Monday, July 12; Backyard, again

The first day here, Josiah took me on a walk down to the local shops. The 15-minute walk in itself was too much to bear. St. Stephens has quickly become my safe haven. The people are friendly, their eyes don't linger, the food and water are safe and tasty, and there are cold showers. My room and this backyard have become my refuge.
The walk was nothing extraordinary. We crossed over the perpetual traffic from the Metro bridge and were soon greeted by India's numerous smells, rickshaw drivers eagerly awaiting eye contact, and the broken streets and buildings that is Delhi, as it turns out. I don't even remember what we went out for, but I was ready to turn around.

The walk also brought a word to mind. Now I'm no English major and I certainly don't abuse my dictionary ((I did however use it so much since being here that the battery died in the little electronic one Josiah brought along. I'm kinda sad without it. I need to go find one)), but one word made a huge impression on me. Pestillence. I had no clue what it meant, but it stuck. Pestillence.
Roughly speaking, pestillence means destructive, injuring, and deadly. I was scared to learn how perfect it seemed to apply. And as if that harsh wordage weren't enough, later in the day, Virulent took its place. Virulent is more or less infectious, with the same negativity as the first word of the day. What a perfect first impression of the place I am to call home for the month. Great.

The next few days were spent sleeping, sweating, showering, and slowly growing used to and becoming part of my surroundings. We're only on our fourth day and I already have the Metro and its stops down.

It's kind of difficult to put things chronologically. The past few days have felt like weeks and the events are just as scattered as this city.

Yesterday, Sunday, we awoke around the usual time: 6:30am. Who would have thunk that would be our usual? The day began quickly and full of activity. After spending 10 rupees on enough clothing detergent to last some weeks, we attempted laundry. Bucket laundry in the shower. It was effective, I guess. My clothes smell a little more like dirt, but it's just the air. Everything was line dried and it turned out to be quite romantic.

With everything set out to dry, making jokes of monsoons coming and soiling our cleaning efforts once again, we adventurously spread out the Metro map and began plotting the day. Where to? Gardens? Parks? Shopping?.. That would have been too tame (and some too far) for my taste. We broke out our handy dandy Delhi book for ideas. Looking at pictures and relation to the church we were to go to that night, Red Fort was screaming our names. He'd never been, I'd obviously never been.. perfect. Let's go!

It marked my first auto-rickshaw, bike rickshaw, and overpriced tourist fee. Well worth it. It was massive and in the middle of all the chaos. I probably expected a clean, cleared out space with plenty of parking and elevators. Buuut it was literally in the middle of all the other crumbling buildings, except it was very well kept. (How is it that older pieces of architecture are outlasting the newer ones?) It was overlooked, but hardly possibly of being forgotten. As with most things, much better in person.
So full of history, yet smack dab in the middle of an every attempting-modern city.
It opens with sec-urr-it-ee (My favorite!) ((No, really... I love that there are security lines everywhere we go and especially that there are men and "ladies" lines. The lady cops are really nice))

(((Side note: Turns out Mondays are Burn Your Trash Outside day. Looks like the black flames in the corner will force me inside. Gah)))
**cough,cough**

Inside Red Fort was an array of marble palaces, rich hallways, and lush gardens. As always, we were huge, white targets for scammig. This one tour guide claimed to be from San Jose after we said California...whatever you say. He was friendly though.. even if he wasn't convincing.
While there, our first rain of the trip happened. Recalling the jokes over laundry, it was a little bemusing. Oh well, it was cold and oh, so refreshing. As if on cue, all the crowds dispersed from open areas, running wildly for shelter. Like the big, white targets we are, we continued our tour with every intent of getting soaked.

Walking out of the place, we noticed the usual long line that can be found anywhere you go. Upon further inspection, this line grew into a swarm of at least 300 only waiting for security. We picked a good time to get there. And leave.

After that, some guy punched me. We were just walking down the steps into the Metro station. As much as Indians are into touching and pushing and shoving, there's no need for his back-handed brutality. I'm just lucky, I guess.

Standing in line for our Metro, India decided to show me yet again how many freaking people it has. This time, it came to me in the form of a completely, way overpacked metro. There were smushed faces, arms and legs everywhere, and no chance in hell we were going to push our way in htere. We sat that one out. And the next one. And the next. Apparently, the busiest line, at the busiest station, at the busiest time of day decided to break down. Oh Canada!
By the time we hopped on, the crowds had tamed to a 50%-chance-of-having-your-face-in-someone-elses-armpit.. and then I was pinched in the butt. Feeling too surreal to realize how violated I had been that day, we went home. To the garden. Shower. And luckily some dry laundry!
Quite a day.