Special Report: Delhi

OK, so, it’s the 3rd of November still, and I’ve stepped off an airplane and into the early 20th century. As we descended into the brown haze that I believe envelopes this city all the time, we passed over vast numbers of squatter “communities”, also insanely bad traffic, and people washing their clothes and bathing in water that looked filthy, even at 1000 feet. But I also saw some cool stuff, like kids happily playing cricket in a dirt park. Then we touched down, and we rolled past the Indira Gandhi International Airport’s main Fire Station---and the firefighters were playing volleyball. Anyway, we got to the gate, got thru immigration, then out into The World. The Third World. First, there are two different sets of terminals here—International and Domestic—and they are about 8km apart. This involves a bus. I got past the armed guards at the entrance to the Domestic Terminal transfer lounge, and then out towards the free bus to the Domestic terminal—but, no driver, and no information posted. While looking about and trying to make sense of whatever, I was accosted by a smiley, lying thru his teeth cab driver who tried very hard to lure me into his car for the drive to the terminal. Thankfully my “I call bullshit” mode kicked in and I blew him off (he finally heard me after the 10th “go away”), walked around the outside of the terminal and past the teeming masses hovering around the area for—I don’t know what, got back into the terminal past more armed guards, then back in to the lounge, and THIS time I chose the approach of the lemming and stuck with the crowd. Which involved sitting in the lounge and waiting. At 6pm the driver called to us, and on we went to the bus. An armed guard accompanied us as we drove across the airport grounds to the other side. At which point we crossed out of the secure area and in to “regular civilization”. Great googly-moogly, insane-oh! Zillions of cars and people, and more than a few cows and dogs wandering about freely (we’re talking, on the grounds of the airport, here). It’s like Bartertown* with a smoke and curry odor coating (*Mad Max fans, help out the non Mad Max fans). Perhaps the funniest thing was passing two cows, and then an Avis facility…as if anyone with any sense of self-preservation would drive here. As we navigated zig-zag-style across a roundabout, I took note of signage welcoming one and all to the World Toilet Congress and Exhibition (I’m not making this up). Anyway…. I’m through security and awaiting the departure of my flight to Mumbai. Oh, security! Besides the fact they’re all armed with various forms of machine guns, these guys look just as tough as nails and the guns all look like they’ve seen ‘business’. Anyway, kind of hungry—opted to not attempt the airport Indian food near the ticket counters (I guess it would just be know as “food” here)—I’ll see what the in-room dining at the Grand Hyatt has to offer.

UPDATE: Great meal on the flight! In fact, best Indian food I’ve ever had—and on an airplane! So, got to my hotel in Mumbai (somehow, I don’t know---very scary cab ride in a very scary cab), turned on the TV at 1:30am to find that Pres. Musharref has declared Martial Law in Pakistan, 400 miles away. Pakistani supporters are the ones who seem to delight in doing bombings in Mumbai once in a while, so…yay, that’s exciting.