I settle into my hotel, I am sharing a room with another girl from the tour who happens to be a bubbly girl from Scotland called Barbara. We hit it off immediately and I breath a sigh of relief, this whole sharing a room thing can prove to be quite the lucky dip & is just one of the risks you have to take when travelling solo.
By now I am absolutely exhausted and all I want to do is sleep but I am also parched with the thirst. I debate whether I should have a sleep now or venture out to get a bottle of water for myself. I have heard so many stories about how I shouldn't drink the water in India & know I'll need to brush my teeth & freshen up soon. So I decide to brave my new surroundings and venture out of the hotel alone. I make my way down the steps, it is still early morning only about 9am & so everything is still fairly quiet by Indian standards. Dressed in my western clothes of jeans and a blue hoodie I immediately stick out like a sore thumb. As I walk down the street it is no exaggeration to say that just about everyone I pass from the street stall sellers to rickshaw drivers are staring at me. I'm lucky enough to have done quite a bit of world travel in the past so have experienced a little of this but never to quite the extent as I am experiencing here in India. I realise I am the only white person on the street so I probably am a big curiosity. Local people are either very warm and friendly to me, breaking from their native Hindi to shout 'Hello' or 'Good-day' at me or else they see me as a walking dollar sign.
It's not long before I pass a row of rickshaws lined up and the drivers immediately surround me. 'Taxieee madam', 'Taxieee', 'Where you go madam'? 'I take you'. 'No thanks I'm fine' I grunt, making a semi-circle around them. No, is definitely not the last word here in India, in particular when it comes to bargaining and I have since experienced being followed by store owners for up to twenty minutes, who just won't take no for an answer.
In this case a particularly persistent rickshaw driver begins following me down the street. 'What you want madam?', 'Where you go?'. Even he can see that I have absolutely no fecking idea where I am headed. 'I'm fine I just want to find a shop to buy water' I hear myself snap at him irritated. Like take the hint mister, I am thinking to myself. I'm looking around and all I can see are street stalls and clothing stores, nothing at all that resembles a supermarket. 'I take you madam', 'I take you to a shop'. He is still behind me following me. I realise I'm not having much luck by myself so I eventually cave in and agree to walk back to his rickshaw after we agree on a price, I'm already starting to learn the Indian way.
'I just want a supermarket or a shop that sells drinks' I explain. 'No problem madam' he responds cheerfully and we're off. My rickshaw whizzes through the streets of old Delhi near my hotel. As we stop at lights boys in adjacent rickshaws smile and wave to me and ask me where I'm from and tell me I'm pretty, 'ahhh I love it here, what delightful young men', I'm enjoying the warm breeze on my travel tired face, sure isn't all well with the world. Suddenly we have arrived at our destination and a serious looking Indian man in traditional clothing dashes out to greet my rickshaw driver, it is clear they know each-other. We've stopped up outside what looks suspiciously like some kind of hardware store...........hmmmmm not quite what I had in mind. 'You come in now madam'. 'Er what's going on like?', 'No I wanted a shop that sells food and drinks', I try to explain as politely as I can. I just want to buy water. A loud conversation commences in Hindi between the two, which obviously I don't understand, the greeting 'Namaste', is about as far as I've gotten with Hindi thus far.
'OK madam, we'll give you water'. 'This is my cousins shop, very good shop, you come in and look around'.......No, no, no, no, noooo, I just want a shop that sells food', 'It's too early madam, they all closed now, 10am they open'. 'Well you could have told me that in the first place' I think scrunching up my face in obvious disgust, I can feel my irritation and exasperation rising. I've just come from the airport, I'm tired, I look like shit, I just want fecking water, how hard can it be.They are both looking at me with such deep expectation in there faces. 'OK!', I cave again, what the heck is wrong with me, God Arlene you are such a soft touch. Before I know it I am being ushered into the shop by the delighted looking cousin, while the rickshaw driver waits outside for me.
Honest to God, within seconds I am in what looks like an enormous carpet showroom. Piles, and piles and piles of ornate hand woven Indian carpet line a big square cement room. Another shop assistant rushes forward to greet me while a young boy hands me a small plastic cup of water. 'Not quite what I had in mind, I mutter to myself', but smile thankfully at him. 'Sit down, sit down'. 'You are my friend' the new guy who is quite old and could be a father of the cousin I'm thinking. 'Here you will find finest carpet of India, very very good carpet'. 'But I don't want carpet mister', 'honestly, is there anything about me that says I need carpet at this present moment in time in my life, having just traveled two thousand miles across the world' I think, but all I do is take a sip out of my cup and tell him the carpet is indeed lovely, which it is, but like I don't want to buy it.
The young boy trots over and at the request of the old man starts throwing out roll after roll of carpet for me so I can see how shiny it is. 'Light side' he slaps down a rug, 'dark side' he slaps it the reverse side and the old man runs his bony fingers down the rug so I can see the thickness of it. As I'm desperately looking around for escape routes between quick gulps of my water, he produces a big red folder. 'Certificates madam, to prove to you there has been no child labor involved in the making of this carpet'. 'Well that's good, I really am delighted there has been no child labor involved here and it really is fantastic quality' but I DON'T WANT CARPET! Now he is discussing delivery options to my house in Lucan. Oh God, all I came out for was a bottle of water, how the hell did I end up in this situation, I feel like I am hallucinating with tiredness and all that's going round in my head is water and carpet and I think I'm going mad. I eventually make my escape with promises of a return visit and I don't know how but find my way back to my hotel. There will be many more events like this one and the quirky, funny, crazy situations that occur, while no doubt sometimes very irritating at the time will become just one of the many things that make me love my time in India. All I can say is if you are planning a trip to India bring your sense of adventure and expect the unexpected because absolutely nothing is going to be what you imagine.
As I wearily make my way up the steps of my hotel and trudge past the reception, I spot a stack of water bottles on the counter. 'What are these?' I question the receptionist. 'Oh yes we sell bottles of water here for you, only 30 rupees madam'. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh feck it!!!!!!!!!!
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