Marco. Polo.

On a mission for spices, on my last day in India, I took a trip into Old Delhi. Khari Baoli is Delhi's renowned and ancient spice market. Piles of cumin, chili, cardoman, masala mix, etc. are displayed on every corner.

The smell of spices was so thick at times, that I started to sneeze uncontrollably. Saffron is the spice market's gold, and was only available by request--hidden in a secret stash by the vendor.

In addition to spices, this seemed to be the area to go to for nuts and dried fruits. Everything is sold by weight (rupees per kg)--even all of the spices. None of those piddly grams or ounces here.

The process seemed to be everywhere. I even saw one woman sifting spices while sitting in the middle of the street.

Having paid out all of my remaining spare rupees, I took a slight deviation to look at the cloth/silk section of Old Delhi, then I hopped back on the metro, spices in hand, ready to shift continents and explore Kenya. I do love all the colours in this country. I'm determined to bring colour into my life even more, wherever that may be.

The hostel that was, or would be.

On my last night in Delhi, coming off a wonderful visit in the foothills of the Himalayas, I was excited to stay in a hostel that had had rave reviews from friends I'd met along my travels. They said it was clean, laid back, it had a garden, free breakfast, free wifi. It sounded like paradise.

I got off of the metro, with my hiking pack (while lighter than many, it's still a pack), and proceeded to wander the streets of Delhi, unable to find this hostel to save myself.

I asked person after person, and was sent down one street after another (walking several kilometers), until a little girl pointed me towards a gate, topped with these beautiful spikes that Vlad the Impaler would have been proud of. She gestured, telling me to go through. I turned, tentatively, and she giggled still more.

Walking through this gate I passed a goat, and a scrap yard. I turned back, the girl was still giggling.

I passed a building that didn't seem to be operational, and another that was under construction. A man beckoned me into the building that had workers on scaffolding on one side, and all about people were dragging things in and out of the building (I took the picture afterwards, when much of the mayhem had been temporarily concluded).

Turns out my wonderful hostel had been too popular, so they'd decided to move to a bigger building, and were constructing it while I was staying there. They'd connected the power that day! Despite all this, it worked out fine. But it underscores for me the feeling of Delhi: under construction, things changing daily, and no matter what you're told, you never know what you're going to get.

We knocked the bastard off, well, kind of.

From the insanity of Delhi, I left on an overnight bus for Manali. Nowhere near as comfortable as those fabulous trains. In addition, there was a crash ahead of us that had us in gridlock for 5 hours. We arrived 8 hours later than projected. In the spirit of making the best of a bad situation, I saw whole groups of Indians giving up on the whole transit thing, and picnicking on and around their buses. Now that's the right attitude.

It all worked out anyways, as it meant that it was light for the stunning, winding views as we made our way up into the foothills of the Himalayas. There were intricate terraces cut into the hillsides, and some rather precarious looking structures hanging on for dear life.

I stayed at a lovely inn, Drifter's, and decided to just chill for the couple days. The area I was staying in is Old Manali, less busy than the main Manali area. I was quite averse to getting back into any vehicle after that ride, so I explored a much smaller area than I might have.There was as much walking as possible, and I must say, the days of walking up the hill home in Dunedin are long gone, and my legs were quite sore afterward.

 Old Manali is known for growing apples and pears. The picture above is a beautiful old apple orchard. I'm not sure what the yellow ground cover/flowers are, though.

I did go up to Vishist and visit the temples there (at the suggestion of John Cottle--thanks for all the advice!), and used the public hot springs/baths. This, more than Manali, seemed to be frequented by locals or at least nationals holidaying in the area. I had a great conversation with a young Indian girl from Kerala who was originally born in Edinburgh. I told her about how Dunedin's street layout was a carbon copy of Edinburgh, and she told me that I must visit, then. I think she's right :)

This area of the Himalayas was very clearly a melding of Tibetan and Indian culture. I tried local foods, and could see from the clothing of people around me that this was an intersection of peoples. Tibetan prayer flags were abundant, too.

Thinking about my friends in DC, I noticed some cherry blossoms! And then, Caryl Sue . . . just for you--Bollywood in action!

It was too early to leave, but I had to get to Delhi to catch a plane to Africa! And I thought after the bus ride fiasco on the way up, that I should leave a day of buffer time just in case.

The wonder lives up to its name.

The Taj Mahal was beautiful to see. It was nice to just spend a little time sitting on the cold marble, watching the colours of the sky, and reflections on the water and the white marble change over time. If you go right at dawn, it's much less crowded for the first hour or so. . . then it gets pretty busy. Also, the cooler part of the day is just so hard to waste. Who would have thought I'd convert to getting up at 5:30am and going to bed at 9:00pm on this trip?

