Night of nights - Arrival in India

It was 9.20pm as the plane descended through the overhanging haze of Delhi. Looking out the window I could see fireworks exploding above the housing along side the air stripe. Quite an awesome spectacle being on the same level as the fireworks. It was as if they were celebrating my arrival. But alas I was sitting in economy class amongst all the other common people (who can afford to fly) - there would be no royal welcome. It was actually the beginning of the Diwali festival - India's most important celebration. What an accidentally auspicious time to come - a great start to the trip.

Almost immediately as the plane settled onto the tarmac the air inside the plane began to fill with a strange odor - a thick and sickly mixture of spices, gunpowder smoke, and general human and machine made stench. I was expecting the pilot to introduce the smog along the weather, but he did not. Obviously (and going by what others say) this was nothing new.

Making it to the baggage collection was a quick and easy matter. Waiting for the bags themselves was painfully slow. After about half an hour a few bags randomly appears with big gaps between the groups. I was imagining a few poor souls carrying the bags by hand from the plane to the carousel. But of course all I needed was some patience. My bag eventually appeared, and I focused on the next tasks at hand: purchasing a prepaid taxi voucher, and catching one successfully to my intended destination.

I paid for my voucher at one desk, was directed to another desk who would allocate me my taxi number, met my drive, and after a lot of honking was on my way. I'm not sure what type of car it was, but it resemble something I would have expected from the 1950s. I was doubtfully thinking to myself, it's going to take ages to get anywhere in this thing. But it didn't take long for my young driver to prove me ignorant. Boy could he drive it. Racing around cars, honking horns, flashing lights, weaving around road works through eye and nose burning smog. In the meantime fireworks were being let off in all directions. It was some crazy theme park and this was the Cab Ride of Doom. A taxi ride through a war zone. The driver was trying to tell me something, pointing at the fireworks. I couldn' t really tell if he was speaking in English but I assumed he was telling me something about the Indian New Years. My relatives had told me the other day it was going to be the Indian New Year. Other times the driver would say something (which I couldn't understand), so I figured if in doubt, repeat the address of your destination.

After asking about 100 people on the street around South Extension, where Part 2, then R Block, then 36 was, we finally made it. Shaking his hand I gave him a pretty descent tip, wishing him a happy new year. He repeated happy new year back to me looking a bit confused. I later found out that the festival has nothing at all to do with any kind of new years, instead is the festival of light.

I climbed to the 3rd floor appartment, careful not to catch my bag on fire on the numerous candles lining the staircase. The house of a friends sister who I am staying with were all preparing for a party across the lane. I decided to join them wearing some of Josh's traditional Indian wear. Things couldn't really get much weirder anyway.