New Delhi: Travel through the Flavours of India

Delhi is a mole and reflects India with all its contrasts. There is an incredible India advertised by the Ministry of Tourism, the India of sumptuous palaces, hotels or old trading houses. It is not for nothing that one either loves or hates the place.

Day 1

I left for New Delhi and start dreaming a lot about this trip. On the flight I see a couple leafing through the Lonely Planet guide of India. We started a conversation and they go for two weeks. Their idea is to travel through the famous New Delhi-Agra-Jaipur triangle and then visit the Valley of flowers in Uttarakhand.

We arrived at night in New Delhi and we take the taxi together. Once we have collected the luggage we look for the official taxi kiosk. A waiter takes us through the parking lot to a corner where the taxi driver awaits us. My backpack flew into the trunk. When I was in the car, he asked for the address.

I give the address of a random hotel among those in the Paharganj area, the backpacker's district in the Arakashan Road in New Delhi. The subsequent drive to the hotel was the most thrilling car ride of our lives. He took out a colorful paper bag, from which came two leaves wrapped in leaves. This only happens in India, I thought to myself. I sat in the taxi for three minutes and smoked a cigarette.

Delhi has presented itself just as I expected, with sultry heat and neglected peripheral streets. The taxi stops in front of the hotel where our driver waits for his succulent commission. We doubt, but due to the late hours of the morning and the fact that the hotel does not seem so bad outside makes us give up and we get off the taxi.

In the end, I can rest in my sordid room facing, the dilemma of whether to turn off the fan and spend a suffocating and humid heat or keep it on and withstand a hellish noise caused by the contact of a piece of the broken blade that hits the base of the device at the end.

Day 2

I do not know what time it was, but it was very early when the phone rang to offer me breakfast and a lot of tourist proposals and excursions. I rejected saying that they let me sleep. But even though I lacked hours of sleep, the jet-lag, together with the commercial sense of my innkeepers causes me to get up. So I took a shower, dress and we went down to breakfast at the Japanese restaurant of our hotel.

Breakfast is buffet style and most things are Indian style. So in addition to the classic toast and coffee, I grab some baked chicken and one of the stews in the trays. I choose a masala tortilla. We left the hotel at ten o'clock and I launched the first of the activities I do when I arrive in a city. I take an address that points to the supposed center or point of interest and walk without hurry following the trail that leaves the flow of traffic and pedestrians.

I do not see even the slightest trace of places that may have tourist interest. In view of the situation and the relative humidity of the environment, I decided to end the experiment and take out the map. It seems that I am less than a kilometer from Connaught Place so with the recovered course I head there. Throughout this area, we can find all kinds of tourist services, hotels (of a higher standard than Paharganj) restaurants, travel agencies, banks and exchange centers.

From there I approach the so-called Jantar Mantar, an astronomical observatory dating from 1724, with restorations in 1852 and 1910. Its ocher structures are actually sundials that made it possible to calculate not only the hour but also the solar and lunar calendars with surprising precision. Like Connaught Place, a certain monumentality is perceived in these places, but it has been devoured by indolence.

When we reached the area of India Gate, we walked through several streets taking advantage of the fact that in that area there were sidewalks. On the way, we met a lot of animals. For example, striped squirrels that ate what was on the ground, a bird, a pretty quiet puppy and a macaque that looked had fought. But my favorites of the day were the green parrots and I found a different scene with squirrels and parakeets sharing food.

We went to Raj Ghat to see the Mahatma Gandhi memorial. Fortunately, the entrance is free. It has several gardens and in the center of these a marble slab has a flame lit in his honor accompanied by flowers. In it are engraved what were supposed to be Gandhi's last words, Hey Ram. I must confess that I did not find anything special.

From the Gandhi Memorial, we headed to the Akshardam Temple, making a short stop on the road to take a photograph of the entire temple as inside photos are not allowed (in addition, the place has a security measures worthy of the White House). The truth is that it is one of those visits in New Delhi that is worth doing despite not being able to photograph the temple while inside it is beautiful. To get there we had to queue separated by sexes.

