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I've decided that the best color to describe Delhi is gray. It's gray in the morning, gray at noon, gray at dusk, and when the headlights filter through the particulate matter, it's gray at night. The sun barely cuts through the pollution, and the moon is a dark shade of gray, sometimes mixed with a tinge of red. Or if you're lucky, white. After sleeping away most of the day, Megan and I went out on our own for the first time, hiring an auto-rickshaw for 20-30 rupees instead of the 50-60 we've been paying for 4 people. Once again we went back to the fabric market. I picked up my shirts, and Megan will finally be getting hers' tomorrow. This is particularly bad news because the post office is only open until noon, and she has 10-15 items to pick up. So that means my already overloaded pack is going to get heavier, at least until Monday when the post office reopens. Back on Sunday night (what seems like a world away -- well, I guess it is) my friend Chad drove us to the airport, and at the last instant Megan asked if he wanted us to bring him back something. After a pause he said, "I had a pen pal from Africa who used to send me Cricket Cards, and I'd send him Baseball Cards. Cricket Cards would be pretty cool." We thought that sounded neat. So from an office supplies stall in the fabric market we got directions to a shop called Giggles that might have had them, but no dice. However, we were treated to the sight of some Indian Barbies for sale there with black hair, dark skin and saris, which was a trip. There were also a ton of model airplane and battleship kits, which my dad would have loved. If there was one featuring an Indian Navy ship, I would have bought him one and shipped it back with Megan's clothes. Outside of Giggles we had another man following us, and he was particularly harassing Megan to get her to buy something. Once again, I turned off my senses, refusing to look at this man. I did, however, put my arm around Megan, and after she yelled "NO!" he went away. We were told of one other shop nearby that might have the Cricket Cards, but after a quick scan of the block it was not to be seen, so we stepped inside an office that housed a variety of airlines, such as Aeroflot and other former Soviet Bloc national airlines. We asked where we might find this shop, and the man answered that we were in their former location, but they had obviously moved. We had a good chuckle at that. [I find that my writing voice is coming out clipped and precise much like Indian speech. I don't know if the reader can 'hear' it. Bear with me.] We only had time today to try and do one touristy thing, and Megan let me pick the Hans Plaza Hotel's bar on the 21st floor, which the lady at Cathay recommended for a good view. And indeed it was a good view -- of the pollution. Not that I expected anything different. But my camera was unable to pick anything out of the smog. In an hour another friend of Sarah and Pritwish is going to come pick us up and take us out for drinks. As long as we don't have to navigate back by our drunk selves, I'm looking forward to it. Sat June 5, 2:13am - Yatri Guest House I'm currently typing by flashlight as, once again, the power has gone out. Ahh, okay, it's back on. Just as we got back from the club, with Megan having sat in my lap for the drive both ways, with it being hot as hell outside at 2 in the morning, and the AC kicks off. Ugh. But this has been total luxury. By the end of this stay in Delhi we'll have spent 2500 a piece on the room. I doubt we'll be staying in such nice places many other times this trip. So about tonight. I didn't get drunk, but we did go to this club which... just... I mean... it was insane. It was called Mantra, and it was on the ground floor of a building that holds offices for oil and bank companies. We were picked up by Tuhn and Mohua (sp?). We made the mistake of not eating, basically passing out in the guest house room while they were on their way. But their timing in getting to the club was perfect. When we got there, there were maybe 40 people. Not 20 minutes later there were two times that amount, and then by the time we left probably 250. It was loud, with DJs playing straight up techno with some Indian traditional dance music mixed into the beats. So there wasn't much capacity for holding an extended conversation, but we did learn that Tuhn is an advertising executive who worked his way up from earning not much, and Mohua is a sociology professor who has taught in Boston. The others went and danced for a bit, which I'm really happy about since Megan doesn't get to go out dancing enough. I stayed and talked. Tuhn asked what I do for a living, and I answered that I was a writer/editor for websites but I got laid off and hope to get into video editing. When I said that friends in jest have suggested I get a job cutting Bollywood musicals, Tuhn replied matter-of-factly, "Well why not?" I said, "You
know, you're the second person here to have said that." What a trip that would be! But then Tuhn said that they still edit on flatbeds as opposed to digital, and there went that idea. We also talked music, with the best revelations being that the Grateful Dead and Guns n' Roses remain very popular in India, at least with those who went to college. Oh, and Tamarack was very pleased to learn that at Tuhn's university in Calcutta they had a Bob Dylan society. (!) We were served three platters of appetizers, even some meat which I was thrilled about. I don't know what it was called, but there was one red meat dish that Tuhn said was cooked slowly over 24 hours. As it was as tender as pate, I'm not surprised. All of it was excellent. As for the club, it was like we stumbled into another world, far removed from the traffic and hassle and poverty of Delhi. In fact, it was like being at an exclusive club in Beverly Hills. (Tamarack said he heard people talking that the club was a hang out for "models and producers".) Most of the people there probably live in Beverly Hills half of the year. It was total jet-setting trend-setters in there. The girls wore tight jeans and revealing tops (nothing in the way of cleavage, but way different from what we've been seeing), with a couple wearing traditional dress, which was even more jarring in that setting. The guys looked very slick for the most part, with manicured face stubble and fancy clothes. Tamarack thought it was possible that he saw a famous Indian actor in the bathroom. And then there was us: Me with my fanny pack and camera bags, and Megan with her back pack with water filtration bottle attached. Luckily I had a fairly appropriate shirt to wear as we picked up our shirts from the tailor's today. The cover was 500 rupees which included drink tickets that bought a whiskey and a beer each. I then ordered 2 doubles of Glenfiddich, and they ended up costing 850 a person. Now, that's around $US15 a person, which wouldn't be all that outrageous in a super nice club if these drinks were really doubles (they weren't). But the fact that I could eat 17 very good meals for that price in India... obviously this was a club for people who can afford to splurge. But I'm glad we got to see that side of life in Delhi, and I'm glad we did some clubbing, because it most likely won't happen again here. Unless we find ourselves in Delhi again, in which case Tuhn and Mohua said we should call. It could happen. But to think that we've seen some of the poorest of the poorest conditions in the world this week and the richest of the rich... my mind is blown.
email: ryan[at]monkeyduck[dot]com
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