DELHI. 6th-9th October

Monday (Day One). Once I get away from Paharganj the unsought attention ceases, until I arrive at Connaught Circus, which also contains many touts and beggars, despite the fact that it is the main business part of Delhi. Every business, restaurant etc there has at least one security guard outside to monitor who is allowed in. The Circus is a big circle, with an outer rim road, a middle rim road, and an inside rim road, with several blocks of buildings between the rims, so that you have to zigzag across it to get to Janpath, a road on the far side running south, which is the main street, and reputedly where the tourist office is. I'm getting a bit hungry, as I haven't eaten since the 'plane, and splurge about 600 rupees (16 bucks or so) on a delicious Indian meal, the name of which I forget. This was at a place recommended by Lonely Planet, called the New India Coffee House, and is very swish on the decor and service. I never find the tourist office, and suspect it has closed down. Do buy a fairly useless map for 30 rupees. End up in a Macca's and down a couple of milk shakes, then retrace my steps to the hotel. Whereas places like Dresden were definately below par regarding internet access, here you are very spoiled for choice, as there must be literally dozens of places in Paharganj, and 3 within 20 metres of the hotel, and I soon become a regular at the most helpful and friendly one.

Next day (Tuesday) I lie abed till 11 am, as I think I'm still sleeping off the jet lag. I try breakfast at another Lonely Planet recommendation, Sam's Cafe at the Vivek Hotel, and (big mistake) order the 'American Breakfast', despite the fact that my tum is below standard, due to a chill.
The meal turns out to be an omelette (and I never eat omelettes), the advertised 'ham' turns out to be two one-inch squares of something that had been fried solid, and 'hash browns' which was a potato-based stew with a revolting flavour. I forced down 2 spoonfuls of the omelette, and did eat a bread roll with butter and jam, which probably was fresh, but I guess because I wasn't used to the flour, tasted stale anyway. Not one of my best meals. Decide to walk to the New Delhi train station nearby, to see if the Tourist Centre there has a good map. Firstly a guy demands to see my ticket, and then my guide book (Lonely Planet India - which every tourist has in their day-pack), and gives me this long spiel that I forget the drift of, and then when I say that I want to get to the Metro, points me in the direction of some stairs. Another guy (flashing some sort of I.D. like the first bloke), bundles me out of there, saying the Metro is closed due to it having been bombed 'last week' which sounds plausible. Then he goes into the same 'guidebook' patter as the first bloke, and tries to cajoul me into taking a 'prepaid' motor cycle rickshaw ride. I beat a retreat, as I don't want to go through this same routine twenty times before I reach the tourist office.

I end up in the 'Everest Cave' a Nepali cafe halfway below alley level, and drink lots of black tea, while redefining my strategy. Work out that there is a bridge not far north of the train station, which crosses the extensive railway yards to the other side, and decide to take this and then work my way towards the Jama Mesjid (the largest mosque in India).

From the bridge I turn left into an area known as Chandi Chowk, reputedly the lifeline of Old Delhi, and attempt to traverse what must surely be its most overcrowded and chaotic street. There are more things going on in the sides of the road than at the shops or on the pavements, and if you want to see India in depth, just take a stroll through it. I ask occasionally for the Mesjid, and have to take a right, then a dog-leg right and left, and finally a long road going in its direction. I'm getting savvy now, and tend to ask a lot more times than I need to, so as to ensure that I'm getting the same answers all round. AND I draw a map of my progress, so that I have a rough idea of how to backtrack, as I don't think there is one street sign in the whole of Delhi. Because of the crowds and traffic and the businesses spilling into the street, a distance that would perhaps take a half hour of brisk walking ends up taking at least two hours, and by the time I'm in sight of the mosque, I'm really ready for an (Indian) Macca's-type place nearby, on 3 floors, which is crowded, and in which I'm the only westerner. In fact I haven't seen another tourist since leaving Paharganj. Put a dent in a banana split and a couple of milkshakes, and decide to retrace my steps, as it's getting dark already, due to the late start. I know the way back, but ask a couple of times to be sure, and end up back at the hotel, to have a very welcome bathe, and drink lots of water.

Wednesday I don't surface from bed till twelve, and think that maybe now that the jetlag has passed that perhaps the constant noise is ensuring that I don't get a proper rest, and I ask for a 'quieter' room. I get shown an unacceptable one in the middle of the building with no windows, and another air-con room on the first floor, still by the street, but the height of the room and the hum of the air-con ensures it is quiet. I spend a couple of hours exploring the rabbit-warren of alleys in Paharganj, and it calls to mind Kipling's 'Kim' scampering through the labyrinthine bazaars of old Lahore. Then I return to the 'Everest' and have some solid food in the shape of a vegetarian fried rice with lashings of black tea. Feel very lethargic, and after some internet, have a banana pancake and back to the hotel, and exchange greetings with a fifties-something lady, possibly Australian, who is sitting in the lobby.

I mentioned to the staff when I moved in to this room earlier today that the door was very stiff to close, and that the edge of it needs shaving with a plane. Only to be told that it was because of the new paint on its edge. Now I give it a shove to close it once I'm in the room, then realise that its locked tight, and you can't open it from the inside. If I'd had say, a 12 inch flat screwdriver, I could have probably prised it open, but all I've got to do it with is a (fairly large) teaspoon, which was a bit like trying to open a tin of jam with a banana. I have to mention that the only way out of the room is through this door. The place is like Fort Knox, every window (including one over the door), is heavily barred. I don't like my chances if a fire rips through the hotel in the middle of the night, and though its about midnight, I start bashing on the door, and also pull a low table over to it, and stand on the table and start hoarsely hollering through the window 'hello, hello, come here, room 12' etc, etc. I hear some voices in room 11, but no-one comes out, then an answer from downstairs, and one of the boys come up, and I get him to kick the door open. Suddenly the lady who was downstairs earlier appears from a side-corridor, and I explain what happened, and she said she nearly had a heart attack, but asked me if I was all right. I don't know if they have a fire drill in this hotel, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was every man (and woman) for himself (herself) - so to ensure an untroubled sleep I thought it would be best to get it opened before I went to bed.

