Had a relatively stress-free journey to Pahar Ganj and settled into a reasonably priced hotel with a clean bathroom, helpful desk staff, and cheap airport taxi service. (What's the catch? Hoping there is none..)
Please note that in order to fit all our bags and all 3 of us into one rickshaw, I was lucky enough to get to ride shotty with the driver, basically half hanging out of the car to avoid being elbowed in the boob every time he made a turn and having the ultimate front-row view of the ridiculousness that is Delhi roads. No, I am not being sarcastic when I say lucky. I freaking love sitting shotty.
Went to a cafe with Liz and Jessie to get my morning cappuchino fix, then we split up while Jessie went to get passport photos and Liz went to use the phone. I just wanted to go to the passport photo place and grab the key from Jessie so I could go back to the room and stretch.....
I get to the passport photo place. Jessie is not there. "Passport photos are 100 rupees, ma'm." "I'm just looking for my friend." "She already left." So I leave the photo place and start walking back to the hotel. Some guy is following me and I am trying to semi nicely explain that I am just looking for my friend while he is trying to show me another place to get passport photos. Then I say no thanks and get asked if I want to do shopping. I say I want nothing, thanks.
Get to the hotel, nobody is there. Attempt to walk around.
"Taxi, ma'm?"
"Do you want to do shopping, ma'm?"
"What do you want?"
I say nothing, thanks.
I duck into a side alley which ends up being a loooong street full of fruit and vegetable stands. Here the vibe is completely different - I do not get offered to buy one thing, it is unusually quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India.
**Keep in mind that quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India still involves dogs on top of banana peels making narrow escapes from rickshaw drivers who are trying to make their own narrow escapes from motorcycle drivers while people with bags of fruit are ducking this way and that and bike riders are backing up into a semi parking spot next to a pile of trash.
But anyway, orderly, peaceful, everyone buying fruit and doing their own thing and I don't even really feel like I'm getting that many stares.
Back on the main drag, making some left turns to get back to the hotel. I stop to look at bags and find one that I really like. Of course the shop owner coughs all over everything in the world when he gets it down but honestly, that barely even phases me at this point. Then someone runs over from across the street and says "ma'm, I have much more bags in my shop, it's just across the street." And the owner of this shop is also like yeah, let's go look at the bags across the street so I think fine, I'll look at more bags. Note that at this point I am in an open spot on the main drag, completely visible and safe. But then...
THE STORE OWNER HAS THE NERVE TO OPEN A DOOR TO A PRIVATE STAIRCASE AND BECKON ME UP THE STAIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do I really look like I have ONE TOTAL BRAIN CELL and I am going to follow you up a sketchy staircase to "look at bags?"
At this point I keep walking down the street, lividly fantasizing of punching coughing creeper man in the teeth.
And the comments continue.. hello how are you? where are you from? I like your hair! Do you want a rickshaw? Do you want an ATM? Come to my shop!
By the time I made my third loop around the block looking for my friends, though, I think I was emanating enough "I-will-punch-you-in-the-teeth-right-now" vibes that the constant nagging somewhat died down.
Yeah India!!!!!
Please note that in order to fit all our bags and all 3 of us into one rickshaw, I was lucky enough to get to ride shotty with the driver, basically half hanging out of the car to avoid being elbowed in the boob every time he made a turn and having the ultimate front-row view of the ridiculousness that is Delhi roads. No, I am not being sarcastic when I say lucky. I freaking love sitting shotty.
Went to a cafe with Liz and Jessie to get my morning cappuchino fix, then we split up while Jessie went to get passport photos and Liz went to use the phone. I just wanted to go to the passport photo place and grab the key from Jessie so I could go back to the room and stretch.....
I get to the passport photo place. Jessie is not there. "Passport photos are 100 rupees, ma'm." "I'm just looking for my friend." "She already left." So I leave the photo place and start walking back to the hotel. Some guy is following me and I am trying to semi nicely explain that I am just looking for my friend while he is trying to show me another place to get passport photos. Then I say no thanks and get asked if I want to do shopping. I say I want nothing, thanks.
Get to the hotel, nobody is there. Attempt to walk around.
"Taxi, ma'm?"
"Do you want to do shopping, ma'm?"
"What do you want?"
I say nothing, thanks.
I duck into a side alley which ends up being a loooong street full of fruit and vegetable stands. Here the vibe is completely different - I do not get offered to buy one thing, it is unusually quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India.
**Keep in mind that quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India still involves dogs on top of banana peels making narrow escapes from rickshaw drivers who are trying to make their own narrow escapes from motorcycle drivers while people with bags of fruit are ducking this way and that and bike riders are backing up into a semi parking spot next to a pile of trash.
But anyway, orderly, peaceful, everyone buying fruit and doing their own thing and I don't even really feel like I'm getting that many stares.
Back on the main drag, making some left turns to get back to the hotel. I stop to look at bags and find one that I really like. Of course the shop owner coughs all over everything in the world when he gets it down but honestly, that barely even phases me at this point. Then someone runs over from across the street and says "ma'm, I have much more bags in my shop, it's just across the street." And the owner of this shop is also like yeah, let's go look at the bags across the street so I think fine, I'll look at more bags. Note that at this point I am in an open spot on the main drag, completely visible and safe. But then...
THE STORE OWNER HAS THE NERVE TO OPEN A DOOR TO A PRIVATE STAIRCASE AND BECKON ME UP THE STAIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do I really look like I have ONE TOTAL BRAIN CELL and I am going to follow you up a sketchy staircase to "look at bags?"
At this point I keep walking down the street, lividly fantasizing of punching coughing creeper man in the teeth.
And the comments continue.. hello how are you? where are you from? I like your hair! Do you want a rickshaw? Do you want an ATM? Come to my shop!
By the time I made my third loop around the block looking for my friends, though, I think I was emanating enough "I-will-punch-you-in-the-teeth-right-now" vibes that the constant nagging somewhat died down.
Yeah India!!!!!
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