I mean, I landed in New Delhi. India has no possible comparisons. You love it or you hate it.

I boarded a toy-like taxi, like those tiny cars that sometimes my parents bought me when I was a kid, stuffed into a plastic box and whose doors could be opened.

On the way from the airport to the hotel I thought we would collide several times. Anyone who uses an adjective to describe driving in India would not reflect reality, because our references are useless. Sudden changes of direction, overtaking on either side, knocking bumpers, horn for everything and everyone, and the smaller must yield, gives to the experience a nuance somewhere between amusement park and an impending disaster.

A rogue able to speak English can be seated besides the driver trying to find a way to get some extra rupees, usually taking the tourist to a hotel where they receive commission. I avoided this trap and arrived safely at the hotel requested many times, at night, in the center of New Delhi. If that was the New, I was wondering how was the Old…

Advertisements