Vindaloo

New Delhi

Nick met us once again for some grub in the evening and after we took a stroll before wishing each other all the best before the next international meeting between the two of us might take place. In around 4 years, the two of us have visited a plethora of destinations from beach towns and festivals, to third world villages and sites of mass genocide, quite something considering we were brought together by a mutual love of sliding down snowy hills on planks of wood! I slept out the remainder of some anti-biotics and hoped for better feelings the following sunrise.

During the night, Aaron (of ‘my regular life’ fame) arrived in Delhi to join us… except I just about sleeping and off 24hours later, back to my homeland of Corringham – in a place called England.

Despite feeling ill, for that day, it was my desire to see as much of Delhi as possible. So myself and Aaron started by turning off the main roads and drinking Chai with locals. We got some poor fella to cycle us to the Red Fort, after tipping heavily and still not paying much more than a dollar, we checked out the fort; an internationally listed historical building. We later realised we did well in showing up early, as by the time we headed away, the place was starting to heave, just as the temperature started to gain momentum.

Without stopping for brekkie, I wanted something safe to eat, and Azz, well he was just hungry; so we fell past an armed guard beneath the Golden Arches for a bit of a Western, India style. With no beef for consumption in this part of the world, the Maccas menu looked pretty bare - with it's flagship burger being the chicken McMaharaja Mac. After some fries and a veggie burger, we were good to go.

Around lunch time we stumbled past Henna artists and succumbed (easily) to them doing some work on our skin. As the ink dried, we met up with the other guys for some lunch in a quirky little restaurant just near Connaught Place; the shopping Hub of Delhi.

We strolled about with no aims in particular as we discovered a shop selling Sitars. Our visit paid huge dividend in providing us one of the most memorable highlights of the trip; a live demo from an old sitar pro. He tuned, the plucked slowly for a while, before letting rip with the Indian equivalent of a Dire Straights solo section! A Western fix of a well known ice cream vendor put a smile on 5 boys faces as a mild afternoon sun started to dip.

I split with the guys for some last minute shopping and returned to them later with a full bag of stuff… and having escaped more business offers than I care to remember at any time of my life. One kid was offering to give my ears a clean with cotton buds, showing me his compliments book of past customers; I was quite happy to pass up on that one.

My final evening was spent with the guys eating a good (if slightly expensive!) meal at an Indian restaurant; though I guess in this particular case it was just "a restaurant".

The following morning I hugged the guys farewell; and began my trip from a skanky hostel in Delhi to a homely place in Essex. I was dropped at the “airport under repair” amongst a bit of controversy which I won’t detail here, and was soon in a dis-organised lineup for check in… before joining another slow moving lineup toward a customs check… before waiting for several unforeseen delays to the flight home.

Like stepping from black to white, hot to cold or a ruckus to silence, I was finally sat on a plane destined for the place I took my first steps. At this point it couldn’t come soon enough.