The Last Post

An email from a reader has reminded us that things have rather been left in mid-air so here is the concluding post.  No photos from the day so just a selection of the signs and notices that we have seen over the last six weeks.

Sunday morning in Delhi was fine and sunny for a breakfast on the terrace. After saying our goodbyes we arrived at the airport in good time and were lucky enough to bag emergency exit seats for the Delhi - Dubai leg of our flight. At the gate there was a delay announcement but it turned out to be only twenty minutes so no chance of a stopover in Dubai on Emirates.  D wore his lucky t-shirt, the one that says ' New Zealand  -  like Scotland but further away!' , which usually gets us double gins but this time we had an Italian on the bar trolley so the joke was wasted. Lunch on this flight was a choice between chicken and paneer so no contest.

We were pretty much on time arriving in Dubai where, in addition to our duty free shopping, we had to pick up a bottle of wine that R had ordered with her air miles that were about to expire. For this we had to go to the Fine Wine shop at the opposite end of the terminal to our departure gate. R had mislaid her paperwork but this was resolved with her frequent flyer number and a photocopy of her passport. As we made our way back towards our gate there was a final call for our Glasgow flight which rather surprised us as there was still over an hour to take off. As we got to the gate we realised that R's passport was still on the photocopier at the Fine Wine shop. D has not run so far or for so long in the last 25 years and was rather bedraggled by the time that we boarded. The good news was that there was a whole new series of the Big Bang Theory for D to work through, interrupted only by lunch - a choice of chicken or beef.

The most memorable sight on the flight was looking down on the snowy mountains of eastern Turkey and Lake Van, which has a train ferry. It was a similar view of India from a Dubai - Singapore flight that persuaded us to try India. We enjoyed a brief taste of western Turkey in May 2015 but the political/security situation appears to have deteriorated significantly since then. Radinja7 appears to be more likely than Radinturk for our next blog. The rest of the flight was mainly over clouds with no real excitement. We were on time arriving in Glasgow, got our luggage fairly promptly and our daughters were there to meet us. The standard of driving on the stretch of the M8 through Central Glasgow is a nice halfway house between Indian and UK normal so we didn't suffer too much culture shock all at once.

As usual it was great to be back home. Six weeks in India is just about right for us. Thanks for reading the blog and, where appropriate, for contributing either comments or emails of encouragement.  This trip was notable for a very important lesson that we learned.  Always carry a teaspoon so you can override those diabolical switches that need the room key to switch the electricity on.

Time up.

Yesterday afternoon's thunder and rain had a reprise first thing. The rain even had chunks of ice in it and drove breakfast indoors. During the last few hours there have been a lot of departures and arrivals, including an American who is a total birding nutter. He has apps to notify him of species seen nearby and a printed list of his target species. He saw the first of them from the plane at Delhi Airport and reckons to have seen 15 of them in LB's garden in a couple of damp hours yesterday. Thank goodness R doesn't have such an obsessive hobby. We also meet an Australian chap who knew about the Royal Geographical Society's exhibition of Indian Narrow Gauge Railway photos that D visited in December 2014. He was involved in something similar as a book lauch in Melbourne.

As creatures of habit we have developed a routine for our last day in India. Hit the spice market in Old Delhi, then refreshments at Haldiram's on Chandni Chowk, a wander up Kinari Bazaar and finish up with some mehendi hand painting for R. We are almost too early this year as a rather muddy spice market is just coming to life but R finds what is required and we are soon on board a cycle rickshaw heading for Haldiram's - downstairs cakes and sweets, upstairs a very Indian fast food place. The big plus is that it has AC and cleanish loos so we pick out a few sweets to bring home and then head upstairs for a lassi. D is required to have his picture taken eating a samosa by one of our wackier readers and this is a good opportunity to deliver.

