Dec. 5. My travels have finally brought me to Delhi. I"m at the Hotel Maan just for tonight and off to Catherine's school in Mussoorie at 7:00 am tomorrow. The flight went smoothly...a full plan and very different feeling being only one of about 4 white people on a flight of 200!
My driver, Rashib, picked me up. Exiting the airport, we are basically in a dirt parking lot. Rashib is putting my bags in the car, a man comes up help, Rahsib gets mad at him. When Rasib turns his back, the man says quickly to me "one dollar, one dollar" Raship turns around and gets madder at him and the man leaves.
The car ride into Delhi would put most down on the floor waiting for a crash.... hundreds of vehicles and small motorcycles zipping in and out of traffic. Women hold on to their man
on the back of the cycle, as he drives like a man possesed through the traffic. There are many close calls, I kept putting my foot down as if to brake... but Rashib pushed on the horn constantly, and kept up a conversation - hard to understand his accent. It;s about 75 degrees and the smells are a mix of dust, diesel, smoke, and in general acrid air hangs over the city. As we get deeper into the city, we come upon 5-7 way circular stop areas, if you can imagine such a thing. These are place where the beggars hang out. I was looking out one window watching 2 rats scrounge for food on the sidewalk. I hear a tap on my window. I look... there is a girl, no more than 9 or 10 years old, holding an infant.... She points to the baby and asks for money. I must look away but I can't. My eyes fill with tears. I know I can't give her money but I just want to bring her in the car and take care of her. I turn away and the light taps continue. I glance once more as she is walking away. My heart aches. A man with a badly disfigured leg and on crutches is next to the window, then a boy of 10 or so with another infant. It's all so heart
wrenching, knowing no one gives them money or any help. But the driver was not as caring as I , he said they are professional beggars and trained to do what they do by family members. Still it's so difficult to see.
The Hotel Maan is beautiful inside, not much to look at outside, nor in a very nice area. I'll just
hang tight inside my room. The boys who took my bags were quite proud to show me a regular (as we know it) inside toilet. The toilets at the Delhi airport are holes in the floor and one squats over the hole. And one must always bring their own tp. Fortunately, Catherine had given me a heads up on this. My senses are overfilled with everything, I just couldn't begin to imagine any of this before I left home.