My airplane came above Delhi nightime, turning into Sunday. It had been a good flight, stopping in Moscow, as i was flying with a Russian company. They are not that different from ours, other than i was expecting vodka to be served (which they didnt) and they had hip drum’n’base music while a video displayed how to safely get out of the plane if we where to crash. Crashing never felt so cool.
Flying in over Delhi, I was feeling a bit dissapointed about the fact that i couldnt see the landscape because of the darkness, but what a beautiful view a large city is nighttime! The lights coming from Delhi was all but the same as you would see crossing stockholm. All lights where shaded as coming from a fog (turning out later to be dust and dirt), and there where lights everywhere.
I landed, and spent one hour waiting to get trough the lines and applications i needed to fill in. Standing by the officer, i was concerned by the fact that i had no return ticket. He looked at me, asking “are you married sir?”, on which i replied “no”. “Girlfriend?”, “No”. He stared me in the eyes, put a mark on my paper. “You POOR POOR bastard!”, he laughed. I laughed. Then i quickly took my stuff and left.
Coming to the hotel i was smashed, i basically went to sleep right away. I slept waaay past breakfast and woke up thinking “shit, this is it”. The next 15 minutes i spent peeking out my window trough the curtains, like a secret observer.
I could not understand what was going on outside, and im not going to try explaining it here, cause i still dont know. Its just dirt dirt dirt, and people honking with their random veichles.
I went outside, and the coming day was just laughter and laughter. Laughter of the fact that im fuckin free to do what i want, and laughter of the fact that this place was just to much to handle. All the honking was killing me, where people really that annoyed with one another?
I was expecting people to be asking me for money, and they did. I respectively resisted my urge to give, i know what happens when you do (they form lines), some of them went hostile when i did this, to me, this was only a reminder of keeping away from charityservice on street.
I’ve also been told indian people in areas like this are hard to make friends with, as the social and economical gap will make this impossible, they will, in the end, only be looking for cash.
I had this in mind when i was invited to another table, having a beer at the local bar. Two indian guys where spending their afterwork there, watching european football. They knew barely any english but did their best in speaking with me. They paid my beer, gave me peanuts, offered me chili (to soon for that!), and supplied we with a carrot outside of the bar. I laughed at the fact that this is the aquivilant of grabbing a cheeseburger after getting drunk in Stockholm. Point of this: These guys had no plan of grabbing any of my money, they where just partydudes.
The upcoming day i met another indian guy “Ricky”. He was following me, asking question after question, and in my polite manner answered all of them, and being polite i also asked him a few questions, he was a English student, and lived in Delhi.
He kept following me “Where are you going sir?”, “Train station” i replied. “Ill show you the way!”, “Thanks but i know my way, i saw it yesterday”. He kept up my pace. “I want to inform you sir, that im in no need of your money, i meerely want to practise my english. You be of my service, and i can be of yours.”
Well enough, i teamed up with Ricky, and we actually spent the day. The trains turned out to be canceled pretty much everywhere because of fog (i still to this moment do not know if im part of a big scam, but i think not). He took me to the tourists office, where i was recommended a “minibus” (turning out to be a car) that would take me to Pahkba. This was expensive as shit, and i had to insist not to let them book expensive hotels as “part of the package”.
After closing the deal, i asked Ricky to take me to the barber, and he did. A truly local barber, with fat indian men being taken care of by other young indian men, carrying razorblades. We shook hands on 100 rupies for a haircut, and off we went. After cutting my hair (a good job) he asked if i wanted a shave. “Bring it on” i said! I was shaved, and then asked if i wanted face massage. Bring it ON! Getting massaged i noticed Ricky was getting his hair cut as well, he was smiling at me, i smiled back.
When done, Ricky started negotiating the price with my barber. The barber looked a bit unpleasant, i was happy with this, because i assumed Ricky was getting me a good price. He now wanted 400 rupies, for the full treatment, and i (by honest means) have not gone far enough in my travel to start hustling prices. I paid and we went, Ricky told me i look like a moviestar. I felt like a moviestar.
Later on we had dinner, and Ricky brought his friend. We drank beer and ate food in large amounts, only me and Ricky ate, his friend insisted in not eating. I was expecting to pay for this, to thank them for good company and for help with getting me a ticket out of Delhi. Turns out Ricky, as well, expected me to pay for this, i did not even recieve a “thank you” for doing so, when they dropped me off at the hotel.
Later i realized i probably paid for the mans haircut too… What a hustler, i love him for it. He gave me alot for that dinner and haircut, so i seriously dont feel bothered about it.
Off to bed i went, pickup 6 AM with minibus!