Here's the standard tourist pose for mum. I can't seem to rotate photos and get the dimensions to stay proportionate, but you get the idea.

I wandered around with Boris from Germany and Yoshi from Japan. Boris had just finished a meditation retreat, and Yoshi is off to find somewhere to learn yoga. There is a lot of "spiritual tourism" in India, and many travellers I have come across have spent some time on Ashrams. It seems like it would be an amazing experience, although you will never get me doing yoga in India . . . I'm embarrassing enough back home.

There are more buildings, just as stunning, that are worked into the overall layout of the complex along with the main mausoleum/Taj Mahal.

Bees just like we saw in Angkor were making their home under one of the arches. It's such an interesting style of beehive, I'd love to learn more about them.

Today I'm leaving Agra, and going North past Delhi to the foothills. I'm hoping to get on a bus going to Manali. Should be a bit cooler, and I might even delve into the part of my bag that contains all of my warmer clothes--these haven't seen the light of day since the New Zealand summer (when they saw all too much daylight).

Holi, those kids have good aim!

I spent Holi, the Indian festival of colour, in Varanasi. Varanasi is said to be the cultural/religious center of India. There have been people living in that location for 5000 years. Its streets and buildings seem to be built on top of each other, and the winding alleys are something to behold. Kudos to Veena for pointing me in this direction.

Getting to my hostel in Varanasi, I took an auto-rickshaw from the train station which led to a point where auto-rickshaws could no longer pass, then I got on a cycle rickshaw, until it, too, was too big for the narrow streets. Then I had a porter (just so that someone would show me where to go) carry my bag the last few streets to my hostel. And I thought there were narrow streets in Delhi.

The place where I was staying no longer had internet, because the monkeys had gotten in and chewed through the cords. In fact, the monkeys were regular fixtures as we were eating meals in the open-air rooftop restaurant.

I arrived the day before Holi, and took to the streets. I joined forces with a wee boy called Guru (or at least that's what I think he said) to get myself some ammo for Holi (powder and a water pistol). We got a little carried away, and had a preemptory Holi, with him acting as a sight, and me as the sharp shooter. Later we switched roles.

Guru also took me to a local kids' cricket game, where I batted an over, well aware that the honour of New Zealand, and women everywhere, was at stake. I was clearly the only female in the game, and perhaps the ony who had ever joined in. I don't think I completely embarrassed myself, but I definitely was bowled slowly to :) The teenagers hanging around that area reminded me of hoodlums from the 70s. Great fun.

I had been told very explicitly from our hostel owner not to go out that night, or the next morning, as the men get drunk and rowdy in the streets during Holi.  That night, I had dinner on the rooftop with two American girls who were travelling circuitously on their way home from teaching English in South Korea. We decided not to go out that night, but that the morning of Holi we would brave the craziness.

In the morning, I watched from the balcony (checking out the strategies of five urchins on the neighbouring building, pelting those below with water balloons). That is, until they caught me watching and started throwing them my way. If you do ever visit India during Holi, watch out for your camera, because not only does not it deter kids from getting you wet, they actually aim for it.

Carrie, Tara, and I loaded our water bottles and water pistols, and ran out of the building quickly and turned the corner. Luckily, we stumbled on another kid, Baday, who led us through the streets, avoiding the men, and leading us into the fray with local kids. Suffice to say, we were completely pulverized. Little girls with supersoakers filled with blue paint, no mercy in their eyes, laughed and sprayed us directly in the face. Boys from rooftops dumped entire buckets of orange paint onto our heads as we unknowingly walked beneath their traps. It was amazing. The giggles of delight as they sprayed us with rapid fire purple stripes as we ran for dear life, and the calls of "come back, come back" made me laugh out loud. I've never felt so dirty and disgusting in my life, but it was so much fun. I'm still getting pink out of my hair, and blue from beneath my finger nails. Luckily we avoided the silver paint that reports say can cause blindness.

The following morning the two girls and I went on a dawn boat ride on the Ganges. It was beautiful to see the sun come up, and amazing to see the architecture, and human happenings along that holy river. The area where we were staying was near a ghat in which people are cremated to be spread on the Ganges. Regularly processions of families carrying their deceased loved ones passed us in the narrow alleyways, and from the water, we could see the funeral pyres along the edge of the river.

Varanasi was amazing, but I guess that travel itch starts to take hold, because I have decided to move on already, to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal.

Darjeeling Unlimited with the W word. But not actually Darjeeling.

