Dilli Haat

So much excitement in my first 10 days that I hadn't had any time to shop! And I was getting quite sick and tired of the same few t-shirts and slacks. Time to get in among the people, so off I went to explore Delhi on foot. I boarded the Metro at my stop, Ghitorni, which is a 10-minute walk through the gated community that surrounds Zorba and one of the last stops on the Metro line here in South Delhi. An Indian visiting Zorba informed me that Delhi-ites were thrilled with the Metro. It's clean, fast and efficient, had come in under budget and on-time. That's because it wasn't built by Indians, he said, but by foreign developers.

New Yorkers take note: these trains are awesome...brand-spankin' new and shiny. People behave themselves. Nobody is acting out, begging, spitting (for spitting on the trains or platforms there's a 200rs fine). Of course, there's no entertainment aboard either. In all fairness to my hometown, we'll see how this subway looks when it's 100 years old.

I jumped aboard and saw Delhi from an elevated perspective on my way to Dilli Haat, an open air bazaar where I could find crafts, rugs, pottery, jewelry, paintings, and textiles - especially scarves - from all over the country. A little bit sanitized for the tourist yet charming all the same.

I shopped for a few hours and received a rapid education in bartering...Gak! I'm none too comfortable in that realm. Unless you're in a fixed price shop, the Indians really expect it and I had to act the part. If a scarf is 2000rs, for example, you counter with 1000rs. Maybe you meet halfway, maybe you walk at 1000rs. If you turn and walk away, your price is usually met. Dina, a friendly Brit who saw I was having lunch alone at a nearby table and invited me to join her, told me that Indians have tiers for Western shoppers. They'll charge a Swede something different from a German. With a Russian, they know there isn't any haggling. If you say your from America...God help ya...they know you'll buy anything so you're sunk.

I spent $100 there. In my backpack: 3 raw silk scarves, 1 silk & wool wrap (all from Kashmir and so gorgeously loomed that I couldn't stop fondling them), 1 pair of leather sandals, one pair of jodhpurs, and two small paintings (including a tattered old sketch of Sarasvati, Ganesha and Brahman). Not too shabby for a virgin voyage. 

Dina shared useful travel tips with me and gave me cleartrips.com as the source for booking my travel after Delhi when I will have a week to strike out for Agra, Jaipur, or even Varanasi...

Eventually evening came. I was still on my romp, snapping photos at dusk. Boom, I bumped into something, turned around and...yikes!...a cow's head. Yup, backed right into the holy creature. Cow's heads are large in any dimension, but when the beast is hungry as anything is that lives on the street, it's head is definitely bigger than its body and looks a tad cartoonish. Dina said that every cow in India is owned by someone who feeds them. They may roam through the day, into squares and shops and businesses and out into traffic, and then make their way home. I was tempted to reach out and pet this one but thought better of it. Instead I gave it my best Indian smile and made my own way home.  Nighty Night Elsie...