Our first outing
We arrived early in the morning on Tuesday, 29
November, and by Saturday had already seen Delhi's major sites: the Red Fort,
Chandni Chowk, and Jama Masjid mosque.
The thing about traveling with small children
that is nice is that you can easily rationalize spending a mere 10 minutes in
front of India's largest mosque--I site that should command great awe and at
least 30 minutes of one's attention. But with Claire whining "When do I get my
special treat?" and Luc squirming to get out of the hip hammock in which Marion
carried him, it was quite sufficient to climb the steps of the mosque, turn 360
degrees to take it all in, and almost immediately head back
down.
The day's siteseeing all began when we took an autorickshaw from Defence Colony, where our flat is, to Old Delhi. Though the fare was cheap (80 Rs or about $1.40) for such a long trip, we soon realized the rickshaws are uncomfortable for any ride longer than 10 or 15 minutes. It's not that the rickshaw itself is that uncomfortable, but that you're directly exposed to all the pollution. Then, at some of the long traffic signals, you sit amidst hundreds of vehicles spewing exhaust and are assaulted by some of the shrillest horns you've ever heard.
On this journey through the heart of Delhi, Claire and Luc had their first encounters with Indian beggars. At one intersection, two boys wanted to sell us pens and combs. They stuck their wares right on our faces. Surprising Claire and Luc just sat there. At another intersection, a boy brought over a wind-up toy. Luc reached out for it but we grabbed his arm before he could take it. Most intersections also have numerous mothers, with their babies on their hips, wandering from car to rickshaw looking for Rupees to feed their malnourished children. Needless to say, it's rather heartbreaking. So far Claire has handled it well. She always asks what the people getting in our face want, and we try to explain as best we can.
So our driver, who had to stop along the way to get change for the 100 Rupee note we had (the photos above were taken from inside the rickshaw while we waited), took us down Chandni Chowk, the main street of Old Delhi and a buzzing bazaar. Disappointingly, a lot of what appears to be sold is cheap western merchandise (probably imported from China). As the driver wound us off Chandni Chowk and toward the mosque, the street, maybe it should have been called an alley or a path, got narrower and narrower. Some boys on the side reached into our rickshaw to touch Claire. Again, she took it all in stride. Finally the driver dropped us as near the mosque as he could get. We walked a bit amongst intense poverty before climbing the steps of the east side of Jama Masjid. We then descended and got a bicycle rickshaw to take us to the entrance of the Red Fort.
The Red Fort is Shah Jahan's (of Taj Mahal fame) homage to Muslim dominance in Delhi in the 1600s. It's a pretty imposing structure, with palaces and other structures inside the fort housing the Mughals who ruled at the time. Claire and Luc had a great time running around on the grass, and we were asked by no fewer than three different sets of Indian tourists if they could take a picture with our blond-haired and white-skinned children.
Claire started demanding her "special treat" again, so we left the Red Fort in hopes of finding a market where we could pick up some groceries and Claire's treat. Given the roughness of the rickshaw ride on the way in, we decided to take a taxi home. Little did we know that in Delhi taxis are only available at designated stands. So after waiting a while, we got back in a rickshaw and asked the driver to take us to Connaught Place, a heavily touristed, British-built colonnaded marketplace in the center of Delhi. We thought we'd find a taxi there (again not realizing they can only be found in designated spots). Instead we bought Claire some Toblerone from a street vendor before deciding to sit down for lunch. Except for Luc's poor behavior--for example, he's taken to shrieking and/or wailing whenever he is denied something, such as the plate of spicy chutneys and sauces our server put on the table tantalizingly close to him--we had a very nice meal. A man even came over at the end of our lunch, much to our disbelief, and told us we had exceptionally well behaved children (he must have arrived after I took Luc outside the restaurant during one of his fits of frustration).
We wound up taking yet another rickshaw, of which Marion and I have become rather tired, back to the flat at the end of a long day.
The day's siteseeing all began when we took an autorickshaw from Defence Colony, where our flat is, to Old Delhi. Though the fare was cheap (80 Rs or about $1.40) for such a long trip, we soon realized the rickshaws are uncomfortable for any ride longer than 10 or 15 minutes. It's not that the rickshaw itself is that uncomfortable, but that you're directly exposed to all the pollution. Then, at some of the long traffic signals, you sit amidst hundreds of vehicles spewing exhaust and are assaulted by some of the shrillest horns you've ever heard.
On this journey through the heart of Delhi, Claire and Luc had their first encounters with Indian beggars. At one intersection, two boys wanted to sell us pens and combs. They stuck their wares right on our faces. Surprising Claire and Luc just sat there. At another intersection, a boy brought over a wind-up toy. Luc reached out for it but we grabbed his arm before he could take it. Most intersections also have numerous mothers, with their babies on their hips, wandering from car to rickshaw looking for Rupees to feed their malnourished children. Needless to say, it's rather heartbreaking. So far Claire has handled it well. She always asks what the people getting in our face want, and we try to explain as best we can.
So our driver, who had to stop along the way to get change for the 100 Rupee note we had (the photos above were taken from inside the rickshaw while we waited), took us down Chandni Chowk, the main street of Old Delhi and a buzzing bazaar. Disappointingly, a lot of what appears to be sold is cheap western merchandise (probably imported from China). As the driver wound us off Chandni Chowk and toward the mosque, the street, maybe it should have been called an alley or a path, got narrower and narrower. Some boys on the side reached into our rickshaw to touch Claire. Again, she took it all in stride. Finally the driver dropped us as near the mosque as he could get. We walked a bit amongst intense poverty before climbing the steps of the east side of Jama Masjid. We then descended and got a bicycle rickshaw to take us to the entrance of the Red Fort.
The Red Fort is Shah Jahan's (of Taj Mahal fame) homage to Muslim dominance in Delhi in the 1600s. It's a pretty imposing structure, with palaces and other structures inside the fort housing the Mughals who ruled at the time. Claire and Luc had a great time running around on the grass, and we were asked by no fewer than three different sets of Indian tourists if they could take a picture with our blond-haired and white-skinned children.
Claire started demanding her "special treat" again, so we left the Red Fort in hopes of finding a market where we could pick up some groceries and Claire's treat. Given the roughness of the rickshaw ride on the way in, we decided to take a taxi home. Little did we know that in Delhi taxis are only available at designated stands. So after waiting a while, we got back in a rickshaw and asked the driver to take us to Connaught Place, a heavily touristed, British-built colonnaded marketplace in the center of Delhi. We thought we'd find a taxi there (again not realizing they can only be found in designated spots). Instead we bought Claire some Toblerone from a street vendor before deciding to sit down for lunch. Except for Luc's poor behavior--for example, he's taken to shrieking and/or wailing whenever he is denied something, such as the plate of spicy chutneys and sauces our server put on the table tantalizingly close to him--we had a very nice meal. A man even came over at the end of our lunch, much to our disbelief, and told us we had exceptionally well behaved children (he must have arrived after I took Luc outside the restaurant during one of his fits of frustration).
We wound up taking yet another rickshaw, of which Marion and I have become rather tired, back to the flat at the end of a long day.
Posted: Sat - December 3, 2005 at 01:25 AM
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The Zavelogue chronicles the travels and travails of Stephen, Marion, Claire and Luc during our six months in India on a Fulbright.
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Published On: Jul 15, 2006 12:54 AM
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Published On: Jul 15, 2006 12:54 AM