Trying times

I arrived in Delhi 4 days ago.  Stepping off the air-conditiioned train felt like walking into an oven and reminded me how much milder the climate is in Koraput.  A porter grabbed my bags on the train and proceeded to try to charge me 150 rupees for the privelage of carrying them about 20 steps across the platform.  The going rate is 30 rupees.  I declined to pay him such an exorbitant amount, much to his disgust. I guess this is the price I had to pay for travelling on 1-AC, the only berths available for several days, marking me out as a 'rich' westerner with lots of money to spare.

VSO have housed me in an apartment in Vasant Kunj, sharing with 4 young women staying in Delhi to attend a training course.  They are very nice and friendly but it feels very odd to be sharing with people after so long living alone and is taking some getting used to.  The apartment is kept spotlessly clean by the 'boy',  Junior, who has also been bringing me food from a nearby canteen.  Lots of food.  Too much food.  Junior does not speak English and I do not speak Hindi but we seem to be managing.  However, after a long time of looking after myself, both here in India and my other life in the UK (it is after all, many years since I left my parental home!) I'm finding it strange to have someone waiting on me in my home, even if it is only a temporary home.

I met up with the VSO India country director to talk about my placement in Koraput and discuss what other volunteer options might be available to me.  I had been very tempted with one that I'd already heard about in Bolangir, back in Orissa but having travelled for 40 hours on trains to get from Orissa to Delhi I didn't feel much like reversing the journey to get back to close to where I'd started.  We also explored opportunities here in Delhi but just a few hours in this city was enough to make me realise that I could not stay here for long.  It is vibrant, there is lots to do and interesting things to see but it is also busy, noisy, dirty and above all at the moment, very very hot.  Most of India is hot at this time of year and will of course get hotter and more uncomfortable coming up to the monsoon season as the humidity rises but at least Koraput has the advantage of being in the hills, making it a little cooler.  I have therefore decided to go home to the UK, hopefully being able to continue to provide a little support to SPREAD remotely.

Which has brought me to the next problem.  Volcanic ash.  All airports in the UK have been closed and at the time of writing this, I have no idea when they will reopen.  This is of course very frustrating as I can't plan what to do with my time.  I could have a flight in 3 days time, on the other hand could have to wait another 2 weeks UK flights grounded.  Vasant Kunj is on the edge of the city, close to the airport (handy for when I do eventually get to fly) but a long way from most of the places of interest in Delhi and costly in taxis or autos.  Maybe I should just give up waiting around and travel up into the north for a week and hope that the dust has settled next weekend?

In the meantime, I managed to go out with my friend M to see the stepwell in the middle of Delhi, Agresen ki Baoli.  I had never heard of stepwells before and this one in Delhi is not mentioned in any of the guidebooks I've read but the one I visited is a fascinating place.  They seem to have served a dual purpose, both storing and supplying water and for leisure, providing some shade from the blistering heat of the Indian sun Stepwells.  There are more in Delhi which hopefully I will be able to visit while I'm here but first I will have to go and find somewhere to buy a new brolly to replace the one that I left in an auto.  No rain at the moment but they are great for keeping the heat of the sun off your head.

After exploring the well and admiring the very noisy bats hanging from the roof and pigeons in the recesses, I decided that I would treat myself to a good lunch.  Koraput is lovely - clean air, friendly, relatively quiet and with a good supply of  fresh vegetables but there is nowhere for us westerners to go and indulge ourselves with the sort of treat that we might occasionally have at home.

We walked round to the Imperial Hotel for a bit of luxury in one of the restaurants there but were not impressed by the service.  A waiter came to see us soon after we arrived, bringing us menus.  We immediately asked him to bring us a bottle of mineral water as we were very thirsty after being out in the midday sun.  Half an hour later we were still waiting.  M went to see one of the other waiters to repeat the order for water and give our food order.  We continued waiting.  After another 10 minutes we decided we'd had enough and stomped out and went into another part of the hotel.  A very nice young woman in the bakery section asked if she could help and when we explained the problem, told us to sit down and she'd make sure we were looked after.  True to her promise, she did and we were brought our water which we proceeded to drink very quickly before we indulged in very nice quiche and fruit smoothies.

I then decided that I'd buy myself a couple of snacks from the bakery (such produce not being available in Koraput) to take back to my apartment for supper as I'd already had a good meal at lunch and wouldn't need much more food.  I chose a Danish pastry, apple tart but declined to purchase a hot cross bun when I found out how much they cost.  However, one of these buns was slipped into my box without charge, maybe as an apology for having to wait.  The pastries were lovely and such a treat after so long without such delights.  The only trouble was that Junior proceeded to bring me a dinner of mutter paneer, some other sort of curry, vegetables, rice and roti as well.  There can be problems when you don't speak each other's languages.

I've been trying to rationalise my luggage, deciding what I really want to take with me and what to leave behind to reduce my load when I eventually manage to get on board a plane headed for home.  I got a bit worried when I saw that the zip was tearing away from the body of my case and decided I either needed to find some strong sticky tape to strap it all together and hope it would survive baggage handling or go out to buy a new case.  I had decided on the latter as luggage is probably much cheaper here in India than in the UK but then one of my flat-mates told me that Junior could get it mended for me.  And he did.  He marched off with my empty, split case and a 100 rupee note to a nearby cobbler and returned half an hour later with a case as good as new (well, almost) and 60 rupees change.   India seems to be very good at fixing things, not like our throwaway society in Europe and North America.  I now have to get everything repacked.

The auto drivers seem to have problems finding their way round Vasant Kunj.  To my outsider's eye it looks very anonymous with few easily identifiable landmarks.  I am not sure that there is much logic to the block numbering system either.  You might think that Block C would be next to Block B or that Sector 3 next to Sector 4 but I'm not convinced this is the case here.  The drivers I've used so far keep stopping, leaping out to ask for directions, driving a few more metres then stopping again, looking just as confused as I feel.  My journey last night had the added interest of being driven several hundred metres along the wrong side of a dual carriageway to get to a filling station.  I guess that was the shortest routes but I am a coward when being driven into queues of fast moving traffic going the opposite way to us.  After refilling with gas we proceeded (in the right direction this time, thankfully) and meandered along for another half hour, looking for the apartments.  However, we got back safely and parted with smiles.