Nothing prepared me for what I was about to see in Delhi. I must apologize, thinking of Delhi doesn’t do good for my soul, and I don’t really have a good reason why. It probably has some great neighborhoods and good spots, but I’ll do what I can to avoid going back there again.
My father was going to land in Delhi and we were planning to go all over Rajastan and so I took a domestic flight from Goa to Delhi to take a look before my dad gets to India. We got some recommendations on email from an Israeli in India that proved to be a big mistake since they were aimed at the backpacking bunch. She actually pointed us to the Main Bazaar road close to the disgusting New Delhi train station – Paharganj area.
I disliked Delhi from moment 0. When I got off my Taxi in that area I thought I was going to throw up. The Metropolis Tourist Home I finally picked thanks to a Chinese scribble in my book from the Taiwanese classmates I borrowed the book from had the only decent rooms in that area. I had a balcony over looking the horrors of down stairs.
That street was so stinky, so dirty and so noisy that it was probably one of the strongest culture shocks I’ve had in a while. Sick cows strolling the streets, putting their heads into food sold to the locals and adventurous backpackers, angry wild dogs looking for another scrap of nothing to eat, heavily mutilated handicapped Indians aggressively begging for money, and every possible kind of tout clinging to you with the most annoying approaches like you’re their last hope on earth.
An absolutely disgusting street. This is what I thought Kaoh-San street in Bangkok was going to be like, but it wasn’t. Bangkok’s heaven compared to that long garbage can they call a street. Just horrible.