The Guy with the Camera is Fired

One of the later posts in Marrakech showed a mule-drawn wagon piled super high with stuff. A friend commented in an email to me (why does it always have to be email, don't you people see that fun little comments box at the end of each blog - or do you all just give up before getting to the end of an entry and don't know it's there?) that it was pretty crazy.

Well, to that friend and the rest of you, I present this tricycle.

Note that the front of it is smoking.

These two are what I believe is a cemetery, and are a result of what happens when you ask yourself "I wonder where he is going?" as a guy walks through a gateway that you happen to be standing in front of at the time.

I guess I've just sort of jumped into it this time without much of a preamble. That's not actually the best advice I'd give someone visiting Delhi based upon my short time here. When I walk out the door of my apartment without thinking about it I'm likely to get run over by an autorickshaw, and I actually find myself mentally adjusting for the walk to the metro. "Right", I tell myself, "it's busy out here. Pay attention." More oft than not now though I have made the mental adjustment before walking out the door. It's better that way.

Leaping right into it with a blog though should be less treacherous. 3D technology has not gotten to the point to make it physically dangerous, though I anxiously await the day when we have holodecks and danger rooms that can be set to maim us (that's hurt as opposed to have us break out into show tunes - though perhaps that would hurt some of us too) as we practice destroying our robot masters. Anxious is likely the right word here, as having a robot master would royally suck. So we're safe from 3D for the time being with the noteable exception of an Avatar sequel, so the only thing to be afraid of is my writing. Which yes, can be horrific at times, but likely won't leave any permanent scars.

Can't get the same deal from an autorickshaw I'll bet.

Right, so I said "jump in" and just as you're off the cliff and jack-knifing towards the water like a forlorn James Blunt I've freeze-framed the film and tossed you into the void.

Well, time to play Mr. Bean to my own Carson Clay and splice something together that stops this from being another Playback Time. Art it is not.

Yesterday I was at the Max Super Speciality Hospital in Saket, which is quite near to where I live. I was invited there by a very nice surgeon named Rohan who I had met during a photo-walk I will tell you about next time. Rohan had not offered to provide me with an elective surgery of my choice, but had offered to show me around, as well, I'd told him what I do back home in Toronto, and got really geeky about it and he took pity on that and threw this poor dog a bone. This bone was a short tour of Max hospital and an introduction to Agnibesh, a trainer in the IT department there, which turned into a long conversation about one of my favourite conversation topics: "Healthcare IT - What's Working, What Isn't, and What are We All Gonna Do About It." This by the way comes third in line of my favourite topics right after "Pygmy Hippos and Their Household Uses" and "Land Wars in Asia".

In that conversation Agnibesh made the comment, and I quote "Indians love their colour." He was referring to user interfaces, but I'm thinkin' it's applicable other places too.

This is Dilli Haat. It's a market.

It's got shops. It's got food. It's got performances. And it's basically trying to showcase many of the variety of cultures you'll find were you to spend some time travelling all over this big busy country called India. If you're from Toronto then you can think of it as being kinda like Harbourfront, but with a lot more colour. Because, well, Agnibesh was right.

That by the way is what happens when you:

a) walk the wrong direction when exiting INA metro, and instead of going the way you think you should (which as it turns out would have you arrive at Dilli Haat in less than three minutes, even if you are leaving a trail of slime behind you in the process) you follow the traffic "detour" signs with Dilli Haat written on them and go for a twenty minute stroll through the neighbourhood; and,

b) Mis-title a picture and put it in the wrong sequence but don't bother to correct that mistake even though it'd be easier than snot (see previous comment on slime trails) for no good reason whatsoever, you lazy twit. (I wanted to say prick but my mom may read this so I'm trying to keep the language clean. I mean, I've played Cards Against Humanity with Noah and Jake, so it's not like I'm saving them from anything any more. Nor them me by the way.)

Some of you like laundry though, so I figured it should stay.

Meanwhile, back in Dilli Haat.

So yes, an incredibly colourful place. And one where I bought four elephants. Also pretty calm and quiet, all things considered.

As I've mentioned, Delhi is comprised of either seven or twelve cities depending on how you count them up. Well, those cities are then further divided up into residential colonies. I've seen a list of 895 residential colonies, so while I don't know the actual number, let's just say that there are alot. I'm gonna learn more about them, their general design, purpose, etc., but I'll say right now that, so far, I don't really like the idea. It really seems to segment the city up in a way that makes it not friendly for pedestrians. That said, one thing they have going for them is that once you get inside the gate and the walls, they tend to be quieter. That's not to say that they're quiet, but that "-er" goes a long way. Tranquil would not be the word to describe Dilli Haat, far from it. But it did have a certain peace to it given that there was no motor traffic.

Anyway, more on that topic another time perhaps.

