couldn't walk anywhere there without men asking for photos with us, and then being far too handsy, or just walking right up to us and taking the photo anyway if we said 'no'. We worked out that at least 350 photos of us were taken that day, so if you ever come across me on an Indian Facebook, give me a shout.
The Taj is the only thing worth seeing in Agra, so we spent one night there before catching the 6am train to Jaipur. This was one of my favourite cities so far, aside from the men, where the groping and not-so-sly photos continued. In fact, my automatic response to 'hello' has now become 'don't touch me', a habit I ought to drop before I head home.
The marketplaces in Jaipur are great though, and there are some gorgeous buildings including the famous Pink Palace, but the real highlight was going to a Bollywood cinema. The fact that the guard on the door carries a baseball bat says it all. Indians just get so over-excited about the cinema, and some boys, in their early twenties, even felt the need to wear glittery gold elf shoes and sunglasses.
Of course, as soon as we got in, one very short cinema-goer hassled us for gropey photos to the point of shouting and chasing us up a fire escape. This actually worked out in our favour somehow, as we found a back door to the posh upper lounge. Sneaky.
After much screaming and scarf waving action, we had an early night to prepare ourselves for what was an exciting day for me, because elephants were involved. We got to ride a baby elephant (with hilariously big eyebrows) up to the Amber Fort, which I found so exciting that I went and bought an elephant bracelet and earrings in a mini elephant-frenzy.
I'm now back in Delhi, clad in various bits of elephant jewellery, elephant Aladdin pants, and an elephant scarf in case I'm ever lucky enough to come across air con (unlikely). We're spending one night here before we fly down to Kochi in the South, and we managed to pre-book another cracking Delhi hotel - this time with no name on the front, and with four male staff sitting outside our bedroom door for no reason. Not only is this a bit disconcerting, but both they and I were shocked when I opened the door in my vest and underwear, spraying DEET insect repellent everywhere outside, because it's horrendous to breathe in. That'll teach them.
It's impossible to fit everything here into a weekly blog, and right now I'm going to try and drive away the corridor lurkers again (perhaps with the very dodgy Indian deodorant I bought the other day...), so I'll post again from down South soon!
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