July 11, 2017 July 11, 2017 lefabkbobo travel, Uncategorized blog, Botswana, Delhi, India, LBB Experience, life, New Delhi, travel I recently had a conversation with a friend about best cities in the world and why. Cheap flights from Lubbock to New Delhi: Enter your dates once and have TripAdvisor search multiple sites to find the best prices on cheap flights from Lubbock to New Delhi.
I recently had a conversation with a friend about best cities in the world and why. This conversation took place at an upmarket restaurant in Gaborone, the capital city of Botswana over sun-downers. A couple of cities I have fond memories of came into mind, in no particular order; Cape Town, Maun, Mumbai, Johannesburg, Hyderabad, Francistown, Nairobi, Shanghai and before my memory sent me any further, Delhi! Delhi came to mind! Delhi is the city I have lived in longer than my home city; Gaborone. It is a city I have hated and loved all at the same time. I keep trying to explain this and people do not get it.
Unfortunately for them. I even find myself pushing limits in explaining it and I call it a “bubble’ for lack of a better word. The first kiss I remember it all; the day I stepped out of my flight from Abu Dhabi at Indira Gandhi airport.
The noise that welcomed me as I stepped out of gate number six. My ears vibrate as I type this down, as is always the case when I re-live that moment. Sir!”.and a cocktail of other different words in different languages with the underlying melody as non-stop honking. That was me the first time I kissed Delhi. I’m convinced it was on the lips but I’m not sure if I enjoyed that very first kiss. The folding of hands followed by the utterance of words “Namaste” at the lobby of Ibis Hotel in AeroCity, not so far away from the airport was a signal that the kiss was over and I had gone back into a bubble.
Bubble, I was in a modern three star hotel. At that particular juncture I did not know that I will need to live in this bubble time and again. For what reason? To escape realities of this city? To protect my sanity?
Can you tell if you have fallen in love just from the first kiss? Maybe I had already fallen in love. I can bet a thousand Rupees these are questions that rush through the minds of foreign nationals arriving in India for the first time. Fast forward to six months in the mix.
I had already seen it all well, almost. The daily metro commute from Malviya Nagar to Gurgaon by day. The dusty roads under construction with auto rickshaws packing over twelve men to Sikanderpur metro station. The beautiful, paved walkways of CyberHub, yuppies everywhere. These are experiences that would make me pinch myself and try to wake up from a dream, only to relaise later that it actually was far from. I would get back into the rapid metro which will call us to attention to disembark just as I was trying to take it all in.
The modernity! The sophistication! The efficiency! All of a sudden they were pushing me once again. “Agla station, Malviya Nagar hai!” were words that would prompt me I was home daily. Then the momo stands, the auto wallas, the beggars, they were all back, reminding me that there is another reality!
That was before I started trips to Old Delhi! Tears would sometimes just be on a free flow. But that’s what love does right?
Sometimes it hurts, but you still stay. Nights in hauz Khas village, Aurobindo market, Connaught Place, Vasant Kunj, Noida, Rajouri Garden.
I think those were times for orgasm! The crescendo! More often than not I found myself wondering if we flew out to Kinshasa, Paris, Ibiza, Bogota, Washington, Moscow, Berlin, Nairobi, Johannesburg and all these other party capitals.
At this point in time my friend is looking at me while I rumble and mumble in a laguange he definitely does not understand. Then I remembered, he has never been to India, let alone Delhi and I’m going on about these stories and I have not even afforded him a chance to ask, assuming that he understood. Delhi itself! That is my favourite city in the world.” I concluded. After a moment of awkward silence and noticing that his glass was now empty while mine was still filled to the brim I asked to be excused and quickly rushed to the bathroom like I was about to catch the Noida bound blue line metro at Rajiv Chowk.
Naturally, conversations around this time are around the independence of India. Thie day means lot of different things to Indians. Male or female, old or young, Hindu or Muslim. As a Motswana who lived and worked in India at that time, I had the chance to be part of the buzz. I decided to pick young, fresh Indian minds. I was curious to know how significant this day was to them. I wanted to know what dreams and aspirations they have for this beautiful country of theirs.
