The last time I visited India was Christmas 1987. I had flown Turkish Airlines to what was then Bombay (now Mumbai) and I spent around three to four weeks in Bangalore, Mysore and the surrounding area. It was great. There are two types of person: those who can't deal with the poverty and those who can. I fell into the latter group, which was just as well as the journey by taxi from the airport to the centre of the city crammed in plenty of poverty.
It's 32 years later, I'm back, but this time in New Delhi, in the north of the country, and it all comes flooding back to me – except that I've yet to see any poverty. As I write this it is 1407 here in India, five and a half hours ahead of the UK where it is just 0835hrs in the morning. Yesterday evening (Saturday 2nd February) I flew out of the Heathrow Terminal Five on BA 257. Eight hours and very smooth all the way. I watched John Boorman's Deliverance with Burt Reynolds and John Voight, but that was when there were three hours and 58 minutes of the flight left. The film was roughly 107 minutes long so I'll leave you to do the maths on that one. Did you know that Charlie Boorman was in Deliverance? Prior to watching the movie I had eaten a kind of airline version of a roast chicken dinner and then spent a considerable time reading the free newspapers I had picked up prior to boarding the aircraft. I stretched out in seat 26C and discovered things I never knew: like Amber Rudd being married to AA Gill and having two children with him before he upped and left her for another woman; and how the Iranians are getting around – or planning to get around – US sanctions by using BitCoin. I found the latter story intriguing.
Once Deliverance was over I watched Alan Partridge and Fawlty Towers and then found that breakfast was being served and it was soon time to disembark. Rather worryingly, thick fog and smog over New Delhi meant that the plane had to use automatic pilot to land and all electronic gadgetry had to be switched off. The smog was so thick that I never saw the ground until we had physically touched down. The plane made its way to the terminal building of Indira Ghandi Airport and after some minor faffing with immigration I was being met by a pleasant chap who was holding up my name, written in felt pen, on a sheet of A4 paper. He presented me with a garland of flowers and I remembered that Indians were very nice people. I felt mildly annoyed with myself for not having any money to give as a tip. We chatted about India and it's 29 states and he pointed out a few buildings as we travelled by taxi to the hotel. This guy was some kind of chaperone for me, which was nice and much needed. I was tired having lost a night's sleep virtually and probably would have found it difficult to cope with the chaotic driving that I had all but forgotten about. I've always thought that Indians lead some kind of charmed life, overtaking on bends and surviving as well as other misdemeanours, like nearly running over pedestrians who appear to think nothing of being killed by a taxi driver who is seemingly driving in a trance-like state. Although that wasn't the case with my driver, he was fine, it was other road users I had to worry about. In addition to mad drivers there were monkeys. Alright, I saw one, but you wouldn't see any in London. The Indians like the monkeys, they find them amusing and I know what they mean.
When I arrived at the hotel the front desk was busy checking people in. There were lots of people around and fortunately, once all the necessary paperwork had been done, I took the lift to my hotel room and after working out how to use the safe (and depositing my valuables in it) I hit the sack for a three-hour sleep and a dream so strange that I simply can't think of words to describe it. Needless to say it was fretful and I woke up with a racing heart. And now here I am, sitting at the computer writing this my first blogpost from New Delhi.
The hotel is fine, although there are a few rough edges. Well, one so far: the button that flushes the toilet is stiff, but it works. There's a huge flatscreen television and when I first arrived I watched around 30 minutes of The Spy Next Door with Jackie Chan before hitting the sack. I had roughly three hours' sleep and feel a little better than I felt three hours earlier. I've just eaten a bar of Cadbury's Fruit & Nut "Everyone's a fruit and nut case, crazy for those Cadbury nuts and raisins," I remember Frank Muir singing back in the day.
