We ceremoniously closed the point of The Golden Triangle with our last stop in Delhi. We arrived late in the evening, and were picked up from the airport by a taxi arranged by Cristine's father through one of his students with family in Delhi. We were thankful for the uneventful and peaceful ride to the hotel, enjoying passing the numerous energetic and colorful weddings along the way. No matter how many times I have seen one, the weddings here never cease to amaze me with their traditional beautiful clothing, fireworks, marching band, and just the general merriment that the whole procession embodies. We arrived at the Hotel Clarke no worse for the wear, checked into our room, dined in the rooftop restaurant, and called it a night because it was late and we needed sleep to maximize the next day of touring in Delhi.
The morning shone bright and sunny as we finished up breakfast and were picked up by our trusty drivers, and we were off to the Red Fort. As we drove, the contrast between Old Delhi and New Delhi was both obvious and interesting. Old Delhi was once the capital of Islamic India, and you can see remnants of its glory in monuments like the Red Fort. New Delhi was created by the British, and is a more modern, Westernized looking city, almost like something you'd see in Europe. We began our tour at the Red Fort, an imposing sandstone structure of splendid Mughal construction with walls that extend for two kilometers and are as high as 33 meters on the city side and 18 meters on the Yunama River side. We entered through Lahore gate, and crossed through Chatta Chowk, the covered bazaar that was both fabulous and a tourist trap. Managing to evade the scarf and bangle-sellers for the time being, we emerged into an enormous green courtyard studded with trees, fountains and different elegant structures. There were many majestic buildings, my favorite being the Diwan-i-Khas (Hall of Private Audiences) with its strong marble pillars and delicated floral inlays, much like the Taj Mahal. The Peacock Throne once graced its center before being looted from India by Nadir Shah in 1739. Comissioned by Shah Jahan of the Taj Mahal, the Peackock Throne was a two meter tall golden throne set with precious stones-most notably the 191-carat-Koh-i-noor Diamond-that cost twice as much as the Taj Mahal, and rumored to be worth one billion US dollars if it was around today. Sadly it's not, as it was dismantled after Nadir Shah's assassination, the Koh-i-noor Diamond being cut to 109 carats by the British and placed with the crown jewels. We also enjoyed the Museum of Archaelology where Michael and I complicated whether it would be more painful to die by some of the menacing swords displayed in the cases, or by the eight-bladed mase. We decided on the mase, and also decided it was time to move onto another site after that conversation.
Our next stop was Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque. It was absolutely serene and majestic with its towering 40 meter minarets, four towers and three gateways, all composed of an attractive contrast of red sandstone and white marble. Michael was not allowed to enter the mosque wearing shorts, so he had to wrap a dhoti (the long, sheet-like garments the men wear here that look like a long skirt) around his waist to be permitted entry. I thought he looked quite dashing and snapped several pictures of his new Indian attire.
Next was Raj Ghat, a peaceful botanical garden and sanctuary where India's most beloved have been cremated and are commemorated. Despite the crowd of people in the place, the atmosphere was quiet and pensive as we slipped off our sandals to walk to the simple black marble platform that marks the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated following his assassination ni 1948. A flame burns eternally at one end, and the black marble is inscribed with the epitah, Hē Ram, which translates to "O God", believed to be the last words uttered by Gandhi. I truly felt the peace that the incredible man and philosopher lived and died for, and we spent about half an hour just sitting on the grass outside the memorial, watching several young Indian boys turn flips on the lawn, laughing and waving excitedly at the attention we were giving them. Several other notable Indian figures have been cremated there, and we visited the cremation sites of Indira and Rajiv Gandhi. Indira was the daughter of the first Indian prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, and Rajiv was his grandson. I felt great sadness that both of these leaders had been assasinated, a family wiped out by hatred and misdirected anger.
