This is an extract of my experiences in India. I can guarantee it's mostly true!
Some say that certain parts of Delhi can make hell seem like heaven and poverty seem like luxury, however as I wondered the bustling streets on the first morning of my adventure, I couldn't agree less. Delhi, far from heaven though it was, was fascinating. It was so much more alive than England: With thousands of little stalls narrowing the dirt roads by half, and hollering merchants being ignored by as many people as possible; with cows lying in the middle of the street, nonchalantly chewing their cud, and little three-wheeled ricochets weaving hurriedly through the masses. And such colours! Every stall retched a different, radiant colour onto the street, and every person, regardless off their ethnicity, boasted the brightest clothes. My primary aim of travelling was to see a world different from my own, and I couldn't believe the staggering result that lay before me on my very first day.
I ambled aimlessly from street to street, smiling at everyone, and making eye contact with no-one. Amongst my awe, i also felt a sudden frustration, as I knew I wouldn't get to see even a small percentage of this forgotten land given the time I had. I was distracted by an engulfing smell as I passed a little food stall with what looked like samosas piled high on the counter, and I suddenly realised my hunger. I'd been told countless horror stories about eating from the street in Delhi, but I decided this was a mistake I was obliged to make. I refused to lose out on the Delhi experience by adhering to ignorant western assumptions. I decided that if my immune system couldn't handle a little bacteria, then it was about time I toughened it up. In hindsight, this urge to rebel would have been better explored after the fourteen hour bus journey I would soon endure. Though I am not proud of the rather unmentionable consequences that soon followed, I truly feel enriched from the experience. After all, a traveller isn't a traveller until a publicly humiliating gastric incident is suffered.
I finished the apparently harmless samosa, and after struggling with the certainty of my whereabouts, I arrived safely back at my hotel. I refilled my body with water and gathered my bags, ready for the bus journey to a little village called Dharamshala. I daringly decided to brave a ricochet, and paid him 30 rupees (about 40 pence) to take me to the bus stop. I felt slightly guilty at how relieved I was to see so many western faces; each one caked with the traveller's trademark of sweat, fascination and anticipation. This guilt was soon replaced with an ironic smile as I realised most of the travellers were also foreign; the majority from Israel. Unbeknown to me, I would soon be known by all of them on a very personal level.
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