That's how warm it was in my room last night. I can't remember the last time I was somewhere this hot, if ever. Walking out of the airport yesterday was like sticking your head in an oven, and then shoving in the rest of your body. Needless to say I bought a train ticket this morning and am headed for the hills.
Delhi is a lot of what one expects in India: hot, crowded, and colorful. Two weeks in Madagascar have well prepared me for the crush of people, pesky shop-owners and taxi drivers, and cows wandering down the middle of the street. I'm staying in the Main Bazaar area, where the housing is cheap and dodgy and there are plenty of other backpacker-types wandering around. The shops sell brightly colored clothing, scarves, bags, leather shoes, beads, and all sorts of mirrored, shiny things that fascinate the magpie in me.
I'm writing this from the air-conditioned comfort of the U.S. embassy, where they've kindly added some new pages to my passport. The poor thing was almost full, and it's still got such a very long way to go. As a U.S. citizen I got to feel very special, sneaking through the maze of lines and windows to the special corner reserved for citizen services. It's just another reminder of how truly privileged I am.
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