India Journal, December 2009. Entry 3

Friday morning, continued

Having survived the ride from the airport so far, we navigate through the narrow streets and alleyways of the neighborhood where our hotel, The Grande Godwin, is located. Tim’s “Rough Guide” bills the place as “clean, centrally located, good food”. I have no idea of how central it is: sprawling Delhi, with its wild roundabouts, has so far defied any of my attempts to orient according to landmark.

The driver stops on the sidewalk in front of the Godwin. I admit to being fearful as I look out the cab window. The street, to my mind, resembles a war zone: it is littered with piles of broken concrete and bricks, mounds of garbage, pan* wrappers. There is yelling, arguing, and cat-calls and whistles. It is not quite 7:30am and the area is so dense with people that our driver has to physically insert himself to stop curbside traffic and get us and our luggage into the hotel lobby. Within that short trip from cab to front desk we are pointed at, then pressed against, and pleaded with, for money.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say to Tim as we climb the four steps to the entrance.

The lobby is cool and serene, an oasis from the chaos outside, with spotless marble floors beautiful plants and several very attentive bell boys. The gentleman at reception welcomes us and offers up a cup of steaming tea with lemon zest, fresh ginger and honey. Revival. Okay. Maybe after a hot shower, a bite to eat and a nap I can venture forth into the crush that is mid-day Delhi.

Our room is on the second floor, and we climb a beautifully arched staircase to reach it. The room is small and clean, as the guidebook promised, with a comfortable bed. The bell boy shows us the bathroom. “This is the cold tap, and this is the hot tap”, he says as he points to the sink. “And this is the cold tap and this is the cold tap”, he says, indicating the shower. It’s a nuance that escapes us upon first hearing, but becomes very obvious when we attempt that hot shower.

Awake and refreshed after our chilly ablutions, we head to the rooftop restaurant. The food is simple, but very good and abundant. We eat and talk about the day ahead, while watching several large, hawk-like birds circle above. Then, bellies full, we’re suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. We have been traveling for thirty one hours. We’ll summon the courage to tour Delhi later in the afternoon.

Back in our room, we sleep without stirring. I dream that it is already Saturday afternoon and Siobhan is meeting us at the Jaipur train station. She is riding an elephant and singing to us in Hindi.



* Pronounced pon, this is a popular after-meal digestive, usually consisting of sugar, mint, menthol or cinnamon which coats the main ingredient -- fennel seed.