It has been 2 weeks now since I came back. A short spontaneous trip to meet a friend, traveling in the North of India with a backpack and a guidebook that left me with a smile. I arrived in Delhi clueless, as apparent from my uncertain look whilst queuing for my visa on arrival. In fact, the queue consisted of only me. I stood there with my passport while the officers ate their dinners from these little tin boxes, most probably prepared by their wives. I asked, they told me to wait, they're having their dinner. I waited until finally an officer cleaned his hands and asked what I wanted. A visa, I politely inquired. Oh just wait, he said and with that he left me standing again. He came back half an hour later with a lolly.
I exited the terminal with a grim face, tiredness from 12h of traveling and my visa incident apparent. Somehow the strangers I happened to meet appeared to be incredibly kind, randomly buying my water, sharing tips on what to do/see in India, invitations flown to spend some time and be shown around in their villages. The door opened and I saw my friend's face gleaming with a smile as we ran and hugged each other. It has been too long. Safely seated in our seats, our driver told me to open my window and breathe - and inhaled I did the cold night air of Delhi.
Our first days in Delhi were insane. Hectic. A mess, a collision, a mix that both seemed natural and unnatural the same time. Deafening honks. The heat dizzying, the dust suffocating. The range of offers included people who were screaming MADAM MADAM TAXI MADAM to some who pulled our hands hoping that we would obligingly enter their stores to children sticking goods in front of our faces hoping that we would obligingly purchase it. My daily observations made me conclude that these Delhiites can smell a Delhi-green, and we were a prime target. I come from Jakarta and truthfully I was never overwhelmed as I was there; face to face with the myriad of humans, animals, steel on wheels that seemed to be in a constant knot.
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I am proud to say that within days we managed to adopt a look that when put on, allowed us to walk for 10 minutes without a group swarming around us with goods and services to offer. However, scams were still a never ending surprise that took different forms whenever we least expect it. Harmless ones included being brought to random stores hoping that we would obligingly shop and pay them the commission, rooms booked suddenly full which required upgrades, people giving the wrong directions and offered their tuktuk 'service' to bring us back. An obnoxious occurrence included someone intentionally making a scene to make us pay more than what we had agreed upon, drawing a crowd which hopefully will make us tourists feel uncomfortable and pay him the extra rupees. We did not give him the extra money but had a deranged beggar following us for an hour.
A positive result of these innocent street tricks was our fondness of the Delhi metro system, where we commuted mostly from restaurants to restaurants. We did not in fact manage to see major Delhi sites but the Red Fort and the Jama Masjid. Our days mostly involved random chai (Indian sweet hot milk tea) stops, hours browsing through occasional second hand books stalls, Thali stops, and our own little professional Sweet Lassi and mango juice tasting from the Old to the New Delhi. It is where I found my bright yellow scarf with the blue ends. My friend and I were having chai as we waited for the seller to tailor the Kurta that came with it, while a regimen of monkeys passed through the walls.
We left Delhi the day after I got my scarf. Our only souvenir from this beautiful mess were the phrase Dhanwaad (thank you) and a Spongebob miniature career as a doctor from the Happy Meals that a Delhiite student one day bought for us after helping us take our luggage from the train.
