June 19, Delhi

I landed in India at 6am. First time in India and on the Asian mainland. I stepped off the airplane, and they say India is an assault on the senses. Sight: young male Indian workers standing around watching the passengers, sound: the workers yelling where to go, touch: hot and stifling and humid, taste: bad pretzel breath, smell: raw sewage. Welcome to India! First of all, the bathroom: The stall door didn’t close fully, the floor was wet, the seat had feces on it, there was a faucet to wash yourself, and the hand dryer was so hot it burned my hands but didn’t dry them and the power cord was directly under where you put your dripping wet hands. I went through the hour and a half customs line. Plus there were mosquitoes and I was late on my malaria medication. That’s always good, and I was swatting them the whole time. After getting my passport stamped, I got my bag at the baggage claim, a big room with a ceiling that was about 6 feet tall. There was a duty-free shop that sold a liter of Absolut vodka for $11, so I bought some, thus making my first purchase in India a bottle of alcohol…Wow I'm so predictable. I grabbed all my stuff, headed out to the street, and this guy cornered me into getting a prepaid cab for $12, ripped off. I had to go to the YWCA Guest House where EAP was putting us up (they sure do splurge with us at UC). It was muggy and hot outside. There was a random field with people sitting, walking, and peeing. Delhi is incredibly polluted. That’s why I shouldn’t smoke; this abroad trip will probably shorten my life by eight years. All of them seemed pretty poor, at least in the outskirts. There were a few white or tan cows, just eating food and being sacred and shit. The traffic was insane. I could touch the cars (and people on motorcycles) next to me. We passed some slums before going into the city, filled with gated military bases and streets and neighborhoods. Everything is in Hindi or English or both. We got to the womens’ hostel, the YWCA International Guest House, behind gates and fitted with scaffolding (which was bamboo tied with string). Then I lugged my stuff up to the room on the fourth floor and met my roommate Derek, who was the clone of Josh Zappala, soccer/sass/strut/South Americanity and all. I went down to breakfast because it was like 8, and met up with him, Liz (annoying and only talks about study abroad in France), Christina (so Korean...for example she says 'luggages' and 'homeworks'), and Cora (pretty cool) to eat. After breakfast I spent some time emailing and writing, and then we all met Vijay, the study center director person, who seems nice and fun. His glasses magnify his eyes like four times. Then we went to lunch at the restaurant (although entrees are only three dollars it’s nice by Indian standards). Then we all went out for the first time. The streets were not as bad as I thought. This might be because we’re in New Delhi and not real Delhi. No one came and hassled us like I thought (even me wearing qwik-dri shorts and a Cancun shirt). Some guys came up and wanted to talk to us; it was like we were stars. It’s like a formula; as long as Indians have brown skin and black hair, any other possible combination of features is possible. That comment was incredibly Orientalist and racist. The streets were dirty and crumbly, but flattened by pedestrian traffic because people are EVERYWHERE. There were some stray dogs and monkeys, no cows. We passed Janpath, a long stretch of shops selling foods, incense, shoes (probably dalits), saris, western clothing, wallets, belts, purses, shawls, media, and carpets. There were men peeing on the side of the road, which is interesting because men don’t feel embarrassed about it. This is because the street is seen as male space. The shopowners all greeted us with “hello, my friend” (so Indian), and wanted our business. The stuff is incredibly cheap. It makes you wonder how people survive on that wage. We then walked through the 100-degree heat (muggy and cloudy, too) to Palika Bazaar, a huge AC (that is key) underground shopping market with tons of shops along maze-like corridors. After that we walked up even further to Connaught Place, the center of the city. It housed shops like Pizza Hut, Niketown, Adidas, Lacoste, KFC, bookstores, as well as shoeshiners and such. We went and checked out the Odeon movie theatre before catching a motor rickshaw (all five of us), which was comfy. I took a long nap and walked back to the movie theatre and paid $2 for a Bollywood film ChupChupKe, all in Hindi with no subtitles. Good music, but everything was exaggerated and kids were laughing left and right. I didn’t understand anything.