A newbie returns - my Delhi experiences

I enjoyed my 3 days in Delhi far more than I'd expected.

Delhi was where the contrast between the different Indias, existing side by side, seemed strongest: ancient and modern, rich and poor, ugly and beautiful. Perhaps best summed up by the little group of slum dwellings, on the only solid wall of which was painted a Tata Indicom advert!

I arrived Sunday lunchtime: Sunday afternoon we drove through New Delhi - I was impressed by the scale of Lutyens' creation, more Parisian grandeur than Whitehall, though with impromptu cricket games on the wide verges by the embassies. Ministry buildings with white Ambassadors and monkeys outside (instead of the Toyota priuses and skulking smokers of Whitehall). A lovely warm afternoon so the greens by India Gate were packed with picknicking families, roads lined by ice-cream sellers' rickshaws, and a big queue for the pedalos on the tiny pond.

Back in the car - oh look - decorated elephants "parked" at the side of the road.

Humayun's tomb - my first taste of Mughal grandeur. Even with the hordes of school parties, surprising peace in the gardents. The sound of the muezzin in the early evening - much, I presume, as in Mughal times.

Then on to yuppie Delhi - greater GK market - for shopping at Fabindia, cocktails at trendy bar UrbanPind, and a really nice meal at the "Zaffran" restaurant in the Kasbah building. (My good local Indian restaurant at home is called Zaffron - I took this as a promising sign). Nice tandoori cauliflower, a stuffed potato dish whose name I've forgotten, and a dark and tasty dahl.

The next day - Qutb Minar, and my first encounter with cheeky schoolgirls wanting their photo taken.

Back to my ex-pat friends' house, where their cook taught me to make mattar paneer and chapatis, pressing down the edges and turning them in the pan ("lightly, lightly"). His enthusiasm for speaking English sometimes overtaking his skill. I'll miss Ganesh's masala chai - the best I tasted in India.

My third day - old Delhi, and a rickshaw picked up outside the Red Fort. First up the minaret in the Jama Masjid for a view, and a bit of exercise climbing stairs. Along with the "family members on a motorcycle; schoolkids in a rickshaw; camel fodder on a cart; goods on a lorry; farmers in a trailer; villagers in a land-rover taxi; 25kg cooking gas bottles on a bicycle" cramming that you see all over India, there is definitely a "tourists at the top of a minaret" sub-category. After warning notice encrusted, litigious Britain and the US, the disregard for health and safety matters in India was really quite refreshing (although I do worry about how many poor Indians are horribly injured as a result).

Through the bazaars - marvelling at the stalls piled high with papayas the size of rugby balls, shops selling nothing but fancy braid, tassels or wedding invitation cards (which seem to be predominantly red and gold with a picture of Ganesh on the front), lurid saris (mustard yellow, lime green, shocking pink), wholesale boxes of spectacle frames, car parts (odd wheels, rear light clusters). A goat in a cardigan, wandering worryingly close to an alley with butchers' shops. An ideal setting for an action movie chase scene, probably on scooters, since they squeezed up the tiniest streets. It would end in a crash with toppling carts, squawking chickens, unravelling bales of fabrics and the hero emerging with a garland of marigolds around his neck, and squashed grapes on his head.

Off on foot from time to time, following the rickshaw wallah. First into a little quite mews like cul de sac, and the fantastically decorated Jain temple. I didn't mind the bossiness of the kid who seemed to be the priest's sidekick as much as I'd expected ("shoes off", "down here - not there", "wallet safe, safe - no thief", "wash hands", "donations in box"). Then to be shown round upstairs - despite elaborate decoration, no square inch left blank. Priest emphasising the amount of real gold paint, as well as the anointing of statutes of Mahavira and other Jain (gurus? saints? - what's the right word?) with milk, rosewater and sandalwood paste. Could have spent hours there, just looking, but we were bustled round. On priest's invitation, I rang the temple bell - perhaps too loudly - a female worshipper looked up, a little stunned.

Back out into the bazaars, following the rickshaw wallah through the narrow alleyways. We cut past bangle stalls, through to the spice market - past sacks of dried fruit, nuts, tea and spices. I'd never seen whole turmeric roots before. I was hit by the smells - cardamom - bang - cinnamon - bang. Up a grotty little staircase to first floor wholesale spice market. I've never seen so many dried chilies: the sensual assault almost like a pepper spray. I was nearly knocked down stairs by a man carrying huge sack of dried chilies on his head: everywhere the bustle of commerce. Up another grotty little staircase to a flat roof - looking down on Chandni Chowk, litter strewn yards, and then turning, to see two rooftops covered in roses and marigolds, drying in the sun. So typical of India - surprising beauty amidst the chaos and squalor. Back down stairs, past a dingy room with woman sitting behind huge sack of nutmegs.

Back onto the rickshaw: get caught in a school run traffic jam of cycle rickshaws and a tuk-tuk school bus. On to Karim's for lunch - the richness of the food in inverse proportion to the wimpy-bar like decor. My only non-veg in India. Chicken tikka, some seekh kebabs (while we asked for chicken, these tasted suspiciously lamb-y). Veg dishes with way too much ghee and a tomatoey sauce with a decidedly soupy hint. Nice creamy set rice pudding to follow.

