Old Delhi – one of India’s hidden gems

Our guide prefers not to take us there. He has never been there with another group of tourists, nor does he know of any other guide or organisation that will take tourists there. His reluctance only makes us more curious to the hidden gem that’s Old Delhi.

With a population of over 12.5 million people, Delhi is the 4th most populated city in the world (after Shanghai, Mumbai and Karachi). New Delhi is the part of this city that most people will have been to or heard of, it’s where most of the shopping and sight-seeing takes place. We’re visiting Delhi with four girls from all over the world and one of our Indian friends told us we should visit Old Delhi.

No matter what Mr. Guide tells us, Old Delhi is where we want to go. Period.

Finally Mr. Guide agrees, but because the streets are so busy we’ll go through Old Delhi by foot, and we’ll get there by metro. Security is serious business in India, especially since Mumbai was under siege for 3 days in November of 2008. The attacks, which left 173 people dead, took place in a school, a cinema, a hospital, hotels and a (metro)station. Not surprisingly, India has taken serious safety-precautions in all (top) hotels and metro stations. Before we enter the metro station, our hand-luggage is scanned and we have to go through a metal detector. Using the metro in Delhi requires security-checks quite similar to that in airports.

When we walk down the stairs towards the platform I try to take a picture, but 3 security staff members hysterically jump in front of me to tell me that’s not allowed. Safety. Pity, I wish you could’ve seen how it goes there, people in Holland can learn a lot from it.

The platform is filled with people neatly waiting in lines for the metro. As soon as the metro arrives everybody politely waits until all passengers have exited the vehicle (Dutch people: read and learn!). Once the carriage is empty, the queues calmly walk into the metro, everyone finds their place and within seconds the metro is emptied and refilled and ready to take off to the next station.

When we get out of the metro at Chawri Bazaar station, we find ourselves in a whole new world.

The first thing we notice is a big cow slowly wandering through the massively packed crowd. Shopkeepers try to keep the cow out of their shops by throwing small buckets of water – they’re not allowed to touch the animals, not even to keep them out of their shops.

Imagine being an electrician in Old Delhi...

About 4-5 meters above the streets thick knots of wires are tied together. I received emails with pictures of this, but I always thought it was Photoshopped. I never even thought there were places where electricity was actually really provided like this. Being an electrician in Delhi must be a hell of a job.

Upon my arrival in Mumbai I thought I ended up in a crazy world, but Old Delhi proves to be even more of a density/hygiene shock than Mumbai. We join the crowd walking into the shopping street. Even today I’m not sure if the street was unpaved or if there was just a lot of dirt on there. There seem to be some cobbles here and there, and also some piles of trash and piles of dung…

This is one of the alleys leading to/from the street we were walking in

It doesn’t take us long to realise why Mr. Guide brought us here by foot. If you travel with anything bigger than yourself, you’re guaranteed to wait for hours (literally: hours). In the middle of the street are cyclists, rickshaws, oxcarts and men with handcarts waiting. Or, to be more precise, they’re in a congestion, which is so common here that it’s not even considered a congestion anymore.

In the beginning of the street the shops don’t really get our attention. First of all we’re still too busy looking around and secondly we’re too busy preventing each other from stepping in a pile of cow dung (or something similar). Unlike most places in India we’ve been, this is the first place where I don’t constantly feel started at, which is quite surprising if you take into account that this is the least touristic place I’ve visited in India.

Old Delhi offers more than congestions

It’s quite obvious this isn’t a rich shopping street, far from it, but people here seem to be more genuine and happy than I’ve seen in any other market. Wherever we walk people are talking, laughing, smiling and waving at us. Some kids walk a bit with us. They’re slightly dirty from playing around. A few meters ahead a woman is doing her utmost best to clean them up – one by one – after which they go back to playing and getting dirty again.

Barber show

This is the first time during our trip we’re surrounded by kids that don’t come to us to beg for money, food or pencils. One of my friends takes a picture of them, and while I expect the kids to turn around and ask for money in return for posing, they smile and run back to their games again.

A bit further away a barber is helping out a customer on the pavement in from of his shop. The whole scene looks like it could be from a painting in a museum about authentic crafts, but it’s reality and it’s happening right here, right now on the streets of Old Delhi. Like the children, both the customer and the barber can’t get enough of posing for our cameras, they even hold a little dramatical play, without asking money or anything else. Just waving, smiling and wishing us a beautiful day. Sometimes life can be so uncomplicated.

Magically food appears everywhere around us. Mr. Guide tells us that the food is being prepared for Iftar, the evening meals Muslims have after sunset during the Ramadan. Wherever we look we see stacks of bread, piles of fruit and someone is frying something that smells good. From a distance it looks irresistibly tasty, but up close we see most of the food is covered in flies and other bugs. Goodbye appetite.

