The next day feeling refreshed and slightly chilly I had breakfast on the roof terrace which to protect its customers from the morning sun the owners had covered with a blue tarp, this served no other purpose but to create a very hot environment, and in this purpose it suceeded, exceptionaly well. Before my tea and toast had arrived I had saturated my shirt and asked politely if they would mind sending it down to my ice parlour, they obliged a sweaty man.
After another quick freshen up I strolled out to explore Delhi, I headed off to see a mausaleum of some description but to be honest compared to the Taj everythig had become a little bland in my eyes. Even the Red Janter Manter wained in siflgnificance compared to that of its yellow counter part in Jaipur. I found sanctuary from the midday heat in a little bookshop and on asking the shop keeper for a recomendation I did not expect the answer he gave. On looking up at the section I was standing infront of, Indian Writing, he let out a disgusted sigh. He unleashed a barrage of abuse against his fellow country men claiming they had very few passable authors and that most of it was tripe. It transpired he was a homosexual, feminist, Cambridge graduate from Bombay now doing a post doc at Delhi University and he was having a bad day. His counterpart who ran the shop on alternate weeks had destroyed his 'system' and it had taken him all week to fix (something I suspect she will spend next week rectifying as he has destroyed her system). I decided to change the subject and remarked on the comic book styled Indian character mugs and coasters next to him on the counter. This of course provoked another rant where he criticised the makers calling them various racist expletives, his grasp of English profanities was quite something to behold. I purchased a racist mug and Salmon Rushdies Midnights Children which the only criticism he had of was that I hadn't already read it, and then left. I quite enjoyed the little exchange in the bookshop but it left me somewhat drained and I retreated to the nearest Cafe Coffee Day and drowned myself in a tropical iceberg (my favourite iced addiction).
I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Old Delhi, the never ending bazaars piled one on top of eachother and so tightly packed its difficult to tell where one vendors wares stop and anothers begin. As I was being bombarded by sellers from every concievable angle (even from above, most of the shops spill upwards into the 1st and 2nd floors) I ducked up a quieter alley only to be accosted by the mobile vendors who can seemingly pop up from anywhere. Walking away with 3 bollywood LPs I realised that these guys were exceptional salesmen.
I jumped on the metro back up to my hotel and spent the evening with a new friend indulging in that all time traveller favourite, the chocolate banana pancake.
