Namaste

Remember when you first got your license, and suddenly had the freedom (apart from the $4 in your pocket) to go anywhere? That's what it feels like walking around Delhi with a man. Mike is here (yay! yay! yay!), and suddenly the number of men bothering us has been reduced by at least 80 percent.

It's not that ALL of the men are bothering us, per say. Some just want to randomly declare to us where we are ("You are on C Block. Shopping is there.") and walk away, but most follow us for a bit. It's tiring. It's hot. It's full of beeping. But oh, with a man...well, it's still hot, it's still full of beeping, but you can actually take your eyes from the pavement (lest you make eye contact with anyone) and see what's going on.

Tonight we are going on an overnight train (so exciting!) up north, and then will somehow figure out how to get the last 80K to Dharamsala.

I won't miss Delhi. But there are a few wonderful things here: 25 cent samosas; fantastically terrifying motor-rickshaw rides; and 6 o'clock, when seemingly everyone in the city gets on their roofs and flies kites.