A Long Journey plus Delhi Delights

We left the house at 5:40 a.m. to get to Fiumicino...after a long layover in the Abu Dhabi airport that wasn't long enough to permit getting a hotel room, we took the 3:00 a.m. (yes, MORNING) flight that arrived in New Delhi at 8:00 this morning. "Tired" would be understating the situation.

Dashboard god to protect us

We were wondering whether they seriously expected
 all seven of us (plus luggage!) to get in this van.

Michael, clipboard man

The driver who eventually came running up (after we'd eaten a few of our first samosas on Indian soil) was just precious. He beckoned to us with a clipboard bearing our name, then took off at a gallop. We followed, dragging our suitcases and shrugging at each other. Eventually, he thought that perhaps he might be more gracious. So he plunked the clipboard in Michael's arms (expecting Michael to carry it) and took two of the suitcases.
Once in the parking garage, he told us in rudimentary English to wait five minutes for the next driver since we would need two vehicles.

In case of fire...do WHAT exactly?

Our van was straddling the lane line for quite some time

The second car drove up quickly, and then began our adventure. You know the photos of traffic mayhem in India? With cows in the street, dogs all over, pedestrians, rickshaws, bicycle carts, motorcycles, vans, trucks, cars, and oh by the way EVERYONE honking their horns? And how when you see these images in print or in film you think, "yeah, exaggerated"? It really IS like that! We saw all that and more! Forget road widening...they just fit four lanes of traffic into two marked lanes. The hooting isn't angry, though: we saw many cars TELLING the drivers behind to hoot while passing, presumably because their mirrors and visibility are appalling.

Moving back onto the street level

Oh, and the curbs are about a foot higher than the road surface. Not exactly handicapped-accessible, but it's intended to reduce the traffic on the sidewalks to motorcycles only, rather than motorcycles AND tuk-tuks (and, yes, we did see them driving on the sidewalk on many occasions).

The signs are all hand-lettered

After an all-too-short nap, it was time to meet our sponsor child and her family. We had an equally exciting car trip across town to a white-tablecloth restaurant, where we had a really nice time meeting her and about 6 people from the charitable organization that we use to sponsor her (Unbound). An incredible lunch of all sorts of yumminess (we opted for vegetarian, reasoning that it would be easier for a mixed bag of nationalities), and we were disorganizedly bundled back into cars to go to the "program," as the facility is called.

We drove up to a row of open stalls selling crockery and other clay ware. Turns out that most of the people in the program have these stalls to sell ware that they have created. The whole crew of them (10 shops?) uses a communal kiln, communal (tiny) wood-burning outside stove, and communal (microwave-sized) washing machine. They live in the "little town" behind these shops. It is a collection of pedestrian-only, narrow alleyways with small houses or apartments. In one of these alleyways is the stove, and a room off another houses the washing machine (and, presumably, the kiln).

Well. We walked into the communal room...the site of the "program"...and felt like stars stepping into or out of Bollywood: we were applauded one by one, showered with flower petals, and festooned with fresh marigold necklaces. We were then made to sit in the only chairs (set out in the front of the room) to be entertained by the children. We were then asked to light a ceremonial oil lamp which serendipitously had 7 wicks, and to hand out the Christmas presents for the group.

hen it was time to leave, the kids all wanted to high five us, shake hands, be touched by us. It was very sweet, but somewhat awkward: we're people, just like them, and have done nothing to merit being this adored. However, it felt churlish and unnurturing to refuse...and that won out over the sensation of arrogance engendered by giving into their desires for contact. Anyway, many more smiles and love and photos with our sponsor child and we were back in the taxi.  After having nearly fallen asleep in the car, five of us went up to the hotel restaurant and had a full meal. The bill? About $20.

Love,

Alexandra