Grab the dirty laundry – shove it in the big backpack. Collect all the power cords. The toiletries. Don't forget the toiletries. The empty duffle and small backpack. Can we still afford to keep these, or is it time to check one or both? I'll try to shove at least one into my big backpack.
Run down the street while Emily's showering, order two Israeli sabvichs to go and print out the e-ticket itinerary from the Internet shop. Run back to the hotel to post the blog. Run back to pick up the sabvichs – four flights of stairs up and down. Problem with the blog – try to fix that. Emily has the guys loading the car to the airport. Jump into the car sitting in the middle of the road, blocking everything. Go.
It was a relatively smooth departure from the hotel in Udaipur. Travel days are often a little harried. But once we were in the car with our stuff and our Israeli wraps for lunch, it was all smooth sailing from there.
Except for when our driver almost killed a couple on a motorcycle. We were passing through one of the main intersections of new Udaipur when the driver slammed on the brakes and there was a loud screech.
The front of our car hit a couple turning right (the equivalent of making a left-turn at home) on the back of their very tiny 110cc motorcycle. The bike toppled and the young woman in a beautiful red sari sitting side-saddle went tumbling onto the road. She was either flexible, trained to handle a bike accident or both, because she rolled like she was doing a somersault and got up, seemingly okay.
Two cops were in the intersection directing traffic. They stopped everything, looked and talked. Our driver rolled down the front passenger window and seemingly asked if they were alright. Some discussion ensued among the parties and then I heard the driver say, "something something, something, something AIRPORT something something" which in my vast understanding of Hindi I figured was something along the lines of, "I'm taking these white people to the airport."
After that the police officers disbursed everyone and it was over.
Emily and I both knew that any less braking or another driver making the slightest error and people on the bike could have been maimed or killed. We were grateful and amazed it wasn't worse. Likewise, there could easily have been a pile-up slamming into us. We were spared that too.
I sustained a very minor head scratch caused largely by the fact that I have to crouch down to fit into some of these little Indian cars. I bounced up and my head hit the handle above the door. No big deal – my head is made of concrete.
I'm not sure, but I think we were more shocked and horrified than the driver or the police. I'm sure the girl was far more horrified than we were.
From there it really was smooth sailing. The Udaipur airport is new and nice. We were told to go through security – a line in the middle of the small terminal – early because there was a a VIP coming through on his way to a fancy Udaipur wedding. It's wedding season right now and every night there were fireworks coming from some extravagant wedding reception or other – many of them at the palace of Jagmandir Island.
On my way through security, I had a particularly well-spoken and nice security guard body-scanning me, so I asked who the VIP was. "Just some very rich person. This happens," he said as if it were an unnecessary annoyance.
Through large windows of the terminals, we saw the Jet Airways flight land and park. A team of about 20 people came running up to it and put a red carpet at the bottom of the stairs. A very old man accompanied by a number of aides came down from the plane where the ground crew line up in respect. The manager of the ground services and the airport presented themselves and greeted him. The other passengers on the plane waited while all this took place.
Once the team escorted the man off the tarmac, the other passengers were allowed to disembark. In an airport that has a CIP lounge (Commercially Important Person), I guess this makes sense. We were told proudly that Udaipur is the only airport with a CIP lounge – as opposed to the usual VIP lounge. I suppose other kinds of important people get kicked to the curb….
Jet Airways – which we've used twice now – was awesome as usual. Best yet, they served a light snack which included Indian street-food items. Finally, I could try pav bhaji – the Indian version of a sloppy joe – from the sanitized safety of an airplane.
Arriving in Delhi, my sense of irony was amused that the first thing I smelled as we stepped off the plane was the smell of poop. Probably cow. However the new Delhi airport (not in New Delhi) is very nice.
For the first time in our travels, we had a driver holding a sign with our names waiting for us outside the airport terminal. Our hotel includes airport pickup and morning breakfast in the package. The driver insisted on wheeling our luggage cart out to the parking garage for us and took us by private car to our hotel.
While we didn't hit anyone on this drive, there were plenty of people who had already been hit by life. The drive through Old Delhi toward our hotel in New Delhi was somewhat as I expected – lined with chaotic streets with very poor people.
At one point, a young girl – maybe seven or eight years old – looking soot covered and disheveled slammed herself up against Emily's window, begging. Emily nearly died.
This is a difficult issue. Because there are children exploited as part of "begging rings" where adults profit off their running around begging, we are both reticent to ever give money to children begging. We don't want to further child exploitation, which also prevents these kids from getting to non-profit and government resources for street kids and orphans.
At the same time, you see a dirty child literally slamming herself against a car window – and it's hard not to feel horrible.
In Mumbai we experienced aggressive beggars who came up to our taxi windows. Always adults and always looking not-so-starving. We made it our practice to give food to people who looked like they needed it. We've decided to do the same here in Delhi.
It's hard to know how to do the right thing and not to further the problem. After all, there are so many people who live in slums and abject poverty who use public restrooms and showering facilities, clean up, put on decent looking clothes and go to work. They don't beg, but they are the ultimate working poor. That's why we believe – when in doubt, tip. The people carrying bags and pushing your luggage cart to the garage are probably the ones most likely to appreciate the tip.
From car's eye view, Delhi has more people wandering randomly across and through streets that Mumbai did. It has rougher edges. It also has areas with incredible high-end hotels and phenomenal shopping.
The world changes when you enter New Delhi. After all, the British built it. In 1911, when King George V and Queen Mary made the only trip a British monarch ever made to colonial India, they held a Delhi Durbar – a session at which a maharaja, prince or ruler holds court out in the open.
All the princes of India and British officials were summoned to Delhi where the king announced the capital of the Indian Empire would move from Calcutta to Delhi. He and Queen Mary subsequently held a ceremony to lay the foundation stone of the building of New Delhi.
When building an imperial capital, you don't want unpaved, disjointed streets nor second rate, hovels. New Delhi – from the little we saw of it our first night – has the wide thoroughfares and roundabouts you might expect from the British, and which were also prevalent in Mumbai.
We went to Connaught Place for dinner – and were more than impressed with how the entire, giant roundabout was lined with British colonnaded buildings, filled with high-end stores and restaurants. If not for the people, the street vendors and the occasional child begging, it wouldn't have felt like India at all.
As far as our personal needs go – we are in one of the nicest hotels of our trip. The rooms are recently renovated, sleek and modern. There's not a trace of India in it all – it could easily be anywhere in the world. And while it lacks local charm, it is very comfortable, clean and pleasant with the most comfortable bad in our trip, edging out Istanbul for the best bed award. We thought it couldn't be done.
It's a hotel we'd be happy with at home. Most importantly, it has great Internet and the WiFi works throughout. Even on the nicely gardened roof-top restaurant at which I'm writing.
Sent from my iPad
