Hmm. Delhi. Not my cup of tea.

I have no idea how to start to describing this place. In Asia, there are these tourist shirts that say SAME SAME ONLY DIFFERENT, running on the idea that Saigon, Siem Reap or wherever is different yes, but not so much that you would not be able to relate, and be able to compare your day to day to their daily routine.

I can't say the same about here.

This place is simply different. I am stuck here trying to figure out the best way to describe what is happening outside this computer lab. Let me start with the basics. Picture in your mind a narrow street, crowed with way too many people. Vendors sell goods on both sides of the road, but none of it really seems worth the effort to go through the whole bartering process. There are filthy, but holy, cows causing traffic knarl-ups, getting in the way of the many three-wheeled rickshaws (some of which run on petrol, while the rest are just pimped up bicycles) motorcycles and compact cars that honk their way through the all the pedestrians. Like other developing places, the sidewalk is for anything but walking. The homeless tend to stake out a slab of cement as their living quarters. Others park there. Vendors spread out their goods. The sidewalk is a developed world luxury.

This place is a bit machismo. This boils down to everyone harassing me more than Christy. Hello, where are you from, hello, need a ride, hello what is your name... the usual suspects. That actually is not as bad as it was in Asia. However, for Christy, her subcontinent experience has been different. As a beautiful (by the way, did you know that it was our first anniversary yesterday?) girl with pale skin, blue eyes and red hair, everyone stares at her. Men, women, little children, all of them, and there is nothing subtle about it. I was glad to be hidden in my swarthy beard, and not some exotic Irish girl.

We take the train tomorrow to Agra, home of he Taj Mahal. Onward an upward...