Thursday is a special holiday that marks the beginning of Deepavali, a two-week Hindu festival, and the 'Everest' and a couple of other cafes I try are closed, so I set out to retrace my steps of Tuesday, albeit with a much earlier start. I make it to the Macca's type place near the mosque in record time, as a lot of businesses in Chandi Chowk are also closed for the holiday. Order 2 milkshakes and a 3 scoop ice cream, as I am so dry, and too hot to eat solid food. Unfortunately they put each scoop on a separate plate, which together with the TWO milkshakes enabled me to give a perfect display of western-type greed and over-consumption for all the other customers.

I work out that the Mosque will soon be closed over the lunch hour, so I make for the Red Fort, nearby. My aims in India are two-fold. Firstly I'd like to visit some of the places that my mother used to talk about when I was a boy. She and Dad were both born in India, and spent most of their lives here. Secondly, I did a couple of years of Indian history at Uni, and would like to visit some of the places that we studied. At the time I was especially fascinated by the history and architecture and water-gardens of the Mughal period.

The Red Fort Covers both these strands, as the Fort was built at the height of the Mughal period, and Mum and Dad lived in army married quarters in the grounds of the Fort just after they got married. Big queues for tickets, all local people obviously having an outing for the holiday. I had to pay 250 rupees at a special 'foreigner's' window, and then leave my bag in a cloakroom. A soldier there asked me for 10 rupees for this service (what can you to do, if he's got your bag?). Had a look at all the various palaces and halls of audience in the extensive grounds of the Fort, and noted a number of old three-storey stone army barracks behind iron railings, obviously derelict since 1947. A lot of family groups sitting on the grass in these peaceful surroundings. Many rifle-toting police in evidence. When I went to collect my bag prior to leaving, the soldier was no longer there, and the old guy at the desk asked me for a tip. "Already!"

I would have liked to have visited St Mary's Church in Delhi, which is where Mum and Dad got married, but it doesn't feature in a list of existing Christian churches in my 30 rupee map. One of the churches is St James', near the Kashmiri Gate, probably a kilometre or so from the Lahore Gate, the main entrance to the Red Fort, so I thought I'd go and ask, and maybe the priest might know something of St Mary's. Have to ask a couple of times, find the church (in extensive manicured grounds), behind locked gates, although a notice on the gates said it was open 9 till 5.
Start walking around the perimeter, and come to a sort of gatekeeper's cubicle, but the old guy there didn't have enough English to work out what I wanted, and so I gave up on it.

On the way back I go to look at a Jain temple near the Red Fort, which has a rather unique bird hospital, as the Jains have a reverence for all forms of life. On this afternoon however, they didn't seem to have overmuch reverence for homo sapiens, as at 3 entrance gates that I went to there was a lock and chain securing the gate, and an official was busy telling people in no uncertain terms that they were unwelcome. This was in complete contrast to an experience that I'd had in Chandi Chowk on Tuesday, when I stopped to watch some rather holy-looking men throwing handfuls of seed through some big locked gates to scores of pigeons on the inside. One of them had just bought another big bowlful, and invited me to throw handfuls of the seed inside with him.

I walked through a busy and interesting market at the rear of the temple, shadowed by a little boy who didn't look more than about 4 or 5, but I guess was probably older, with a really pitiful expression. I'd already given him a coin earlier, and now gave him a 5 rupee note with a peremptory "Go, Go!" but he wouldn't leave, so I had to pretend to get angry to get rid of him. I tend to give something if they're blind or terribly deformed, but what can you do, there are so many of them. Had to ask a couple of times to get to the entrance gate to the Jama Mesjid, which is via a street known as the Silver Market. Was about halfway down this when a procession for the Deepavali Festival came from the other diresction, preceded by policemen who wouldn't allow anyone to go around the parade. So I stopped in front of a shop where the owners were seated waiting for the procession, and they moved over, and invited me to sit down too. Several floats of Hindu deities, with many very-spirited bands accompanying.

Got to the Mosque, where I had to pay 200 rupees camera fee. A really obnoxious guide-type guy was making out they were just closing, but I knew that didn't happen till a half-hour before sunset, so I walked on in, sans footwear. Then he started a 'come on, only 5 minutes' theme, and started as if if to escort me all around, so I just sat on the floor and said 'no, I'm staying here' at which he gave up, and stormed off in a huff. Walked all around, and took a few photos, and then back through the Silver Market to a Macca's on Chandi Chouk that I had espied earlier. Sank a 'straight tea' (black tea + evaporated milk, I would say), and a big 'Sprite'. They didn't seem to sell milk shakes, and there was a big sign on the wall "No beef is used in any of our food".

Soon back to the hotel and that longed-for bathe and lots of cold water. Too hot to eat, but I did manage some digestive biscuits. Did some inter-netting afterwards and picked up my fleecy from the tailor just down the street. I had broken the zip on a horizontal pocket of the front of it, due I think to carrying the weight of my camera in it all the time. In Amsterdam I got a quote of 20 euros to fix it ($33 +). Here it cost 150 rupees (4 to 5 dollars).