Housekeeping note: I apologize for not posting sooner, I was hampered by the lack of public wifi which I had intended to use to upload posts and pics. Although everyone I meet assures me that there is free/paid wifi in Delhi, I have yet to find it. I invested in a USB stick and will be uploading through the computers at the ubiquitous netcafes.
Jama Masjid Mosque in Old Delhi
I love Old Delhi - the streets are narrow and crooked and the houses crowd overhead. Street sellers hawk everything from haircuts and ear cleaning to fruits, vegetables, and tasty street food. My favorites are the chai wallahs or tea sellers. You can find them all over the city, sitting on the curb surrounded by pots, or in a proper stall. Each chai wallah has his own recipe (they’re always men for some reason) which is comprised of some combination of tea, milk, sugar, and spices. They serve it in clay mugs (I don’t want to know how they’re washed) or disposable cups. 
Cows and monkeys wander the streets at will. I bought a pear and lured several monkeys down for pictures. I fed the rest to a cow lingering hopefully INDIA 140 by the fruit cart. Street dogs curl up and sleep wherever they can they filch food from garbage piles and trail behind workmen eating their lunches, hoping for a bite. They are the friendliest dogs I’ve ever seen and come running for a scratch, tails wagging. I guess it’s a survival trait, since their continued wellbeing depends on scraps. A lot of the street dogs are cared for by people in their neighborhood. I see many of them wearing dog sweaters and merchants often keep food bowls outside their shops.
The minute I step off the metro, I’m surrounded by a crowd of rickshaw drivers asking me where I’m going. The tourist maps of Delhi are not designed for walking and leave out all but the main streets. I don’t know if this is to purposely encourage use of taxis and rickshaws or because there are so many alleys and sidestreets that listing them would overwhelm a simple map. Whatever the case, the first time I came to Old Delhi I got a rickshaw to take me around to the main sites: Jama Masjid, the Red Fort, the Chandni Chowk bazaars. Now that I sort of know my way around, I walk. The minute I settled on a price with a driver, three other rickshaw wallahs told me it was too much and that they would take me for less (this happens often). I usually cut in half whatever price a seller (or driver) offers and negotiate from there. I’m probably still paying more than the going rate, but it’s not worth stressing over on a daily basis. Rickshaw wallahs, street sellers, laundrymen, and delivery boys are among the poorest in India, so it’s not considered good form to haggle over the last rupee.
I survived my first pickpocketing attempt in the metro a few days ago. A guy ran into me while I was waiting to change trains at Rajiv Chowk and groped at my pocket. I smirked and waved when he looked back at me since I’d put my wallet in my backpack already. Ha. Since there are so few tourists around, I figure I’m probably a target for whatever thieves or pickpockets are in the area. I feel comfortable alone as long as I stick to well-traveled areas and don’t stay out much past dark. I was told by Pari’s friends not to take taxis at night because of the risk of robbery; autorickshaws are safer because they’re open on one side. If something looks suspicious, you could just jump out. Whatever advice I’m given, I try to keep my eyes open and be aware of my surroundings. My rickshaw driver, Rohi, wanted to show me the interior of the Chandni Chowk spice market, where the wholesalers do their business, which would have been really cool to see. The problem was that getting to it required going through a pitch-black alley populated by groups of ragged men huddled in corners. I politely thanked him and backed out in a hurry. I didn’t feel threatened, but it looked like the sort of situation that could turn ugly quickly. I suspect I’ll have to turn down lots of interesting opportunities like that in the interests of safety. The hazards of traveling alone, I guess.
Pari’s friend Shweta’s wedding is tonight and I’m anxious to wear my super-awesome tunic-and-harem-pants ensemble. I’ll be sure to report back with pictures. I’m off to Jaipur tomorrow for the literature festival and some touristy activities.
In front of a house in a Jain neighborhood
Sacks of spices in Chandni Chowk
Chai wallah on the streets of the Chandni Chowk spice bazaar
Akshardham Tomb
The first condition of right thought is right sensation, the first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it.
- TS Eliot
The first thing you notice about Delhi is the smell. It’s a multi-layered stench of exhaust, smoke, pollution, and the unique stink of 16 million people piled on top of each other. The smell gets into your clothes, carried by the dust that coats everything. Your nose becomes filled with black grit and your eyes water. My friend Pari’s mother told me that in the past few years, winters here have been characterized by a chronic mist that settles over the city. It reminds me of TS Eliot’s Prufrockian yellow fog, equal parts smog, dust, and river mist. The sun hides sullenly and night-time driving is hazardous when the fog thickens.
The second thing you notice about Delhi is the traffic. The traffic is constant and snarls are a part of everyday life. There are no traffic rules, or if there are no one follows them. Buses, cars, trucks, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, and bicycles weave in and out, trying to make headway. Every move is punctuated by near-constant horn-blowing, which is the way you let people know you’re coming. It’s completely nuts and I feel like I’m always on the brink of a 12-car pileup. However, it all seems to work, as I have yet to witness an accident. There are few sidewalks, and they’re mostly torn up with construction (all of Delhi is under renovation for the 2010 Commonwealth Games) or home to tent villages.
Traffic on Chandni Chowk Road in Old Delhi.
