The Bad with the Good

I debated about whether I should write this post or not. I don't want to worry anyone, but I also want to give you my experience as it is, not just the rosy highlights.

Delhi has been difficult.

I've traveled to many parts of the world and, as you saw in an earlier posts, been on the receiving end of a lot of scams. I think of myself as a pretty smart, intuitive guy and even when I was getting taken advantage of, I was at least somewhat aware of what was going on and was more the victim of lack of information--not knowing the worth of something, perhaps. But here in Delhi, I've seen deception that borders on a con game. Apparently the tour business is rather cutthroat and the money big enough to warrant the lengths these companies go to. Since I arrived three days ago, pretty much anyone who's approached me has been a tout, someone hired to lure people into a shop or business. Invariably, it starts with, "What country are you from?" It's obvious what's going on and sometimes I'll chat and sometimes I'll ignore them. That's all fine, but, as you can imagine, it gets a old quickly. Although sometimes it can be helpful.

I was in the post office a couple days ago when a "very nice man" came up to me when it was obvious that I was at a complete loss as to where to begin. He translated with the woman behind the counter, walked me down the street to where I could purchase packing material, helped me again at counter back at the post office. Through this he gradually steered the conversation to travel agencies and some confusing nonsense about how the India's one official tour agency had moved, etc. He then, almost as an afterthought, volunteered to walk me to the right place. By this time, it was obvious what was going on, and when we arrived, he just stopped, shook my hand and said it was nice to have met me. It was all very pleasant and I just walked on, no big deal.

Today really threw me, though. My plan was to mail some more stuff at the post office and then hit one of the Starbuck's-like coffee shops in the more upscale part of New Delhi to try and figure out where I want to go next. I sat down at a table next to two guys that seemed to be part of India's new economic prosperity; you could have easily transplanted them to downtown Denver and called them yuppies. They asked me what I was up to and after a few friendly exchanges they invited me over to their table. I was loving it, I felt like I was finally getting to know a couple locals. Their English was great and they gave me some great ideas on places I might want to visit, we even talked about George Bush for a while. One had to leave. After he left, I asked the other guy what he did for a living. "Insurance company," he said. I was completely disarmed. I was asking about some places to visit after my coffee and had my Lonely Planet open to the map of the area. He made a point of showing me the official tourist office which was listed on the map. "Be sure to go to this one," he said. I laughed and commented on all the scam artists. "Oh yes, be careful, they're everywhere." I payed for my coffee and we got up to leave together, him saying, "yes, he'd better get back to work." I was enjoying our conversation and walking along with him. The tourist agency was right around the corner and he casually pointed it out to me and we said goodbye. I walked in, anxious to get a plan together. As I'm sure you know already, it wasn't the official agency. The next thing I know I've got this travel agent with a $2000 plan for my next two months, including a personal driver through Rajasthan. When I balk at that, he's got a $1000 plan. "Okay, thanks for the information, I'll think about it." Next came the high pressure sales. They make you feel like you've just spit in their face because you won't sign a contract right then and there. I started making my way towards the door as graciously as I could. When I got outside, somebody else was there leading me over to one of their cars and a driver. "Just take a short tour around the city for only 200 rupees, see how you like the service." I declined. "Okay, take the tour on us, if you don't like it, no problem, we part as friends." I don't know why, I knew better, but I got in the car. We drove around for a little while and returned to the agency. I knew what was coming. It's a different set of guys and they and the driver are asking about the 200 rupees. "Sorry, the other person said it was on you," I said. I was given the spit-in-the-face treatment again and told to, "have some respect and at least tip the driver." which I did since I was planning on it anyway.

For whatever reason, I haven't been able to meet and hook up with any fellow travelers so I feel very alone here. The constant deception and harassment has left me feeling alienated and bitter. The air pollution is terrible; there is a constant, surprisingly thick haze. The noise is constant and I think that if there is a hell, it will be filled with the sounds of motorcycle and car horns. A couple of days ago, I saw a guy begging that was as disfigured and pitiful as I've ever seen, his eyes clouded and different body parts missing, covered in dirty bandages. On the walk to my hotel after the that last tour agency incident, I had a woman with baby walking along side of me for a few blocks begging for money. "One rupee sir, please, feed my baby." I was tired, had too much caffeine, not enough water and watched while my heart struggled with whether to end my discomfort by reclassifying her from "struggling human being" to "irritant." My heart was breaking but I don't know if it was for her or for me. Sometimes suffering seems so big that if I really let it in, all of it, mine and everyone else's, it would destroy me. Is that true? I don't know.