Air India and Paharganj (By Triston)

I haven't blogged for a few weeks. Blogging started feeling a bit too solipsistic and I got really busy with the end of the school year. The guys turned in all their Witness to War interviews and final papers and now I find myself on vacation with nothing to do but enjoy! Teaching does have its perks!

Justyna and I were worried about "Air India" being our carrier to Delhi, as my past experience with Indian airlines has been a bit crazy (see previous blog from 4 years back: ). But once on board, the free beers and tasty indian food gave us the impression that we were in good hands.....that is....until we went to the bathroom. Unlike most airplane toilets, Air India's were on a separate floor, you had to go down the stairs. Also, unlike any other airline, there was a constant line of at least 6-7 people at any given time on the 8-hour flight. But the kicker was not the structure of the bathrooms, it was the human excrement that was within (and without) them. Granted, I only went down there twice, but each time I did, the stalls that weren't overflowing with waste (which formed a thin layer on the floor outside the 6bathrooms) were covered in urine. Believe it or not, this was tolerable. I have been to some shady places and done my business in some derelict locations. What wasn't tolerable was what I saw the second time I went down into the pit. Justyna had just finished and had tip-toed up the stairs on the few remaining dry patches of floor outside the stalls. I came out and saw three piles of human feces just sitting there in the hall outside the bathroom! Someone one (or three someones?) had squatted right there and gone to the bathroom right outside the very place where it was supposed to be done! It was at that point that I knew our adventure to Nepal via India had truly begun.

Paharganj
There were many students of our on our flight. Actually, at times it seemed that the entire Indian community of St. Mary's was on our flight. It was funny because every time we told them where we were staying in Delhi, they gave us the same reaction. First disbelief, then concerned silence, and then a grave statement: "Take care....Please...Take Care...." J and I weren't sure what this meant, but after braving the blasting afternoon heat in our taxi from the airport, we knew why they had reacted this way. Paharganj makes Gary look like a philanthropist convention. Dogs, cows, lepers, human waste, potholes the size of a small car, every single person grabbing at you to try and get your business, a donation, your wallet, etc..... It was crazy! And the whole time we were walking towards our hotel, we were trying to dodge the constant insane traffic of the bicycle rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, mopeds, and cows. Strangely, though, we like our temporary neighborhood and are glad we chose this place. The incredible vividness of the colors, sounds, smells of the place make you feel very alive.

After taking our stuff up to the room, Justyna and I went out on the town to look at some sitars and get a bite to eat. Sitars are hard to judge when you can't play them. The last time I was in India, I thought I was getting a good deal on a wooden drum, but the drum disintegrated when I took it back to the States, it was made out of cardboard painted like wood. The sitars were the same. They all look the same and I'm not quite sure what they should sound like. After leaving the sitar shop empty handed, we grabbed some roti and various curries. At first it was tough trying to figure out to what extent you were allowed to use your left hand to tear the bread and spoon the curry, but it ended up working out and being quite delicious too.

There were some shady moments of course. There were a few allies where there seemed-all of a sudden- to no longer be any women around. Not sure why, but in these allies, the dudes were more aggressive in every way and would bump into J's boobs as so many times that it was obvious that it was an intentional "cop-a-feel" move. We left that alley pretty quick, as it was getting narrower and there were shadier and shadier characters appearing. After dodging some sacred cows and stopping to see a few fabric stalls, we headed back to the hotel to get some sleep. Lets just say that after last night, temperature and discomfort for us are relative concepts. Now, a lukewarm shower feels like an ice-cold Andean waterfall and a kick in the pants feels like a nice, cool butt-massage. Outside the temperature feels like you are a human bun in an angry oven. In our room it felt like some nice person tossed us buns a few ice cubes just before turning on the oven. We survived though, although today I feel I have sun-stroke. (Pictures to come)