Oh, man, is Delhi¹ difficult to love. Much of that is entirely my fault; I had some mishaps getting from the airport to my hotel² and finally got dropped in the right neighborhood, only to have to hike for 15 minutes to find the place.

The street traffic in Delhi — I assume most of India — is downright assaultive. People use their horns the way kids in one of those vehicular carnival rides do. There are vague nods to sidewalks, but they’re frequently torn up or missing or have cars or motorcycles or street vendors parked along them or are just overrun by people, which is why most people walk in the street. My experience living in New York serves me well, here, since you need to be able to stand still while a minibus hurtles past you inches from your face.

All this traffic leads to a lot of air pollution on the street. There’s been a palpable haze over most of the city since I arrived. The air quality index for the center of the city has been pegged at “Unhealthy” at best, with spikes into “Very Unhealthy” and “Hazardous.”³ My hotel room at times smells of petrol.

So it was a lot to adjust to. I basically got to my hotel, checked in, and crashed for 24 hours. At that point I ran out, got cash, grabbed a quick meal at a local restaurant, and headed back for another 24 hours. By then, owing to some combination of low blood sugar, dehydration, caffeine withdrawal,⁴ lack of exercise, stress, ennui, and bad air, I had developed a splitting headache and an upset stomach. Emergency measures were called for. So I threw myself into some clothes, dragged myself to a 7–11 clone,⁵ and bought a wide array of Americanized junk food.⁶ That seemed to do the trick.

And then everything went to hell.

It’s really difficult being sick, alone, in a foreign country. If it’s not that bad I’ll usually just try and power through it, pretend I’m feeling fine, on the assumption that indulging it is probably only going to prolong it. But if it’s bad, I really only want to be left alone, in a dark, quiet room, until it passes.

Of course, I really need more than that: aspirin, or ginger ale, or orange juice, or toast, or soup, or locating a doctor if it doesn’t pass. I could do all that on my own easily when I was living in New York City. I’m sure I could manage that with minimal difficulty in London, or Berlin. But in Delhi?

It takes a lot of mental energy to travel in the first place. You have to figure out all the quirks of a place.⁷ Being sick really reduces the available energy you have for that, right at the moment you need it to figure out how badly you’re doing.

Saturday I felt mostly fine, except my headache had persisted for the previous two days.⁸ It was enough to disrupt my sleep — not exactly difficult, since I was still vaguely jetlagged from being 5½ hours ahead of GMT — and varied in intensity from annoying to “Oh, maybe I should just lie in bed all day.” Since I had eaten, caffeinated, and gotten out into the city, I figured it was either stress or pollution. I decided to go out and see some things around Delhi.

And I’ll be honest, I really did try. I made it to the Red Fort, and spent a solid afternoon, but I never ended up feeling completely well, and ended up heading back to my hotel early. At that point I thought maybe the best thing to do would be to order a pizza⁹ and collapse into bed, but all the food delivery apps required an Indian phone number and between the headache and my nausea I just couldn’t deal with anybody. I also discovered I was running a fever, which was bad, but my stabbing headache was actually caused by a muscle spasm in my neck and I had pills for that, which meant I was actually able to fall asleep. So I did.

In the morning I felt much better, which is just another way of saying exactly how rotten I was feeling previously. I was still dizzy, still nauseous, still suffering from the headache (although another round of pills took care of that), but my fever had broken. I ordered room service,¹⁰ and mostly napped for the whole day.

I suppose the smart thing would have been to just stay an extra day or two in Delhi, rather than trying to get to Agra. In my defense, I was feeling better in the morning than I did in the afternoon, after I had checked out and schlepped to the train station. My headache has receded to the point I didn’t need to use medication for it. And the truth is, I was totally sick of that hotel, and that hotel room.

The train schedule I found incomprehensible — the timetable online said one thing, the person I bought the ticket from told me a different time, and when I finally went back up and asked someone else I got a third (and this time correct) answer.¹¹ Unfortunately, the correct train left in five hours, and the New Delhi Railway Station is not someplace you want to spend time. I suppose it’s not really much different than your average indifferently-maintained Greyhound station in the United States.¹²

But I made the train and managed to get to Agra safely and check into my much nicer hotel. And the air seems clearer here. I managed to eat a packet of cashews before heading to bed. And maybe I’ll just spend tomorrow in the hotel, lying here and doing nothing and hoping I’ll be mended.

Next: Agra to Delhi
Prev: Dubai (DXB) to Delhi (DEL)

Footnotes

¹ Technically, Delhi is a union territory and city, and New Delhi is a city within the city of Delhi. No, I don’t really understand the political distinctions.

² Long story short, I hopped in the wrong Uber (the license plate was something along the lines of DL8CAL5611 and I wanted DL8CAL5036) and the driver didn’t speak English, couldn’t understand what was happening, and I decided not to push the issue while we were heading down the highway.

³ We’re talking numbers in the 150–400 range. For comparison, New York City (not exactly known for its air quality) is ranging between about 20–80.

⁴ I am, I expect, thoroughly addicted to caffeine again since I’ve been drinking Diet Coke in preference to sugary drinks. Say what you will about the beverage choices in the United States, but I still miss the ready availability of flavored seltzers.

⁵ Cleverly called “TwentyFour Seven”

⁶ Okay, so I did also buy a Paneer Curry pastry, because I’m not dumb enough to just eat junk food for dinner, and one of these snacks I bought is Peri Peri seasoned gorgon nuts.

⁷ For example, Diet Coke and Coke Zero apparently aren’t marketed at all in India. TwentyFour Seven imports them specially, which is why they’re more expensive than you’d find in the United States.

⁸ In slightly modified form, admittedly. I sometimes get this recurring stabbing pain, complete with flinching, on the right side of my neck and the base of my skull, shooting up about a hand’s-width behind my ear. When it’s going, it hits about every 30 seconds.

⁹ One of the side-effects of being sick, for me at least, is being hyper-sensitive to odd scents. Indian food is just too rich and too spiced and too unfamiliar for me to eat when I’m not feeling well. I err more along the lines of miso soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Although I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a calming rice pudding.

¹⁰ For some bizarre reason they had grilled cheese sandwiches on the menu, which I felt like a schmuck for ordering over the expansive Indian options, especially when I added two mineral waters, two Cokes, and a cream of mushroom soup. But such is life.

¹¹ Note that the timetables for trains are not publicly posted at the train station.

¹² Those bathrooms though. Oh, God, those bathrooms.