My first day in Delhi, I decide to set off for Khan Market, based on a recommendation from someone I met at the work meetings. I needed a plan for the afternoon on my own, with most of the historical sites saved for a planned guided tour on Monday. I love exploring markets in the places I visit, so while heading to a jewelry store as my first stop in town isn’t my norm, I thought it was a safe plan. I learned from the hotel that I could get a taxi and it would be best to have the taxi wait for me at the market, as it may be difficult to get a taxi back. I would have thought a market would be an easy place for a taxi, but who am I to question the immaculately uniformed staff assisting me. I get in the taxi, delighted by the vintage feel, except for the vintage air conditioning, and quickly verify (as insisted in the guidebooks) that the driver will in fact utilize the meter. As I wandered around the not-exactly-a-market shops along the winding streets, I wondered if I would be able to find the taxi again when I was done. After realizing that the jewelry store was way too exclusive for my taste and getting a bangle stuck on my apparently large wrist, I turned my attention to finding a place for lunch. I was wishing that I had brought one of my stash of protein bars and thus could avoid the stress and potential stomach danger of choosing a restaurant. I replayed in my mind the recommendations to stick to nice hotels for meals, but knew that was never the way I was going to travel, so I might as well just pick somewhere. If I survived China and Vietnam without being sick, surely I could handle India. I eventually found a nice looking restaurant/bar and had a nice meal of Dal (lentil curry), rice, and naan, and a King Fisher. I have long subscribed to the lunch beer while on vacation, but have since learned of a friend’s theory that a beer with each meal (while traveling only!) is the key to a happy stomach. I have decided to whole heartedly adopt this theory, and to my extreme luck, it was happy hour and two-for-one beers. I was quite proud of myself to find my taxi again and the driver seemed equally happy when I suggested another stop at the Dalli Haat market. He parked and again told me to come find him when I was finished.

This one was a true market, with all of the stalls of locals peddling their goods, with the added bonus (for some) of the market being mostly empty, since it was a Friday afternoon in the off season for tourists, and most sane people would not be wandering around in the extreme heat haggling for the sake of a quarter.

I have not yet figured out if my very friendly taxi drivers who do their best to ask me questions in their broken English are trying to be nice, are curious about the plans of this American in their country, or are trying to figure out when they can get more business from me. Everyone wants to know where I have been, how long I’m staying, and what my plans are for the rest of my stay. Maybe it is just small talk, but it does seem like they are fishing for information. After my day of shopping, my taxi driver wanted to wait to take me to dinner or take me somewhere else. I politely declined, not liking yet having a plan for the evening and not liking the idea of someone waiting for me.

I was happy with the final total from the taxi driver of 700 rupees, or about $12. I tipped generously (who wouldn't after 3.5 hours of someone’s time put only $12 less the cost of gas in their pocket).

Flip Flops & Passports