The Second Day

I'm not going to post the events from every day because that would just be idiotic; however, while it is all new to me I feel I should bore people with intricate details of my day.

"I was blind, but now I see" sung Bobby Gillespie and I awoke to Primal Screams' Moving on Up. I begun today with a boring bowl of porridge and then had a chat with the hotel owner, Avnish, a very friendly guy with great English; almost northern English in fact, about the easiest way to see things in Delhi and where would be good to eat. We decided that we would head towards the Red Fort and see the to the Jain Temple, the adjoining Bird Hospital and then to Jama Masjid Mosque which was beautiful.


Children scaring pigeons at the Jama Masjid

We suffered our first Richshaw abduction on the way to the Red Fort. Our driver decided that it was international women’s day and that we should buy gifts for our sister and mother. After telling him we weren't interested (Mum and Kate: sorry but we aren't carrying a gift around for 5 months) he decided that he would take us anyway. At this point I firmly told him:
"NO! We want to go to the Red Fort"

"Oh, but perhaps Mark you try to find nice gift for.."

"NO!" in a louder more aggressive tone
"Take us, TO THE RED FORT!"

"Oh, but if in England I was offered such advice of 50% on excellent silk I would be happy with the help and.."

"LOOK!" I spat, in what can only be described as a utterly pissed off tone,
"Take us to the Red Fort or we're getting out here and you get no fare whatsoever" I said placing one foot out of the Rickshaw. He took the hint but, knowing that he wouldn't get any commission now, decided he would drop us off at Connaught Place metro station for only 20Rupees, this forced us to use the metro (subway) which was amazing and dirt cheap. Only 8 Rupees/9p to go 4km. After this shaky start to the day it only got better.



Looking north from the Jama Masjid's southern minaret

I picked myself up a lovely, albeit fake, Rolex for a couple of quid, had a chicken biriyani for the same price and simply wandered around the Bazaars on which was a scorching, only 25 degree, afternoon.

In the evening we visited a plush restaurant and had curry which was very similar, if not a clone, of what I have eaten at S.Bs in Sheffield. However, a slight problem arose when we paid our bill and the waiter tried to pressure us into leaving a tip: I never leave tips unless I have been treated like a king; call me selfish or tight, probably the latter, I just don't do it.

Breathing down my neck he insisted in was the done thing, I told him, in not so many words, that if he included it on the bill then fair dos but as he didn't then tough excrement. Paul tried to pay the 100Rupees service charge but I’m not being pressured, and it was pressure: He blocked my exit until we gave some ground; 50rupees is all he got though. Jesus! I'm a tight S.O.B.

Headed home, passed lots of cows on the street and went to bed.

Look at the cow! Heh-heh, street cow.