Brook
Cross-cultural studies major
Jan. 8, 2007

   Waking up in New Delhi is a little like rising in the middle of a circus moving out. In fact, there actually is the possibility of elephants and monkeys ­– the whole shebang just rattling outside your window. The horns you constantly hear aren’t those of clown cars (though having ridden in them you could conceivably change your mind about that).  Jan. 8 crashed into us with the added chaos of the notorious Delhi Belly. One of our travelers had journeyed to the hospital/hospitals during the night, sick with some sort of contractions. Having three of our group missing gave the group a strange vibe, and I think we all carried the notion that things were off for the whole day.

The itinerary was fairly relaxed. The only thing slated was a bit of tourism. Our mode of transportation for the day was this intrusive, towering bus with the word TOURISTS blazing in white stickers across the front. Although it was admittedly more comfortable than the Whit-shaw we had ridden around in in Calcutta, we all immediately despised it. Not only were we frightfully branded, but the Western guilt really set in, as if we were riding on a litter. I think we all prefer the excitement and intimacy of walking the streets.
  
We visited a large mosque. It was a first for many of us. We strolled around barefoot, Jill wearing a hilarious plaid thing tied around her lower half for modesty. The minaret in the building proved to be just as tall as it seemed. We experienced it firsthand by climbing the hundreds of steps, in the dark, and emerging to see the panoramic splendor of New Delhi. Truly, it was one of those moments during which we breathed in and thought, “I’m in India.”

Next we walked through the streets of Old Delhi. The Muslim architecture was beautiful, and the streets were wonderfully close together. Every crevice contained life and work bumbling into each other. The girls particularly enjoyed wedding lane. Each shop specialized in some sort of marriage necessity. The colors and glitter were enough to send one into sensory overload and to make every girl on the trip start scheming how to land a marriage with an Indian. The matrimonial ads in the Sunday paper were suggested.
 
After lunch we hoped back into the TOURISTS and drove past a few sites including the India Gate, the Parliament and several parks. The drive concluded back at the good old YWCA, where we were given the rest of the evening off. Paul returned later at dinner to inform us that our sick student was safe cat Apollo hospital (ironic, since we were going to visit there the next day), and she was recovering nicely. Therefore, we were able to go to sleep comfortably with the knowledge we would all get to see her the next morning.