Last Delhi day

  • email in the morning; edit a short chapter; comment on a proposal for funding;
  • Tom and Tamia back from Antarctica
  • noticed around 9:40 that the room had darkened to the point that a light was needed–what’s going on?
  • thunderstorms, blustery wind, enough rain to mess up the streets & dislodge dust temporarily
  • one more time next door to the Post-Graduate Hostel’s canteen (greasy spoon) serving delicious dosa (a kind of crepe)
  • some issues with transportation to my hotel for the last night–tri-wheel drivers won’t take me; don’t even inquire if I want a ride; so it’s back to the feisty receptionist at the Guest House, asking for a cab
  • and then I’m in Hotel Venezia Inn, a 4-star, $50 per night room that soothes me with its ambiance even as the picture glass window conveys street sounds 3 floors below.
  • at least I’m not living on that street, as some people are
  • There’s enough time in the afternoon for shopping, haircut, strolling, gazing–asking for and receiving a few moments out of a person’s life: as tailor, green grocer, little boy, street person. Thank you.Image

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  • Signs extolling the benefits of yoga are posted on a high wire fence around a large ashram near the hotel. A man in a blanket sleeps on the pavement below a life-advice message that perhaps he didn’t read.

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