I am most thankful the driver’s brakes were exemplary because I didn’t see him until near impact. I was busy looking the OTHER way so I didn’t get creamed by the vehicles bearing down from left to right. The near hit was coming from right to left on the SAME SIDE OF THE STREET & one can only look one way at time dammit. It was only my 4th full day in Delhi, hell, I didn’t know one needed to look many ways at once & I still had the darndest time remembering to look RIGHT first before crossing the street as the Indians drive on the left side of the road & while I’m at it, who the heck’s idea was it to drive on different sides of the road in the first doggone place????!!!!!! Just too confusing to be necessary I say. Anywho, back to almost buying the farm with cattle on it—well, brothaman slammed on his brakes & my head whipped around as he hurtled toward me, I screamed, then threw out my right hand like I was Diana Ross AND The Supremes! Like that was gonna stop him from rearranging my right hip. I mean, he was INCHES away. But hey, I’m a New Yorker, these things never happened to me there but hey again, I’m a New Yorker but DAMN! this is Delhi & I ain’t adaptin’ so good, but I kept on walkin’ like it was normal to almost get hit by a motor vehicle I‘d never seen nor heard of 4 days prior that moment.
Once on the other side, Kali, the boy caretaker of my temporary guest house who speaks a minute spattering of English said ‘I’m sorry,’ since I crossed at his urging. But HE saw the speeding auto rickshaw & was standing far back of the near crunch-fest. Yeah I could’ve called him a dirty dog but I pantomimed it was my fault because ultimately it was. Well & of course the speeding driver. The lesson here? Look four, no, six ways before crossing the streets of Delhi—right, left, up, down, behind & in front! At the same time.
Good lawd & I hear Mumbai [Bombay] is worse! & that’s from the folks living in Delhi!
Now, before the near hit I was havin’ a good day. Once again I was taken out by another gracious student by the name of Gataum, a hip, American sounding Indian from the New Himalayan Mountains. Boy he’s a lot of fun, quick of wit & apt to tease. After driving what seemed to be forever to find a Western Union to change money, (I guess banks just don’t perform that service any more—DAMMIT! how inconvenient!) we parked across the road from it & I got my first jolt of the day—we were gonna cross that six lane highway with the barricade separating the flow of traffic so people WON’T cross in the middle of the six lane highway. Of course they do it anyway. I’m like ‘I knooooo-hoooe you don’t think I’m gunna climb over that fence dew-u you?!!!” He’s like “no-ho, of course not! There’s an opening down the way.’ Yes, someone removed part of the fence so people don’t have to climb over like some of the folks I see doing just that! Guess they couldn’t walk down a few feet or meters.
There was almost another jolt which would have been the first jolt of the day but it happened the day before & doesn’t count lol—Gataum had the foresight (& I’m soooooo glad he did) to mention he’d pick me up on his bike_________________ah ho ho ho ho nooooo-hooooooooooo. That’s a no no of the HIGHEST order! There’s no way in Hell, Hades or Purgatory that I was riding on the back of a motorcycle in India!!! No friggin’ free-kin’ way man! I won’t ride one in the states thanks to a silly boy trying to impress me while in college. He bugged me so much to get on the back of his ride that when I finally acquiesced, what does the fool do? He starts weaving with me on the back! Now if you’ve got someone on your bike for the first time & you know they’re scared, do ya think that’s the best thing to do? NO! Dumb, dumb, DUMB! I wouldn’t even ride on the back of a scooter in Bermuda with my spousal equivalent that I trust explicitly & who is an excellent driver so the idea of free-wheelin’ it in New Delhi made my blood turn to pewter.
So there I was, four days in India & acting just like the natives. Crossin’ in the middle of a 6 lane highway to get to the other side. To his credit, he walked on the side closest to traffic so if we got hit, he’d feel it first but I’d get hit nonetheless. So we hightail it across six lanes three at a time & I have to admit, that in a sick sorta twisted way, it was kinda fun on the exhilarating kinda tip! I can’t believe I even did that as I write this!
After changing dollars into rupees, we cross AGAIN to go to the main event, Dilli Haat. It is a government run market where merchants & craftspeople from the different states of India (I’m told there are 28) come to sell their wares. There is an entrance fee of 15 RS (rupees) which was roughly .35 US. Textiles are big there, with the women wearing such beautiful fabrics. For us tourists, there are plenty of signs screaming 100% PASHMINA! (cashmere wool from the Changthangi or Pashmina goat who is indigenous to the Himalyas). You also find amazing rugs; leather shoes & sandals as well as silver jewelry which I went ga-ga over. Merchants try to brow beat you into their stalls & if you’re a ‘leave-me-alone-I’ll-come-if-I-see-something’ shopper, the constant badgering can be a bit wearying. Bargaining is key here, though the prices are already cheaper than cheap by US standards. But it’s the haggling that is so much fun!