We’re an hour and a half from Doha, our intermediate stop on the way to Delhi. The trip is 11:20 long. I slept 5 hours, Judy an hour or so more and Reagan less than we did. Very pleasant trip so far. 

So far my only complaint is severe bloating, occasioned by pizza at the party thrown by Rebecca in Melrose, snacking at the British Air lounge at Boston Logan, a full midnight (EST) dinner followed by a full breakfast just now. We’ll probably hit the Qatar lounge at Doha and then suffer through a dinner service en route to Delhi. But we’re going vegetarian in India so it’ll even out, calorie wise. 

But enough whining. The trip so far is going well. The visas I did on line worked just fine after the nice lady at the counter showed us the last few buttons to push. Reagan proved her worth not only as Chief Sherpa but also as the brains of the outfit. 

We’re arriving at Delhi at 1:55 AM Sunday morning. We’ll be met by a representative from Women on Wheels, a group formed to provide employment for disadvantaged Delhi women. They’re to take us to our hotel. 

Problem: check in time is noon, so what to do but sit on a park bench for nine hours? Solution: I finally got around to working the problem yesterday. The hotel is fully booked so no chance of an early check in. Instead I booked rooms at the nearby FabHotel Prime New Heaven for $40 a room. What could go wrong with that?

It’s now Sunday at 1 PM and, miracles of miracles, we’re checked into the Bloom Hotel, the first hotel of our scheduled tour. The Welcome Meeting isn’t until 6 so we have the afternoon to chill and explore. But, as they say, getting there is half the fun.

Flights went fine, as did the hour-long immigration and customs process. Our Women with Wheels ladies were there waiting for us and, after some confusion, they agreed to take us to the FabHotel rather than the Bloom. Two cars were required since they were driving four passenger vehicles – two in back, the driver in front with all our bags – no trunk.

I was nervous so tracked our progress on Google Maps and sure enough, we arrived at our destination about 3:00 AM. Problem: the last street was blocked by a gate. We checked at a nearby hotel and were instructed to go around the corner. There we found the JK Hotel, not the FabHotel. But, it turned out, the JK and FabHotel are one in the same. We’ve arrived! That is, Judy and I arrived but Reagan’s driver had taken her to the Bloom hotel. Our driver contacted her driver and soon enough we were all in our rooms with alarms set for 11 AM.

This morning we checked out shortly before noon. We had the options of a Uber rickshaw ride for about 80 cents, an auto Uber for two bucks or a seven minute walk. “Walk,” the nice lady recommended and so we did. Not something I’d like to do at night but it worked ok in daylight. We’re all checked in and ready to hit the tourist trail. But first, showers and chill time for an hour.

There are roughly 1.4 billion people in India, the world’s most populous country. And a fair portion of them chose this nice Sunday afternoon to join us at the Lotus Temple, a Baha’I Faith house of worship. Temperature today was 87 F; the humidity number was the same. Hot and humid is the name of the game for the next two weeks.

Completed in 1986, the temple was funded by funds left in a wealthy Pakistani’s will. It’s one of Delhi’s main tourist attractions, bringing in between 2.5 and 5 million visitors annually. We were the only westerners we saw. The rest appeared to be locals with most women dressed in stylish and beautiful saris. The men? Like most places they were dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a sports logo or something worse. Some things are universal.

Once again, getting there was at least half the fun. I had an Uber queued up and we walked outside to be certain of the pickup spot. But there at curbside was a tuk tuk – the two passenger motorcycle-based conveyance. The two people who hopped out identified themselves as members of our G-Adventure tour group. They’d been using the driver for a few days so there was nothing to do but jump in the tuk tuk and go. Who needs Uber in Delhi?

There’s only one control used in Delhi more frequently than the accelerator pedal: the horn button. Break pedal? A decided third place. Rear view mirrors? Fergitaboutit. Traffic was heavy so the ride was slow but exhilarating. Almost as much fun as when one of the grandkids drives down the hill in the dark at Onawa.

At the Lotus Temple, our driver refused payment. “I’ll wait for you at the main entrance and take you back.” And sure enough, an hour later, there he was. At the hotel he said, “Did you have a good time? Are you happy?” My response: “Sure did. How much?” “Whatever you think is right,” he replied. “As long as you are happy, I’m happy.” I pulled out a 500 rupee note (about $6 dollars). “OK?” I asked. “As long as you are happy, I’m happy.” So of course I added a second 500 rupee note which made our driver friend much happier. An interesting pricing model to be sure. Uber was about $2 each way.

While looking for our tuk tuk, a young girl ran up to me and planted a yellow Hindu tattoo on my forehead, one similar to ones I saw on people at the Temple. “Money, money, money,” she insisted. “No, no, no!” Said I. It took several iterations of her plea and my refusal before we parted ways. I’ve never been taken for a fool like that in all our many miles of travel around the world. OK, excepting the trinket salesman at the Giza pyramids, maybe.

The introduction meeting was pretty standard. About half the group is from Australia, a couple from England and a few of us Americans. A pretty typical tour group I’d say. Our Chief Experience Officer, Jai, is actually NOT from Pakistan. He’s actually from the city of Udaipur in Rajssthan state in northwest India, not too far from the border with Pakistan  I misheard him and have ordered high voltage hearing aid batteries from Amazon so I don’t make that mistake again  

 

He’s not a guide, per se. The company prefers to hire local guides so as to create more employment opportunities for local people.

We had dinner at Oh Calcutta, a ten minute walk from our hotel. Crossing the major thoroughfare in front of our hotel was a challenge. Rather than waiting for the never-to-be-seen break in the traffic, Jai led us en mass across multiple lanes of cars and tuk tuks, all performing a symphony of horn honks. Reagan took her Nana by the hand to make sure she made it OK. Dinner was good, but surviving Indian food for those with a sensitivity to spicy food, like Judy, is going to be a challenge. The bill for three of us, drinks included, came to $70.

Breakfast at 7, bags in lobby by 7:50, tours of New and Old Delhi and then a six-and-a-half hour bus ride in time to visit the Baby Taj in Agra at sunset. Kind of a slow day, I’d say.