New Delhi, Day 1

[WARNING!  The pictures you are about to see are of New Delhi, Britain’s planned capital city for India.  They are completely unrepresentative of authentic India.  They are way too calm, peaceful, and organized for that!  New Delhi is more of a British Empire fantasia of what India should be.]

I rested well after my not-quite-smooth arrival in Delhi hours earlier.  I stepped out into the light of day and into the chaos that is India.  The dark alley my taxi had driven down the night before was much less scary during the day.  And the whole world I stepped into was teeming with life.  It was exciting and nerve-wracking.  Trying to cross a busy multi-lane street like a local was especially anxiety-inducing.  The subway was about a 10-minute walk away.  I passed by the same food vendors I had seen from the taxi in the middle of the night.  At the time, I was quite surprised how industrious everything was at about 3 in the morning.  It was even livelier in daylight.

I wanted to take a picture of groups of people congregating on the grass.  The grass, as well as the sides of the streets, was adorned with litter.  As I started to aim my camera, 2 little girls appeared at my knee and began to follow me relentlessly.  They incessantly mumbled words I couldn’t understand.  And they continuously made a gesture with one hand going from the other hand to the mouth.  It took me not too much time in India to figure out this was a gesture of begging.

I continued walking briskly to the subway station.  Eventually, I left the little girls behind.  I was a little distressed at the extreme poverty and pollution I had encountered within just a few minutes of beginning my Indian odyssey.  I got to the station and had a hard time trying to figure out how to use the ticket vending machine.  A young woman came up behind me and I told her to go ahead.  I didn’t want my cluelessness to hold her up.  To my delight, she insisted on helping me navigate the fare system.  Thanks to her unsolicited friendliness, hope quickly overtook my distress.  My tour of India was going to be okay.

The express subway line from the airport area to central Delhi impressed me with its efficiency and cleanliness.  Things were looking up.  A bit of chaos returned when I arrived at the station in central Delhi.  There were long lines at the windows and ticket machines serving the main subway system.  Fortunately, with a little help from the kind woman from earlier, I had a transit pass and could bypass the lines. After transferring to the main subway system, I soon arrived in New Delhi.

When I exited the station, a number of smiling men aggressively offered to give me a ride in their auto-rickshaws (tuk-tuks).  I politely declined and tried to figure out how to get to my first sightseeing spot, the Rashtrapati Bhavan.  Stopping to look at my map would instantly attract the attention of eager tuk-tuk drivers and other entrepreneurial types.  So I had to be as discrete and nonchalant as possible.  A relaxing trip this was absolutely not going to be.

Rashtrapati Bhavan

Rashtrapati Bhavan is the presidential palace.  It translates as “Presidential Residence”.  Simply put, it’s India’s White House, only much bigger.  It’s about 4 times bigger than the White House.  The British constructed the ornate residence to be known as the Viceroy House when they moved the capital of India to Delhi from Calcutta (now known as Kolkata) during the 1st half of the 20th century.  The British intentionally built the mansion–as well as all of New Delhi–on a grand scale to exemplify the power of the British Empire.  Now’s a good time to bring up a somewhat confusing topic:  Delhi vs. New Delhi.

At over 11 million inhabitants, Delhi is India’s 2nd largest city after Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay).  New Delhi is one Delhi’s 11 districts.  It’s also the capital of India.  So I guess that’s like if the capital of the US was moved back to New York from Washington.  But only the borough of Manhattan was designated as the nation’s capital, and not the entire city of New York.  Strange, but hey, it’s their country!

The British built New Delhi to be a grand, planned, European-style capital.  So New Delhi is much more orderly and much, much less chaotic than the rest of Delhi.  The entire day in New Delhi, my 1st day in India, I knew that I had to relish the relative calm of New Delhi.  (Even then, I had no idea of the onslaught of humanity that was in store for me on the next day in Old Delhi.)

The relative calm of New Delhi notwithstanding, the disorganization of India gave me a good wallop when I arrived for my scheduled tour of Rashtrapati Bhivan.  The officials at the desk told me to wait.  And wait I did.  I was starting to worry when my tour time was approaching.  I went back up to the desk and showed them by paperwork.  They told me to keep waiting.  So I did.

