05.19.07
First Impressions
The heat and the smell hit me first. It was 21:00 and probably about eighty degrees farenheit. There is a smell here. The closest I can come to describing it is a combination of dirt and mould and blood. But it’s not a bad smell, and it’s not really blood but something like it. One of my favourite smells in the world is that of rain, which I would describe as ozone and mould. The smell here is not one of my favourite smells, but it’s not bad. I wonder if the US will have a smell when I go back, after I am used to the smell here. I wonder if this is the smell of Delhi or of all of India…
The airport was rather old and broken down. It seems that it was once very nice, but has not been maintained. I walked up the jetbridge, looked confused, and was directed to Immigration, after which, I was told, I could get my checked bag before going through customs.
There were two lines in Immigration. One for Indian passport holders, and one for foreign passport holders. I got in the foreigner line. The flight crew got into a third line–the diplomat/offical line. As I walked through my line I looked at the people. Everyone in the Indian line looked Indian, except for one girl. She looked more east Asian and was dressed very American. Later I saw her move to the foreigner line. Oops. There were a fair amount of Indians in the foreigner line too. Beyond the lines there was a duty-free shop selling liquor, iPods, and other wares. It was conspicuously lavish inside the aged airport.
I was surprised that my bag was not searched or even opened. My disembarkation card was taken except for a stub, which I would give to customs after getting my bag. My bag was already on the carousel because of the wait at Immigration, so I grabbed it and headed for the green lane at customs. A man took my stub, looked at my passport, counted my bags, and waved me through. I was in India.
I saw the Thomas Cook booth and knew what it was for, but now I just needed to find the airport shuttle. After searching outside for a bit, I gave up. I had been offered rides and taxis multiple times. Probably had something to do with white skin and bewildered expression. But now I had a problem. I needed a prepaid taxi, but had only American money. To get back in the terminal I needed a ticket which cost 60 Rupees. I was able to solicit pity and was allowed back inside without a ticket. I got some rupees, got a taxi ticket and found a taxi. The vehicle, a Maruti Suzuki Omni, was like a mini van in miniature. On the ride back, I learned about driving in Delhi. Turn signals are for asking, horns are for telling. Delhiites favour the latter, yet road rage seems to be a foreign concept. Signs on vehicles read things like Stop in Gothic letters and Power Brake. My favourite is triangular and red, sort of like an upside-down yield sign, with the word STOP and a skull and cross-bones. On large trucks, horn please and blow horn are common. Besides signs, many vehicles have other decorations. Large trucks are often colourfully painted. Many dashboards feature miniature shrines.
Autorickshaws are very common. Lanes are more of a suggestion than a requirement. If you can fit three cars in two lanes, why shouldn’t you? But then, some large vehicles take a whole lane by themselves. They generally are slower too, and so you pass them on the right or left–anywhere there’s enough asphalt. So cars are constantly honking and darting in front of one another, speeding past in the next lane or between lanes or on the side of the road. Cars are small and motorcycles and scooters are abundant. One scooter in particular caught my attention. A man drove and in back a woman wearing salwar kameez rode sidesaddle behind him with a large bag on her lap. Being a former British colony, one drives, of course, on the left side of the road, with the driver’s seat being on the right side of the car. My reaction was somewhat similar to when I first came to LA–people drive like total idiots, but it’s actually because they are more skilled drivers. For all the chaos, I’ve yet to see an accident.
I got to the hotel, checked in, and went to bed.
In the morning, I went to get my complimentary breakfast upstairs. The rooftop restaurant was nice. I tried a couple of Indian dishes (shunning the cornflakes). Curry for breakfast was a new experience. I had (instant) coffee and pineapple juice to drink. I chatted from the next table with an older English woman who was here with her husband.
I checked out, shot a quick “still alive” e-mail to my parents, and bought an inexpensive tour/taxi ride around the city to keep me occupied until my flight.