Food prepared for Iftar

Indian version of "The Nutcracker"

After the food-stalls come some kitchen utilities and then it’s spice-time. So far there have been some spice stalls every now and then, but now we’ve ended up in Spice Heaven. The endless rows of huge bags with colours and scents, are so tempting. I regret being Dutch; there are so many wonderfully looking/smelling spices that I can buy, but I wouldn’t know for the world what to do with any of them.

Spice Heaven

Spices

We walk back to the metro station through another, parallel street/alley. This alley is definitely not paved, and rain (or something else) created small puddles of mud and filth here and there. By now, all our shirts are soaking wet from the humidity, but I’m as excited as a kid in a candy shop and I don’t feel the least bit sticky/sweaty/smelly.

The small, dark alley appears to be another hidden gem. Even more spices, more food, more smiling people. More filth. Two of the girls from my group hate it, they’re afraid to touch anything and on top of that they are constantly bothered by flying bugs, much unlike the third girl and I who can’t get enough of taking pictures and looking, feeling, smelling everything we can.

Spice dealers

Spice dealer

Spice dealers

After a while Mr. Guide saves my two travel-mates and brings us to a paved road which is broader and cleaner than the previous streets.

Note here: cleaner doesn’t mean it’s actually clean.

We pass a few sleeping rickshaw drivers and we see men with hardcarts that have a HUGE pile of bags with leaves and spices stuffed on there. Again, only scenes I’ve seen in pictures in emails.

Handcart man

We take a rickshaw back to the hotel. While I look back at the tons of pictures I’ve taken, the two girls take a shower to get rid of Old Delhi’s dirt.

Old Delhi has definitely left an impression on all of us.

Spices for sale

Malaria (via Ltumu14′s Blog)

Something for you to think about…

Because Malaria deserves more attention, I re-blogged this post from a friend:

I was diagnosed with malaria yesterday. That, in Africa, is like saying you have the flu. The doctor leaned back on her seat, took a deep breath and said, ‘You have malaria’. She gazed at me steadily like she was expecting a response from me. ‘Thank you’. ‘I knew it!’ What are you supposed to say to that?

Anyway, as I was taking my drugs, I noticed that they were made in Switzerland. Switzerland? Come on. I bet less than a fifth of the Swiss population knows how to spell malaria, let alone the fact that it is spread by mosquitoes. Honestly, why don’t they transfer that technology to Uganda so we can make the drugs ourselves seeing they’ve become part of our required dietary supplements? Am sure 100% of the malaria drugs manufactured there are exported to Africa and Asia.

… Read More via Ltumu14′s Blog

Come on. I bet less than a fifth of the Swiss population knows how to spell malaria, let alone the fact that it is spread by mosquitoes. Honestly, why don’t they transfer that technology to Uganda so we can make the drugs ourselves seeing they’ve become part of our required dietary supplements? Am sure 100% of the malaria drugs manufactured there are exported to Africa and Asia.

Some facts about malaria from the World Health Organisation:
About 3.3 billion people – half of the world’s population – are at risk of malaria. Every year, this leads to about 250 million malaria cases and nearly one million deaths. People living in the poorest countries are the most vulnerable. One in five (20%) of all childhood deaths in Africa are due to malaria. Every 30 seconds a child dies from malaria in Africa.
Early diagnosis and prompt treatment are two basic elements of malaria control. Early and effective treatment of malaria can shorten the duration of the infection and prevent further complications including the great majority of deaths. Access to disease management should be seen not only as a component of malaria control but a fundamental right of all populations at risk.
Malaria causes an average loss of 1.3% of annual economic growth in countries with intense transmission. It traps families and communities in a downward spiral of poverty, disproportionately affecting marginalized and poor people who cannot afford treatment or who have limited access to health care. Malaria has lifelong effects through increased poverty and impaired learning. It cuts attendance at schools and workplaces. However, it is preventable and curable.

Dabbawalas

Once in a while you find yourself in a place that’s entirely different to anything you’re used to. Last year I discovered India, and to me it’s definitely a completely different world. My stay in India started in Mumbai, where I was not only confronted with incredible service, tons of pollution, poverty living next to wealth, but also I also learned about a unique phenomenon that can only be found in Mumbai: Dabbawalas.

