There are many things I did not have the chance to write about in Delhi, but we have moved on to Agra today and it is another world of equally pungent experiences (pungent in that they are strong and unique and emotional in the way of a smell), so I must wrap up the most memorable tidbits in this last post.
We returned to the Chandni Chowk market yesterday, it being the place most full of the intense, completely foreign vivacity that we hoped for in embarking on this trip. It is the largest spice market in Asia, where two gringos can mingle safely into the wild, dense throng of humanity. It is a labyrinth of alleys and stores, where merchants still use traditional scales with iron weights and the goods sold are those that have existed since the market’s beginning 350 years ago – foods and clothing, lacking products that remind you that it is the digital or even industrial age.
In this market goods can be had cheaply, but all have price tags, and bargaining is not a part of this culture. We purchased five articles of clothing, including my amazing 250 rupee ($5) sandals, all for 20% of the price of the four items we purchased at the government-subsidized shop into which our tour guide hustled us the day before. My biggest regret yet on this trip is that I didn’t buy more of these 250 rupee shoes – they are cuter and more comfortable than most $40 American sandals, though time will tell if they fall apart in a week.
We rode the metro to the market, as cars cannot pass in the crowded narrow streets around the market, and found them to be not terribly worse than a rush-hour subway in NYC. Purchasing the ticket back, however, took half an hour, as we had the misfortune of choosing a line of mostly women, and people kept cutting into line in front of the women (this did not appear to happen to the men).
Our prepaid phone card: another poor experience with our tour guide – he had not properly discussed the registration of our sim card with Vodafone, so we returned back to Connaught Market with our driver Ram, who spent much time speaking in heated if polite Hindi to whomever on the other side of the phone approves these things … 24 hours later, here’s to still hoping that we have a phone tomorrow.
Dinner is not served in restaurants here until 7pm, and as we were hungry and tired, we returned to the upscale Kahn market for a bite to eat. Josh partook of the guide book-recommended kabob, and I ordered Afghani chicken. It was the best chicken I have ever had, tender like brisket with a roasty flavor (not being a big meat eater, I have limited vocabulary for this experience). I had to inhibit my gag reflex – I do not take well to bones in my food; I ordered it because it was Afghani, not realizing it was going to be just a chicken, but every bite was worth the effort, and I’m glad I did not know it had bones. Afterwards we went to a rooftop wifi café, another simply peaceful and enjoyable night.