The adventurous portion of our day starts a little after noon when we are loaded on the same bus from the night before. This is our first venture into India and boy, are we ever excited! We drive around and have one of Sucharita's friends be our tour guide driving through the city. The sights! The sounds! The smells! We creeped many a person from the vantage point of our bus window, and sometimes they creeped on us in return.
A bit about Delhi--it's like the eighth largest city in the world with about 20 million people in the region. It's very dusty. It's colorful and dirty. There are people everywhere-sitting on curbs, riding on rickshaws, selling in booths, driving headfirst towards your bus (eep). The poverty was not hidden; we drove past many slums. The city of New Delhi is vaguely including in the area considered Delhi, and it is the capital of India. This area was very nice, containing foreign embassies, parliament, some other stuff, you know. Pretty and full of men with huge rifles.
Our first emergence was at Purna Qila, a wonderful series of buildings--mosques, temples, that sort of thing. At first I felt self-conscious about looking touristy with the billion pictures I was taking, but then there were more obvious indications that I was foreign, so there was no point trying to hide it. Taking pictures, NO SHAME!
La la la shvwateva
La la la it doesn't matter
Next, we visited Delhi Heart, this pre-structured marketplace that was very organized. While it was pretty and everything, we came to the consensus that it didn't feel authentic; rather, it felt a bit like Epcot.
I had my first real bartering experience. The trick to good bartering is to not really want the item so you can walk away at any time. I did not enjoy it. It made me feel unclean, like I was trying to cheat the man with whom I bartered, even armed with the knowledge he was trying to cheat me. I ended up slightly panicking at the end and attempted to walk away, which was mistaken for a shrewd bargaining move. He then lowered the price, but by that time, the deal felt tainted and I wanted no part in it. His parting words were a condescending, "You are confused, madam." Are silver silk balloon harem pants really worth the anxiety? Not today, pal. Not today.
Disney?
I had my first real bartering experience. The trick to good bartering is to not really want the item so you can walk away at any time. I did not enjoy it. It made me feel unclean, like I was trying to cheat the man with whom I bartered, even armed with the knowledge he was trying to cheat me. I ended up slightly panicking at the end and attempted to walk away, which was mistaken for a shrewd bargaining move. He then lowered the price, but by that time, the deal felt tainted and I wanted no part in it. His parting words were a condescending, "You are confused, madam." Are silver silk balloon harem pants really worth the anxiety? Not today, pal. Not today.
At one point while observing the throngs of people everywhere, Kate started sardonically singing "Elbow Room" from School House Rock with an accompanying dance. "Everybody needs a little elbow room."
Final destination was the Bahá'i Lotus Temple, which looks like the Sydney Opera House taken apart and reassembled.
The Bahá'i Faith is relatively modern, unity is the goal, and all religions are celebrated by contributing to that (note: as one might expect, there were a few notable non-Indian hippies present). The temple is open to meditation and prayer, but to enter, you must remove your shoes, put them in a bag, and trade them for a token. So there we were, walking around in bare feet or socks, and I was just glad my mom was not there because she specifically told me to always wear shoes in India. Sorry, I gots to be me. The weird thing overall about this excursion (and the whole day in general, but particularly at the temple) was all the staring. I had read about it in last blogs from last year, but surriously. It's out of control. While I understand that our skin is entrancingly pale, I don't understand how it can be mesmerizing enough to want pictures with individuals or the group. The polite ones ask; the creepy ones don't. They just snap a photo or film us, all the while never stopping their stare stare starin'. One can only hope that they stare because they care.
It seems as though as we have wandered onto some movie set
The Bahá'i Faith is relatively modern, unity is the goal, and all religions are celebrated by contributing to that (note: as one might expect, there were a few notable non-Indian hippies present). The temple is open to meditation and prayer, but to enter, you must remove your shoes, put them in a bag, and trade them for a token. So there we were, walking around in bare feet or socks, and I was just glad my mom was not there because she specifically told me to always wear shoes in India. Sorry, I gots to be me. The weird thing overall about this excursion (and the whole day in general, but particularly at the temple) was all the staring. I had read about it in last blogs from last year, but surriously. It's out of control. While I understand that our skin is entrancingly pale, I don't understand how it can be mesmerizing enough to want pictures with individuals or the group. The polite ones ask; the creepy ones don't. They just snap a photo or film us, all the while never stopping their stare stare starin'. One can only hope that they stare because they care.
Papa, paparazzi
Finally, dinner, my first real Indian food, was very very spicy and though I tried to avoid everything, even the stuff that pretended to be bland still kicked me in the face. My mouth was SCREAMING out the window and waving a handkercheif, but alas, no one had volunteered for the fire department.
Despite the unusually negative tenor of this post, it was a fun day. I'm just experiencing a little culture shock; India is not a fairy tale the way Spain (and Europe in general really) was.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fA1gcJ7CVE
Right on!
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