First Day in India

     The flight from Addis Ababa to Delhi took off at 11pm and got into Delhi at about 8 in the morning. I didn't have anyone next to me, but still couldn't get much sleep. I don't know what the secret to getting sleep on a plane is.

    The Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi has banners all over it that proudly boast, "Voted Best Airport Again!" In smaller print are the words, "In India and Southeast Asia." I don't think that speaks well of the other contenders. It's not a >>bad<< airport. The airport architecture is unremarkable, but it seems bright and clean and modern--attributes that I'm sure check off boxes for the "best of" voters. But it's one of those airports where you always feel confused about where you are, particularly in relation to where you need to go. That's mixed in with an Indian-style of chaos and bustle.

    In the passport control line, I met a 20-something guy who said that he had a 9 hour layover in Delhi and was going to try to see the Taj Mahal in Agra. He was born in London, grew up in Turkey, now lives in Sweden, and was going to visit his mother in Thailand. Before he got to that part of his biography I was saying to myself, "I can't quite place this accent." Now I know why. Anyway, he decided that the trains and their schedules for Agra wouldn't work for his time frame, so he was planning to hitchhike both ways, because the drive time was 3 hours each way!

    I had a little worry earlier, because I couldn't find my vaccination card for yellow fever, which India and Singapore require if you're coming from some African countries--apparently including Senegal (kind of unnecessary in the dry season: I didn't encounter a single mosquito in Senegal). But, thankfully, the yellow fever vaccination card is, actually, YELLOW, so it popped up in a place in my pack where I wouldn't notice it otherwise. Then (despite requiring it to leave Senegal), they didn't even ask for it.

    I had intended to make a connection to a flight to Jaisalmer in the western desert in India later in the morning, but that flight had gotten changed to one leaving at 3:30 in the afternoon, leaving me with about six hours to explore Delhi. There's a fast subway line that goes from the airport into the center of Delhi, but I had to find the station. As a wandering, confused--looking foreigner, this made me a prime target for the "touts," or people looking to sell you a taxi, a hotel, or whatever. There are lots of them and they don't let up. Really annoying. I may try to get a video of one of them to give you an idea of how persistent they are.

    The subway was great--fast, clean, and cheap (60 rupee, or about 70 cents). 

    I got off at the stop next to the New Delhi Railway Station, a sprawling complex, surrounded by a sea of vehicles of every type: cars, buses, auto rickshaws or tuk-tuks (covered, three-wheel people transports), motor scooters, and trucks. It's even more of a hive of touts than the airport. I had one follow me for about a block. I chose a random auto rickshaw driver out of hundreds, and got a 15 minute ride in one to Purana Qila, which is a historic old fort, partly in ruins. By "fort" they mean a fortified enclosure that once housed a number of other structures, like temples. 

    This one was built by the Mughal emperor Humayun in the 16th century, and it's in pretty bad shape in many areas:

    

...and for those looking for more selfies...

    My allowed time for sightseeing in Delhi for this day was mostly used up at the fort, so I headed back to the train station metro stop on a tuk-tuk. I learned pretty quickly that, like the taxis in Senegal, you need to agree on a price before you step into one. 

    All drivers in India are insane, but the tuk-tuk drives seem the most deranged. There is almost no concept of right of way, or "you're ahead of me, so I'll let you go first." The slightest opening in traffic is free to the first person (rickshaw, car, scooter, or pedestrian), to get there first. Several other driving rules:

-- okay to come within 1" of another vehicle, in any direction

-- okay to make a u-turn into opposing traffic

-- horn should be blown as often as possible, for any reason

-- don't think twice, just go for it

    Ethical conduct and risk of death aside, the tug-tuks are an amazingly cheap and fast way to get around. And they are incredibly fun to ride in.

    Anyway, I got back to the station area to get the subway back to the airport, and decided to check out the main New Delhi Train Station that my Delhi-to-Calcutta train will be leaving from on Friday. It is vast and sprawling and mostly shabby-looking. 

