Dallying in Delhi
Trapped beneath the low cloud lies a layer of sulphurous yellow smog. Pre-monsoon humidity is high and bonded to each water molecule is one of pure filth. It's only 36¼C today, but moving around Delhi is a sticky business.
I thought I hated Delhi, but I was wrong, must have been thinking of Croyden. Today, despite the foulness of air, I love this place. Or perhaps it's just that I'm happy to be anywhere in India, happy to be fascinated every minute of the day by the thronging mass of humanity that boils and toils around me. The 'India face' fell back into place immediately thanks to the airport taxi driver going through the normal nonsense routines (hotel closed, don't know where it is, etc) and I'm getting little hassle from touts or beggars.
And, of course, I'm happy to be eating Indian. At the end of Pahar Ganj's Main Bazaar (grotty tourist central) is a major railway station and a huge collection of restaurants representing every corner of the sub-continent. South India is my bag, masala dosa my favourite meal, 30p the price.
I've been out to the Indian shipping agent, based near the airport, who is handling this end of the freighting deal. I dropped off some documents and have been assured it will only take 1-2 days to get the bike through customs. We'll see. More waiting, waiting.
It was sad leaving Romania for the second time. The same friends, the same hospitality, the same Transylvania. My last weekend in Brasov was spent at 'the bikers' meeting', an all-weekend event featuring much weirdness. I'd stick up a few pics, but can't get them downloaded straight from my camera in the 'raw' format in which they were taken. Need a card-reader device - which P has.
Hope next time I write the bike will be back on the road and I'll be revving up to head north... Also hope next time one of these piece-of-junk computers will let me upload some pictures. Actually, therre may be some here, only so dark I can't see them?
Damon
I thought I hated Delhi, but I was wrong, must have been thinking of Croyden. Today, despite the foulness of air, I love this place. Or perhaps it's just that I'm happy to be anywhere in India, happy to be fascinated every minute of the day by the thronging mass of humanity that boils and toils around me. The 'India face' fell back into place immediately thanks to the airport taxi driver going through the normal nonsense routines (hotel closed, don't know where it is, etc) and I'm getting little hassle from touts or beggars.
And, of course, I'm happy to be eating Indian. At the end of Pahar Ganj's Main Bazaar (grotty tourist central) is a major railway station and a huge collection of restaurants representing every corner of the sub-continent. South India is my bag, masala dosa my favourite meal, 30p the price.
I've been out to the Indian shipping agent, based near the airport, who is handling this end of the freighting deal. I dropped off some documents and have been assured it will only take 1-2 days to get the bike through customs. We'll see. More waiting, waiting.
It was sad leaving Romania for the second time. The same friends, the same hospitality, the same Transylvania. My last weekend in Brasov was spent at 'the bikers' meeting', an all-weekend event featuring much weirdness. I'd stick up a few pics, but can't get them downloaded straight from my camera in the 'raw' format in which they were taken. Need a card-reader device - which P has.
Hope next time I write the bike will be back on the road and I'll be revving up to head north... Also hope next time one of these piece-of-junk computers will let me upload some pictures. Actually, therre may be some here, only so dark I can't see them?
Damon
