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I've never been travelling before, sure I've been to plenty of countries but at only three days in I am finding there is a massive difference between travelling and going to another country on holiday. Perhaps India wasn't the best place to make this discovery but then again I am an all-or-nothing kind of person, so the deep end is where I was always going to start.
We (me and my girlfriend, Hatty) landed in New Delhi around lunchtime on the 16th January. Upon getting off the plane my head was rushing with all the things I had heard about this vibrant and eccentric city, teamed with the lack of sleep, the realisation that I had given up my life back home this trip I was feeling more than anxious. All of that left me the second I got into the airport, there was no noise, no crowds, no cows. Instead there was all the things I had come to expect of an airport, signs in English, a duty free shop and a Costa coffee. I felt both cheated and relived at the same time.
After a short half hour queue to get us through customs and passport control we got our first taste of outside Delhi, booming in through the doors was the sound of drums, people and car horns. I was excited to get out there and see it, plus I am a sucker for a good drum beat. But looking over at Hatty who's face still held some of the fear I had felt stepping off the plane I knew we would have to apply caution before stepping out to the unknown. I should also say that I was nervous as hell at this stage but I am somewhat more spontaneous- that's my internal struggle I guess.
Once outside we opted to find a taxi to get us into the centre. A car is the best and worst place to be in Delhi. On the one hand it offers you security from the over curious locals and money hungry children but when I say there is no order to their roads, I mean there is NO ORDER. We were on a road which had three lanes marked out for northbound traffic and three for southbound. The two roads were divided by one part concrete bollards, one part heaps of dirt and one part wild dogs. We sat in traffic, where normally you would expect to see a car beside you and another beside that, filling the three lanes- not here.
A minimum of 6 "vehicles" side by side, some facing forward, some sideways and other in the complete wrong direction. The traffic was made up of cars, motorbikes and tuk-tuks, camels, cows, dogs, children and street vendors. The roundabouts are seemingly used as peoples homes, their washing hung on low lying wires. People have said to me that they couldn't come to India because of the poverty, at this stage I couldn't tell you what is poverty and what is normality.
The drive into town was quick but finding our hostel was not. There is a big election taking place here at the moment and Obama is visiting, or to give him his full name, the President of the United States of America, Barrack Obama. These two things make for a very big deal here and a a result the police have closed of large chunks of the city. Our driver tries every main road and side road he can squeeze (scrape) his car down but no joy. After an hour (felt like a day) we decided to go to a Tourist Information Centre.
From here we call our hostel and find out that the road it is situated in is closed all week and that we cant get there, not even on foot. The travel agent then told us that Delhi is basically a no go zone, so instead we should travel 5 hours on to Agra. We had a cup of Indian Chai, a very sweet tea and loaded the bags into a car and set of for Agra.
That was day one.
We (me and my girlfriend, Hatty) landed in New Delhi around lunchtime on the 16th January. Upon getting off the plane my head was rushing with all the things I had heard about this vibrant and eccentric city, teamed with the lack of sleep, the realisation that I had given up my life back home this trip I was feeling more than anxious. All of that left me the second I got into the airport, there was no noise, no crowds, no cows. Instead there was all the things I had come to expect of an airport, signs in English, a duty free shop and a Costa coffee. I felt both cheated and relived at the same time.
After a short half hour queue to get us through customs and passport control we got our first taste of outside Delhi, booming in through the doors was the sound of drums, people and car horns. I was excited to get out there and see it, plus I am a sucker for a good drum beat. But looking over at Hatty who's face still held some of the fear I had felt stepping off the plane I knew we would have to apply caution before stepping out to the unknown. I should also say that I was nervous as hell at this stage but I am somewhat more spontaneous- that's my internal struggle I guess.
Once outside we opted to find a taxi to get us into the centre. A car is the best and worst place to be in Delhi. On the one hand it offers you security from the over curious locals and money hungry children but when I say there is no order to their roads, I mean there is NO ORDER. We were on a road which had three lanes marked out for northbound traffic and three for southbound. The two roads were divided by one part concrete bollards, one part heaps of dirt and one part wild dogs. We sat in traffic, where normally you would expect to see a car beside you and another beside that, filling the three lanes- not here.
A minimum of 6 "vehicles" side by side, some facing forward, some sideways and other in the complete wrong direction. The traffic was made up of cars, motorbikes and tuk-tuks, camels, cows, dogs, children and street vendors. The roundabouts are seemingly used as peoples homes, their washing hung on low lying wires. People have said to me that they couldn't come to India because of the poverty, at this stage I couldn't tell you what is poverty and what is normality.
The drive into town was quick but finding our hostel was not. There is a big election taking place here at the moment and Obama is visiting, or to give him his full name, the President of the United States of America, Barrack Obama. These two things make for a very big deal here and a a result the police have closed of large chunks of the city. Our driver tries every main road and side road he can squeeze (scrape) his car down but no joy. After an hour (felt like a day) we decided to go to a Tourist Information Centre.
From here we call our hostel and find out that the road it is situated in is closed all week and that we cant get there, not even on foot. The travel agent then told us that Delhi is basically a no go zone, so instead we should travel 5 hours on to Agra. We had a cup of Indian Chai, a very sweet tea and loaded the bags into a car and set of for Agra.
That was day one.
It sounds amazing
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