Lots of other waiting people started getting called to go through security.  I got annoyed when a guy with a local guide showed up and was quickly ushered through.  (That’s how it works when you hire a local guide.)  Finally, 20 minutes after my scheduled tour time, I got called.  Me being me, one of the straps on my backpack jammed the conveyor belt on the metal detector.  It took a while to unjam.  When I got to the gathering spot past security, no one was there.  Everyone else had already moved on.

I walked around as far around the ornate palace as I thought I could without getting intro trouble.  I found nobody and nothing.  I asked someone about the tour, and he told me to wait right there.  A few more people showed up.  Finally, a tour guide!  She was quite lovely.  I was the only non-Indian in the group, and she was hoping to be able to give the tour only in English.  But a small number of sightseers insisted that she give the tour in Hindi also.  So, she had to give her spiel in 2 languages every step of the way.  I felt a little bad for her.

Some of the rooms in the Rashtrapati Bhavan were staggeringly beautiful.  Unfortunately, photography is strictly forbidden.  (You can click around here to get an idea of the grandeur.)  I was very grateful to her for accommodating the only Westerner on the tour.  So at the end, I put my hands together and gave a slight bow as I thanked her.  I had read that that was the polite thing to do when you’re feeling very grateful.  I’m pretty sure she rolled her eyes on the inside.  That was the last time I ever tried that.

Mughal Gardens

Behind the Rashtrapati Bhavan are the Mughal Gardens.  The Mughal Gardens are only open to the public for viewing in February.  Lucky me!  I was there in February.  It wasn’t just a coincidence.  The flowers have a short blooming season due to India’s weather extremes.  The same is true for comfortable tourist season.  After March, it starts getting just too hot.

The start of the tour of the Rashtrapati Bhavan may have been a bit of a cluster.  But India’s chaos starting becoming much more apparent when I arrived at the Mughal Gardens.  It was a bit of a madhouse.  With such a short viewing opportunity, it sort of makes sense.  Everyone wants to come see the Gardens during the brief time period when they’re open.  And in Delhi, “everyone” is millions and millions of people.

There were long security lines to get it.  Fortunately (for me), the men’s security line in India is always shorter than the women’s.  (Yes, security lines are segregated everywhere.)  After a few minutes in line, I realized that I was going to have to check my backpack before going in.  Another long line.  Once I got into the Gardens, it was a flowing river of humanity making its way along the designated pathway.  At one point, the pathway was cut off by guards.  The river of humanity quickly became a large stagnating lake.  As far as I could tell, no explanation was provided for the sudden dam blocking the flow.  I was in way too deep to try to go upstream and head back to the entrance.  After a lengthy wait (confusing and a little stressful for me), the guards cleared the way.  The flow resumed.

Having finished my garden viewing, it was time to collect my bag.  Boy, was that a mess.  There was no semblance of organization, and the staff could not find my bag.  Well, after about 20 minutes, 20 very long minutes, they finally found it.  Yup, this was how this trip was going to be.

Photography was not allowed in the gardens.  But naturally I saw lots of people taking pictures.  As a foreigner, I figured I’d better follow the rules.  But you can click on “CIRCUIT 3” here, and then click around to see pictures of the gardens.

Nehru Memorial Museum & Library

I was ready to leave behind the bedlam of the Mughal Gardens and make my way to my next stop.  With all the delays I had experienced, I was already far behind schedule.  So instead of walking, as I had planned, I decided to be adventurous.  I hopped on a tuk-tuk and had an open-air ride.  It really was a lot of fun.  I felt like an authentic Western explorer (without the colonialism angle).

The ride itself was much longer than it should have been.  Soon after we took off, the driver stopped in traffic to ask another tuk-tuk driver for directions.  Before too long, the driver got me to the museum.  Only problem, it was the wrong museum.  He had brought me to the National Museum.  I wouldn’t be headed there till Day 12.  It’s New Delhi’s premier museum, so he must have hoped that this is where I was going when heard me say “museum”.  Eventually we got to my intended destination.  It was a fun ride, and it didn’t cost too much.  Rest assured, it would have cost much less if I had been a local (and if he knew where I wanted to go to begin with).

The Nehru Memorial Museum & Library is housed in the former residence of Jawaharlal Nehru, the 1st prime minister of India.  Inside are exhibits about Nehru and the Indian independence movement.  When I was done with the tour and exited the building, a couple boys in turbans approached me.  They wanted to know where I was from.  Because of their turbans, I correctly guessed that they were Sikhs from Punjab.  They were part of a school group visiting with their teacher.  I chatted with the group and their teacher for a while.  Then I suggested getting a picture.  It was the 1st of a number of pictures I ended up taking with locals over my trip.  But it was my favorite!