By the way, if there is anything I learned at Max Super Speciality Hospital it's that I love what I do for a living. I mean, when I posted on FB yesterday "Getting my geek on" or something to that effect, I really meant it. It's like I had a bar of soap and was trying to reconnect my shadow, but then Rohan and Agnibesh came along and stitched it to my toe, and now my geek and I are all happy and reunited.

Well, I did say Rohan was a surgeon.

I love language. Especially English, as it's the one I know. I also love signs, and wondering what (else) they could mean.

One of the things that got me to rewrite those brochures in Marrakech was the wonderful description of Ait Ben Haddou as being "one of the most gravitational places in Morocco".

So, people are attracted to it. Excellent.

When I was in Hauz Khas Village, so not the Hauz Khas market or residential colony, but still reasonably nearby if you're good at Frogger, I met a French journalist and translator who lives in Quito, Equador, and was visiting friends in Delhi. We got talking over momos (more on that in a sec) and were discussing the art of translation, and I told him the "gravitational" story. He laughed harder than anyone so far that I've shared that with. He also thought it had a certain poetry to it. Which admittedly it does. Certainly more poetry then what I replaced it with.

Anyway, he offered me a momo, which is a dumpling. It's not my friend Maureen, and it's not my friend Hussein. It's a dumpling.

The dumplings are delicious.

No comment on the other two.

These are two pictures from Hauz Khas.

Why only two? Because, I didn't want to take pictures and I know I'll be going back because there is a couch surfing event there tomorrow night and because there's a lot of old cool stuff there by the lake and lots of neat shops, including a movie poster shop, so I figure it's on the list of places for James and I to check out when he gets here so why waste a perfectly good surprise for myself by exploring too much of it the first time. Meaning, I didn't stay long. Got there, saw the potential, slowly backed out trying not to disturb the beast.

On tippy-toes.

Definitely not the case for Old Delhi.

I've wandered about it a bit on my own, and I've wandered about it a bit with Rohan. Not photo-walk surgeon Rohan, but couch surfer network "Hi, I'm Christopher and I've got a place to stay but did you want to meet up and hang out a bit because I know no one in this city and you seem like a decent enough fellow based upon your profile" Rohan.

And he is so that's what we did.

And yes, I know two guys in a city of 20 million or so people and they're both named Rohan.

One of those times when it is best to just let the pictures explain it I think. Though one thing I will add.

You'll likely be seing lots more of Old Delhi as I expect I'll be there a couple more times. Old Delhi, aside from being home to all of the above and oh so much more, is also home to several significant old things that I am looking forward to seeing, again, once James arrives.

And just so we can all breath for a moment, here's a shot from my neighbourhood, Malviya Nagar, in the evening. It may look nice and serene, but what you don't see in this picture is what is behind me and nearly running me over even though I am hugged up to the fence that surrounds this neighbourhood park. I would by the way, have it no other way, so please do not take my comments on traffic as complaints, frankly, I think it's incredible. Stunning, confusing, overwhelming at times. Just incredible.

Anyway, I said it about Marrakech several times, and it's even more true for Delhi I think. Pictures cannot capture the energy and essence of this city the way that sound could. The sounds you might imagine go with the above Old Delhi pictures? Those sounds are the same ones that accompany this little bonfire.

So if a picture is worth a thousand words, what's 3 minutes and 30 seconds of audio worth?

Well, if the picture is by Annie Leibovitz, the words by J.K. Rowling, and the 3:30 of audio by Taylor Swift, then the market today would possibly say they'd all be worth about the same. These are just my pictures and words though, so they're probably not worth the paper they are printed on.

Which is saying something for a blog.

You'll get some calm next time.

Edifice Complex

I got a book.

Maybe I mentioned this already, but I got a book. It's a travel book specifically on Delhi, and takes the approach of moving through the city based on it's history. So start with the Qutb Minar complex, which is what I did and what I'm about to show you, and then start bobbing around moving forward in time as you go. Which I didn't and I'm not about to show you.

I'm not sure how I'm going to move around Delhi (aside from the obvious metro and autorickshaw). Part of this is that my friend James is showing up in ten days, and in the two weeks he is here I expect that we'll be seeing plenty in Delhi, and outside of it as well. So I'm not quite sure what to do. Yes, all of these things are worth seeing more than once, but I don't think I want to see them, and then see them again within a week or so. Yes, I was able to do that about seven times with Star Wars: A New Hope, but that was 1977, and life was simpler.

So I'm feeling a bit frozen, do not want to build a snowman, and am trying to figure out what to do. I may get out of town for a couple of days. I may go to the National Art Gallery. I may wander the streets clueless. I don't know.

This feeling comes along every once and awhile, and it's not unique to the trip as I certainly get it at home in Toronto from time to time. The "I don't know what to do but I should do something, why am I wasting my life like this when everyone else seems so productive and doing such amazing things why don't I do amazing things, I am totally sucking" feeling.

