Arrival in Delhi
As I drag my 3 pieces of luggage plus dangling plastic bag from one side of the railway station to the other, I am badgered by would-be porters, rickshaw drivers, and guesthouse hustlers. There is a scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the main character stands on the bridge crossing all 20-odd wide platforms, looking forlorn in a sea of people, as he realises that he has no hope of finding the girl he loves. I look like that, with a massive double backpack on my back. And not half as good-looking as Dev Patel.
In my limited developing country experience, I immediately see a reflection of the service-driven economy. The push is no longer for goods. Where previously I recall being badgered to buy pants [link to Thailand Bjarke] and flimsy gadgets, fake-brand wristwatches, here it is: "where you staying?", "how many days you here?". Of course, "where you from?". Nobody believes me when I say I'm from Australia; they are convinced that I'm another Japanese backpacker. Even the food market has reached the "maturity" (at Rs 30; ~40c) and there is little attempt to hunt me down into their shop [later link to Turkey]. The margins are too slim. And a service-economy needs English-speakers. I have been told that Indian schoolkids' medium of instruction in school is English, even up here in the north. Unfortunately, a chorus of "hallooo..." amidst the constant tooting of carhorns and firing of old engine pistons makes me wish I looked somehow less capable of understanding English. When I am in China, at least I really won't understand when they pester me in Chinese!
The successful arrival by cheapest means possible, through the densest set of hounding salesmen, has made me feel like I can face anything in Delhi.
In my limited developing country experience, I immediately see a reflection of the service-driven economy. The push is no longer for goods. Where previously I recall being badgered to buy pants [link to Thailand Bjarke] and flimsy gadgets, fake-brand wristwatches, here it is: "where you staying?", "how many days you here?". Of course, "where you from?". Nobody believes me when I say I'm from Australia; they are convinced that I'm another Japanese backpacker. Even the food market has reached the "maturity" (at Rs 30; ~40c) and there is little attempt to hunt me down into their shop [later link to Turkey]. The margins are too slim. And a service-economy needs English-speakers. I have been told that Indian schoolkids' medium of instruction in school is English, even up here in the north. Unfortunately, a chorus of "hallooo..." amidst the constant tooting of carhorns and firing of old engine pistons makes me wish I looked somehow less capable of understanding English. When I am in China, at least I really won't understand when they pester me in Chinese!
The successful arrival by cheapest means possible, through the densest set of hounding salesmen, has made me feel like I can face anything in Delhi.
posted by whobenefits at 8:30 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home