What I find slightly amazing is that I've been paranoid about going down with so-called Delhi Belly, but somehow managed to get 'the shits' while still on the plane and eating English food. How did that happen? Perhaps my arse is preparing me for worst to come, giving me a little taster of what it might be like later in the week when I'm firing on all cylinders. Somebody in the office told me to wash my hands every time somebody shakes my hand. That seems to me to be a little over-paranoid. The last time I was in India I was never ill as I chose to eat a naan bread alone if I felt the food to be a little suspect. Well, so far I haven't eaten anything in India apart from the aforementioned bar of Fruit & Nut, so we'll see what takes place. I will have a shower in a second (it's one of those rain shower affairs so it should be good) but I'll remember to keep my mouth firmly shut. I'll probably clean my teeth using mineral water too, although I didn't do that back in 1987 when I was last here and I seemed to survive. Back in those days I was told that it was best to drink beer and eat a naan bread than risk an upset stomach. That ploy worked, but this time I'm not drinking alcohol, so it looks as it bottled water will be the order of the day.
Phone calls using the mobile cost £2 per minute to receive and to make, it's 50p to send a text and it costs nothing to receive them, so I'm going to be communicating by What'sApp (when I've got WiFi) and by email on other occasions. Right now I'm feeling a little more 'chipper' than earlier and might venture out of the room to check the hotel. There is a pool, but somehow I don't think I'll be using it. The key is to be ultra-hygienic. I bought some Immodium at Heathrow. I hope I don't have to use it.
One thing worth remembering about India is that the power sockets are the same as the UK AND they drive on the left, just like us Brits!
Bearing in mind the cold and snowy conditions I've left behind in the UK, I find it hard to believe that I can walk outside with jeans and a tee-shirt on. I wonder if there's a bike share scheme?
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| Poor air quality – the view from room 522... |
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| Things got a little clearer a few hours later... |
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| Room 522, Park Hotel, New Delhi, India... |
The hotel is fine, although there are a few rough edges. Well, one so far: the button that flushes the toilet is stiff, but it works. There's a huge flatscreen television and when I first arrived I watched around 30 minutes of The Spy Next Door with Jackie Chan before hitting the sack. I had roughly three hours' sleep and feel a little better than I felt three hours earlier. I've just eaten a bar of Cadbury's Fruit & Nut "Everyone's a fruit and nut case, crazy for those Cadbury nuts and raisins," I remember Frank Muir singing back in the day.
What I find slightly amazing is that I've been paranoid about going down with so-called Delhi Belly, but somehow managed to get 'the shits' while still on the plane and eating English food. How did that happen? Perhaps my arse is preparing me for worst to come, giving me a little taster of what it might be like later in the week when I'm firing on all cylinders. Somebody in the office told me to wash my hands every time somebody shakes my hand. That seems to me to be a little over-paranoid. The last time I was in India I was never ill as I chose to eat a naan bread alone if I felt the food to be a little suspect. Well, so far I haven't eaten anything in India apart from the aforementioned bar of Fruit & Nut, so we'll see what takes place. I will have a shower in a second (it's one of those rain shower affairs so it should be good) but I'll remember to keep my mouth firmly shut. I'll probably clean my teeth using mineral water too, although I didn't do that back in 1987 when I was last here and I seemed to survive. Back in those days I was told that it was best to drink beer and eat a naan bread than risk an upset stomach. That ploy worked, but this time I'm not drinking alcohol, so it looks as it bottled water will be the order of the day.
Phone calls using the mobile cost £2 per minute to receive and to make, it's 50p to send a text and it costs nothing to receive them, so I'm going to be communicating by What'sApp (when I've got WiFi) and by email on other occasions. Right now I'm feeling a little more 'chipper' than earlier and might venture out of the room to check the hotel. There is a pool, but somehow I don't think I'll be using it. The key is to be ultra-hygienic. I bought some Immodium at Heathrow. I hope I don't have to use it.
One thing worth remembering about India is that the power sockets are the same as the UK AND they drive on the left, just like us Brits!
Bearing in mind the cold and snowy conditions I've left behind in the UK, I find it hard to believe that I can walk outside with jeans and a tee-shirt on. I wonder if there's a bike share scheme?
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