delhi, leaning and looking

Arrived in Delhi and am ensconced in Clara's house.  Lonely Planet describes Sunder Nagar where I am as "a leafy up-market suburb." Which is fine by me. 

Delhi is dirty. I'm sure it was a splendid city back before partition but now it's a city in decay.

It's okay to spit and pee anywhere. It's not a walking city either.

There are no boundaries.

It's okay to stand literally up on top of you when there is no one else around. Cutting in line is okay, if you call that a line. It's more of a throng than a line. It's okay to lean and look over your shoulder at anytime to see what you're writing. So is leaning and looking over your shoulder to look at the view finder on your camera. 

Being in a leafy suburb with a golden retriever to get over jet lag is a wonderful thing.

Getting my phone set up is a lesson of how India works.

Fill out forms.

Fill out forms which ask my father's name.

Photocopy passport and visa.

Fill out another form.

Receive sim card and Indian phone number.

The phone works.  

But not texting or e-mail.

Setting up the internet is another story.

Call customer service.  The number is perpetually busy. How can that be?

No ma'am, call this customer service number.

 I must send a text message to start the internet.

"Okay what is it I have to text? B as in boy? Come again?"

 In complete exasperation of trying to ascertain what it is have to text because I have to get this right, I hand the phone to Johnson Clara's driver who has a difficult time in Hindi understanding. 20 minutes later, I send a text. 

Tomorrow they send me a text.  

I'm supposed to respond to that text. Shut off my phone and when I turn it on again it's supposed to work. We'll see. 

I think this is how things work in India; haphazard and in a roundabout way. 

Did go to a great crafts museum and some tombs.

Everyone raves about the North but I'm itching to head South.