The frisking was quite strict. After the security check we started the visit of this temple made of pink sandstone. That color of the exterior contrasts with the interior of the main temple where white and gold abound. Here is a Swaminarayan statue of more than 3 meters.

Then we reach the Humayun's Tomb, a funeral monument that inspired the Taj Mahal. The walk is very pleasant. We then visit the oldest monument in Delhi, the Purana Qila. The next building is the Qila I Kuhna mosque. The entrance gate is made of red sandstone and beautiful marble inlays.

We look at the intersections and are amazed at how big this structure is. The combination of marble and red sandstone fits perfectly. We look up. The last stop here is the Safdarjung Tomb. Our next stop was the Baha'i House of Worship, commonly known as the Lotus Temple. Its impressive exterior design, often compared to the Sydney Opera House, contrasts with the austerity of the interior because in this type of temple we cannot find images or icons of any kind.

Dozens of tourists head towards the main building of the Lotus Temple. We had to stand in line and go through the appropriate security arc to enter the premises. Our driver then took us to Qutab Minar.

Time is running. We get off at the Saket Mall and flee from the extreme heat. We enter and are immediately in another world. It is air-conditioned, sparkling clean, there are shops from Zara to Vero Moda and even a Swatch watch shop. This other world is just now convenient for us. We find the food corner and indulge in Chicken burger, a huge portion of chips and a large coke with lots of ice cream. After so much rice and curry, a burger is a feast.

As we leave the mall, the heat almost takes our breath away. Back at the hotel, we stop at one of the many street stalls that flood New Delhi and we buy mangoes, bananas, and pears. That was going to be our dinner. So after leaving everything in the fridge in our room, we went for a walk.

I take a rickshaw and go back to the hotel. At the hotel, I decide to move to another hotel in Paharganj. We go to Main Bazaar, the main street of Paharganj. We decide to eat there as I have not eaten for more than 24 hours. The place is on the third floor, with a flight of stairs and on the first floor, there is a makeshift bonfire and a lot of pots around where they cook the food. This place is quite reasonable.

We order murgh makhani, chicken breasts cooked in tandoori with tomato, butter, and cream, accompanied by sada chawal, basmati rice and lachha paratha. The curry I ate was not bad. At the exit, we are chewing a bit of jhilmil supari, a mixture of digestive spices that refresh our mouth. We enjoy a sudden tropical storm that catches us halfway. With the aftertaste of curry still on our palate, in the end, I go back to the hotel.

Day 3

I check-in at the hotel at 12. We were greeted with a juice and water and left luggage. We did not have wifi or signal in the phone, and so we used the Google offline maps and left for Connaught Place. We ended up on a bridge with a side road for pedestrians that really was not necessary to climb. The environment around was particularly sordid. I had the feeling of being introduced to one of our slums.

We retraced our steps and hooked the correct route, dodging a cow in a side street. It was an open, wide street, in Delhi. Connaught Place is a kind of Central Park, not very colorful. It has a structure in a circle, with concentric streets. There were some men doing gymnastics in the landscaped area. The landscaping is generally poor.

Those flowers that are offered in the temples are sold in large clusters in the streets. The earth looks dry with little grass and above is a perpetually foggy sky. There are also no large decorative structures. From there we took the street that led us to the most important Sikh temple in Delhi, the best visit of the day.

The place is impressive, with a portal in the marble entrance with the same type of stone inlays of the Taj Majal. It is an oasis that quiets the omnipresent speakers and the bustle that was growing in the street. There were not many foreigners. In fact I do not remember having crossed any.

More than a temple, it is a real complex in a very large estate that includes the lake, the temple proper, exterior galleries. Some posters carved in black marble explained in English the story of Gurudwara Bangla Sahib. We take off our shoes, wash our feet and cover our heads with small and colorful handkerchiefs that were in a basket, for that purpose.

We were not doing it all right since shoes not only have to be removed but also leave them on the outside, that is, not worth carrying them in their hands. A woman intercepted us indicating the office we had seen under the entrance gallery, passing the entrance to the temple. There a kind of guru instructed us about the differences between Sikhism and Hinduism and the principles of the former.

