<< 2008 Journeys: Bhutan | Day 3: Traveling to the India-Bhutan Border >>
Traveling to Delhi, India
We started our journey by flying to Delhi, India from San Francisco. The trip involved 19 ½ hours of actual flying, with an additional six hours of driving to, and waiting in, airports. We eagerly peered out the window as our plane descended into Delhi. We could clearly see a division between the blackness of the clear night sky above and the murky brown/gray air into which we were sinking below. We had read about the severe air pollution that envelops India’s capital, but we were still a bit surprised that we were able to see the smog at night.
We would be staying overnight in Delhi and then taking a morning flight to the northeastern part of India. We knew that we would be tired after traveling for over 25 hours, and we had read warnings about airport taxi scams, so we had made prior arrangements with our hotel to pick us up at the airport. After clearing customs, we made our way past a long line of men holding placards with names on them; the very last sign (and I was getting a bit worried) had our name on it. It was being held by a small man who immediately grabbed both of our rolling bags and indicated that we should follow him through the crowds ahead.
As we moved forward, the small man gave a nod of his head to two other men, who quickly stepped in pace with us. One spoke very good English, “How are you doing, Ma’am? Did you have a good flight? Welcome to India!” I was a bit confused regarding why there were three men walking with us, and why the smallest man was pulling our two large bags (we had all of our motorcycle gear in them).
When we reached a tiny van that was parked 100 feet from the airport entrance, the man who had been talking to me said, “You need to give that man a tip for carrying your bags.” I had thought the small man was our hotel driver, but perhaps he was just the bag carrier. I was still trying to work out roles, and my brain was a bit fuzzy from lack of sleep. I was wondering how much of a tip to give for rolling our bags such a short distance, so I asked, “How much would you recommend?” Everything became very clear when the man answered, “Oh, ten dollars should be fine.” Ten dollars! Something fishy was happening here. We still weren’t sure what. We gave the small man a couple of dollars. He then turned to the two other men, gave them the money, and hopped into the driver’s seat—he was our driver after all! And we had paid money for the experience of exchanging a few sentences with his friends. Ahhh, the creativity of swindlers . . . live and learn.
Our van maneuvered its way into the Delhi traffic. Ben and I were in awe. First, we had to get used to the vehicles being on opposite lanes than in the United States. (Forward traffic is on the left, not the right.) Then the weave and flow was simply amazing—all kinds of cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, and scooters in a fluid stream without too much regard for lane markings or traffic signals. A small horn toot every few seconds was part of the experience, necessary for letting the other drivers around you know where you were. We learned over time that this seemingly chaotic system actually has very clear rules and is quite organized. We loved it!
I had tremendous admiration for this woman, perched side-saddle on the back of a scooter, and holding a baby in one arm. One big pot-hole, and . . . yikes!
We arrived at our hotel after a very entertaining 40 minutes of driving. We chose to stay at The Amber Hotel due to some good reviews in www.tripadvisor.com (the site offers reviews by actual customers, and we always check it before making any hotel reservations). The hotel was a bit far from the airport, but it was very clean and had a comfortable bed. Here is a photo of the exterior from the hotel’s website:
We checked in after 11 p.m., and the desk clerk was very friendly and deferential to Ben (“Welcome, sir! How are you doing, sir? Have a good evening, sir!”). It took a bit of adjustment for me to get used to being completely ignored by most hotel and restaurant staff in India—the “ladies first” custom appears to be flipped there, so I tried to be culturally sensitive and respectful, going with the flow and smiling in the background.
Three hotel porters insisted on helping us by carrying our two bags to our room, all waiting for a tip after the process. Then, despite that it was midnight, that we were exhausted, and that we had absolutely no interest in watching TV (all of which we clearly communicated), one of the porters insisted on showing us how the TV remote worked and describing the various channels offered. Then the man asked if he could bring us something to eat. When we said we weren’t hungry, he asked if he could bring us something to drink. Ben said, “Okay, a beer would be nice.” Then the man said that he couldn’t just bring us one beer—we would have to order something else. With tired sighs and a firm “no thank you”, we finally closed the door. We were asleep within 15 minutes.
On a humorous note, after we closed the door, I started smelling something burning. I went around the room sniffing, trying to discern what it could be. I was getting quite concerned, as the smell was very strong. We looked out of the window to see if there was a visible fire. Then we realized that the smell was simply the “normal,” but thick, smog that was all around us. What a relief!
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