I arrived at Delhi Sarai Rohilla station in the evening. Exiting the station, I was confronted with a parking lot filled with at least fifty tuk tuks. I was immediately swarmed by men asking me to use them for a ride. I declined repeatedly, but two followed me anyway. They hovered over me while I sent a message to the driver sent by my hotel to pick me up. Luckily he was waiting for me nearby, and my followers withdrew when they saw my ride.
While in his car, a woman walked up to the car window and knocked on it, making hand signs for money. I shook my head no, but she continued to knock for the next minute while we waited for the light to turn. The driver did not acknowledge her existence in any way. We parked as close as a car could get to the hotel. Someone was waiting for me with a trolley. He had me follow as he wheeled my bags through the narrow, winding streets of old delhi to my hotel, Haveli Dharampura. I chose this hotel due to its location, right in the middle of Old Delhi. I was brought inside, where I was given a kite with my name on it, along with a fizzy drink. The kite was intended to be used with the daily kit flying sessions hosted by the hotel. I ate cookies for dinner.
The next day I left to walk the streets of Old Delhi as a flaneur, wandering at random, with no particular destination in mind. I listened to music and took pictures of the beauty I saw around me. One moment that stood out took place near a door shaped like a lion's mouth. I had wanted to take a picture, but there was a man sitting on a step in front of it. I didn't want him to think that I was trying to take his picture, so I mimed taking a picture, to ask if he was ok with it. He responded by rubbing his fingers together, asking money. I laughed at out loud and so did he.
Eventually I reached an outer street where there seemed to be an endless traffic jam of cars, tuk tuks, bicycles, and more. I stood and watched for a while before walking toward the center to take some pictures, and then continuing onward. In the next alley I found monkeys, hanging around above the shops. I switched cameras to have a more appropriate lens, and caught some swinging on the electric wires as if they were tree branches. One man looked to me and made the motion of monkeys grabbing cameras and biting people. It was kind of him to warn me.
As I was making my way back, I tried to locate an ATM. The first one, in an atm vestibule, refused my card. The second one was inside an actual bank. The entrance was down an alley, with a gate that was partially open, held a few feet apart by a chain that dangled at top. I ducked and went in. Inside sat a man with a rifle. While waiting in line, two men decided to cut in front of me, at least having the courtesy to acknowledge my existence by turning and saying something to me in Hindi.
Back at the hotel, I ordered a cold coffee along with a yogurt and ice cream mix that tasted like neither, called Aamras. The coffee was mixed with chocolate syrup. I brought my kindle to the rooftop, finished my Bhutan book, and then spoke on the phone. I ordered an orange juice without ice. I stayed throughout what was shown on the hotel guide as kite flying time, but no one showed up Other roofs had people flying kites.
I went down for dinner that night, which was only available to hotel guests. They said that the outdoor seating was already reserved for larger parties. I had been told the night before that no reservations were necessary. They put me at a table inside. At one point the waiter asked me if my partner was coming. Awkward. Two other tables, who had sat down after me, had their food delivered first.
My dish was more like liquid than I had expected. The appetizer was much better. There was live music in the courtyard, but they had closed the doors. After dinner, there was a dance performance, which I watched briefly from an upper balcony.
That night I had strong stomach pains that lasted over three hours. I slept in the next morningand skipped breakfast. I eventually ate some of my cereal. I left my room mid afternoon, heading toward Jama Masjid. This temple was reported online to be free. The entrance near me had one person asking for money without explanation, which I ignored. Two men set up boards asking for an entrance ticket fee. The cost was low enough that I chose to pay just to avoid having to figure out if it was legitimate or not.
Shoes were not allowed in the courtyard at all. I packed my shoes into my backpack. The inner temple had a sign stating that only worshippers were allowed to continue onward. There was a guard there that motioned for me to come in and sit to the side. Strangely, the people here were just lounging or sleeping on the ground. Shortly after, the guard stood up and asked me to follow, pointing out spots where he believed I would be able to take good photographs. After a short walk he said the word, "tip."
I exited the back archway and descended a flight of step lined with people with abnormalities such as missing limbs, begging. The steps led into the chor("thief") bazar. There was food, clothing, and even a small section for spices. This market was incredibly full of people, making it difficult to wade through it. The street on the other side led to the Red Fort.
While in line to get a ticket, people cut in front of me multiple times. With ticket in hand, I waited in the security line. When three young men blatantly walked right in front of me, I spoke up and stopped them. I had had enough. The places inside the fort with beautiful architecture were all barred off from people actually walking onto them and examining them in detail. Barriers were erected and manned by guards.
Back at the hotel, people were in the courtyard having drinks. I asked if it was possible to order food, despite being an hour early. He gave me a private room, and even turned on the air conditioning. It was quite excellent and I did not get sick.
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