There he provided us with better handkerchiefs and keep our shoes. One of the slogans is not to take photographs. Out of respect, and fear that the prohibition to photograph was one of the many phrases lost in translation, we avoid photos inside the temple, which we walked in the clockwise direction. It also has a small pond for ablutions, like that of Amritsar, although in this case we do not see just people in the water. They also have a small Sikh museum that we visited.

Part of the extensive facilities is in the process of restoration, with scaffolding. In the outskirts, with the beautiful artificial lake surrounded by arcades, I used my new objective that allowed me to approach my subjects without bothering, at the expense of a greater angle.

Leaving the temple, some stalls offered free food. We search with our maps for a nearby destination to arrive at noon. We return to the hotel and check-in and we headed to the Jantar Mantar, a set of structures related to astronomy.

The Jantar Mantar, which was on our side, was effectively closed until noon. Passing the entrance to the Jantar Mantar the street ended at Janpath Road. On this avenue was the official tourism office and we tried to spot it to get maps on paper. In theory it was on the way back to the hotel.

Before seeing it, another helpdesk intends us to alert us about the true location of the official government agency, to get to which we had to go through one of the inner streets. I had already read about this situation so we desisted to follow it and a few meters above the avenue, voila!

The real one appeared, where almost without looking at us or asking us anything, an employee interrupted his probable web browsing to give us the maps we asked for. Evidently he was a government employee with no interest in selling us anything, nor helping us.

After leaving, another man tried to guide us to the real agency, which we would finally see the next day. With the maps in hand and tired we retraced our way to the hotel. It was another landscape completely different from that morning, with a hotbed of people and motorcycles, street stalls, streets full of vehicles of all kinds and horns, more horns.

We tried to buy some fruit but we were discouraged by the price that they asked for a kilo of apples. Then we take the Delhi Metro to go to the hotel. The metro pleasantly surprises us. It is very efficient and easy to use. The wagons are quite new and the trip is very comfortable, except for the purchase of the ticket, for which we have to make an endless queue.

The check-in brought some relief. The hotel met all expectations. We have a hot shower and restorative nap until 3:00 pm. It was hard to break the inertia of the dream but at about 4 we were ready to take a tour that would allow us to take advantage of the little that remained of the day.

The recommendation of the manager of the tour desk of the hotel led us to a taxi to take us to the Red Fort, the Chandni Chowk and the Jama Masjid. The truth is that the guy stayed in the Red Fort parking lot during the whole excursion. We considered that it was not worth entering the Red Fort.

As Agra Fort was superior, we limited ourselves to go around the perimeter, and we crossed to Chandni Chowk. The market, especially because it was getting dark, was not a pleasant experience. On the way we passed by clothes stalls stacked on the street in endless succession. Our next stop is the Jama Masjid. It is the largest mosque in India built by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. They also say that it is a copy of the Agra mosque, but it reminds us of Fatehpur Sikri.

We took a few pictures and decided to end the trip. We were struck by the size of the panipuri or the golgappa, a classic street food of India. The fried balls, the size between a tennis ball and a ping-pong ball. We ask for one to try. The seller took one of the balls, which were hollow, and filled it with a broth he had in a pot. Although it had a certain sweetness, it was still as spicy as Indian food can be.

It was not before 6 when we found our driver, resting in the car. We head to India Gate. Although at night it closes, it was one of the points that had to be seen in Delhi. It was full of people (like everywhere), with families posing and taking selfies at every corner. We made our own and enjoyed, as we could, the view.

Upon leaving we see the Rashtrapati Bhavan which is impressive. There are a lot of food stalls, and so we tried a sweet called gajak. On the way back to the hotel, the driver suggests us to go for shopping (or something like that) and we said yes. The next stop was on a regular street, in front of a pashmina business with huge elephants in front. I had read about this behavior of taxi drivers and guides.

