New Delhi

My flight from Amsterdam to New Delhi arrived at around 2:15am - about 45 minutes later than scheduled. Even so, Vijay, the driver arranged by my hotel to pick me up, was waiting for me, holding my name on a sign just outside of customs. Vijay was tiny - maybe 5'6" and mostly skin and bones - but he insisted on grabbing my backpacking backpack and laptop case and carrying them to the car. 

The wide-laned first few miles of highway around the airport were similar enough to those leading from Phoenix and Los Angeles in the U.S., except that the smog was far thicker than anything I've seen in either city. Indeed, if you stacked the LA smog on top of the Phoenix smog, I think you'd still have clearer air than what I saw in Delhi. After those first few miles, the air did not clear, but the road lost some of its similarity to those in the Southwestern U.S. Even though lanes were clearly marked and maintained, drivers stopped paying attention to them and drifted, seemingly aimlessly, left and right across the three lanes on our side of the concrete median. Pedestrians darted across the highway, and some people simply stood around on the shoulder as cars and trucks zipped by at high speeds. 

After I checked in to the hotel, got a few hours of sleep, woke up for the last hour of the breakfast service, and got a few more hours of sleep, I left the hotel to explore the streets a bit and try to arrange my transportation to my next destination. There were a handful of run down buildings with shoddy "travel agent" signs within a thirty second walk from the hotel entrance. I decided to return to the hotel to ask the front desk if they could recommend one of these. Management said that my safest bet is to go directly to the train station and to not deal with any private dealers, who would invariably try to screw me over. I was also warned that I might be approached outside the train station by someone telling me to follow them to the ticket office, and that I should ignore them.

I left for the train station with my camera strapped around my shoulder and my passport and wallet in my pocket. I didn't have a chance to take pictures, though. The walk was chaos. There were goats, cows, and dogs wandering along the road, sometimes guided by people, and sometimes wandering freely. Throngs of men walked up and down the street at slow paces, seemingly with no real destination in mind. I saw hundreds of people every minute, and none of them were female. The road was filled with cars, bicycles, and three-wheeled, CNG powered auto rickshaws, with the cars and rickshaws honking constantly for reasons that were beyond me (and, I do mean "constantly" - I could hear honking, with less than two seconds between each honk, even from inside my hotel room from 7am to 9pm).

After I darted across the road through the rapidly flowing stream of vehicles toward the train station, I was immediately approached by a short man who was in the mood to chat. He asked me where I was from. The Netherlands, I told him curtly. He commented on my short hair with a smile. Thanks, I like it too, again, curtly. He asked How long are you? I told him that I'd be in Delhi for two days. No, he said, laughing, how long are you? When I realized he was referring to my height - and that he was looking up at least eight inches at me - I told him 185cm. I started turning left toward the man part of the train station, and he urged me to follow him away from the train station, where he could get me a good deal on a train ticket. I told him, No, I'll go to the train station. He pleaded, No no no...that's only for Indians. You need to come with me! I kept my head forward, even as he put his hand on my shoulder to guide me with him. Without looking back, another man ran up to me and also said, No sir! No! This is for Indians only. Tourists need to come this way, with me! 

Delhi train station platform

I kept going and, when I entered the station, I saw a large sign advising If anyone tells you that the office is closed, or that it is for Indians only, please ignore them. This is a commons scam. It reminded me a bit of a the message blaring from loud speakers outside of the Imperial Palace in Bangkok, which advised Trust no one.

After purchasing my ticket and making my way back to the hotel, I didn't venture outside into Delhi again before leaving the next day to catch my train to Agra. I regretted this a bit, because it's a giant city, and there were more things to see than the chaos immediately around me (and, really, I felt like a bit of a wuss to be discouraged by the craziness). But I justified it given the fatigue associated with jet lag and the hectic last few days in Amsterdam (getting my visa at the last moment - another story), and the benefit of getting rest before traveling the next day to Agra outweighed those of venturing more into the smoggy mess.   

*All photos grabbed of google image search this time.

Gent the Third

I went through the "intense" portion of my teaching responsibilities in September and October. This involved teaching two classes during the eight week period (so, a period akin to a U.S. quarter system rather than semester system): 1) structural equation modeling (a statistics course to students in our masters program), and 2) research methods (a methods/statistics course for students in our "research masters" program - so a program that has more emphasis on research training than our other masters program).

Immediately after I gave my final exam for one of the courses, I hopped on a train to make my way to Gent, Belgium, which is about 120 miles southeast of Amsterdam, to give a keynote address at an evolutionary behavior conference. I arrived around 10pm after finishing up at work around 7pm, and I gave my presentation the following morning. The conference was great, and my hosts were as hospitable as one could hope for, but the highlight of the trip was (as it's been twice before) the beauty and charm of Gent.

This photo didn't quite do the autumn beauty of this scene justice.

A cute play on "tout suite" (right away) in French

Exterior of the Castle/Fortress in Gent

Most tourists - I think - who visit Flanders (the Dutch speaking part of Belgium) think of and go to Brugges instead of Gent. I find Brugges to be fairly boring - an overly manicured village that exists purely for tourism. Gent's center, on the other hand, houses a university and thriving non-tourism business (though, naturally, tourism is a major portion of the economy). So an functioning city is built around churches and castles that date back to the 14th century.

I climbed the Belfry for the third time in my third trip to Gent. The first two trips were in December (winter) and August (summer), so this was the first time I'd seen an autumn landscape from the panoramic view. 

I may have visited during what might have been the last weekend before autumn transitioned to winter. It was warm enough to use only a light jacket, there were no clouds on Saturday evening, and the sunlight glowed against the buildings at dusk. 

Of course, the real star of Gent is the nighttime lights above and reflecting against the water. 

And, naturally, the Belgian food and beer were a close second to the nighttime light show. Belgian beers are a bit sweeter and stronger - and less adventurous - than I prefer, but I can't recall ever having a bad one. And the food - the food is light years ahead of what one gets in Amsterdam restaurants (and the Dutch readily acknowledge this). 

So, I'm not done with Gent after three visits. I'll look forward to a fourth soon. Perhaps in spring this time.