I arrived in Delhi on Thursday lunchtime. I only managed to get 2 hours sleep on the 9 hour flight from London, but the wonderful views of the mountain ranges and deserts of Iraq and Iran, with the sun rising on the horizon, almost made up for that.
My first reaction on walking off the plane was the familiar musty smell which seems to pervade everything, certainly in Delhi. Everything feels old, even the walls in the airport, and nothing is ever white - just shades of grey.
The people, passengers and airport staff alike, are unfailingly courteous to visitors. I passed through immigration, baggage claim and customs with none of the problems which I experienced in Mumbai 3 years ago.
The fun starts after customs - having already got some Rupees before going through, I was able to head straight past all the booths for taxi and other services, ignoring the calls from the various vendors. I wanted to use the bus service direct to Paharganj, but the 3 people in the relevant booth weren't selling tickets, merely directing me outside to buy the ticket on the bus. I wonder what they are actually trying to achieve? Of course, the bus wasn't there so I was now at the mercy of the taxi touts.
After much banter, haggling and walking away, I eventually accepted a ride in, of course, a Hindustani, recognisable as an old 1950s Morris Oxford design, but still built new in India. Its still a 50s car - bench seats front and back, and no seat belts except for the driver who, at one stage, actually put it on, ready for one of his more outrageous manouveurs.
As soon as we left the airport, the street scene was chaotic and familiar. Cars and trucks of all shapes, sizes, ages, colours and state of repair, mingled with auto-rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, scooters and cyclists. And of course stray dogs, the occasional cow and monkeys by the side of the road.
One of the most comical things is the writing on the back of vehicles - most trucks and buses have 'Horn Please' in garish script, and rickshaws usually have 'Keep distance'. Their mistake, of course, is not to specify what distance they mean - my driver took it to mean about 2 millimetres!A cacophony of sound greets the ears - horns, hooters, bells, shouts and whistles. There are no such thing as lanes - all traffic squeezes together as tightly as possible. My taxi driver was intent on forcing his way between large buses and trucks and unfortunate rickshaw drivers with complete disregard for the difference between the space available and the width of his vehicle.
I think he was trying to get a reaction from me by trying more and more audacious manouveurs in an attempt to gain two metres of road space. He failed - I'd already told him I'd been here before, and I wasn't going to let anything he did surprise me. Probably the best trick was the approach to within a few millimetres of an auto-rickshaw hogging the outside lane, a rapid under-take forcing the cyclist to our left to veer away quickly, acceleration through the tight gap between a bus and the rickshaw, followed by a sweeping over-take and acceleration down the wrong side of the road playing chicken with on-coming traffic before careering back into the stationary traffic waiting at the red light with the word 'relax' on it!
I am now re-evaluating whether Delhi should be ranked ahead of Xi'an, China in my personal list of worst cities for driving.
I arrived in Delhi on Thursday lunchtime. I only managed to get 2 hours sleep on the 9 hour flight from London, but the wonderful views of the mountain ranges and deserts of Iraq and Iran, with the sun rising on the horizon, almost made up for that.
My first reaction on walking off the plane was the familiar musty smell which seems to pervade everything, certainly in Delhi. Everything feels old, even the walls in the airport, and nothing is ever white - just shades of grey.
The people, passengers and airport staff alike, are unfailingly courteous to visitors. I passed through immigration, baggage claim and customs with none of the problems which I experienced in Mumbai 3 years ago.
The fun starts after customs - having already got some Rupees before going through, I was able to head straight past all the booths for taxi and other services, ignoring the calls from the various vendors. I wanted to use the bus service direct to Paharganj, but the 3 people in the relevant booth weren't selling tickets, merely directing me outside to buy the ticket on the bus. I wonder what they are actually trying to achieve? Of course, the bus wasn't there so I was now at the mercy of the taxi touts.
After much banter, haggling and walking away, I eventually accepted a ride in, of course, a Hindustani, recognisable as an old 1950s Morris Oxford design, but still built new in India. Its still a 50s car - bench seats front and back, and no seat belts except for the driver who, at one stage, actually put it on, ready for one of his more outrageous manouveurs.
As soon as we left the airport, the street scene was chaotic and familiar. Cars and trucks of all shapes, sizes, ages, colours and state of repair, mingled with auto-rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, scooters and cyclists. And of course stray dogs, the occasional cow and monkeys by the side of the road.
One of the most comical things is the writing on the back of vehicles - most trucks and buses have 'Horn Please' in garish script, and rickshaws usually have 'Keep distance'. Their mistake, of course, is not to specify what distance they mean - my driver took it to mean about 2 millimetres!A cacophony of sound greets the ears - horns, hooters, bells, shouts and whistles. There are no such thing as lanes - all traffic squeezes together as tightly as possible. My taxi driver was intent on forcing his way between large buses and trucks and unfortunate rickshaw drivers with complete disregard for the difference between the space available and the width of his vehicle.
I think he was trying to get a reaction from me by trying more and more audacious manouveurs in an attempt to gain two metres of road space. He failed - I'd already told him I'd been here before, and I wasn't going to let anything he did surprise me. Probably the best trick was the approach to within a few millimetres of an auto-rickshaw hogging the outside lane, a rapid under-take forcing the cyclist to our left to veer away quickly, acceleration through the tight gap between a bus and the rickshaw, followed by a sweeping over-take and acceleration down the wrong side of the road playing chicken with on-coming traffic before careering back into the stationary traffic waiting at the red light with the word 'relax' on it!
I am now re-evaluating whether Delhi should be ranked ahead of Xi'an, China in my personal list of worst cities for driving.
Its good to be back - I think!
Nigel