The last stop before lunch was the Lotus Temple, the Bahai house of worship. Built in the shape of the sacred lotus flower, the temple has 27 pure white marble petals that reach for the sky. We were welcomed in Hindi and English to the temple by a young man and a woman who explained that the Bahai faith revolves around universal peace and the elimination of prejudice, and that followers of all faiths were welcome to pray or meditate according to their own beliefs and religion. This attitude of acceptance and tolerance rang home to me, and I wished that all religions and states could be so open to the beliefs and backgrounds of humanity as a whole. We would all be better off, simply stated. We sat on a bench in the temple, each saying their own silent prayer, and walked back out on barefeet to slip back on our shoes that we had left at the gate.
At lunch we dined on typical north Indian food, but the atmosphere was anything but typical. We ate in a sleek, black and chrome lounge where a deejay spun our favorite songs mixed with his own funky flair. We treated ourselves to some Kingfishers in the afternoon (because it was our vacation :), and the staff must have enjoyed the dancing we did in our seats because our waiter brought over four flaming shots from the bar! We had found the hip, young, urban scene that we had imagined to be in New Delhi, and enjoyed the rest of our lunch to the re-stylized beats of the Black Eyed Peas and David Guetta.
We bade our drivers goodbye for the day and did a brief stint at Karol Bagh market, but it was only halfhearted because we were so tired. We rested a bit at the hotel, then found a fun restaurant and bar down the street with great kebabs and beer, and an atmosphere that didn't frown on our Chaco sandals, leggings and kertas. We had wanted to explore the more upscale side of Delhi nightlife, but didn't think to bring anything more than our traveling clothes which were certainly not up to the high-heeled-cocktail-dressed-three-piece-suit standards of the Delhi clubs. No matter to our group though because we enjoyed the night and turned into bed quite satisfied with our day overall.
Morning brought a brand new day and our sole mission: shopping! Michael was again a great sport as we spent hours in the bazaars, bargaining with shopkeepers for gifts to take home and reminders for ourselves of our beautiful adventure in India. We all prided ourselves on our haggling ability (though I'm sure we still paid too much, but it's all so beautiful I didn't care), and piled into the taxi to the airport laden with our treasures. Thankfully our flight home was on time and things were uneventful as our plane left the ground of India's fascinating capital city, a true blend of different worlds, both old and new. During the flight back to Chennai, the beverage cart rolled by and I ordered some tea from the servers.
"Black tea or regular tea, madame?" He asked.
"Regular tea." I said, accepting the cup with a napkin to protect my skin from the scalding heat.
Sipping it, I marveled that like the spicy, rich tea, nothing in India is regular. The tea is just one example of so many things here that constantly awaken my senses and a remind me of the joy and celebration in living every day.
The morning shone bright and sunny as we finished up breakfast and were picked up by our trusty drivers, and we were off to the Red Fort. As we drove, the contrast between Old Delhi and New Delhi was both obvious and interesting. Old Delhi was once the capital of Islamic India, and you can see remnants of its glory in monuments like the Red Fort. New Delhi was created by the British, and is a more modern, Westernized looking city, almost like something you'd see in Europe. We began our tour at the Red Fort, an imposing sandstone structure of splendid Mughal construction with walls that extend for two kilometers and are as high as 33 meters on the city side and 18 meters on the Yunama River side. We entered through Lahore gate, and crossed through Chatta Chowk, the covered bazaar that was both fabulous and a tourist trap. Managing to evade the scarf and bangle-sellers for the time being, we emerged into an enormous green courtyard studded with trees, fountains and different elegant structures. There were many majestic buildings, my favorite being the Diwan-i-Khas (Hall of Private Audiences) with its strong marble pillars and delicated floral inlays, much like the Taj Mahal. The Peacock Throne once graced its center before being looted from India by Nadir Shah in 1739. Comissioned by Shah Jahan of the Taj Mahal, the Peackock Throne was a two meter tall golden throne set with precious stones-most notably the 191-carat-Koh-i-noor Diamond-that cost twice as much as the Taj Mahal, and rumored to be worth one billion US dollars if it was around today. Sadly it's not, as it was dismantled after Nadir Shah's assassination, the Koh-i-noor Diamond being cut to 109 carats by the British and placed with the crown jewels. We also enjoyed the Museum of Archaelology where Michael and I complicated whether it would be more painful to die by some of the menacing swords displayed in the cases, or by the eight-bladed mase. We decided on the mase, and also decided it was time to move onto another site after that conversation.