I wanted to know more than dry days and offers.
I recently had a conversation with a friend about best cities in the world and why. This conversation took place at an upmarket restaurant in Gaborone, the capital city of Botswana over sun-downers. A couple of cities I have fond memories of came into mind, in no particular order; Cape Town, Maun, Mumbai, Johannesburg, Hyderabad, Francistown, Nairobi, Shanghai and before my memory sent me any further, Delhi! Delhi came to mind! Delhi is the city I have lived in longer than my home city; Gaborone. It is a city I have hated and loved all at the same time.
I keep trying to explain this and people do not get it. Unfortunately for them.
I even find myself pushing limits in explaining it and I call it a “bubble’ for lack of a better word. The first kiss I remember it all; the day I stepped out of my flight from Abu Dhabi at Indira Gandhi airport.
The noise that welcomed me as I stepped out of gate number six. My ears vibrate as I type this down, as is always the case when I re-live that moment. Sir!”.and a cocktail of other different words in different languages with the underlying melody as non-stop honking. That was me the first time I kissed Delhi. I’m convinced it was on the lips but I’m not sure if I enjoyed that very first kiss. The folding of hands followed by the utterance of words “Namaste” at the lobby of Ibis Hotel in AeroCity, not so far away from the airport was a signal that the kiss was over and I had gone back into a bubble. Bubble, I was in a modern three star hotel.
At that particular juncture I did not know that I will need to live in this bubble time and again. For what reason? To escape realities of this city? To protect my sanity? Can you tell if you have fallen in love just from the first kiss? Maybe I had already fallen in love. I can bet a thousand Rupees these are questions that rush through the minds of foreign nationals arriving in India for the first time.
Fast forward to six months in the mix. I had already seen it all well, almost. The daily metro commute from Malviya Nagar to Gurgaon by day. The dusty roads under construction with auto rickshaws packing over twelve men to Sikanderpur metro station.
The beautiful, paved walkways of CyberHub, yuppies everywhere. These are experiences that would make me pinch myself and try to wake up from a dream, only to relaise later that it actually was far from. I would get back into the rapid metro which will call us to attention to disembark just as I was trying to take it all in. The modernity! The sophistication! The efficiency!
All of a sudden they were pushing me once again. “Agla station, Malviya Nagar hai!” were words that would prompt me I was home daily. Then the momo stands, the auto wallas, the beggars, they were all back, reminding me that there is another reality! That was before I started trips to Old Delhi! Tears would sometimes just be on a free flow.
But that’s what love does right? Sometimes it hurts, but you still stay. Nights in hauz Khas village, Aurobindo market, Connaught Place, Vasant Kunj, Noida, Rajouri Garden. I think those were times for orgasm!
The crescendo! More often than not I found myself wondering if we flew out to Kinshasa, Paris, Ibiza, Bogota, Washington, Moscow, Berlin, Nairobi, Johannesburg and all these other party capitals. At this point in time my friend is looking at me while I rumble and mumble in a laguange he definitely does not understand. Then I remembered, he has never been to India, let alone Delhi and I’m going on about these stories and I have not even afforded him a chance to ask, assuming that he understood. Delhi itself! That is my favourite city in the world.” I concluded.
After a moment of awkward silence and noticing that his glass was now empty while mine was still filled to the brim I asked to be excused and quickly rushed to the bathroom like I was about to catch the Noida bound blue line metro at Rajiv Chowk. Naturally, conversations around this time are around the independence of India. Thie day means lot of different things to Indians. Male or female, old or young, Hindu or Muslim.
As a Motswana who lived and worked in India at that time, I had the chance to be part of the buzz. I decided to pick young, fresh Indian minds. I was curious to know how significant this day was to them. I wanted to know what dreams and aspirations they have for this beautiful country of theirs. I wanted to know more than dry days and offers.