The trains here, at least the long-distance ones, are extremely long. I couldn't see both ends of any trains that I saw, but I would guess that they're at least 15 cars long. The platforms seem to stretch for about half a mile:

    I'm glad that I have a reserved spot in my upcoming train. Here is what it's like for the cheaper, unreserved seating cars:

    I had to wade back through the swamp of touts around the station to get back to the subway stop, and I caught the train back to the airport for my flight to Jaisalmer. This is one of those subways with a barrier wall on the edge of the station platform, and elevator-style doors that open to let you in to the car:

    I flew SpiceJet, a low-cost Indian airline, to Jaisalmer. Among their slogans, plastered on airport walls, jetway stairs, etc., is, "SpiceJet. Red. Hot. Spicy," and "Let's Get High Together." I would suggest, "SpiceJet. Disorganized. Indifferent. Late." The 1.5 hour flight to Jaisalmer was on a Canadian-built Bombardier Q400 turbo prop, and my reserved window seat in the back somehow turned into an aisle front row seat in the check-in process. 

    This was another walk across the pavement and up the stairs kind of boarding process. Man, I wish that all flights would go back to this: it really makes flying more exciting. 

    My only view to the outside before the door was shut on my windowless seat:

    I can't tell you much about this flight, because I couldn't see a thing. It lands at newly-created small airport on the grounds of an army base, and, since it is close to the Pakistan border, seems like it is a pretty active base. 

There were lots of soldiers and soldiers with guns walking around and signs saying "No Photography." And the guns (unlike at the Delhi airport) were odd, small-bore rifles with a wooden stock. They looked like hunting rifles!

    I got a $10 taxi for the 20 minute ride into town. It's a remote town in a mostly desert area, and the roads were mostly small 2-lane roads. But the 5 mile or so stretch of road closest to the airport is a ONE  lane paved road, but with traffic in both directions. This means that at least one of the vehicles has to pull off to the side when they meet. There's no right-of-way based on direction (and they wouldn't obey it if there was), so there is a game of chicken played on every encounter. My driver seemed to lose almost every round:

    It's really ridiculous; they could each swerve halfway off and it would be fine, but every single time, they want to make only the other car get off the pavement.

    I stayed at the Mandir Palace Hotel, which is about 300 years old and I think is actually more like a "haveli" than a palace. Haveli's are a regional type of elaborate, showy residence built for wealthy merchants. Jaisalmer was a trading post on the old Silk Road trading route, which is where is derived all its wealth.

    Anyway, for $120/night, I splurged and got a pretty fancy hotel room at the Mandir Palace:

    I got there almost at dinner time, and the hotel manager, Mr. Bhojraj Singh, suggested that I dine at the hotel, where they would have a buffet set up outdoors on a second-story terrace/courtyard. The food was great, and they kept stocking me up with fresh naan bread and crispy papadum wafers. Mr. Singh was the maître d'hôtel for the outdoor dining as well, having the bonfire brought closer if anyone looked cold, snapping his fingers if it looked like someone's drink needing topping off. He was very formal and dignified, always bowing slightly when he approached, with his hands folded across his waist. I sneaked a picture of him here. He's attending to the needs of a group across from me, and you can easily guess which one he is:

    My room is the green window on the right:

    My dinner:

    And from the rooftop:

    The new moon that I saw just following the setting sun into the western horizon two nights before in Senegal, was now a little older but a lot higher in the sky even later in the evening. About 90 degrees of that difference coming from the additional 6000 miles east around the globe I had come since then (and a little more from the moon's west-to-east movement):

    In the last video you can see a bit of the centerpiece of Jaisalmer: the Jaisalmer Fort, or another walled city, this one built around 1150 AD. Here's a picture of it from the roof of the hotel:

The consummate host, Mr. Singh, arranged for an English-speaking guide to show me the fort, and other treasures around this ancient desert trading town, in the morning.

    But first, I needed to do laundry, and retire for the night in my palace room...

    You have to use whatever you can for the clothes line...