Saturday, April 16, 2011

I went to Delhi and all I got was this hangover

Joburg to Cape Town to Dubai to Delhi.

Crazy from work in Joburg and Cape Town. Onto plane. Emergency exit. Thank you god and the Emirates checkin staff. Alcohol. Sleep. Fights for the arm rest. Then Dubai, full of tired, frustrated, joyless people in transit. Just want to leave, Delhi. heaving and mad, a city falling apart and under construction. Infused with life and colour and sound and smell. Lots of smell.

Takash, our airport transfer. Navigating through the most mental drivers in the world. Suicidal. No accidents, unbelievably. Right into the seediest market we'd ever experienced. Stops car "you're staying down there". Confusion. Sorry Rob, I fucked up. The Smyle Inn, tucked in a quiet corner in the midst of the mayhem. Huge tip for Takash.

Touts. scams. Dirty streets. Train station beaurocracy. Train ticket to Kalka, but not sunday, only monday. Shit. White Mischief vodka and Kingfisher beer. Beggars. Street food. Amazing park. Luxury and wealth. The Embassy restaurant and the Gem Bar. Cricket mania.

Fuck, this is overwhelming. Some tourons, but no mixing. Except the argentine, who wanted to talk soccer and rugby. Into another, another world.

Rain, Red Fort and street food today. Bring it on.

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