Delhi almost beat me yesterday.
City-wide strike +
my middling-to-crappy hotel +
various messily wrong stabs at trying to walk from my hotel's (crummy) neighborhood to Connaught Place (including asking directions of a police man who then summoned a rickshaw and tried to convince the rickshaw-wallah to charge me double, pay the policeman his Rs. 50 cut on the spot, then take me to what I now undertsand was around the corner.) =
me ready to high-tail it, pride in shreds, to more familiar Bombay.
Was quite sure it was me - that I simply wasn't made of Delhi stuff and it was personal for Delhi to run me out of town.
Today, thank all gods, dawned far better. Strike over I had a thorough round of shopping, organized a car far-afield buyingtomorrow, made peace with my hotel's neighborhood (can now navigate on foot), on very many smiles terms with hotel's front desk staff and got my hands on a map of the city.
So - Delhi 1/CTP 1.
C - looking up at a gecko watching the florescent tube for his dinner, and sign that reads: please dont open porn sites.
Fromacafe we are.
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