Dabbawalas are actually the secret engine that keeps Mumbai going, the city’s population would be lost without them. No, Dabbawalas is neither a temple nor a sports arena nor a mysterious spiritual group. Dabbawalas are the men that bring lunchboxes around the city (‘dabba’ means box/container, ‘walla’ means man/carrier); it’s as simple as that.
Actually, if you have ever been to Mumbai, there is a chance you had run into one of these men, dressed in white with a white hat and on their shoulders, a big wooden structure with aluminum boxes.

Dabbawala on the road

But what makes them so special? Well, for a start, the approximately 5000 lower-caste men who bring these lunchboxes around are (mostly) illiterate. But they are also ISO certified, they’re in the Guinness Book of Records, with 99,99% accuracy they have the best Sig Sigma rating in the world, they are invited to give presentations at business universities such as Harvard…

Well, you get the idea; they’re pretty good at what they do. And all they do is bringing lunches around.

Their accuracy and skills are so impressive and well known that famous businesspeople like Richard Branson and royals like Prince Charles have visited these men.

Dabbas and Dabbawalas

I’m not sure what the lunch culture is like in your part of the world, but where I come from (The Netherlands), people simply eat bread. For us Dutch, it’s no big deal to bring a few homemade sandwiches to work. Many cultures, including the Indian, prefer to have a hot meal for lunch. Mumbaikars prefer to eat a hot, homemade lunch everyday at work.

That might not sound like a big deal, but Indian food with all its spices is so delicate and full of flavourful that it is best eaten freshly prepared. When men go to work, their wives immediately start preparing their husband’s lunches. You might wonder why these women don’t go around the city themselves to bring the lunch to their husbands, but these women also have to take care of their children. With the traffic and busyness in Mumbai you’ll probably understand it’s quite impossible to quickly bring lunch to someone who is working on the other side of a city with 13.831.000 residents, and a population density of 22.937 people per km². To get a better idea of the immensity of Mumbai; The Netherlands has a population of 16.605.000 people and a density of 400 people per km².

This busy Mumbai is where these brave lunchbox-men come to save the day.

Three Dabbawalas

After the wives (or mothers, or grandmothers) have prepared lunches, they put them in aluminum containers called dabbas. The Dabbawala comes by their house to pick up the box and this is the moment when Dabbawalas do their magic. Through a complex system of colours, letters and numbers, they deliver the lunchboxes to husbands’ offices all throughout Mumbai. A few hours later, they pick up the lunchboxes from offices and deliver them back to the wives.

On a daily basis, somewhere between 175.000 and 200.000 lunchboxes are transported this way, and with about 1 mistake per 6 million deliveries (!) you might understand what makes them such an essential part of Mumbai and so interesting to the rest of the (business) world.

Dabbawala carrying a load on his head

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All pictures are from the Dabbawala-website

A good deed is never lost, nor is a good pizza…

Dear all,

Throughout the travels I have made so far, I am blessed with tons of stories to tell. I asked my followers on Twitter which travel story they would love to read. Within minutes my mother and stepsister responded, they’d love to read what they call “the Pizza-story of San Francisco”.

Enjoy!

 

During our trip on the US West Coast in 2007 we spent a few days in San Francisco. I really love this city! Of course LA and Las Vegas are nice places too, but to me San Francisco felt a bit like a home away from home. The vibe of the city is quite similar to Amsterdam, and with the gay bars and occasional scent of marihuana, San Francisco feels more and more like Amsterdam’s US sister. 

We were staying at the Americana Best Western hotel on 7th Street, close to Market Street (which leads to San Francisco’s famous Union Square). One of the first things we noticed about our new environment was the amount of homeless people on the street near our hotel, yet we didn’t feel particularly unsafe in the area of our hotel.

On a beautiful afternoon, while enjoying my lunch on Union Square, I met a businessman from the area. We had a very interesting chat and he explained why there were so much more homeless people in San Francisco, especially compared to the previous cities we’ve visited so far. 

With about 7.000 to 10.000 homeless people, San Francisco could be considered the nation’s capital for the homeless. Brian, the businessman, explains this is partially because the climate in San Francisco is a lot more pleasant that the heat of Vegas or LA. But part of the reason is that San Francisco is known for its tolerant society, and the city has more services and facilities for the homeless than most other cities in the US. All in all I found our conversation very interesting as it shed more light on the situation and the city I was in. 

That evening my family and I had dinner at a pizzeria across the street from our hotel. Suddenly the door slammed open. While one guy held the door open, another one ran into the restaurant, picking up the left-over pizza slices from deserted tables. Within 30 seconds they were out the door again, he and his friend disappeared with their freshly caught dinner. 

The pizza restaurant in 2007

The pizzas were quite large, as were most of the meals we’ve had in the US, and we really couldn’t finish all of it. So when we were done I decided to put our left over slices in a box and give it to one of the homeless people in the street.
There are so many people out there, that I didn’t think I’d have to search for a long time. 

