Day one recap - New Dehli

Warning – The following content is full of long details, and a bit of adult content (discussions on alcohol). Read at your own risk.

Day one started out bright and early at 5a, oh, did I mention it was overly hot, and I was soaked in sweat. Overnight our AC flipped the breaker 3 times. When we found out that it was cooler outside then it was inside, we chose to just stay up and got out for a walk. We started with hoping on a rikshaw and heading in to town to find a new hotel. The streets were not yet bustling with commotion, quite odd to see by the way, as it was way too early for a sane person to be up. And before you ask, I promise you that our rikshaw driver was insane, as noted by his mismanaged directions and haphazard peddling. We located an overpriced government hotel, ended up not booking a room, and grabbed a limca to cool off. On a side note, most of the sodas made in India are produced with pure natural sugar, not that HFCS crap we get in the U.S., and limca is no exception to a tasty cold drink with a strong lime flavor. I am trying to not drink too many, as I doubt I will be able to find a steady supply in the states to feed an addiction. *scratches neck from not drinking one while typing this*

After our hike to find a hotel, we returned to our first hotel, the one with the crappy AC and what we then found out rude staff, where they tried to transfer us over to a new room to which we said no dice. Not quite sure if that is what Rahul really said, but I will take a bit of poetic license in the translation. We checked out a day early, received no discount due to our broken AC, and Rahul came to the rescue with locating a much cleaner, and colder hotel room just down the street. We moved our stuff, rested in the glory of the AC for a short bit, and headed back towards town. We decided to hoof it to the metro, as opposed to taking an overpriced auto rikshaw, saving ourselves 80 rupees, almost 2 US dollars.

The metro station is quite clean, a big change from the surrounding area. The metro system is quite advanced, being funded by Japan, and prompt. It cost us 12 rupees to head into Chandni Chauk, a fairly famous shopping area and market that has a good night life and lively back alleys. As you may have put together, a place with a strong nightlife rarely has a strong morninglife also. As you may have also put together, it is still probably really early, like 8a early.. Stupid broken AC..

We explored around to see what was open , and noticed everyone was having their morning chai. After spotting several people with the same china tea cups, we attempted to locate the source, as it had to be popular with the locals for a reason. We then stumbled upon Gaurav’s Tea Emporium, name inserted as I really do not think he has a name for his quaint, yet profitable back alley stand. Gaurav runs a simple business, and prepare regular tea for 5 rupees, or special chai with ginger for 7 rupees a cup. You can get these either in plastic, Styrofoam, china tea cup, or glasses for your drinking pleasure, and believe me, it is a damn good cup of chai. He starts with about 16-20l of fresh milk bought that morning, using it up by 3p and buying more due to the high demand of his cup of brew, boiling it with sugar, cardamom, ginger and tea letting it create a frothy concoction. He vigorously sloshes around the pot and scraps down to ensure only the best cup of chai will come from his 5x2 foot slab of limestone that he uses to work on. Not only is the chai that he produces delicious, he is a great guy to chat with, that is if you speak Hindi. Thankfully Rahul translated for me. We enjoyed our cup of tea, read a bit of the paper, and told Gaurav that we would see him tomorrow, and headed off.

Running low on rupees, only enough for a regular cup of tea which we did not get, we walked around and happened on a Sikh temple, a religion that spurred from Hinduism during the time of forced Muslim conversions. The Sikh are a generous and happy religious sect that do not require you to convert to follow their beliefs. It is not uncommon to see followers of the Sikh handing out food to the daily workers who line the street. This is supported through donations from the local followers in the understanding that we all are equal, whatever God has given to us is to help us do good to others. I recommend looking into their religion, it follows a simple code of conduct that revolves around helping people out, a common theme in faith that is uncommon in practice.

After a brief history lesson from Rahul, we prayed, took part in the delicious offering, and realized that the temple was a very holy place to the Sikh’s. The offering, known as halwa, is made from deshi ghee, wheat flour, dried fruits, sugar and coconut milk. It was a random happenstance that we discovered the place of death one of the most important martyrs of the Sikh religion. We had a great experience for it starting out as a random encounter of a, what we thought, common place temple.
After putting our shoes back on, as they are not allowed in the temple, we trekked it over to the ATM, stocked up on some rupees, yay!, and headed to grab a bite to eat. My first traditional meal in India, I am not counting the sandwich at McDonalds at 1a a meal, was Masala Dosa. For those of you not in the know, which I will say I was not until then, Masala Dosa is similar to a pancake or crepe, coated in a mixture of spices, and rolled up around a combination of potatoes, dried fruits and vegetables. On the side was served a soup made of mixed vegetables and lentils known as sambhar. The meager 55 rupees, about a dollar and some change, was worth every paisa, the equivalent to a penny. Stuffed, sweating from the heat outside and the spices in our tummies, we departed and headed back to the new hotel to rest up a bit and prepare for the night.

A bit later, Rahul got in contact with one of his friends, Ashutosh, who agreed to meet up with us for dinner that night. Tagging along was the dynamic duo Sonu and Monu, a set of brothers from Bihar, who, although seemingly shy, were quite the hysterical group. We meet up in the streets outside of our hotel, came back to rally, and decided to locate a famous chicken joint known as Karim’s. Given some basic directions, describing that it would be right around the corner, we set off on a 50 minute adventure! Turn this corner, walk straight, turn that corner, walk some more, keep walking, walk a bit further, it is between these two shops, wait no it is not, keep walking, and you get the picture.

Finally, we locate the Mecca that is Karim’s. As happy as we were to finally find dinner, as we were all hungry, we were even more excited about the fact that there was AC in the restaurant, although weak and not very cold, it was better than outside. We ordered a few different dishes to sample, and then I reminded Rahul that he never went to the ATM for dinner cash, as they do not accept card(I am writing this reluctantly).. And the adventure begins again! I stick around with the Bihar duo while we wait for Ashutosh and Rahul to return with payment. The dinner arrives shortly after they leave, and although we are starving, we wait patiently to partake. After about 10 minutes we give them a ring, get a status update of 5 minutes ETA, and continue to wait. Another 10 minutes goes by, and we decide they are not worth waiting for any longer. Right as we start to dig in, they show up—lucky them. The food was amazing! Tandoori chicken, two types of chicken curry (a spicy/sweet combo and a earthy/tomato base), mutton curry, daal makhani, paneer skewers and a few types of rotis garnished the table.

*dinner plates get filled/emptied/filled again, jokes start flying around and time passes*

Stuffed and groggy, we decide to roll out of the restaurant and head back to the hotel to hang out. On the way we grab some beer, which still has yet to be even opened, and bought a few bags of ice. What followed was a few hours of political chatting, whiskey drinking, lots of Hindi being spoken, the white guy being lost, the doorman requesting ID’s for the non-renters on file, and quite a few laughs. On the final warning from the doorman, we parted ways on the promise of lunch the next day. Rahul and I chatted for a bit afterwards about life, and crashed out. It was a good close to the first night in India.