Sometimes though we just need to stop. Or at least, sometimes it would appear that I just need to stop, and I'm assuming the bulk of you are like that too because misery loves company. Not that I'm miserable, far from it. I'm just kinda at a loss right now as to what to do and instead of figuring it out I am vomitting my waffling, whinging, and whining into my blog so that the non-sequitur that is about to happen is even more of a relief to you than usual.

The Qutb Minar and much of the complex that surrounds it date back the 12th-13th centuries, and are some, if not the, earliest Islamic buildings in India. Started by the first Muslim Sultan of Delhi, Qutbuddin Aibak, the minar is about 73 metres high. So, tall.

There is an inner stairwell and people used to be allowed to climb to the top for what is presumably a good view, however that operation got shut down after a very sad incident involving a blackout and a stampede of people trying to get out of the tower.

That said, it is quite beautiful on the outside.

Beside the minar is the mosque, or at least what is the walls of the first mosque. As rulers came and went so did plans to extend the mosque, so there are additional walls, or portions thereof, leftover from those projects.

When the first mosque was being built they were in a big hurry so reused building materials, including pillars, from the Hindu temples that had been on this site and around the area.

Thing is, Hindu ornamentation is all good with people and animals, so when the rather ornate pillars were reused in the mosque, all of the faces got hacked away.

Other traditional Hindu symbols such as the wheel and lotus flower remained intact.

When combined with the ornate script carved into the screen and throughout other areas of the mosque, you really do get something that I would imagine is pretty unique in terms of overall aesthetic and ornamentation.

This is the Alai Minar. It was started later and never completed. Had it been completed it would have been twice the size of the Qutb Minar and this place would likely go by a different name in all of the guide books.

It's massive.

That's Iltutmish's Tomb, and while it doesn't necessarily look like much from the outside, the inside tells a different story.

Just more of the complex walls.

And I don't mean to say that the walls themselves are complex, most of them seem pretty straight forward, they just make up a complex. And the complex itself isn't overly complex, in fact, it's rather straight forward as well. I think the only complexity here actually is the mixed use of the word complex, and it's only complex because I keep saying it and trying to explain my use of it when that wasn't necessary to begin with. But the thing is, I have a book, I used the audio guide, I even have wikipedia open in another tab, and really, I just don't want to start giving you names and dates of places, so I'm a bit at a loss for what to say, but for whatever reason feel like I should be saying something.

And if you read the above you will, had you still had one, have no doubt remaining in regard to my ability as an editor.

This is the tomb of Alauddin Khili and the college. Meaning it's a tomb AND a there's a college, not that someone buried a college.

Actually, for all intensive purposes the college did end up being buried, as the complex was "rediscovered" at some point. What point I can't tell you right now as my book doesn't say, I don't remember what the audio guide mentioned, wikipedia was a big fail on this detail, and for whatever reason the site that I think will answer my question is failing to open.

So we move on.

College, or Medersa, or Madrasa, all pretty much the same. I got into the habit of using Medersa when talking about them in Morocco, and that is likely the french influence. Just like I was saying Palais, from time to time. So perhaps I should switch to Madrasa.

Whatever, the school.

Speaking of which.

I saw two school groups there, both in uniform, one girls, one boys. Girls were doing a decent job of pretending to be interested in wherever they were. Boys were busy running around trying to shake anybody with a cameras hand.

Spot the squirrelmunk.

Yes, squirrelmunk, It looks like a chipmunk but it is apparently a squirrel, so people, or at least the person I was talking to, likes to call them squirrelmunks.

This is the Alai Darwaza, same Alai that had got started on the really massive minar but didn't get it done, and who is actually the Alauddin who did complete the Madrasa. It's the main gateway into the mosque and was added early in the 14th century.

So you know two out of three of these. The third one is the tomb of Imam Zamin, the sufi saint Imam Muhammad Ali who died in the early-mid 16th century.

A word of advice. When exiting this tomb do not, under any circumstances, be looking down trying to adjust your audio guide. This results in cranking your head against the door lintel, which is quite low. It's also marble. Marble is quite beautiful. It is also quite hard.

I enjoyed my pace when I visited the Qutb Minar. I wasn't in a rush, and hadn't planned on running anywhere else for the day, so took my time, listened to the audio guide with little distraction, then took some time taking pictures, and then eventually settled down in the park and read my book for awhile. Made for a good day.

Delhi can be a hectic place. Mostly it's the constant vehicular conversation going on (horns) all times of day and night that do it I think. But Delhi also has alot of tranquility about it - you just need to find those places where things get muted a bit, and then stop. The park area in the Qutb complex is certainly one of them.

See. Squirrelmunk.