I’d better think again.

When you want to help a homeless person by doing a good there, there’s no one to be found. It looked like they had all magically disappeared from the sidewalks. I guess that’s one of life’s practical jokes. After waiting a while, my stepdad suggested to leave the pizza on a mailbox so that anyone passing by could pick it up, but I wanted to make sure our pizza went to someone who really needed it. 

Finally I saw a homeless-looking guy on the other side of the street. He wass a bit taller than me and he had a pockmarked face that was framed with a silver/greyish beard. The equally silver/greyish hair on his head looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, maybe even weeks, and the man’s body odour didn’t really contradict this suspicion. I asked him if he would like to eat our pizza, it was still hot. His brown eyes lit up and happy as a kid he thanked me with a big toothless smile. Wow, I made someone happy today! 

He took the box and we both continued walking our own ways. As I crossed the street to walk back to my family I turned around for one more glimpse of the hungry homeless guy whom I made happy. The next thing I saw was him taking out his car keys, throwing his backpack in the back of an enormous, brand new, shining Ford pick up truck and and he drove off with what apparently was his car. 

Even though he’s not a poor homeless guy, I hope he enjoyed the pizza. It would’ve been a waste to throw it away anyway. So far the story of me trying to help poor homeless people on the streets on San Francisco. My family likes to use this anecdote to make fun of me… 

At least my intentions were good.

On the left our hotel, on the right the pizza restaurant (photo credits: Google Streetview)

Antelope Canyon

Dramatic game of colours and curves

Soft pink/orange pastel shades and flowing curves decorate the sandstone walls of Antelope Canyon. A few beams of sunlight descend from various directions onto the unique rock formations. The beauty inside is overwhelming, every minute you see the canyon in a different light, literally.

We’re trapped in a narrow corridor, but the surroundings are absolutely breathtaking.

The drive to Antelope Canyon takes about 20 minutes from Page (Arizona). Sitting in the back of an open jeep we already enjoy some spectacular views on the way there. Once we’re off the main road our route continues as quite a bumpy, sandy dirt road. Most of the time we can only drive around 10 km/hr and I’ve heard the engine make sounds it’s probably not supposed to make. The way to get to the Canyon is an adventure in itself, with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, I’m loving every second of the ride.

Entrance Antelope Canyon

Our jeep stops in front of a big rock with one slim crack in it. It’s even hard to distinguish the crack from the other lines on the outside of this sandstone lump. It doesn’t surprise me to hear that the Navajo Indians used to seek refuge here when the army came looking for them back in the 19th century. The Navajo Indians discovered this hiding place when a young Navajo girl walked past the rock and saw a group of antelopes entering through the crack.

Inside Antelope Canyon

There are more jeeps there of people coming and going, so I guess this really is Antelope Canyon. We walk through the slit and suddenly we’re in a different world where light falls down in beams or is reflected on the soft orange/yellow toned sides of the canyon. It’s tranquil and by far not as hot as outside in the sun.

Most canyons are V-shaped, they have a large open space at the top and taper off towards the bottom. Antelope Canyon is a so-called slot canyon, which is a combination of a U- and O-shape, the ‘roof’ is nearly closed. The narrow canyon is formed by erosion and flash floods running through it. Over the course of centuries these infrequent floods have drawn lines and sculpted curves in the soft sandstone. Every so often nature comes around to change the scenery, filling the canyon top-to-bottom with water. At some points the passage is so small only one person at the time can pass through, while a few meters further ahead there’s enough space for a small group of people to stand and gaze in awe at their surroundings.

Colours & shades

Almost every line on the walls is sooner or later disrupted by another wave, another set of lines. At some points light is coming through, only to be broken by another protruding stone or a stick (probably brought there by a previous flood, probably to be taken away by the next flood). The walls are covered with warm pink/orange/yellow tones while the lines are playing a dramatic catch-me-if-you-can game with a few sunrays peeking inside this secluded area.

Curves & colours

The natural beauty of Antelope Canyon has impressed me, a lot. Every single detail in the canyon adds the total picture of serenity and perfection. Nature didn’t hold back in showing off its magnificence on this palette of colours, shades, shapes, sizes and lighting. Beginning to end, every scene is simply breathtaking. No matter how had you try, no person on earth can ever make something as beautiful as Antelope Canyon.

Lines & curves

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If you’d like to read or see more of the Antelope Canyon, you might be interested in Canyon Wilderness of the Southwest by Jon Ortner
For travelling in this region I recommend you to read the Lonely Planet Country & Regional Guide for Arizona, New Mexico and the Grand Canyon Trips