Our next stop was Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque. It was absolutely serene and majestic with its towering 40 meter minarets, four towers and three gateways, all composed of an attractive contrast of red sandstone and white marble. Michael was not allowed to enter the mosque wearing shorts, so he had to wrap a dhoti (the long, sheet-like garments the men wear here that look like a long skirt) around his waist to be permitted entry. I thought he looked quite dashing and snapped several pictures of his new Indian attire.
Next was Raj Ghat, a peaceful botanical garden and sanctuary where India's most beloved have been cremated and are commemorated. Despite the crowd of people in the place, the atmosphere was quiet and pensive as we slipped off our sandals to walk to the simple black marble platform that marks the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated following his assassination ni 1948. A flame burns eternally at one end, and the black marble is inscribed with the epitah, Hē Ram, which translates to "O God", believed to be the last words uttered by Gandhi. I truly felt the peace that the incredible man and philosopher lived and died for, and we spent about half an hour just sitting on the grass outside the memorial, watching several young Indian boys turn flips on the lawn, laughing and waving excitedly at the attention we were giving them. Several other notable Indian figures have been cremated there, and we visited the cremation sites of Indira and Rajiv Gandhi. Indira was the daughter of the first Indian prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, and Rajiv was his grandson. I felt great sadness that both of these leaders had been assasinated, a family wiped out by hatred and misdirected anger.
The last stop before lunch was the Lotus Temple, the Bahai house of worship. Built in the shape of the sacred lotus flower, the temple has 27 pure white marble petals that reach for the sky. We were welcomed in Hindi and English to the temple by a young man and a woman who explained that the Bahai faith revolves around universal peace and the elimination of prejudice, and that followers of all faiths were welcome to pray or meditate according to their own beliefs and religion. This attitude of acceptance and tolerance rang home to me, and I wished that all religions and states could be so open to the beliefs and backgrounds of humanity as a whole. We would all be better off, simply stated. We sat on a bench in the temple, each saying their own silent prayer, and walked back out on barefeet to slip back on our shoes that we had left at the gate.
At lunch we dined on typical north Indian food, but the atmosphere was anything but typical. We ate in a sleek, black and chrome lounge where a deejay spun our favorite songs mixed with his own funky flair. We treated ourselves to some Kingfishers in the afternoon (because it was our vacation :), and the staff must have enjoyed the dancing we did in our seats because our waiter brought over four flaming shots from the bar! We had found the hip, young, urban scene that we had imagined to be in New Delhi, and enjoyed the rest of our lunch to the re-stylized beats of the Black Eyed Peas and David Guetta.
We bade our drivers goodbye for the day and did a brief stint at Karol Bagh market, but it was only halfhearted because we were so tired. We rested a bit at the hotel, then found a fun restaurant and bar down the street with great kebabs and beer, and an atmosphere that didn't frown on our Chaco sandals, leggings and kertas. We had wanted to explore the more upscale side of Delhi nightlife, but didn't think to bring anything more than our traveling clothes which were certainly not up to the high-heeled-cocktail-dressed-three-piece-suit standards of the Delhi clubs. No matter to our group though because we enjoyed the night and turned into bed quite satisfied with our day overall.
Morning brought a brand new day and our sole mission: shopping! Michael was again a great sport as we spent hours in the bazaars, bargaining with shopkeepers for gifts to take home and reminders for ourselves of our beautiful adventure in India. We all prided ourselves on our haggling ability (though I'm sure we still paid too much, but it's all so beautiful I didn't care), and piled into the taxi to the airport laden with our treasures. Thankfully our flight home was on time and things were uneventful as our plane left the ground of India's fascinating capital city, a true blend of different worlds, both old and new. During the flight back to Chennai, the beverage cart rolled by and I ordered some tea from the servers.
"Black tea or regular tea, madame?" He asked.
"Regular tea." I said, accepting the cup with a napkin to protect my skin from the scalding heat.
Sipping it, I marveled that like the spicy, rich tea, nothing in India is regular. The tea is just one example of so many things here that constantly awaken my senses and a remind me of the joy and celebration in living every day.
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