New Delhi

The city that never gets quiet. You are constantly surrounded by tuc-tuc’s, riksawshs, people is running around everywhere, sellers are running after you trying to sell you crap, everyone is trying to rip you off, there’s cows on the streets, there’s poor people sleeping on the side of the street, you have a dirty looking indian frying samosas on the streets, next to him is two men standing and peeing (yes peeing in the middle of everything) the dust is up in your nose and eyes so they are constantly itching. A family of five all smashed up on a motor-bike pass you with two centimeters. Ahhh, and the sound. Imagine 500,000 cars horning at the same time. The traffic is not moving. The small way you had to take a rickshaw between the metro and your place seems forever and it’s impossible to move. You give up and start walking. Everyone is screaming. The smell is just killing you. You finally get back to your neighborhood, in our case Paharganja, also called the back-packer ghetto. It’s very ghetto but very not back-packer. It’s all a practice in patience cause you know you might loose your temper and hurt someone any second. You don’t know to scream or laugh at the waiter who’s trying to convince you that 350 rupees is local price for a Thali when you know it’s actually 50. When you give up trying to book your own train ticket cause the online page just crash and you hang out at the counter at the train operator for an hour and you are negotiating about a price. And then you wait and wait. And then he looks at you like he just saw you and asks where you are going. Which city and when? How’s that even possible??? When you’re politely trying to correct the guy who just came in from nowhere and suddenly is in front of you in the line, he just looks at you and say “Welcome to India, In India no rules”. Gee thanks. Lesson learned.

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