My New Year's Eve in Delhi

Well, it wasn’t the most exciting New Year’s Eve, but at least I wasn’t curled up in a little ball crying like I worried. Actually, the more likely scenario was that I’d sleep through it entirely because the jet lag was so bad. But at 10 pm I forced myself out of bed. “You’ve got to do something because you can't spend New Year’s Eve in Delhi in bed,” I told myself groggily.

I pulled on my going-out clothes (jeans, V-neck, soccer cleats, and a green hoodie—yeah, I was super hot) and tried to go to Connaught Place, the main commercial district. While it has many bars and restaurants, I just wanted to see if there’d be crowds celebrating outdoors, like we have in so many American cities.

Then Khan started walking with me. Even though I figured he was trying to sell me something, I was by myself on New Year’s Eve, so I decided to accept the bad with the good. Plus, he seemed clean-cut and had better English than the other guy who had approached earlier. Khan kept trying to convince me to go to a local bar in the Paharganj neighborhood where I was staying, but I insisted on walking to Connaught Place.

My first tout in India

For me, the most difficult touts in India are the ones you don’t realize are touts. The guy waving a paper at you, declaring, “Hotel room, 400 rupees!”—I can deal with him. But the guy who comes up, all smiles and, “Can I help you, miss?” or “Where are you from?”—he’s the one I have to be careful of.

I met my first such tout when I exited the New Delhi Railway Station the afternoon I arrived. I was looking for the red-shirted porters that my notes said to ask for directions to Paharganj’s Main Bazaar, the backpacker district. Seeing none, I asked a few people standing around for directions, but they didn’t know. That’s when Viki came up. I saw his “Employee of India” badge and felt assured, despite the fact my Rough Guide specifically says, “assume that anyone who approaches you here—even in uniform—with offers of help…is up to no good.”

The Main Bazaar is literally just a few meters from the entrance to the train station. Thanks to Viki, it took me almost an hour to find it.

India is a trip

There was a point during my first day here in Delhi when I thought, “India’s kinda like Vietnam. They’re both noisy, crowded, and have crazy traffic. It’s not that different.”

And then I saw the cows eating complacently in the middle of the street and thought, definitely not Vietnam.

It’s Day 3 of my trip. I’ve felt frustration (at the touts), pleasure (at my first great Indian curry—took three attempts to find a truly good one), giddiness (because I got a little drunk on New Year’s Eve), relief (whenever I escape to my room, high above Delhi’s Paharganj neighborhood), and more frustration (at more touts).

Well, I said I wanted a challenge. India is certainly that.

Some notes/impressions

• The Airport Metro Express is so clean and shiny.
• If one more man tries to sell me a Srinagar (Kashmir) tour package, I can’t be held responsible for what I do. I told one such man, “I don’t want to go there now, I read that recent temperatures are below freezing.” He asked, “Where did you read that?” I said, “The news.” He said, with scorn, “Oh, the news.” I agreed, “As if they know what they’re talking about."
• I’m not entering any more tourist offices to "take business cards." Both times I walked into an office for that reason, I got offered a seat, a cup of chai, and would I please look at these pictures of Srinagar? I declined and beat a hasty retreat, to looks of annoyance that I wouldn’t play along. Fool me twice, shame on me.
• One man said I should buy a Punjab outfit because touts might think I’m Tibetan and leave me alone. Then he directed me to a tourist office claiming it was a government one, but it wasn’t.
• I’ve been twice asked, “What is your good name?” I did not say, “My good name, dear fellow, is Pauline.”
• I haven’t taken a shower yet because my current shower seems to be a cold water faucet and a bucket. The plan was to find a new hostel, but since I’m leaving tomorrow for Agra there’s no point now. Good thing I have dry hair shampoo. 

Layover in London

So yesterday I finally posted on Facebook that I was going to India (mostly to see if anyone knew anyone in Delhi. The answer is no). But that post reaped a nice surprise: my friend Helena asked if I’d be stopping in London. I am.

I met Helena more than 10 years ago when we taught English in China, and I haven’t seen her since. She’s lived mostly in Asia, but recently moved back to England with her husband and newborn, which I’d completely forgotten.

Things I've learned from Groupon, BuyWithMe, Living Social and the like

I've spent the last year experimenting with discount sites, with a particular affinity for those that focus on silly activities. In fact, on the eve of my trip I'm making myself go to Zumba to use up my 10-workout class package (also, it's good for me). Anyway, here's what I've learned.

I am really bad at:

• Belly dancing
• Pole dancing
• Paintball
• Zumba
• Yoga
• Water yoga
• Skeet shooting
• Capoeira
• Aerial circus tricks (specifically, hoop and tissu)

I am OK at:

• Tai chi
• Jewelry making

I am surprisingly decent at:

• Kayaking
• Stand-up paddle boarding
• Writing long, legalistic letters to Travelzoo about why they need to refund me for my purchase because it's certainly not my fault the skydive company has gone out of business.

Going to India

As I usually say facetiously, but I mean it this time! Except I really do.

Late Monday night I bought a $720 one-way ticket to New Delhi. My flight takes off next Thursday at 9:15 pm and lands at 11:30 am on New Year’s Eve. I know what you’re thinking—one-way tickets are still that cheap this close to takeoff? ($720 is a good price; at best I’d get $1,200 round trip) And more importantly, will I make friends in time to have someone to hang out with for midnight? I know, it worries me too. I have this image of me alone, curled in a little ball, crying as the clock ticks down. “Happy New Year’s, Pauline,” I sniff to myself. Well, it’d have to be uphill from there.

I’m excited that I’ve finally locked myself into it. No more buying $100 visas just to not use them when I get a job. I still haven’t got much of a plan yet about India (though a charity I emailed a month ago just got back to me yesterday about possibly volunteering with them). I’ll figure it out.

In the meantime, I’m still moving out of my place (have to be out by today), taking typhoid pills, going to dance and workout classes for my final Groupon (I don’t know why this is such a priority, but it is), and just taking care of things. I’m not entirely sure where I’m leaving my car. I’m not sure what happens if I get rejected for health insurance. I haven’t fully thought through how to pay my taxes. But hey, I might hate India and only be gone one month. So I’ll take care of everything when I get back.

Running away to India for a bit

Yes, running away is probably the accurate term. Things all fell to hell recently, and I thought, I need to go away.

And isn’t India where people go when they run away, when they need to find themselves, Eat, Pray, Love-style? I'm kidding. India’s been in my head for years now, ever since I asked a backpacker on a round-the-world trip, “What’s your favorite place so far?” and he said, “India, by far. It’s amazing.”

That was good enough for me. I don’t even know much about the place, but I know I want to go somewhere vibrant, changing and challenging.