I already look at the pictures I took yesterday in Delhi, and it seems like a trip from long ago. 24 hours on airplanes in two days will warp your sense of time like that, as will traveling to a place that is almost the polar opposite to Sweden, though I did eat lunch with two Swedes, speaking Swedish in front of a Turkish food stand in the shabbiest “expat” market I have ever seen.
Delhi was hot. Sweden is cold. Even the Indians wanted out of the heat yesterday. I soaked it in.
I found the most honest cabbie in the world.
I turned around on a sidewalk and saw the cobra lurch towards me and thought I was going to die. The cobra’s owner was amused.
For a long moment, I thought two goats standing by the side of the road was a two-headed dog.
People live in trash even in the best neighborhoods.
I had the most vivid flashes of NK, of a tone of voice, of a look, of a movement.
Delhi is a huge construction site as the city prepares for the Commonwealth Games next year. It is dust and smog and huge, old, brightly colored trucks rumbling by at 2 am.
There are people everywhere. I mean it. Labor is so cheap that 5 people do what a machine does in Europe.
And that is all I got after sitting in the middle seat all the way back because KLM screwed up, after NK cried at the sight of me at daycare, after she cried harder when I went to walk the baby to sleep for 5 minutes, after I laid next to her in bed as she fell asleep pinching myself to stay awake.