Sunday 10 April 2011

The trip to Delhi

Hey there Readers,
Now that we've got the introduction out of the way I can begin telling you how we got to Faridabad, which is the city where we are staying. So the first thing I would like to point out is that I fly fairly often for a teenager and almost always do I sit in the back of the plane in old school economy class cramped between an overweight person and my little sister who gets more and more annoying as the flight progresses. So keep this in mind when I tell you that this time was different. My mother decided to bestow upon me the honor of flying business class and I absolutely adored it. For once I didn't feel completely cramped. For once I didn't have a little voice constantly nagging me asking over and over if I could see our house from 6 miles up in the air. For once I had food that was actually pretty good (no offense to the airline). So after the flight where I was in 7th heaven, we arrived in Delhi. The first thing I noticed when I walked out of the plane was the warm weather, something we aren't that used to coming from England, so it was a nice change. We got through the airport with no problems and when we emerged we saw our driver with a sign. He made a gesture for us to follow and led us through the maze of airport parking until he said his first word, which was, "Stay". So we did and the next thing we know, a battered white car pulled up blasting Bollywood music and my reaction was somewhere between this is super awesome and Oh God... So we get in, the driver buckles up and we find that we don't have seat belts which is always a good sign. The ride was probably the most scared I've ever been in a car. The ride was a mixture of Crazy Taxi and Grand Theft Auto and if you don't get the references, chaotic would be a euphemism. So after some illegal u-turns, driving against traffic, and a symphony of horns blaring across the road, we arrived at our home for two weeks. Before I continue I would just like to point out, that in India there's about a motorcycle every 5 meters if not more, so imagine a bike with an Indian guy on it, with his wife riding saddleside, with a kid in each hand, and you have the average motorcycle rider. Also another note, horns are probably the most important part of a car in India. All of the trucks have customized horns so that when they honk it sounds like a bunch of harsh notes in a certain order. Moving on, once we arrived at one in the morning, Dr. Bandhu opened the gate and told us where our room was for now. Mom and I came in, brushed our teeth and crashed, and that concludes our first night spent in India.







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