India - the maze of cars and rickshaws only intensifies the confusion of my internal clock - but today the experiences I had remind me again of why I travel, and why I love it. In spite of countless experiences in India that I have heard, delving into the midst of Delhi today was nothing I could have imagined...
But let me back track...
When did this long day-week begin? I left Colorado at 3:30 am, headed for the airport. I had a 9 am flight to St Paul. There I caught a flight to Amsterdam. With 4 hours of layover in the Netherlands, I headed into the nearby city center for breakfast. I met a young journalist on her way to Uganda who was doing the same thing. Rejuvenated by the fresh air, we toured Amsterdam quickly, grins on our faces, cameras snapping - we felt as though this glimpse of Europe was a stolen delicacy, a forbidden treat. But I made it back to the airport with plenty of time to spare, and boarded my flight for India.

On the plane, I watched my first Bollywood movie - "Guru" - and was entertained by the cheesy love story coupled with the occasional music-video interlude that is so typical (apparently) of Indian film.

I arrived and was greeted by a man with a "Rachel Olstein" sign (My life is complete!) and we headed out into the late night Delhi traffic. He whisked us past the cab drivers and to an awaiting car.

At our hotel, which is incredible, I met up with Paul, my co--leader. 13 of our kids were safely asleep in their beds. But one had missed his connection in Chicago. My boss decided that I would stay in Delhi by myself for the day so that I Could greet Adam. The rest of our group took an early morning flight to Leh - in the Ladakh region of India.

Faced with the possibility of a day full of rest, I was and still am enormously grateful. Inexplicably, however, I couldn't sleep. I woke up, had a delicious breakfast around 8am and proceeded to explore the gardens at my hotel. I even got to do some laps in their new swimming pool. A note about the hotel - it's stunning, and has the outer appearance of any western 4 star hotel. On closer inspection, however, some things aren't quite streamlined yet. My TV and phone don't work, and the wake up call here is the knocking of the concierge at my door. It's great - so personal, but not always right on time. Also, when i tried to turn on my shower, the faucet fell off in my hands. I relate these trifles as observations more than complaints. They amuse me more than annoy me although a few fellow guests I met here far less humored.

On to the highlights of my day. Lilid, a tour guide, offered to show me around the city today. How could I refuse. The tour company in very reputable and my company has worked with them for three years. I was being offered a private tour for free! At noon, I took a car to the Grand Hotel - a 5 star palace that reeks of ostentation in comparison to the shanties, dirty streets and maze of cars that surround its walled and gardened acres on all sides. The (mis)adventures of my day began immediately. My driver, a 54 year old employee of the hotel, proceeded to interrogate me about my married life. (Seems to be a common first question here.) In spite of the details I provided to him about my husband and his very important job, this man had the nerve to ask me my room number! I chastised him and Lilid ended up complaining to this guy's boss. Hitting on the 20=something trip leaders isn't good for Lilid's business or the hotel. It's not particularly good for my peace of mind either.

In spite of the creepy driver, the ride to the Grand Hotel was unforgettable. Cars here drive on the left = in theory. But really, they go anywhere. Any side of the road, any lane, any tiny space that is small enough for them to squeeze between. There are buses, rickshaws, trucks, bikes, motorcycles (which the women ride side saddle with children in their arms.) At any traffic jam, there are children selling magazines or coconuts, standing in the middle of highway intersections barefoot, they appeal for a few small rupees (worth fractions of a penny.) Along the road are tents and make shift huts, whole villages set up beneath highway underpasses. I wonder if the tarps will survive the monsoon rains.

Hence, the shock of arriving at the Grand, a spot that Lilid had offered only because it is safe and well known. He pulled up in a motorcycle and realized how the tour would work. I was terrified, as he quickly saw, but he drove very slowly, very carefully and all the way on the right side. The scariest part was the constant honking. Cars here are encouraged to honk (the backs of buses say "Honke Please") so that drivers will know all the vehicles around them. You can only imagine the cacophony this creates. My heart lept each time a horn blared behind me. Shortly after lunch, we decided that I would feel safer in another form of transportation. Lilid is a kind and generous guide. He was always professional and appropriate - protective but not patronizing.

We rode off through Delhi toward a delicious lunch spot where Lilid and I discussed the differences between marriage and couplehood in our respective countries. He has been married 2 years to a 21-year-old woman that he never met before his wedding. His primary criteria in a wife was that she be able to life well with his mother. He spoke glowingly of his mother (even more so than of his wife.) His mother still cooks for him, cleans his clothes and wakes him up for work each day, in spite of his marriage and fatherhood. (He has a 1 year old) He told me of all the things his wife does to try and keep him happy. I asked what he does for her... "I protect her, and provide for her. I take her places and translate because she does not speak Hindi." he replied. I encouraged him to give his wife some more chances to visit her family; at 21, she must miss them terribly - he did say he wanted to do so, but that the 12 horu drive makes it difficult.

We also spoke a bit about Israelis (he is leading a group of 60 Israelis next month.) I told him about the sabra-fruit analogy and when I described the spiny sweet fruit, he knew it from his home village. He then asked me what religion Israelis are. It was a nice change to talk about Israel with someone so free of bias, so unaffected by news accounts, by family ties, by emotions or creed.


Monsoon season kicked in right after lunch. India has months of rare rains, and then, usually not until July, the monsoons arrives with little warning. The thick humidity of the air (so foggy that my camera lens needed constant wiping off) was the only hint. As I rode through Delhi on the bike, the rain began to fall in large painful droplets. We pulled over and Lilid led the way while I scrambled into a rickshaw and followed behind him.

We headed to the Lotus Temple, a Bahai prayer hall that gleams in marble and is designed to look exactly like the lotus flower. I only spotted one other non=Indian there. The place is more of a national attraction than a big tourist spot. As we approached the temple on countless stairs, we had to remove our shoes before entering the silent sanctuary - a round, smooth womb of white where music played barely audibly in the background. Feeling the cool stones beneath my feet, I felt grounded, calm and undistracted as I circled the temple's main hall.

As we left the temple, I was overcome (finally) with total exhaustion. Suddenly, in spite of the fact that at 4pm, I should have felt ready for breakfast back in the states, I could barely keep my eyes open. We hopped into another rickshaw and I feel asleep, completely oblivious to the cars, bikes and trucks that weaved around me, inches from my right leg.

Back at the hotel, I fell asleep instantly and woke up at 7, just in time for a quick breakfast before my flight. I dressed quickly, still feeling tired in spite of the 14 hours of rest. I checked in with Lilid went up to the dining room and ordered a coffee. The food offerings were oddly different from the previous day's fare. In place of cereal was soup; instead of fruit there were various salads. I inquired about omelets - or muffins - until I finally understood.

"What day is it?!" I asked. It was, of course, still Thursday - and it was 7PM - dinner time. (A good thing too - had it been Friday morning, I would not have been there to get Adam at the airport!)
I laughed for a long while at my utter confusion and then had dinner anyway. Now, back at the hotel with Adam, I have about 3 hours to rest before we head to Leh, the 11,000 feet, to the doorstep of Tibet...