Delhi in January: Play Misty For Me

I made a lot of noise about not flying into Delhi at night because of the 'adventure' we had landing here last January. Having your landing aborted at the very last minute due to the impenetrable fog leaves an indelible impression. When it happens in a jumbo jet the impact (forgive the choice of words) is even greater. I figured a daytime landing would present a fighting chance of an uncomplicated arrival. The fog rolls in here sometime in December and lingers until the end of January. Sometimes it burns off by midday, but at least for the time I am here, things stay pretty murky. Colors are muted, buildings and monuments are viewed through the equivalent of cataract shrouded eyes. The morning are cold and damp. This is the first time I've been in India and needed both long underwear, a wool turtleneck and a down jacket. The area Where i am staying is called Hauz Khaz Village in south Delhi. It's a pretty amazing place - a (mostly) carless warren of narrow streets and winding alleys constructed in typically helter skelter Indian fashion around the ruins of a13th century medieval city. I picked it because it's a relatively safe place for a woman traveling solo and I feel perfectly comfortable going about (as long as I remember to dodge motorcycles, bicycles and the occasional taxi zooming down lane. There's the man selling peanuts from the back of his bicycle and the laborers hauling bricks and bags of gravel on their backs. It's a cross between Soho and the medina in Fez. Upscale shops selling beautiful clothes (the kind that leave you looking like someone who went to India and bought clothes that looked fine in India but not so much back home), are jumbled between and on top of a United Nations of restaurant choices that line muddy, semi-paved crooked streets and narrow alleys. The sound of the call to worship amplified by loud speakers perched on top of buildings mingles with the sound of boys playing cricket and the cry of the peanut vendor as he pushes his bicycle over the rutted streets. The smell of pakoras frying in giant black kettles is a tempting siren pulling me toward the dangerous mistake of eating street food and thus disregarding my first rule of avoiding Delhi belly.I've revisited a few favorite places - top on the list is the Lotus Temple, which looks even most mystical in the ever present fog.In a few days I fly to Varanasi to meet up with David and the boys for four days. The last time Sam was here with David it was 110F which they dealt with by hoping the next plane north to Darjeeling in the Himalayas. The weather forecast, to their relief, is much different for this trip - cool and clear and, as in Delhi, fog until the sun burns through.When the sun's out here the place is quite charming