Finding our ways in Alleyways

We are back in Delhi and finally I am ready to give this city a chance. Our return was not voluntary, but in order to change our tickets from Kenya we had to return here. Back in the Pahar Ganj, back in the noise and mess of people that is Delhi.

Something has shifted; we are no longer the prey to touts and rickshaw drivers that we were upon arrival. Sure, the occasional man approaches us, trying to lead us one way or the other, but it is much less of a hindrance than it was initially. Something about us speaks that we are more comfortable and more confident than we were fresh off of the plane.

Pahar Ganj is backpacker central. After Kashmir- where the only other white person we encountered was a Canadian named Nick trying desperately to escape the snow covered civilization- it seems odd and uncomfortable to pass entire cafes full of white people. In Kashmir, we were exciting and different; in Pahar Ganj we are only unique because we don't have dreadlocks.

Which is a quick point I would like to address. Of all of the foreigner’s we've seen here, we are clearly the only people from the States. Our style of dress and the way we carry ourselves screams either Australian or Israeli to the locals. There just aren't a lot of Americans in India, or outside of the US for that matter. But there certainly are a plethora of dreadlocked, sandal clad, corduroy wearing European hippies. Not to mention the wealth of Asians in the same style. I don't have a problem with hippies, I live in Boulder after all and was once the collector of various scents of Nag Champa and wanted very badly to be the owner of a patchwork skirt.

Never the less, the hippy movement in the United States came from a very specific combination of social and political events, ones that I am quite certain did not occur in Korea or Germany. Is this style simply a fashion that migrated from the US to the rest of the world, like stilettos from Italy? Do the youth of every culture long to rebel against their parents in a way that is almost historically prescribed? Most of the hippies I know have hippy parents as well, so it no longer seems like a rebellion so much as legacy. It is odd to be on the other side of the world and still see scenes I would at home. Walking by the bookstore/cafe down the street from out predominately Korean hotel is reminiscent of strolling past the Laughing Goat in Boulder.

Yet with very little effort we are able to escape the tourist epicenter. Wander just a few blocks from the shop lined Main Bazaar and you are once again in a foreign country. Some people ignore you completely, some try and point you back in the direction of the rest of the tourists, some look at you as if you might be lost and some invite you in for tea. We pick alleyways that are colorful, full of action, deserted or daunting and see where we end up. So far we have accidentally ended up in the cloth market- where bright pink, blues and yellows are sold by the yard and adorned with rhinestone or glitter, the makings of a saree. Also we found the spice market- which I had to leave after about 10 minutes because my nose was running from all of the coriander in the air. The presence of masala spices, chilies and peppers hung in the air like dirt after a horse race, many of the men covered their mouths with scarves to avoid the coughing fits I was suffering from. Leigh licked a giant, black rock of salt, which the men decided to give to her. Now she must ship it back to the States.

Who knows what is next, we like Delhi more but long to be away from monuments and tourist traps. Our plan is this: find the place that everyone tells us not to go and go there. This puts Rajasthan and Goa out of the picture and makes Darjeeling, Bangal and Megalaya look pretty good. Suggestions?