Day 8: Welcome to New Delhi

The Reverent at Mahatma Gandhi Memorial

If you’re getting fleeced and you know it, are you still getting fleeced? And: If you want to come to India for the first time, here’s how. More on this in a second.

We traded in Jes and Bongani for Laura, Crispin, and Tom whom Chris, Andrew, and I will (more or less) finish out the trip with. Laura’s a fellow American from Houston currently working as an expat in Australia. Crispin’s an Australian who is originally from Malaysia. Tom’s an Australian currently working as an expat in Norway. That must sound confusing. They’re also fellow engineers, and we all work for the same company (or used to in the case of Crispin). Needless to say, we’re getting along fabulously.

We flew an hour north, to New Delhi. I think it’s a city of 20 million and change.

Andrew, Laura, and Tom at a Mosque

Okay, now back to the first paragraph. Good on ya and thanks Tom! In the month or so leading up to this trip, he used Lonely Planet and read reviews online to select nice accommodations and a cushy air conditioned tour van service for us. It’s all a lot softer than I would chose for myself, but it’s perfect for a group of six cost splitters who don’t want to mess around. We want to get into new areas and see as much as possible in the allotted time.

My only request to the tour guide this morning and to my travel mates has been that we see the real India; not just tourist attractions. I actually tune out much of what I consider typical tourist stuff. From what I can see so far, if you want to come to India for the first time, do what Tom did for us. I can’t see many people doing India for the first time like Chris, Andrew, and I have done the first week here. But I think many would dig what's coming up.

Cables and Wires Above

Now, about the fleecing business. It’s obvious we’re part of a system through our tour van service provider to extract money from tourists. We caught on after stops that involved paying money to other service providers and merchants, such as the “recommended” restaurant for lunch, the “selected” rickshaw drivers, and the “preferred” spice shop.

As we were dropped within a 10 minute walk to our hotel, the tour guide expressed concern that there were people out there to do us harm and not to go with them. Chris wrote a note while the guide gave us our debriefing for the day and showed Andrew and I: ‘The cynic in me thinks that’s because he won’t get a commission’. Yes, exactly. We were being led to connected vendors, and our guide wanted to weed out his competition. With that said, we still had a fabulous time. I would recommend getting fleeced in this way if you come to India.

Overlook behind the Spice Market

There was the memorial where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. We conjectured on whether that meant he was actually buried or just cremated there.

There was a mosque where we were allowed in free but had to pay 300 Rupee for the admission of each of our cameras. Tom described it as paying 300 Rupee NOT to leave his camera with the rickshaw driver. Another 100 rupee was the charge for the required sarong to cover our legs, and in Laura’s a full robe to cover her bar arms. I thought we got jipped on that one though, as we were kicked out after only 15 minutes on account of impending prayer time.

Overlook at the Spice Market

There was the rickshaw trip we took down a narrow alley in Old Delhi with its throngs of people, other rickshaws, motorcycles, and wall to wall merchant shops. Also covered with spaghetti messes of cables and wire. It was the pedestrian equivalent of the busiest vehicular streets we’d seen and fascinating to witness.

There was the spice market that seemed to swarm and buzz with the activity and energy of a bee hive. We visited its bulk distribution center where the city's restaurants came to buy their spices in humongous bales carried away on the shoulders of a steady stream of laborers. Our noses ran and our eyes watered as we coughed, wheezed, sneezed, and sniffed as we climbed a set of stairs to view it all from above.

Rooftop Scene above the Spice Market

I bought some unpackaged dried grapes (perhaps breaking a Jes/Manish warning), because I’m a sucker for raisins displayed so nicely. Chris bought some attractively packaged trail mix at a spice shop, which seemed like an odd find in such a place.

The final "pushiness" from our tour guide for the evening, other than to not use other tour guides, was to place us at a textile shop. As the six of us stepped in, we were each accosted by our own dedicated sales person waiting. They would not take "no" for an answer, except for mine. I’m normally a nice guy, until I've decided I've had enough. It only took 2 nos (and some other persuading) for my sales person to accept his "no sale" fate.

Typical Merchant Scene at the Spice Market

Being left alone didn’t give me much to do. So I started tuning in to the fate of my mates. Chris, the respectful gentleman that he is, gave his sales person lots of latitude and serious consideration. He finally bought cushion covers for his mum. I thought Crispin was being chased around the store (literally) a few times and sort of smirked about it. Later Crispin showed me a beautiful little outfit for his 3 year-old daughter back home. I thought Laura was being strong in her rejections. Then I noticed a weakness in her towards soft frilly things and an eventual bargaining effort. She went on to buy three pashmina scarfs at a 50% discount thanks to her tenacity and perhaps Jes’ advice to start by a counter offer of one third the initial price. I was proud of Andrew. He bought nothing, although I agreed with him of the great temptation to have the beautiful red bed spread and pillow cases adorned with gold elephants. Tom was chased downstairs. I don't know what happened to him.

Monkeys roaming the Spice Market

I became flippant in the textile store and began to badger the aggressors a bit. I had taken a picture of the one dedicated to Chris, and after a few minutes he came to me and demanded, ‘show me the picture’. ‘I deleted it’, I replied. He had a surprised look on his face (like I should be framing that picture or something). I explained that I delete photo’s that don’t tell a story, and his didn’t tell a story. Apparently he didn’t get it, and jumped back saying, ‘try again’. So I humored the man and snapped another photo knowing I’d just delete it as I had done the first. I was messing with this guys now. I exclaimed, ‘oh you look so handsome!’ I could tell he sensed my sarcasm and disagreed with my tone. I quickly followed with, ‘you should go to Mumbai (the Indian equivalent of Hollywood) and be a model or actor!’ His face soured, and he went on to tell me how he doesn’t need to go anywhere and that people should come to him. He said if you have positive energy that people will be attracted to you, and if you have negative energy, people will run. I told him that I agreed with the positive/negative energy part. I then told him that advertising is 90% of success. That you can be the best thing out there, but if nobody knows then it doesn’t matter much. I told him everything I have is because I went out and chased it. He acknowledged me and then went on to a typical salesman schpeel to get me to buy something.

'Do you have a girlfriend, wife, mother, sister? You should buy them this, or you should buy them that’. He didn't get me, and I finally told him how I don’t value things, and I don’t give gifts. I finally said, ‘if you want to give a gift, give your time’. And with that, there was silence. He did get me, and I walked out. But I kept his second photo (Mr. Mumbai, below), because now that one did tell a story.