Installment Part 2

Woke up obscenely early with Amanda and went to the Lalit for a morning swim before breakfast. I have got all my clothes and things together that I need, so I am waving farewell to the hostel for the next week or so. It feels good to be finally leaving for a holiday. I have worked my ass off for the past few weeks and I deserve this break. Hopefully everyone is feeling a bit better than they did last night.
We got to the hotel and met my dad and went swimming. They don’t seem to care that Amanda is not in fact a guest. Swam for ages. It was great. The water is just amazing after so much grime. We even got our legs out and sunbathed for a wee while with no one staring or even in our vicinity. Loved it. Then had a (hot!) shower and went to breakfast. Breakfast here is far superior to lunch, and I feel thoroughly dairied out. Tried to get masala tchai for mum but it failed miserably. Evidently only plebs drink masala tchai. This hotel is lovely, I will forgive them their lack of tchai. Euan has already made friends with a chef.
Spent the morning at the Lotus temple. The Temple is a Baha’I sect temple, which originated in Iran I think and was heavily persecuted. It seems to support all religions really, and uses an amalgam of their teachings to inform its own. The temple looks like a giant white marble lotus flower – it is really a beautiful piece of engineering. It is surrounded by pools and gardens as well. Inside, it is incredibly echoey and spacious. There is a service held every five minutes it seems for the benefit of tourists more than actual worshippers that covers all the major religions. There are marble benches inside for you to sit on. I was annoyed that I couldn’t just wander around inside, you have to sit and pay attention to the service instead. After the temple we went to Khan Market for lunch at Café Turtle, which my father highly approved of and Euan was able to eat pasta at. My mum seems a lot better as well, so I am happy. After Khan Market we continued our journey into the rich south and went to City Walk mall in Saket. It is just like a very upmarket and clean Braehead. Wandered the shops and mum got a lovely dupatta from FabIndia. Amanda and I found a travel agents as well and bought out tickets to Goa. So excited. My dreams of lying on a beach with a pineapple replete with cocktail umbrella are drawing ever closer. I think today was a far better success than yesterday. We went for dinner in a revolving restaurant round the corner from the hotel and Euan was once more able to eat – meaning he was happy and didn’t moan as much. The restaurant has a motorized floor, so you get a brilliant view of central Delhi, especially of Connaught Place, which looks almost negotiable from up here. All my good work will be undone tomorrow in Chandni Chowk maybe, but I hope I have shown that Delhi has a lot to offer whatever your tastes.
Discovered a new cocktail: Berry Spicy. Sloe infused gin with ginger and strawberries. Most tasty.
So Old Delhi is the order of Saturday. We took the metro to Chandni Chowk despite dad’s many protests over taking a taxi instead. Once he got out the metro though, he understood why. The streets here are always packed with cars, rickshaws and people and are narrow to boot. A taxi ride here would be a pointless exercise in staying still. We took a manual rickshaw up to Red Fort. A twenty rupee ride that quickly became 50 rupees as soon as we turned up. Not in the mood to argue though, as I think the ride will be traumatic enough for the family. I have never been to Red Fort (I am such a bad Delhiite), and so I was really interested to see what it was like. It is absolutely huge, all of red sandstone and quite similar architecture to the Jama Masjid. When you go in there are loads of little shops lining the corridors selling glittery jewelry and other tourist trap souvenirs. I find it strange that there are shops in the monument, but apparently a lot of the army still use the buildings in here, so I suppose it is more of a working place rather than just an attraction. We wandered around the gardens and different buildings for a while, a lot of which were decorated white marble like the Taj Mahal. Amanda joined us as well, which was nice. We are swimming later once more…it is too good to not take the chance. Family complained about how hot it was and I found it quite funny, as this is very pleasant weather and not too hot at all in comparison to what it has been. I can walk around with my hair down for god’s sake. Took another, slightly pointless, rickshaw ride across the road to the entrance path of the Jama Masjid. Littering the path were stalls selling Muslim iconography and beggars. One had clubbed feet that looked gangrenous. Not great. Euan is having a hard time adjusting to these things I think – most of his complaints surround the beggars. It must be difficult for someone his age to come to terms with although, so I can see how he could find their presence a bit threatening. We got into the Jama Masjid without incident though, and the women amongst us were wrapped up in the ridiculous bright pink smock things. The man on the door bluntly told us they were only for white women. As if we weren’t conspicuous enough. I would like to see what would happen if a white Muslim woman tried to enter and they told her she looked immodest and tried to cover her in a bright flowery sack.
After the mosque we left through the gate leading into the melee of Chandni Chowk proper. As you go out you turn into the fireworks market, which was packed out for Diwali. There are buckets of water everywhere to be dodged, in case one explodes. If it did though, we would all be buggered as there is no way those buckets would do any good, everything is too tightly packed in. if you continue down the fireworks stalls, then take a left, you are in the silver market. There are lots of little silver stores and then bigger emporiums where everything is obscenely expensive. Amanda, mum and I had a wee look, but the guys started to complain very soon. Euan had had enough of the dirt and the difference, and wanted to return to the clean familiarity of the hotel. Dad, due to his asthma, was finding it hard to adjust to the high levels of dust and smoke caused by hundreds of people eating/drinking/smoking/driving/cycling/living/cooking etc in a tiny alley way meant for no more than twenty people and definitely no motorbikes. So we had to negotiate our way back to the metro. To be fair, today is the busiest I have ever seen Chandni Chowk. Sure, it is busy usually, but Diwali seems to have tripled the shoppers. It’s a shame we didn’t get to the spice market though – I would have liked mum to have seen it. Thankfully, she seemed to quite enjoy Chandni Chowk, so not a total loss. I am glad they saw Old Delhi as well, as most tourists do not venture in here, much to their loss. It is the reality of Delhi: over-crowded, vibrant, dirty and full of brilliant little treasure troves of silver and sweets.
Felt amazing to go back to the hotel and get in the pool and wash the grime of Chandni Chowk off of our skin, Me and Amanda could get very used to this routine.
Tonight we went for dinner in the best restaurant in Delhi, apparently. It is called Bukhara, in the Sheratoun. Bill Clinton has eaten there apparently. It is a Punjabi style kebab restaurant, with little low tables and cushioned stools. It has a very nice, chilled out atmosphere and wasn’t too obscenely expensive for the best restaurant in the city. I had a really nice chicken kebab thing, but I have to say dad’s lamb leg was the official dish of the night. If I ever go back, I will have to have it. However, there is too much food, so I suggest going having eaten bugger all for two days or else take a friend and share. We got complementary dal as well, which was much appreciated and very tasty. I don’t know if it can be called the best restaurant in the city, as I have not been in them all and it wasn’t mind blowing food, but I reckon it is pretty high up there.
Tomorrow morning we leave at an obscene hour for Agra, so I think that will be another installment in the saga.