Day 3 - Delhi

We wake at 9.40am, very touchingly are contacted by reception to ask if we are coming down to breakfast - but we don't have the energy!

Eventually get up and ready and ask reception to arrange us a taxi to Delhi Station.

It turns out to be rather a confusing place to say the least.  As we get out of our taxi, a man asks where we are going and tells us we must go up to the first floor.  That is all very well, but we can't even see the way in.  It isn't very obvious, because we need to step over piles of rubble, muddy puddles, broken bits of walling and corrugated plastic to reach a non-descript doorway, through which, people are pouring onto an escalator going up.  A man at the foot of the escalator asks us 'ticket, ticket'.  We hand him our Indrail passes and he tells us we needed to go to block N to get our reservations sorted.  He fixes us up with a tuk-tuk ride for 30 rupees, which takes us over to the 'International Travel Office'.  This is in another fairly inauspicious arse-end of a building.  We wade through mud and rubble to get to the door.

Inside, we meet Naz, who checks our Indrail passes and tells us that none of the reservations have been made.  He also explains that since most places North of Delhi are suffering flooding, we will need to have a radical change to our itinery.

Then, like a magician, he pulls 'Plan B' out of a hat, which involves driver Salim and a set of destinations, 'Which you will like'.

It all seems a pretty good set of alternatives.  H says that in his experience, holidays where plan A falls apart and something completely different happens are always the best sort.  We decide to go for it.  So, Naz packs us off with Salim, to have fun, while he does the paperwork.

Salim takes us for a very enjoyable lunch in Pinda Restaurant, which pleases H a lot, because a snake charmer with a cobra is on the forecourt.  Not sure if the snake charmer is equally happy though, with the measley 10 rupee note H gives him!

H is then pleased a second time, when he encounters a bike with a grindstone run off the back wheel - although he won't accept my theory that this was probably the point of manufacture of the very elaborately machined tooth picks, which are presented with at our table.

Other traders sell peacock feather fans and wooden, carved elephants.

Next, Salim whisks us off to the National Railway museum.  It's in the consulate quarter, all very green and pleasant with broad boulevards and attractively land-scaped road islands.

It's a bit confusing trying to find the way in to the museum, but after a couple of u-turns and stopping to ask the directions of a ten year od boy, who is busily washing his hands in a puddle, we get there.

The very first thing we hear is the miniature train run past the other side of the hedge, together with exhuberant shouts of young lads.  How very appropriate it is that this turns out the be called 'The Joy Train.

H wants a trip on this first, because it looks so much fun, so we hop on, causing a certain amount of consternation to the ticket collector as we haven't managed to work out how to purchase our tickets.  But off we go anyway, promising to pay at the end, which we later do.  Around the lake we go, (it's a cross between a pond and a blue tiled paddling pool).  A boy in a canoe goes round in ever decreasing circles, owing to most of the paddle being missing from one end of his oar.

The Joy Train sure lives up to its name, we discover half away through our journey, when young lads take the challenge of running up and leaping onto it as it goes by - much to the distaste of a solemn little girl sat opposite Harry.

After our trip, we walk over to the ticket office and pay up.  The Ticket collector then walks over to us, and ceremoniously make tears in the tickets, lest we be tempted to commit another dishonest act!

Off now for a wander amongst the exhibits.  Unfortunately, the lying rainwater makes a haven for biting insects, which are clearly delighted that I have brought my succulent self into their midst.

H is deeply thrilled to see the mono-rail track, but sadly disappointed that it is not running.  Especially sinece the wear marks on the concrete path imply that it has run tantalisingly recently.

Thunder and light drizzle give a portent of monsoon-y type things to come, so we make our way over to the round restaurant terrace that is set over the middle of the pond, for a refreshing drink of pop, before heading over to the display and shop area.

The display includes loads of interesting looking pushy buttons, not many of which actually do anything, apart from one on a model of a 'Rocket' type engine, with moving parts.  It makes a noise like the scream of a wild cat caught in a trap and proves itself irresistable to small boys.

Walk along the displays, coming out confusingly where we started - 'Because it's round Caro, did you not realise that?' - evidently not (I plead jet-lag!).

We decide we really ought to buy Fairy Queen ties, to wear when firing, only to discover that the gift shop is now closed.  So we go back to Salim, who has decieded that we must do a spot of sight-seeing and orders us to get snappy with our camers (this guy really is good value to money!).

He takes us past the Presidential Palace, to see the Delhi Gate.

We are dropped of off nearby and walk the rest of the way, accosted by a persistent hawker of rubber band-powered plastic helicopters.  'Five for 500 rupees, buy it for your Grandson', he says to me.  Bad selling technique! The sale is most definitely off after that wise-crack.

Take a stroll among the throng, who are gathering around the gate.  There are hoards of people because they are gathering to celebrate Eid.  The hawker is still in full flow and we're down to 5 for 400R now. 

A gang of lads asks to be photographed with us, so we pose with them and they all seem made up.

Afterwards, they all eagerly shake hands and say 'hello'.  So sweet.  I'm somewhat ashamed to check my bag in case it is a ruse, but feel better when H asks me to check his backpack has not been undone.

The hawker is getting desperate now.  We're down to 5 for 100R, then 4 for 100R, then back up to 5 for 100R.  A man takes pity on us and asks the hawker to leave us alone - but he is unstoppable.

He hasn't reckoned on the intractable natures of H&C though.  Eventually, even he has to concede that it ain't going to happen.

Back into the car with Salim and now we have sight-seen and photographed to his satisfaction, we are allowed to go back to Naz, who has our itinery sorted and all the bookings made.  All we need to do now is sign our agreement.

Salim brings us back to our hotel - he is rather concerned that the hotel staff may try to poach us back off him - but we agree to meet him up the street from the hotel first thing in the morning.

Back to our room and I'm horrified to discover in the mirror, that the mosquito bite under my left eye is looking like a botox job, gone very badly wrong.

It's been a fab day though and now we're back to being dog-tired - (but happy this time!).  Another night in which we have the restaurant to ourselves.  Something red, something orange and something exceptionally green with rice and chappatis.  Harry seems to be under the Delhi influence, and has to leave the table rather abruptly.

Thought for the day:  Is a person who lives in Delhi a Delite?