The pigeons are skinny in New Delhi. But, at this hotel, the guests are all heavy - almost to a one. The air is heavy too - benzene levels look to be ten times what's healthy. Out my hotel window, on the fifth floor, I overlook a swimming pool where the skinny pigeons bathe, and then just to the other side, I look at men working. Skinny men. All day long, they have passed basket after basket of dirt up a wobbly scaffolding, where one takes the basket, balances it on his head, walks 20 feet, and casually empties it in a pile. The same assembly line to the man with the basket on his head. Hour after hour after hour. They wear scarves over their faces - to protect their lungs? They take drags on cigarettes and work in the benzene-infused air.
It's windy outside, so I'm out there, sitting in the middle of the subcontinent, on a lounge chair, outside for the first time since I arrived two days ago. It's the first time the air has been breathable. Sadly, with the wind comes the rain - and that, along with disapproving stares and worried inquiries by the pool attendants, will drive me inside.
Yes. Inside. Where every surface shine is marred by greasy smears, and all upholstery is suspiciously stained. This is a 5-star hotel.
How spoiled am I? All I can think of is, "get me out of here." And there are hundreds and hundreds of thousands within some miles of here who would think "get me in there."
I hope that David can update my reservation to return on Thursday night. I'll need three days at home to recover from this trip - at a minimum.
I had no idea. And it could be so much worse.
It's windy outside, so I'm out there, sitting in the middle of the subcontinent, on a lounge chair, outside for the first time since I arrived two days ago. It's the first time the air has been breathable. Sadly, with the wind comes the rain - and that, along with disapproving stares and worried inquiries by the pool attendants, will drive me inside.
Yes. Inside. Where every surface shine is marred by greasy smears, and all upholstery is suspiciously stained. This is a 5-star hotel.
How spoiled am I? All I can think of is, "get me out of here." And there are hundreds and hundreds of thousands within some miles of here who would think "get me in there."
I hope that David can update my reservation to return on Thursday night. I'll need three days at home to recover from this trip - at a minimum.
I had no idea. And it could be so much worse.
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