We took the opportunity to try several things that we had pending. We have the famous badam milk, which is very good. We also bought a butter cookie that we have seen in several stalls and a sweet sandwich. To finish, we tried a sweet called rasmalai. We go around and go straight to the restaurant on the terrace of the hotel.

The last floor of the hotel has a terrace, roofed but open on the sides and a closed area with windows, more narrow, with few tables and access from the kitchen. It was cool, noisy, wet and smelly and so we settled on one of the tables against the far wall. A very solicitous young man approached us and we placed our orders. We have the dinner to the full and go to sleep.

Day 4

I wake up late. I'm in the Paharganj neighborhood near the main street. Main Bazar, is already crowded, just a few steps from leaving my hotel. I meet a New Zealander with whom I met at the airport the day before. We talk about our plans again. We go to a market in the downtown area called Palika Bazar where I want to buy pants and an electric mosquito repellent.

After a walk we reach the market. It is underground and hundreds of small shops are followed by narrow corridors. Each shop seems to have at least two employees who pursue potential customers mercilessly. We seem a prey, especially tempting. It is exhausting. We do not buy anything and went out to rest in the nearby park. Several mules graze in the grass.

We go to the Tibetan Market. It is a street where the shops follow each other door to door. The products are attractive and the vendors do not insist to enter their establishment. They are sitting by the door and they just smile when we look at them and with a wave of their hand they invite to enter.

To return to the area of our hotels we haggle the price with a rickshaw driver and we launched to walk the streets at full speed, between beeps, braking and acceleration. In Main Bazaar I get the mosquito repellent that promises nights without bites.

We had fried rice and a delicious butter chicken in a nice restaurant. Soon there is an electric blackout and each store, restaurant and street stall launches its diesel generators. The streets are filled with noise and gases that make it difficult to breathe.

To complete the night, a truck runs all over the streets of the Main Bazaar, releasing a thick stream of smoke from the trailer. Everyone covers their mouth with a handkerchief. The owner of a nearby store explains that it is insecticide being released by the civic body. Tired and somewhat dizzy by the environment we say goodbye until the next day, in which we will continue touring the city.

Day 2

I get up earlier than the day before. After breakfast I meet the New Zealander to head towards Old Delhi, the old part, to see the Red Fort and the Jama Masjid. We decided to walk since we have the whole day ahead. We walk a road that borders the railway for more than an hour. There is a succession of workshops of all kinds of mechanics, metallurgists, carpenters, plumbers. Each of them do their work at the footpath of street, with the most scarce means but all the expertise of the world.

The sounds whiz by on all sides, like shots in a war movie. There is the hammering of a blacksmith, to the cries of a man who makes his way with his car full of merchandise. There is the traffic that overwhelms. A radio at full volume sounds somewhere, as buyers negotiate loudly with the merchants. The poor brain is trying to process everything, without much success, and finally surrenders. It simply lets itself go, submerges in the environment and merges with the chaos that surrounds it. This feeling will be very common throughout a trip through India.

We arrived at Chandni Chowk, a street about a kilometer long filled with stalls with spices, nuts, legumes, prepared foods, sweets. As we enter the market there are more and more people and the traffic of cars, motorcycles, bikes and rickshaws thickens at times. The traffic jams seem to completely collapse the street.

We passed in front of an immaculate Sikh temple. Outside, on the street, a neatly dressed man invites us to join a group of tourists who come to visit him. I place an orange handkerchief and go inside the temple. From what I could see, more than a dagger, they usually carry authentic broadswords of almost one meter. We leave the temple a half hour later. We have seen how food is cooked and offered to everyone in langar, according to the precepts of hospitality and community service.

At last we reached the Red Fort. It is a huge construction, with a walled perimeter of two kilometers in which are the palaces of the Mughal period. The constructions are very elegant, with refined carvings. The place has a fairytale aspect, although the nacre and the precious stones that covered the walls disappeared a long time ago.

When leaving the fort, we haggle with a rickshaw driver to take us to the Jama Masjid, the largest in India. As we approach its imposing aspect, with its huge towers and domes, it is of enormous size. The great staircase of access is a desolate sight. Upon arriving at the entrance they indicate that we must take off our shoes.

