Outside, the thick grey smog drowned out the horizon. The heat was visible before it could be felt. As I walked towards the exit I began to realise I had again made poor choices with my luggage selection. I had always admired those travellers that would effortlessly throw their little backpacks over one shoulder and be on their way. I was not one of those. My body began to overheat in the humidity and so began the winter – summer acclimatising. Outside beyond the long line of taxis, I spotted some men running towards me, pointing to their 70’s era cars. I walked towards them as the flies began to greet my perspiring face. With the address of one hostel and no booking, I tried to barter my way do an unknown acceptable amount based on unacceptable information, before a man in his shabby rickshaw pulled up along side me and gestured that he was ready to leave that instant. It had no windows and a miniature Buddha statue in the front. It was perfect.
It was July 2009 when I arrived in New Delhi with that feeling in my stomach that I had learnt to love and live for when I first stepped overseas... The slight fear mixed with utter excitement that made gravity lessen. There had always had a strong desire within me to capture some of this exotic and highly discussed country. I made the decision very quickly, which left me with little time to plan. I also had limited time to be there. But as I had discovered, when spontaneity mixes with genuine curiosity, such concerns were, more often than not, irrelevant. So there I was again, venturing far from home feeding an addiction, in search of that feeling of being alone and lost in a foreign land.