We met our Intrepid group at 1pm on Saturday, and met the 11 people we would be spending the next 2 weeks with, including our leader Bea. In the meeting we learnt several useful things that we were unaware of: Don't touch the crown of a child's head (not that we did or anything), as it's a sacred place. Don't flush toilet paper (oops!), it's meant to be directed to a bucket in the toilet, and don't use the left hand to pass things or eat, as this is used to clean the body (ahem). Difficult for
Armelle to master, being left handed. We got the bus to old Delhi, which contained a rather hypocritical item in the top right-hand corner- a rusted first aid box hanging from one corner, with no contents!
Firstly we visited India's largest Mosque: the
Jama Masjid (?) and climbed the tower,
forewarned is forearmed when it comes to being groped on the spiral staircase, and neither of us suffered this disturbing welcome!
We then wandered through the old Delhi back alleys, greeted by an entire bucket of water thrown over
Armelle's head.
The' worst', however, was yet to come. This was, after all, the
Holi festival, signifying the beginning of Spring. It involves throwing paint at each other to welcome you to the new season, and as a symbol of forgiveness. This day was meant to be for
families only, but us westerners stuck out like a sore thumb and paid the consequences. And since
kids'll take any excuse... we were painted ladies.
The Sikh temple was the next stop, which was extremely interesting, we were told about the religion, and partook of bread-making activities, and socialising over a good cup of
chai (yum yum ha ha).
We then went to the spice market area which was very busy, crazy-doped up men dancing in clouds of powder paint. Naturally, being white beacons, and the Hindus wanting to embrace us in their culture, we were hurtled with paint, turning Jess'
previously white shirt a fetching shade of bright pink...In technicolour, we got a cycle rickshaw to the metro station where we got our next surprise- it was shockingly clean against the Dickensian dirt of the alleys outside. New clothes were accordingly bought in preparation for the Sunday storming (the main day of
Holi).
The' worst', however, was yet to come. This was, after all, the Holi festival, signifying the beginning of Spring. It involves throwing paint at each other to welcome you to the new season, and as a symbol of forgiveness. This day was meant to be for families only, but us westerners stuck out like a sore thumb and paid the consequences. And since kids'll take any excuse... we were painted ladies.
The Sikh temple was the next stop, which was extremely interesting, we were told about the religion, and partook of bread-making activities, and socialising over a good cup of chai (yum yum ha ha).
We then went to the spice market area which was very busy, crazy-doped up men dancing in clouds of powder paint. Naturally, being white beacons, and the Hindus wanting to embrace us in their culture, we were hurtled with paint, turning Jess' previously white shirt a fetching shade of bright pink...In technicolour, we got a cycle rickshaw to the metro station where we got our next surprise- it was shockingly clean against the Dickensian dirt of the alleys outside. New clothes were accordingly bought in preparation for the Sunday storming (the main day of Holi).
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