Kinari Bazaar is just a stream of Western tourists on board cycle rickshaws all filming the back of the rick in front on their mobile phones. A street over from the tourists is the place where R goes for mehendi. There is an Indian lady just having hers finished as R is invited to take a seat on a low plastic stool on the pavement. The young man doing the painting is very skillful, using a finer thread of henna than the lady in Lucknow, and the result is most artistic. We pick our way through the traffic back to Chawri Bazaar metro station.  In Old Delhi the pavement is considered to be a place for doing business.  In addition to the usual vegetable sellers, some one has set up a red hot tandoori oven in the footway and at another point a sheet metal works has spilled out onto the pavement.  We get lucky on the metro and have seats for the trip down to Race Course.

It is time to pack and poor R has developed a cold. We manage to fit it all in and relax with a beer as the sky turns a very nasty colour and a red naped ibis drops in to feed on the lawn. One of the resident dogs eventually takes exception to this intruder and chases it off. Dinner is three Swedes, one Belgian, one Scot, one Yorkshireman and two Dutchies, one of whom is very pregnant. The conversation is wide ranging, taking in sanitary towels, how India has changed in 30 years and how to cure in laws of interfering. We had bought a box of Patisa sweets to hand round and the Dutch lady had a much bigger box of sweets that she did not want to carry home so there were lots of goodies to finish off with. There were flickers of lightning all evening to the south west and a storm broke at 9 pm, just as we retired for the night. Only a few more hours of India left for us this time round.

The End is Nigh

Delhi seems to have temporarily lost the sun this morning (Friday). After breakfast we take the short stroll round to Lodi Gardens to look at the flowers and see if we can spot any interesting birds. This park is 90 acres of relative peace and tranquility in Delhi and was created in the 1930s when the Governor-General's wife thought that a park would be a nice idea. Wikipedia does not mention what the inhabitants of the two villages that were demolished thought about her idea, but quite a lot of Delhi-ites do seem to enjoy the park without the aid of amplified sounds and without throwing litter everywhere. The flowers are looking good and the bougainvillea is in full bloom. This year we discover the bonsai collection and the Zen Garden. Somebody appears to have stolen the motorbike from the latter.

After the gardens we continue along Lodi Road until we come to the Indian Habitat Centre, which is not a shop full of poncey furniture but a complex of buildings that were designed to combine living accommodation, offices and commercial spaces as well as performance and exhibition areas.  The design is interesting, more like Berlin than Delhi. There are some bars and restaurants but most of them are members only and we fail to find somewhere to get a cup of tea. Next stop is JLN Stadium metro station whence we take the train up to Janpath, looking for a Tibetan Jewellery shop to see if we can find a particular type of earring. Although this is called a Tibetan Market it is mainly Kashmiris with the hard sell tactics and we head on towards the Tibetan Monastery Market, four stops by metro and then a short auto ride to a dubious looking hole under a major traffic flyover. There is a market here but it is all clothing despite what the guide books say. We do get a decent cup of tea however. The heat is getting oppressive and humidity is high so we opt for a return to base. We are not long in when the thunder and lightning starts, soon followed by heavy rain.

There is a break for a while and we go for afternoon tea, served inside as a result of the weather. Eventually it clears up and D nips round to the local market for some snacks to go with our sundowners.  An auto driver pulls up alongside and says "Sir. It is very dangerous to walk here. Many beggars and robbers." He is taking the mick. The only bandits around here live in the big houses with soldiers guarding their gates. Soon it is time to get ready for our dinner date. S is collecting us at 7.45 and we are going to dine at one of the restaurants in the Habitat Centre, quite a coincidence! S's mother, who is a member and very kindly signs us all in, joins us for a while as does one of his friends.  The food is great.  We have some southeast asian dishes and really interesting crispy fried spinach. The evening flies by and we finish it off with one desert and four spoons. We get home at around 11 p.m. , the latest that we have been up since we got here.

Culture High and Low

No rush today but even then we manage to be first at breakfast. There is something a bit decadent about sitting on a sunny terrace in PJs to eat masala omelet and curd with banana. Today R's plan is to hit the State Emporiums to top up on essentials such as cushion covers. These shops are run by the various State Governments and are typical government enterprises. A/c, no hard sell, no haggling and not at all crowded. They are conveniently located in a line together, just off Connaught Place (CP) so we can get there in under 30 minutes using the metro. When we finish here we adjourn to the cafe at the Triveni Gallery, a two stop ride on the metro and then a short walk. A friend pointed us at this place last year and we were really taken with it. A shaded terrace overlooking a small garden and an open air theatre, the service is relaxed , but friendly and the menu has odd quirky things like green burger buns and unusual ice cream flavours.  We have Chocolate Fudge Brownie with Marmalade ice cream. Nummy. There are a couple of exhibitions on and we take a look around them. Some of the ceramic pieces look great and have relatively modest price tags but realistically there is no way of getting them home safely.