Travelling in India is one of the best things ever. In most situations/places travelling overnight to save on accommodation costs results in a night of little sleep, and a day of grumpy sightseeing. This isn't the case in India. I have only travelled a couple times as yet, but the cross-country journey was fabulous. I met lovely local people on the first trip, and on the second it was a tourist mini-United Nations. We shared stories and food, and each time I got about 10 hours of really good sleep. This could be due to the fact that my minor super power is sleep, or it could be that they are just that good.

There are some logistical difficulties--sometimes figuring out your platform or when your stop will come is a little difficult, but people seem willing to help.

About the only thing I didn't like about my train trip, was--after explaining what job I used to do in the real world--a nice Indian man proceeded to quiz me on how to build websites. After badgering me into talking about this (despite me repeatedly telling him, that it didn't really work that way, and that I wasn't a programmer), he took notes, and invited me over to his family's for post-Holi feast food, and to teach him more how to build a website. Patricia would be proud of the example wireframe I sketched for him.

He wanted to build this website about spirituality/divinity and Varanasi. He also wanted to make it like Facebook or Twitter, so that it was a community, and he wondered if National Geographic would want to fund it. Suffice to say, despite really really wanting to go to that dinner--if only to taste homemade Indian food--I proceeded to accidentally lose that phone number.

No, I don't want to go for coffee.

Delhi is a mixed bag. I'm amazed and in love with the colours and life, but I am overwhelmed and frustrated at times by the pushiness of the people and the noise/traffic. The drivers seem to drive straight down the middle of two lanes, so as to be able to choose one or the other at a moment's notice. It's really more like an organic being, than an ordered experience of driving. It's amazing the small spaces vehicles can fit into.

Yesterday I spent the morning walking and getting more and more frustrated as I was approached by more and more touts/rickshaw drivers, who were pretty bold and persistent. So, I ducked into the underground (best thing ever) and discovered that the first car of metro trains is only for women. Obviously gets rid of the objectification, but also they're way less crowded, so you can often sit. I had a lovely talk with a woman who pointed me in the direction of an area of town that locals shop for clothes. She told me what I was wearing was fine, but I figured it couldn't hurt (I'd read that people are more courteous if you're wearing local clothing). I do love all the bright beautiful colours everyone wears.

This area of town was much less pushy, and I managed to get outfitted with a scarf, pair of pants and two tops, Indian style. Feeling confident, $20 poorer, but armed with the knowledge that I looked (somewhat) like a local, I returned to the old city area.

Apparently, I still have the same kind of overly friendly touts, but now I also have everyone else. I think while wandering around the Red Fort I had between 10 and 15 groups of people come up and ask to have their pictures taken with me. Kids, couples, families, groups of friends, men, it didn't matter. I pulled one woman (women are crucial in travel--they're so much more helpful) aside and asked her if I was wearing something wrong, or what was going on, and she said I looked fine, that it wasn't to do with my clothes, then giggled. Hmmm. The two answers I managed to get from people were 1. it's the custom here, and 2. maybe it is because you are "U.S.A" and they think you are a movie star. Sigh. There must have been over 30 pictures with me and others together, and then I quite regularly caught out of the corner of my eye other people, less brave, taking pictures from afar. At least it meant I met some locals, because some of them deigned to talk to me for awhile before asking if they could take my picture.

The Red Fort itself was impressive. It's a walled area in Old Delhi built in the 17th century. It's adjacent to the Yamuna River, and is a tiny piece of quiet (except for the photoshoot) in the hustle and bustle of Old Delhi. There's only a small retail area, which is actually quite cute--through the arched entranceway.

Old Delhi itself reminded me of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. Yes, I did just refer to Harry Potter. Buildings are crooked, alleys are narrow and winding, and there are wires everywhere.  I got hit by a waterballoon to the back, and a few supersoakers, as kids start practicing for Holi. Thankfully it was not coloured yet. I did see a few smiling pink and blue faces, with telltale signs of early festivities.

 So tonight I'm off on a sleeper bus to Varanasi for Holi. I thought it might be slightly less crazy, as it's a very holy/cultural place, and thus might be slightly manageable? A cop out, for sure . . . but perhaps smart, also, as clearly I'm standing out as a single foreign female. Regardless, India is an experience, and I am determined to get as much out of it as I can.

For the geographers out there

My map for Delhi, and the area around where I will be staying.

Turns out what I'm using my "diary" for is mostly maps of places I'm going to and lists. Good thing I'm actually using this blog, then. Because otherwise my tangible mementos from this trip would be scrawled maps (not a bad thing) and lists such as:

* toothpaste

* what are those half monkeys?

* mail mum present

* book accom. 

* look up how to say "no, thank you" in all languages.