From the noise and crowds of the bazaars, down into the clean, modern, efficient air conditioned metro - complete with "Oystercard" type rail passes, and young Indian business women in western suits.

Get out to flag down a taxi to take us to the India International Centre for an exhibition on spotting fake handicrafts. Good old Hindustan Ambassador, complete with little pictures of Sikh gurus. The driver went the wrong way round a roundabout. Lush manicured lawns at the IIC, architecture reminiscent of a 1960s UK university campus.

A tea craving - so off to the Imperial hotel - a million miles and a hundred years from the metro and Karim's. Delicate Darjeeling in bone china cups. An overpowering scent of Jasmine (presumably like Elizabethan nosegays, for the sensitive little noses of rich Westerners who can't cope with old Delhi). Somehow I found myself longing for the chaos of the old Delhi bazaars - old Delhi felt more alive, than the his-n-hers monogrammed polo shirted air-conditioned calm of the Imperial!

Back to my friends' house - after Karim's lunch we only wanted fruit for dinner. Grapes and huge papaya. Chickoo - brown, round, kiwi fruit sized, with a green grainy slightly pear-like inside, and a big black seed. Stewed with ginger and cinnamon sticks and served with yogurt - yum. Chickoo crumble would be good - an Anglo-Indian comfort food. The small mysterious yellow fruit I'd seen at all the roadside stalls - on closer inspection, resembling small yellow tomatoes. The flavour could only be described as cheese flavoured strawberry - not so yum. Oh well - you only find out by trying!

Thanks, sounds like you had a great time! All that in three days -- were you exhausted?

Lovely lovely lovely!!! How brave you were to climb the minaret - partner and son went up, I was going to and only got as far as the first walkway before my heart started pounding and my palms grew sweaty..I chickened out... I really hate heights. They said I would have freaked out due to the press of people and zero safety arrangements so glad I didn't!

So THATs what those round brown fruits were called!! We bought them a lot from stalls and cut and peeled them for snacks on the go - also custard apples which I used to hate but now love! And the yummy little bananas - fruit tastes so bland after India (but then so does everything!).

THe little mews you mentioned - was that the one with the really colourful houses and pots of plants off a lane off Chandni Chowk? so surprising wasn't it?

There were definitely colourful houses and pots of plants down the mews near the Jain Temple. My sense of direction was pretty scrambled in Old Delhi so I'm not sure how far we were from Chandni Chowk. I think we were somewhere just off Kinari Bazaar. It might have been the Swetambara temple on Naughra Lane: http://www.chandnichowk.com/directory/naughramandir.htm

If you're afraid of heights I wouldn't recommend climbing the Jama Masjid minaret. There's no rail around the top of the staircase, so if you stepped backwards in the wrong place you could easily fall down the hard stone stairs.

I visited the Jama Masjid on Day one, on my own, and took to heart the signs that said no single women were allowed - I didn't try and test this out.

For future reference (I dream!), has any solo woman been up the minaret on her own?

I guess I could have tagged onto another group/couple, but I just didn't have the energy/will power, at the time.

I know, me too - no idea how far off the main road we were... its amazing how you just get totally lost down those lanes!

Great, vivid account. I used to be bit of a Bombay snob (which later transferred nicely to NYC snobbery) and look down on Delhi as a provincial, bureaucracy-ridden city. But it ain't. Delhi *is* actually more interesting than Bombay in some ways -- significantly, in the ways that you mention, in the contrasts it contains.

Thanks.

Another excellent account, Mrs. C!

No other city is so seeped in history as Delhi. It had taken me years to explore the city and I am sure there are quite a few lanes that I haven't walked.

Very educative and lucid narrative MrsC_772!

Enjoyed reading it as much as you would have enjoyed the exploration and discoveries. Cheers!

Regarding the Jama Masjid and single women --

I assumed it would be out of the question, as well. Then I was there and all the guys at the ticket booths kept doing that typically Indian "you want tower ticket, Madam?" in my general direction, even though I was walking around unaccompanied. So I went up to the booth and straight up asked.

They made me go up with a male tourist who happened to show up right around the same time. I didn't approach him, they just pulled him aside and via sign language made it clear we were to go together.

And, yeah. One of the scarier experiences of my trip -- it's one big spiral staircase, all the way up to the top. So by the time I was actually up there, I was completely winded and dizzy. And there's barely anywhere to stand without feeling like you're going to fall right back down. When my inner ear calmed down, though, it was totally worth it!

I, too, felt that Delhi really got a bum rap -- I went planning to stay only a couple days because I'd either hate it for the usual tourist reasons, or because I'd find it provincial and dull, the Indian response to Washington, DC. My biggest regret in my trip is spending 10 days in Goa and 2 days in Delhi!

Excellent! I need to stay there a few days before going to Vrindavan.
...I suppose I should search for some threads on inexpensive accommodation there.