We walk back to CP as we want to look for books and we are meeting J, who is on his way back to GB from Burma. It is hot and we are ready for a cup of tea by the time that we get to the Oxford Bookstore. In Kolkata this is the place to go for books. In New Delhi they have almost given up on selling the printed word and are primarily a cafe called the Cha Bar. This is so pretentious that they tell D that he can't have plain black tea and that he should have one of their recommended specialty teas at three times the price. Only the suggestion that we will take our business elsewhere gets a result,  although the resulting brew is weak and tepid. We move on to the Amrit Bookshop,  much more to our taste, where we find a couple of volumes that interest us. There is still time to kill so we wander aimlessly around CP, never a bright thing to do as the touts can spot you a mile away. In an effort to avoid them we hide in the Rodeo, a bar done out in TexMex kitsch where the waiters wear cowboy hats. 

J arrived at our meeting point bang on time and we walked round CP to find somewhere for a cup of tea. It's not quite clear who the Cafe Immigrant is aimed at but we aren't proud. Their black tea is a bit better than the Cha Bar and J is delighted to get cold milk for his cuppa. He tells us about his trip to Burma, and about having to rough it a couple of times. He is pretty much ready for his ready for his return to GB so he can get a decent cup of tea every time. We take the metro back to Race Course and the ten minute walk back to LB. The sun is dropping but it is still quite warm so we opt for a swim. As usual the water is pretty cold but not bad when we get moving.

We have opted for an evening out in Haus Khas Village tonight, one of South Delhi's livelier spots. We take the metro to Green Park, then look for an auto. A young guy quotes 100 rupees which we take but he then tries to up it to 200. We tell him to stop and we will get out and the price returns to the original figure. When we do the reverse trip we are quoted 80 which seems very fair to us. A few spivs get all of the auto drivers a bad name. Haus Khaz is not quite as sophisticated as we had imagined. We do a circuit and try to swerve the barkers who are trying to drum up business for the various bars. One guy's pitch is quite good so we let him lead us up several flights of stairs to a place, but when he opens the door the music is deafening so we turn around. We have a beer in a place that is quiet and empty,  which suits us, but the management start upping the volume in an attempt to attract more business.  In D's view they would do better to drop their prices.

After a beer we head for the Rang Da Basanti Urban Dhaba which turns out to be on the first floor about twenty yards from the bar. We pick this by looking at the zomato website, a listings site for food outlets in India. This place tops the ratings for Haus Khaz.  The restaurant has a Punjabi theme with bright yellow decor, cartoon drawings of cheery Sikhs on tractors and a very Punjabi flavour to the menu. As a greeting we are given a traditional Punjabi drink, chabeel, which is rose water, milk and water and rather pleasant.  We order jeera rice with lentil cakes, chickpea curry which is really quite hot and curried mutton shanks. It is good food but the portions are huge and we cannot finish everything. As we leave the place is starting to fill up and the whole area seems to be livening up. We head straight for bed when we get back. Two days of Delhi heat have taken their toll.

Dilli Dallying

D wakes around 4.20. There is a Welcome to Delhi text on his phone and Indiarailinfo says that the train is running 36 minutes EARLY. We quickly sort ourselves and our luggage out before sitting for ten minutes at signals outside NDLS (New Delhi railway station). We creep into platform 16 and come to a stop at 4.45 a.m., fifteen minutes before schedule. Platform 16 is good for us as we are going to kill some time in the Executive Lounge, which is just off this platform. The place where we stay in Delhi is pretty accommmodating but it would be pushing it to arrive at 5.30.  We have to exit the station and immediately reenter via the security checks to get there. We check in, bag an upstairs corner with sockets and go in search of tea. Over the next few hours they have either run out of cups, tea bags, hot water or a combination of these whenever we go to look. The free wifi is useless as well.