We went to a nearby restaurant called Karim, recommended in my travel guide, run by descendants of the cooks of the last Mughal Emperor. Everything we eat is really tasty.

On leaving we go back to haggle with the rickshaw drivers to go to the Humayuns Tomb, the second Mughal emperor. The monument is the predecessor of the Taj Mahal. It is a place with great charm. There are hardly any visitors. The huge gardens of immense lawns and well-tended trees surround the ocher stone constructions. The sun goes down between the bulbous domes of the buildings and the tops of the leafy trees. There is a silence and a peace that can hardly be explained. I regret not having a good camera to capture the moment, although I think that no matter how good it is, I could not pick up the environment that surrounds us.

We took another rickshaw to return to Main Bazaar in a frantic race among the traffic of New Delhi. We inhale the gases, listen to the thunderous rhythm of the horn and squeezing the hand around something to hold on and tense the jaw. At the same time we are taking the pleasure and we cannot avoid a smile, like children living something dangerous and exciting at the same time.

We went to the restaurant. The place has a nice terrace, with a relaxing atmosphere that invites to pass the time, surrounded by soft lights and plants. I can hear Indian music and reggae, while down in the street, the market gradually calms down with the arrival of the night. After dinner I take a few beers while we talk about the trip and later we said goodbye.

Day 3

At breakfast we become friendly with an English girl who has a ticket to fly around the world! She arrives from the Himalayas and will go to Rajasthan. We go to the New Delhi train station to book the tickets. Saying that it is full of people is to fall short. It seems more as the scene of a temporary shelter for those displaced by some natural disaster. Hundreds of people sit or lie on the floor wait for their train, chat, eat, doze, play under the huge signboards.

The reservations office is located on the top floor. When arriving at the stairs a man indicates to us that it is closed. He offers to accompany us to a nearby office where they will attend us immediately. I already read in the guide about the cheats and so we ignore him and go up to the first floor.

It takes an hour and a half to wait for the queue, fill out the forms in which date, destination, class is indicated and solve the doubts about possible schedules and differences between the different classes. At last my friends have their tickets.

When leaving the station we take a rickshaw to go to the Purana Qila, the old fort. Inside there is a mosque and near a building that was a library. It is a holiday in schools and many students spend their time walking or sitting in the gardens. Several groups come to us to talk.

We approach the India Gate, a huge Roman-style triumphal arch that commemorates those killed in the World War I and the Afghan war. Some Sikh soldiers with striking orange turbans stand guard. Within walking distance are what were the buildings of the British secretariat during its domination in India. They are imposing blocks of offices designed to make clear with their own vision who was in charge in India during the Raj and the unequivocal will to stay of the British empire. Nearby are the Parliament and the residence of the Prime Minister.

We eat at a place recommended in my guide called Nirula's, so far the best meal of the trip. We ordered the special dish of the day with the murgh makhani with pieces of fried chicken accompanied with dal, made with lentils, beans and spices, assorted brochettes with garnish of vegetables and roti.

After lunch, I visit the Tibetan market, as we want to do some shopping. We all buy pants and shirts. It is time to return to the hotel. I go to the terrace of their hotel and meet a Canadian who is aiming to take something, although I begin to have the feeling of being something like an unofficial Delhi guide.

We enjoyed a delicious dinner and several beers. We agreed on the direction to take to do some trekking and visit the Manali area, and I want to take a narrow-gauge toy train that leads to the city of Shimla. I always enjoyed traveling by train anywhere, and if it is narrow gauge, so much the better! We agreed to buy the tickets the next morning.

Day 5

My plan is to head north as soon as possible. Manali is my destiny. According to the guide at any Paharganj agency, I can buy a seat on the buses of the HPTDC (Himachal Pradesh Tourism Development Corporation) for 400 rupees with 16 hours of bus travel to Manali.

