08 July 2012

Arrival in Delhi

On your first visit to India, you must ride in the front seat as you leave the airport. This will prepare you for your visit. The streets in any Indian city are a microcosm of life. I am convinced.

As my driver carefully kept the middle of the car centered over the white dotted line, I marveled at his calm while more frenetic drivers jostled to the left and right blowing their horns like it would make a difference. Though the highway was marked three-lanes, the actual number was in constant flux.

Perhaps the streets are a better picture of India vs. The West. My driver is India: following his own clock, making his own lane, and enjoying the scenery along the way. The crazy drivers blowing their horns and careening past bicyclists, tuk-tuks and other cars? It's the Western way of life: get where you can as fast as you can and never mind the cow in the road.

I like the Indian idea of life. Take it as it comes. Things aren't always what they seem, so one can rarely judge. 

My hotel, for example: When Sahid pulled up in the midst of the cycle market in Old Delhi at 11pm, it looked like a beehive of nefarious activity. Men and boys everywhere doing something, talking, yelling, hanging around... all amidst a background of greasy parts, scattered bikes, and human life. And just down there, a tiny dark alley, is Tara Palace, my driver says assuredly.

The dingy door sign, lit sporadically by the quintessential flashing neon sign above, indicates it was indeed the correct alley. 


Fortunately, I've traveled enough in the developing world to know what's behind the door is often very different than what is lying in the street. While I may have had a bit of apprehension, it wasn't even bordering on 'worry.'

Sure enough, when I stepped into a cool, immaculate marble lobby, I raised my eyes heavenward, smiled, and whispered 'Thanks.'



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