At 6.30 breakfast opens (100 rupees each not 200 as previously reported). Boiled egg sandwiches are just the job for us. R decides to have a snooze on the sofa while D heads out to see what is what. It is a misty morning but there is already the promise of a sunny day. The station does not seem to be particularly busy and there are no horrendous delays showing on the boards. Amazingly the National Railway Museum souvenir stall on platform 1 is open for business at 7.15. The Museum itself keeps banking hours and does not open until 10am. Outside the station on the Paharganj side, the touts are in full cry. The authorities must be aware and turn a blind eye to these people who prey on inexperienced visitors to India. "Where are you going?" they ask. Answering "Ghaziabad" seems to shut them up. It is a Delhi satellite town with a dodgy reputation and offers little profit to the touts. D's recce pins down the PrePaid taxi booth and the best way to get there whilst avoiding the touts.

Back in the Lounge R is still asleep and D has threaten to go into the kitchen to find a cup before all the necessary ingredients for tea are assembled. Back upstairs the noise is almost at Pathankot Cantt levels as people hoover, watch the TV news at high volume and shout into their phones in an effort to drown both. R just sleeps through, puir wee lamb. At 8.45 she stirs and we deem it sufficiently daytime to head for Lutyens Bungalow. Even if there is not a room ready we know that we can get a reliable cup of tea. The taxi booth has no queue and is quite painless. We are loaded into a microbus and set out through Lutyens New Delhi. The traffic is not too bad and the driver knows where we are going. At LB we are made most welcome as ever. Our room is ready and we are invited to have breakfast which seems like a good idea. We chat to A, a young lady who works for the Australian Government, and is working with farmers across India to find ways of improving crop yields and variety. She has been here for a few months and is currently equipping a flat to live in in Delhi.

After breakfast we opt for a half hour snooze which turns out to be two hours. It is now hot and sunny so we discard the fleeces and walking shoes and gear up for some South Delhi retail. Our Metro cards still work and even have 22.6 rupees credit each but they have upped the minimum recharge to Rs200. It's an outrage. The yellow line train into Central Secretariat is quite busy but R gets offered a seat, and the same again after we change onto the violet line for the trip to Kailash Colony. We walk about half a mile through to the M Block market. This is mainly fashion stores and jewellers who are on strike as a protest against having to start paying taxes. Our hearts bleed for them.  We walk on to the nearby more upmarket N Block market where R wishes to get another pair of trousers to go with her new outfit. D also finds a pair of slightly less formal trousers to go with his kurta.

The one woman reflation of the Delhi retail economy continues with a short auto trip to Lajpat Nagar Central Market. This is our favourite as they don't allow motorbikes in and there is no hassle or pressure selling. The list of kitchen equipment is soon sorted and we have a wander round the clothes stalls but don't really need anything. On the way back up to the metro we see a shop advertising Rasgulla. We were recommended to try this in Kolkata and more than once since, but finally got the opportunity to buy while hungry. It is cottage cheese, semolina and sugar syrup which sounds very unhealthy but the two dentist ladies from a couple of days back sang its praises so we think "Why not?". The AC in the metro was very welcome on the way back and we are glad that the heat has gone out of the sun for the half mile walk back to Lutyens from Race Course Metro station.

We have tea and rasgulla in the garden. Very sweet and it squeaks as you chew it. No doubt we will get Bengali readers telling us that you can't get the real thing in Dilli and we are in no position to judge. We prepare ourselves for the cocktail hour and enjoy a beer as the balmy evening turns to night. Supper at Lutyens is usually fun as you never quite know who will be there.  Tonight there is a table of seven ladies plus D. A is there from breakfast,  a Swedish lady who researches gender inequality and a group of four ladies from England who are travelling together and who arrived this afternoon.  One of this group we met here two years ago,  when she was travelling with her daughter. We talk crops, kabadi, pay gaps, where to go clothes shopping and D is on his best behaviour. Everybody is tired,  including us, so we turn in early.