I realised on the train halfway to London Victoria that I had forgotten to say goodbye to the cats.  I comforted myself with the thought that they would be unlikely to even notice that I had gone.  A quiet house, regular supplies of cat food and treats and exclusive attention from our lodgers Monika and Andrea was probably preferable to the upheaval that they had been experiencing lately.  Just over three weeks previously we had transported young adult number one back to Southampton to resume her Social Work degree course.  The week after we had done a second university trip with  young adult number two, this time to Norwich to start their Games Art Design degree.  The house had been a frenzied site of packing and then cleaning as I removed the accumulation of seven years worth of dust from young adult number two’s room.  I had to admit that I had been looking forward to getting in there for a long time, but until this point my way had been barred.  Could I cope with a year of not using cleaning as a distraction from menopausal mid life issues?  Probably.  Was this year out a way of not dealing with empty nest syndrome?  Possibly.

We thought that we had allowed plenty of time to get to Heathrow, but predictably there were issues on at least one tube line.  I had been unsure whether to travel on the Piccadilly line or the newer Elizabeth line, but in the end plumped for the Piccadilly line out of nostalgia.  That was a big mistake.  I can’t believe how many people now live in Hounslow.  We were standing sandwiched in by commuters almost until we reached Heathrow.  Luckily I was at the end of the carriage so a few fresh breezes occasionally cooled my sweaty brow but it was not a pleasant ride.

Our Air India flight boarded promptly  at 21:45 and there was not much time to hang about in the airport.  Predictably I got almost no sleep on the flight, but that’s not unusual for me these days.  One benefit of the menopause is that my expectations about my capacity to sleep are very low.  We arrived in Delhi at around 6am English time and about 10:30 am Indian time.  The journey into the city centre was a surprise.  India had changed so much since I was last there!  We passed Costa Coffee and other high end Indian franchise cafes and eateries as we made our way from the airport to the metro.  We could have been in pretty much any metro station in any city in the world, but probably not London as it was dirtier there and the staff were grumpier.  We called in to change money and get an airtel SIM for my phone.  Everything was running too smoothly to be true.  

The Delhi metro is amazing;  our ride was a stark contrast to the one that we had experienced at the London end of our journey.  Spacious, air conditioned , modern carriages that moved smoothly and swiftly and did not sound like they were going to break down at any minute.  I keenly felt the neglect of the UK infrastructure by many years of Tory government and complacency by British citizens about their worth to the rest of the world.  What must Indian tourists to London think about the UK when they get on the piccadilly line at Heathrow?

Enough with the politics and on with the blog.  When we exited the Metro at New Delhi the old India that I recalled from my last trip there in 2001 starkly reasserted itself.  The heat hit us like a wet blanket.  Here were the beggars, the shit, the crowds, and the noise that I recalled.  After a never to be forgotten previous arrival in India, in an era prior to mobile phones, when we had been dropped by an autorickshaw driver, not to the area of Delhi that we had requested, but somewhere sinister that did not feature in our guidebook, Tim was determined to navigate us to the hostel we had booked on foot.  He assured me it was just around the corner from the station.  On that previous occasion we had flown into Delhi late at night.  We slept uncomfortably in the flea inflested hotel that the autorickshaw driver had taken us to, but managed to escape the next morning, hailing an alternative autorickshaw driver.  He nipped us away in the nick of time as the goons from the hotel ran out in hot pursuit of us.  The guest house that the honest autorickshaw driver took us to, Ringos  in Connaught Circus (now closed),  was a dive, but seemed paradise after where we had been staying.  They told us we had experienced a common scam often practiced on unknowing foreigners by the Delhi autorickshaw cartels.  I am not sure whether such  scams are still current, but I suspect so.

I trudged behind Tim, moaning and swearing.  Unfortunately he was unable to hear me above the sound of the horns blaring all around us.  My memories of India continued to flood back to me as Tim launched himself into a road, directly in front of a number of vehicles that quickly swerved around him.  I took a deep breath and followed, praying that I would not be mown down.  For some reason, that does not seem to happen; at least, I’ve never witnessed it.  By now my right knee, which I had inconveniently put out carrying the belongings of young people into and out of cars and university accommodation was beginning to ache.  Luckly, Tim was good to his word and the google map he had downloaded prior to leaving the UK worked.  We reached the haven of our hostel in the Parhaganj area.  It was fine – clean and with no windows, which was a blessing as it cut out the blaring noise of the street outside and allowed us to sleep for a few hours.  I overlooked the mushrooms growing in the bathroom.  ‘Hmm, interesting,’ said Tim.  ‘I’ve never seen actual mushrooms growing in a hostel room like that.  Wonder if they’re magic?’  I advised him not to experiment. We slept surprisingly well in our sound proofed box, even though we had had an afternoon nap.  Feeling energised we sought out a local café that served cappuccinos (another change that we noticed compared to our previous visit – coffee bars are everywhere in India, just like at home).  Further boosted we set off along the treacherous route back towards the station to catch the metro to Hauz Khaz. This is an area of Delhi that neither of us has ever previously visited and would have been harder to get to previously prior to the metro construction.  We stepped out into a leafy enclave, very different in atmosphere to the chaos of New Delhi station and Parhaganj.  We ended up taking quite a long walk to the area where the Hauz Khas fort and tombs are situated.  The area is popular with trendy young middle class Indians.  There were many modern cafes selling different sorts of international cuisine and of course, the ubiquitous coffee shops upon which any modern person, or indeed, nation now appears to depend for their survival.  We entered a trendy space with floor cushions scattered liberally around, chill out rave beats playing and pictures of American Indians on the walls.  We tentatively ordered chai, which the ‘DJ’ running the place was happy to provide.  

Newly refreshed we headed for the fort and the tombs.  The complex dates back to the 13^th century during the reign of Aluddin Khiji the second ruler of Delhi.  The name Hauz Khaz means ‘grreat tank’ which refers to the tank/ lake which is part of the  complex.  The buildings that we initially explored were the old mosque and the tombs.  We kept coming across young  Indian couples in romantic entanglements in dark corners; the site is obviously a top area to take your loved one for a date in Delhi.  Tim and I tried to get into the mood, but we were still feeling too old for all that nonsense due to the jet lag.  We had lunch at a Tibetan restaurant, again rammed full of young couples and then entered the Deer Park that also forms part of the complex.  We walked around the tank which was was very full just following the monsoon.  The area was pleasantly shady in the heat of the afternoon, but we still had to take lots of rest and water breaks, watching the monkeys, the birds and the fruit bats hanging from the trees.  

On our first two nights in Delhi we dined at two of the famed backpacker rooftop restaurants in Parhaganj, which is where, I suspect, I picked up my ‘welcome to India’ first dose of Delhi belly.  But more on that later dear reader.  I am sure you cannot wait for the details.