Where's the Beef?

The difference between an Air Conditioned room and a non-Air Conditioned room at this hostel is about a pound. I’ve stayed in both. But ‘AC’ or ‘non-AC’ is a kind of code for something else. They’re pretty much the same temperature, with non-AC blasted by seven huge fans on the ceiling that make anything lighter than a rock flap and wave in their breeze. AC means bigger beds, better kept, and bigger lockers. AC means a balcony and four to a dorm. Non-AC means twenty stuffed into a room. While AC dorms have a toilet and toilet paper, non-AC guests have a hole and some kind of bucket system that I still haven’t worked out or plucked up the courage to ask about. I’m in an AC. Though I’m here to absorb the culture, I still need something to absorb my ‘culture’.

A meal here is about 70p and tastes pretty good. The water is apparently cleaned through ‘reverse osmosis’, but I’m not taking any chances, and so far no Delhi Belly. Despite the tasty Indian food on offer, I couldn’t help fancying a big ol’ burger and hopped in a rickshaw to a McDonalds in the rich centre of Delhi. I walked in and their menu seemed a little strange – no classic burgers as we know them, but lots with the word ‘tikka’ in them. And I twigged – no beef. Bloody deities spoiling my feast. All was not lost, however, as Pizza Hut did a nice Pepperoni pizza in their ‘foreign and exotic pizzas’ section of the menu.

The days are uncomfortably hot. It’s supposed to be monsoon season, but it isn’t raining. Sweat is your day companion, and mosquitoes your night. Magic has taken a back seat until I’m more comfortable and confident in the culture and its locations. I’ve been to a few places I’d like to perform on the street, I’ll go back prepared soon.