Gandhi Smriti

I made up a lot of time at the Nehru Memorial, so I walked to my next stop.  Along the way, and during the rest of my time walking around New Delhi on Day 1 and Day 12, I was a little taken aback at all the heavily armed guards at their posts, mostly hidden among the trees.  They were guarding upscale residences originally built for British officials.  I’m sure that the residences were now home to Indian government officials.  Clearly, they need serious protection.

I soon reached my destination, one of the most solemn spots on my trip.  Gandhi Smriti (the Gandhi Memorial) is the site of the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi.  Obviously Gandhi is an incredibly important figure in the relatively short history of the nation of India.  But only by spending time in India did I come to realize how he is emblazed on the nation’s psyche.  His image is everywhere.  Even a depiction of his famous round glasses is used as a government logo.

Gandhi Smriti is what was originally an extravagant mansion that was home to a very wealthy Indian family.  Gandhi was frequently the family’s guest.  He had been staying in the mansion, in a room he kept bare and simple, at the time of his assassination.  Gandhi’s actual birth name was Mohandas Gandhi.  Mahatma Gandhi was a name given to him by the public, basically meaning “Gandhi the Great”.  (Not be to confused with “Gandalf the Grey”.)

Lodhi Garden

From Gandhi Smriti, I walked on to Lodhi Garden, a beautiful park built by the British.  As beautiful as Lodhi Garden is, it is also very dramatic as it is the site of a number of ancient tombs and an ancient mosque.  As I would come to realize on my trip, extravagant tombs are a big deal in India.  I also came to realize that North India is much more Islamic than I had previously understood.  Tombs and mosques such as what I encountered in Lodhi Garden were vestiges of the great Mughal Empire, the realm of an Islamic empire that ruled India for centuries.

Khan Market

From Lodhi Garden, it was a hop, skip, and a jump to Khan Market.  I keep reading that Khan Market is a very expensive shopping district.  It sure didn’t seem that way to me.  Then again, I didn’t really do much shopping.  Mostly, I had a casual dinner that was quite good.

I did do a bit of shopping.  Because the hotel was a little stingy and I didn’t want to take any chances, I wanted to pick up some toilet paper.  A single roll would have been sufficient, but the store I went to only had 4-packs.  I ended up traipsing all over North India with my supply and leaving 3 rolls behind in the last hotel where I stayed.  (They kept trying to give it back to me because they thought I forgot it.)

After I left the store, a young boy who worked there came chasing after me.  He returned to me my wallet that I had left sitting on the counter.  I realized how close I had come to just about ruining my trip on my very first night.  I willingly extrapolated the honesty and friendliness of the store staff to all Indians.  They were going to take care of me!

India Gate

Day 1 jet lag was creeping in.  And I had enjoyed my earlier tuk-tuk ride.  So I hopped on board another tuk-tuk, rather than walking, as I had planned, to my final stop of the day.

The British built India Gate in the ’20s to honor the 70,000 members of the British Indian Army killed during WWI and the subsequent war with Afghanistan.  I personally think the British were envying the French and their Arc de Triomphe.

On Day 12, I returned to India Gate for a daylight visit.  But for now, I hailed another tuk-tuk for a quicker ride to the airport express subway station in central Delhi than walking across New Delhi to get to the subway to get to the express subway would have been.  Upon arriving at the station in central Delhi, my driver told me to wear my backpack on the front because there were bad people in the area.  It made me a little nervous.  But I was happy that the driver was looking out for me.  The station was confusing and chaotic, but I made my way back to the airport environs in one piece and without anything stolen.  Being totally exhausted at this point, I once again hitched a ride on a tuk-tuk rather than walking back to the hotel.  The dark road to the hotel didn’t look quite as scary as it had less than 24 hours earlier.  I had come to realize that India was going to challenge me.  But it wasn’t to defeat me.  It was to see if I was up to the task of fully appreciating this incredible country.

Knowing that New Delhi wasn’t representative of the rest Delhi and India, I tried to brace myself for what was to come starting on the morning of Day 2.  But no bracing I could do would have been sufficient for Old Delhi.

[Factual information is primarily gathered from Wikipedia, so you know it must be true.]