My introduction to India...

The four hour flight from Bangkok to Delhi was uneventful and blissfully short. I arrived late at night, and was very grateful that a man from the CCF - Delhi National Office was there to meet me. The airport in Delhi was exactly like you would imagine. There were people everywhere. Things were loud and confusing. My host told me to stand with my luggage by a post and not move while he went to get the car. He had parked quite a long way away due to construction of a new parking garage. As I waited, I experienced my first real taste of India. People were milling about, shouting to each other above the noise. Many people seemed to have a purpose in mind, but just as many seemed to be there for no reason at all other than to watch the activity. It was also here that I received my first taste of Indian hospitality. I witnessed a family reunion in which one woman must have been coming back from a long trip. The whole family was hugging and kissing and carrying on... One person brought out a box of "sweets" (a paste or dough-like mixture rolled into a ball, clearly made mostly of sugar). One of the family members saw me standing by myself, and offered me a sweet. Smiling, and nodding my thanks, I took a bite. It was awful. Within moments, though, the family was whispering to each other, and stealing glances at me, watching me eat their treat. They were so kind and friendly that I couldn't disappoint them. Besides, there was no place to get rid of the thing... Not a garbage can in sight. So, I ate the whole thing, under close but subtle scrutiny. I would later discover that not all sweets would taste this badly...

My host then arrived with the smallest car that I have ever seen. It looked like one of those things that circus clowns use in their acts, one after another climbing in, and you never know how they are all fitting in... This was the only car I saw in India that had a seat belt. My host laughed at me when I put it on, "We never use those." I would quickly discover that if there is any place in the world that needs seat belts, it is India.

If I was grateful to have the help of my host when I arrived at the airport, I was even more grateful to have his help when we arrived at the hotel and my room had been given away. By this time it was one in the morning, and they said that hadn't been told when I would be arriving. In my obsessive planning, I had specifically asked the travel agent to tell them, but at this point, it didn't matter. I only wanted to find a bed. Fortunately, there was no trouble at all. My host took me to a similar hotel, and I got a room. I later discovered that the location of this hotel was even better than the location of the first. It was just around the corner from the office where my guided tours would begin, and very close to Nirula's, a restaurant where I would eat many of my meals.

My first impression of my room at the Jukaso Inn wasn't the best. The carpet was a mess, the bedspread was stained, and the walls were filthy. I thought to myself, "Well, maybe in the morning I can look around for another place." But, after a good night's sleep, I remembered that I wasn't in Kansas anymore... The room was quiet, secure, and though not clean, more-or-less sanitary.

I woke up fairly early the next morning. I decided to wander around the "neighborhood" and get a sense of where I was. The streets were fairly quiet, just a few people milling around. This quickly became my favorite time of the day in Delhi. I noticed some people sweeping the streets. I thought to myself, "Let's take a look later, and see if it seems to make any difference." (It didn't... I actually saw people bundling up rubbish to take away, but the place never seemed to be any cleaner than it was before.)

Shortly after I left my hotel I encountered my first beggar. I had already decided that for my own safety and sanity, I wouldn't be giving out money. I smiled and nodded at the man (I had very quickly adapted myself to this abbreviated form of "Namaste" - or greeting.) He kindly greeted me back. I noticed quickly that everyone in Delhi seemed very friendly. Everyone seemed to want to look at me, but when I smiled and nodded their way, they returned the favor and went back to what they were doing. (Bangalore, where Asma lives, was different in this way. I don't think that the people are as familiar with Western tourists. When I would smile and nod at them, many would simply continue staring at my with a wide-eyed look.)


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