Pedestrians mix freely with the traffic, so you have to keep looking around to make sure you don’t get hit by a car or scooter. It’s hard to remember to walk on the proper side of the street so I’m forever getting honked at for going the wrong way. Maybe I just get honked at anyway.
Delhi’s a circus of sights and sounds and smells. I kinda love it. I spent the first week here tagging along with my friend Pari as she ran errands around town. I’m staying with her mother in east Delhi. After she returned to London I began to check out the tourist sites. I quickly discovered that it’s somewhat hazardous being a tourist in Delhi. For one thing, I stick out. A lot. I am usually the only Westerner in site and am a target for every tout, street hustler, and . It’s annoying as hell to be hassled every 20 feet, but it’s the way things work here. Scams abound. Westerners are advised to only use government-run tourist offices to book tours. As a result, every tourist agency claims to be “government-approved” and touts claim that the government offices are closed or don’t give tours anymore. I finally gave up on trying to find a tour of Delhi after four different places refused to give me the bus tour (the cheap option) and tried to force me to book a private car tour. I’m just going to go see things myself.
Statue of Gandhi. People feed the pigeons here.
These signs look a lot like London Tube signs. They also tell you to "Mind the Gap."
Getting around Delhi is complicated because although there is a perfectly good metro system, very few people seem to use it and no one can agree on how complete it is. Pari’s apartment is located directly across the street from the Mayur Vihar-1 Station, but even she didn’t know how well it worked. The metro is my favorite way of getting around. It’s clean, fast, and not as crowded as the public buses.
I think I must sort of look like I know what’s going on because a German tourist asked me for help on the metro. He didn’t know what line to take to get where he was going. I’ve gotten the hang of taking the metro here. I push my way to the token counter and yell my destination. I get my token and go through the ladies security entrance and reassure the guard that yes, I am a lady. Then I
A not-so-crowded car.
wait on the platform and shove, push, and elbow my way onto the train. When my stop arrives, I reverse course and shove my way off the train as people are trying to get on. Taking the escalator is my favorite part because I have to shove and elbow some more to get on and then shove the people in front of me to walk faster. I imagine I’m in DC and mentally elbow aside all the slow tourists who stand on the wrong side. I’ve gotten used to the usual crush of people on public transit and don’t mind it anymore. I just read my book and elbow my way around. It’s liberating, really.
Westerners are pretty rare on the streets and we’re all part of a secret club. We nod sagely to each other when we pass in the streets because yes, we’re cool. We’re in India.
And although I hope the dead don’t keep it, I’m going by another road. Guymon, OK is the farthest west I will have gone on this trip. It’s melancholy, but after checking elevations on my route through NM and realizing how quickly the weather changes out here, I’m retreating. I’m now moving east and south into Texas.
I’m now sitting in a Starbucks (the first one in weeks) in Enid, OK, plotting my route into Texas. I’m aiming for Austin and then Houston, where I have a friend.
I have a lot of mixed emotions about abandoning my goal to reach California. On the one hand, my route has been in a constant state of change, as advice and weather have pushed me farther and farther south. So, it shouldn’t be a big deal to change it even farther and make a big U-turn into Texas. On the other hand, it’s hard to let go of a goal that’s motivated me this whole trip.
Can the success of a journey be measured by something other than the destination? I certainly hope so. I’ve seen and learned so much about the country on the road. A funny thing is the number of people who have asked (incredously): “what route could have brought you to this town?” I don’t have much of an answer for them, since my route has always been something of a mystery to me.
I’ve also learned a lot about bike touring and living on the road. I’m really looking forward to future bike trips, where at least the nuts and bolts of bike travel are known elements. Gotta finish this trip first.
Off I go, I’m hitching a ride farther south towards Dallas.
Tags: bike tour, Ciao America
Current location: Fort Scott, Kansas. For anyone keeping up with my twitter feed, it’s clear that my route has deviated majorly from the original plan to head north and west. Watching the weather in Wyoming these days, I’m pretty glad I’m not there. My current plan is to continue heading southwest into New Mexico and Arizona to stay ahead of the winter weather.
Watching the cold drizzle outside as I type this, I’m not sure I’m moving far enough. The days are also ticking by and I’ve got 42 left if I’m going to make it home in time for Thanksgiving. According to Google maps, I’ve got somewhere around 1600 miles to Los Angeles, my current California destination.
It’s interesting how a journey changes as you’re on it, when you have no fixed plans and rather vague goals. When I started out, my plan was pretty simple: bike to California. Stop and see things along the way. I figured I’d have it done in two months and change. However, as I’ve gone along, I’ve become a lot more interested in the in-between places, the small towns no one’s ever heard of. There are a lot of them out there. And the people in them are just so damn nice. So, I’ve lingered, and malingered, and dragged my feet and nearly two months after leaving, I’m about half way. And the weather is turning decidely shitty.
So, I’m struggling with keeping to my goal of reaching California in the time I’ve got left, which doesn’t leave much time for lingering at my current 50-60 mpd pace. And I’ve got some of the most interesting part of the US still to come. My choice is to make like a rabbit across the prairie and possibly miss out on cool places, or keep to my desultory tortoise pace and end up short of California. Missing Thanksgiving is just not an option - you’ve never had my father’s smoked turkey and yeast rolls.
Decisions, decisions. Well, I think the rain is clearing up, I think I’ll head out soon.
Tags: bike tour, Ciao America, lifestyle