It is Monday the 13th of February, and our first day in India; Delhi to be precise. We left Melbourne at 1 am, flying to Singapore, then the final leg to Delhi; all with Singapore Airlines. I pushed my bag into an overhead locker, and out popped my water bottle which hit a Sikh on the head! Luckily the padding of his blue turban was sufficient to protect him and I checked that by patting him on the head a few times just to make sure. He took these high jinks in good spirits.
We arrived at Delhi International Airport at 11:30 and then spent an hour and a half in a queue of about a dozen people, as we snaked our way ( at the velocity of a python suffering a particularly vicious cold snap) to the official who was checking our E visas. E ( for electronic) visas are meant to be quicker and simpler, “meant to be” and what “is”, are two very different things. Anyhow, we finally got through to the next section. Part of the problem were idiot tourists who repeatedly applied their fingertips and fingernails to the biometric scanners which just spat it!
A taxi had already been booked for us by Intrepid, and we met a young man, who introduced us to our driver. The trip in was a cross between a really savage game of rally x and formula 1 racing but with far fewer rules. The white lines are used to line up the middle of the car bonnets, traffic signals are flashy decorations, motor cyclists cascade around the road. Not to forget the gaily coloured green and yellow rickshaws which have the engine capacity of a tonka truck, but driven with an attitude of foolhardy aggression often seen in spitfire pilots during the Battle of Britain.

We arrived at the Perfect Hotel, yes that’s its name, after negotiating a busy market. Imagine driving a car, its horn singing out, through the Victoria Market through distracted shoppers and well, you get the idea. The room we have is spacious and comfortable, sporting a huge, heavy, darkly timbered wardrobe, a five seater lounge and comfortable bed, I hope. We repacked day bags as we are in a bit of a rush; we had previously booked a street food tour with Urban Adventures, an offshoot of Intrepid, needing to meet our guide by 4pm at gate 4 of Vishwidhalaya Station. We walked the short distance through the market, to the Karol Bagh Metro Station, taking the train to there. There are always a lot of people rushing around; Delhi’s inhabitants seem to have mastered the art of semi random motion and velocity, just bouncing off each other with minimal damage whether as pedestrians or drivers. 

Richa is the name of the charming young woman who guided us on the street food tour. After introductions in her impeccable english, we began by boarding a rickshaw outside the station. Another older driver was so incensed about missing our fare that he abused our driver vociferously, then tried to strangle him. Business is tough in Delhi. I can only admire their commitment to robust commercial enterprise.
We were driven along the bumpy roads to the urban area near Delhi University where some of the best street food is available. It’s cheap accomodation and food for students who live there. The streets narrow, buildings vertical looming over the roads, the paths are often broken but there is no rush at least for us on this tour.. Rickshaws offer abundant open air, no suspension, and a level of physical protection equivalent to a whicker basket. We chatted as we walked between food venues. The varied a great deal, from small roofed sellers with no seats, to student cafes with young people singing Beetle songs with a ukulele as accompaniment, to ancient establishments alive with the sounds of enthusiastic Hindi, the penultimate venue was a cafe cooking here in Delhi for a hundred years.  

The meals were all delicious, ten courses in all. There were paneer and chicken schwarmas, semolina cakes with yoghurt, fried potatoes coated in clarified butter, a kulfi ice cream on a stick, and all sorts of other yummy things. Her list is below.

We talked about many interesting topics; racism as it exists in our two countries, women and marriage in India, photography and the history of Delhi especially the Mughals contribution to Shajahanabad, that’s Old Delhi.
The evening concluded with a metro trip back to our hotel. Wow, I thought the earlier crowds were impressive, but now, the trains and stations were packed. When the carriage doors open there is rush to get out intermeshed with the equally violent surge to get in. I pity the poor buggers at the tail end of the exiting crowd, their arms waving above their heads, too cramped to shove anyone, and still pushing desperately to get out. Once onboard, it’s important to plan your exit, sliding your way as near the door as arrival becomes imminent, to have any chance of exiting at your desired station. 

We had Chai up on the Rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s decor, a splendid fusion of Indian tropes. There are standing Coloured Rajas, sitting Buddha blobs , stuccos of technicolor Shivas swirling about, and a fondness for dark timber furniture. The sky is a dark celeste blue with Venus shining above Delhi, the sounds a combination of all those nutty drivers attached to their car horns and the yelping of street dogs all interrupting the night.

Another successful day!