Sat in an alley way somewhere in Old Delhi - not quite sure. I've just come out of the dark and crowded dal house and am confusing the locals by siting in the street outside smoking my after lunch cigarette. They seem to have lost interest in me following the initial rush of excitement. Crowded round, offered seats etc. But it is in a much more friendly way than in the crowded tourist bits. I'm the only white face that seems to be about, which is nice. No people are trying to show me things which is also a bonus.
I failed to meet Cameron this morning due to a lost wandering around near my hotel. I must improve my sense of direction. There are constant street processions where I live and I keep ending up walking through them time and time again as they and I endlessly circle around both seemingly lost in the back streets. I have managed to purchase my book that I lost on the plane. I now also have a sensible bag to carry my stuff in and so now am out with my camera. But saying that getting it out of my bag is a little too daunting to try.
I have also had a shave which was good. I shall make a habit of this I think. I think I shall have a rest and read my book a little.
Got stoned, Head spinning a little at the moment. Everything is honking, ringing. Outside engines, buzzers, whistles, constant mutter and I can still hear it when the windows shut. Cameron, bless him, bought some hash today and I've had a spliff of it. I mustn't spend my time getting stoned all the time - or drunk for that matter, but it's good too once in awhile.
Back to Cameron who I must (a) work out how to spell his name and (b) describe him if only to illustrate how I am adapting to life out here in India (A land so different that when you try to describe how indescribable it is the thing that comes to mind is that it is 'India'). He seems to be adapting in every different way, such that we are at virtually opposite poles.
The things he has noticed and done seem worlds apart from those of mine. He has only eaten sandwiches and crisps up till this evening, where as my learning of the native food has moved from street vendors through to my earlier first dal and chapattis in a back street cafe in old Delhi, where four men sat at each table and you ate as much as you could for 10 Rupees. I was the only westerner I had seen for 10 minutes at that time. Cameron has never made it more than 100 yards from another foreigner. He does know where everything is but has not got totally lost, something I seem to do every day.
He's terribly worried about having to eat Indian food as he thinks it will make him ill, if just only because of the spices which are all far too hot. I have enjoyed the food so much and the joy of not having to cook or wash up is just an added extra. He didn't want to go out late at night because he might get mugged or held hostage. I wouldn't go out last night because it looked like most people had gone to bed and so there would be nothing to do. And he got ill. My bowels are in a better state than ever and I even remembered to bring some bog roll too.