I go to the station. I cannot resist the temptation to ask for Shimla, and I am punctually informed. If I take the train to Kalka at 6 o'clock in the morning, I will arrive there at 11.30 and at 12 o'clock a mountain train will go to Shimla. Once there many agencies can take me to Manali. I am so eager to leave New Delhi that I bought the ticket on the spot, thus breaking my pre-established plan.

With the satisfaction of having my escape route confirmed I am ready to tour old Delhi and look for a pedestrian way to the Jama Masjid. We go through an intricate network of alleyways in the neighborhood of New Delhi. I arrive in Chandni Chowk and once emerged I am again surrounded by chaos, stronger than ever. At the end of one of the narrow streets, I can see the bulbous domes of the mosque that show us the way.

During the visit, perhaps what most impressed me about this mosque was not the magnificence of its architecture. It was the result of a mixture of Mughal and Indian styles. Particularly noteworthy are the two large minarets that flank it. Inside it houses (people say) a sandal, a hair and a footprint of the footprint of Muhammad himself. After a while wandering and photographing what happened there, we took out the phone to take a panorama.

The rain surprises us by the way, but the shower, although very intense, hardly lasts about ten minutes. As soon as it dissipates, we have the same suffocating heat as before but with even more humidity. We go to the Red Fort. The path that took us directly to the Red Fort through the streets was much easier on Google Maps.

We buy a ticket and are searched by security, as everywhere here at the sights. We enter the Red Fort through the Lahore Gate. We continue through a covered shopping arcade with many souvenir shops. There is a lot of shopping, but mainly from the tourists. First, we come to the Naubat Khana, a three-story red sandstone gatehouse. The outer walls are beautifully decorated. Here the guests of the Emperor were received.

The terrain inside the fortress walls is quite extensive. Next, we come to the public audience hall, the Divan I Am. The pavilion is supported by countless sandstone pillars. And again we are asked for a photo. But this time the other way around. The family wants to be photographed. They do not have a camera, but for them, the highlight is to see themselves on the screen of our digital camera.

The imperial private-room is called Khas Mahal. Here we find filigree marble stonework. The marble is sometimes so thin that the light shines through. Unfortunately, the rooms are not accessible to the public. We continue through gardens to Diwan I Khas, the private audience hall of the Mughal rulers. The audience hall is made of white marble and gives the glory of back then only hint.

The massive columns feature precious inlays, gilding, and paintings. Here the Mughal rulers have received high-ranking personalities to private audiences. We spent over two hours in the Red Fort. On the one hand, because the terrain is very spacious, on the other hand, because of the heat. At these temperatures, we take regular breaks and sit in the shade to rest.

We then visit Dariba Kalan, where women buy jewelry, fabrics, flowers, and decorations. Then there is the first time Delhi Street food to try. At a stall, we taste the Aloo Tikki, a type of potato pancake with tamarind and coriander mint. It tastes delicious. On the way to the Khari Baoli Spice Market, I try Naan, Chapati, Paratha, Puri, chickpea curry and a lassi. All this in a small restaurant whose upper floor is so low that even with my 165 cm I reach almost to the ceiling.

The spice market itself is a unique experience. Sacks of spices from all parts of India and the world pile up in the streets, and in the streets where chili peppers are ground and a huge assortment of spices is offered, I can hardly breathe. This is not possible without sneezing. For me, this is one of the most fascinating markets in Delhi.

Along the way, I get to know the importance and meaning of Indian wedding cards. For the elaborate cards, one could spend here per piece up to 15,000 INR. Shortly before Diwali, there are also fireworks everywhere to buy. The conclusion is a visit to Karim's Restaurant for the famed Shish Kebabs.

So, after reviewing the extensive list, we ordered a couple of portions of garlic naan and butter naan. It must be said that everything was delicious. We could not finish everything because the portions were quite generous and, of course spicy. Fortunately, the beer tastes warm even when it's still warm.

And when we finally reached the street from which we had left in the morning we saw how it was transformed into the night since the neon lights gave it a different touch. Of course, still without sidewalks so it was quite difficult to walk between the vehicles. As I have to take a train at 6 o'clock in the morning I tell the receptionist to prepare the bill for me!