Delhi denizens

My doorman says it is 44 degrees. So i had to come out and see what 44 degrees feels like.

Surprisingly it's not that hot feeling. Kamloops at 36, i swear, feels hotter than this. It must have something to do with the ozone layer over Canada being thinner than here, or something, cause this is just weird.

So I'm at an internet place down the street now. Where internet costs a proper 30 rupees again. Of course my hotel charges double for the convenience of not having to step foot outside the door.

Aaaah, the adventures of travelling.

I have just handed off my passport, with some intense discussion, to the owner of the internet travel agent place so they can make a photocopy. Standard procedure. And I laugh as I do it. I have run into this before. They keep a strict account of who exactly goes online and when, due to a string of internet crimes (!!??). Apparently the police can come around at any time and want to see their records. I argue that we can just write down my information in the book, we don't need to copy it. (This whole thing made worse by the fact that he doesn't have a photocopier in-house but has to hand my passport to some lackey who goes around the corner to copy it!

Now said internet guy is singing to me. Aaaaah Delhi.

I told him my husband is back at the hotel. This after he commented on how nice my Indian suit is, but not without expressing his true disapproval and sincere consternation over the state of my footwear (ratty old sneakers). "Indian slippers MUCH better!", I am told, by the dark-skinned singing fashionista. I'll keep his recommendations in mind next time I get dressed to go somewhere. ya right.

Aaah, see, travelling brings an endless stream of crazy things to write about in the span of only 5 minutes. 3 weeks in an ashram could not stir up this many outrageous events.

And the boy just returned to me my passport. That's nice. Hopefully there is not a copy of it somewhere being printed up as we speak.

To be fair, he did offer me the requisite hospitality cup of chai while I write, before he stretched out on the bench and went to sleep.

I figured I'd get out and stretch my legs, explore my neighborhood, see what I could see of delhi. It is enough to make me realize i'm not missing much by cuddling up in my room. More rickshaws, peddle bikes, mopeds and sleepy cows.

I'm not much of the sightseer type.

I did get my stern face on though when I arrived in Delhi. I have been snowed already once by taxi drivers at the New Delhi Train Station. Today I was taking not any guff. They tried, different angles, different drivers.... i just kept walking. Even once I had decided on a driver and agreed to a reasonable deal (reasonable being that I paid too much but it was not outrageously too much, enough to appease my driver and enough to appease me), I still had another enterprising individual approach as we were getting ready to pull out of the taxi stand. His shpeel was asking if I had a booking at the hotel I was going to and wouldn't I like to stop at another place (ie: his friend's hotel), to call and make sure i HAD a reservation, at which point they would falsely tell me that my hotel did not have record of my booking and that i had better take a room with them instead. I have heard of this scam before. I had a hard time understanding what he was saying at first (that is one of their techniques: induce total confusion in their victim thereby getting you to agree to something you have no idea what exactly) but once I realized, a firm "no!", looking him square in the eye, was enough to make him disappear from whence he came.

This city requires my toughest skin, my meanest walk, and my ugliest scowl.