Summary and Now Back In The USA

I am tired of trying to write in the past tense, and trying to catch up, so this is my concluding post for this trip. The posts are out of order, and I recommend reading "The Flight" first.

Back in the USA, I am still trying to find my feet. America seems too orderly, and distant after the chaos in India. I suspect that this is largely because in India I have an extended family that dotes upon me. They see me infrequently and when they do, I am showered with affection. That is what I miss back in the USA. Here I have to go out of my way to seek affection and attention.

Also having learned the American culture as a second culture, I am still circumspect about how I interact with people. Even when relaxed, I am still critical of how I speak and act. That leaves me distant. I am envious of those Indians, who are oblivious of what others think. They use their Indian accents profusely and don't mind breaking out their Indian food in the cafeteria. They speak in the Indian language in front of others. That of course bothers the others a lot, but not them. On the other hand, I have insight into American culture that gives me an advantage should I decide to do something meaningful -- like this standup comedy stuff.

A Road Trip To New Delhi

New Delhi is one of India's biggest cities and generally considered organized as compared to Bombay, or Calcutta. My account here is based upon a road trip into Delhi from a small town, Roorkee, about 180 kms to the North.

Restless in Roorkee and in between celebrations, we decided to go and visit Delhi. My brother and his wife offered to drive us. They neeeded furniture for their new house and decided that they could drop us off and order their furniture in the same trip.

The road from Roorkee to Delhi has gone downhill. I remember it being a smooth 4 hour drive but lately it seems to take close to 6 hours. That includes two rest stops for food and/or facilities. I imagine it is the traffic that has become crazier. With the road still an undivided highway, you have to really focus and give yourself time to react to crazy drivers who suddenly weave their vehicle out in front of you. The relative speed of vehicles on these highways is high enough that any collision would be fatal. Generally it seems that accidents happen as visibility declines at dusk. Our drive is in the morning, and we find crashed vehicles from four accidents moved off to the side of the road.

In all this chaos, India now has some high quality rest stops along all major highways. What makes these areas outstanding are the beautiful gardens that are maintained by numerous gardeners available on the cheap. Coke, Pepsi, Pizza, and Veggie burgers are standard, along with reasonable Indian food. The most popular spot on this highway is called New Cheetal and it is always packed with people. We tried another spot called Big Bite, which is nice, not crowded, and has a small ride for kids. My 4-year old loved it. Generally he was the only one on the ride, and it cost all of $0.25.

With commerce and vehicular traffic on the rise, getting in and out of New Delhi is a challenge. Our approach requires us to use an overpass from Uttar Pradesh (an adjoining state). In any other nation with an economy even half the size of India, this would be several lanes with on-ramps and off-ramps, but here it is a mere two-lane strip with soft shoulders on both sides. Needless to say traffic was backed up on both sides of the road.

The overpass is physically in the state of Uttar Pradesh, notorious for mismanagement and embezzlement of funds. There is an effort underway to add lanes, however all we see are a couple of laborers manually shifting some dirt around. At this rate new lanes would take decades. The quality will be poor, and after every monsoon, there will be a need for repairs. All that is quite lucrative for the folks in charge since they will be entitled to an annual income.

My brother who is driving the car finally gets impatient and turns around to take another road into the city. This path seems to work fine and we make it into the outskirts of New Delhi, when the car’s temperature gauge suddenly jumps into the red zone. We pull over and find water pooling under the radiator. It is about 4PM, warm, dusty, and smoggy, and we are stranded by the side of a road in outer New Delhi with a broken down radiator. It must have made a sight, with 4 adults, one of us a Westerner and two kids standing on a narrow shoulder.

New Delhi however has been built up with markets, shops, and facilities are available in almost any corner. Although for the facilities, you might have to dig them out. When my wife and child needed to use the bathroom, we went into a Hindu temple, where the priest was generous to let us have the key to the bathroom.

My brother went off looking for a mechanic, and returned with a guy who generally fixes scooters and motorcycles but he seems to be in the know on cars. He tries the quick and dirty way to get us going, by plugging the leak with a bar of soap. Yes, a bar of soap! It is in India, that you will find ingenious ways of fixing things. Many times they will backfire in the long run, but the need of the hour for us to get underway is great. The leak turns out to be too big for the bar of soap, and so the guy advises us to get the thing welded. We leave the radiator with him and find ourselves a taxi.

The taxi is really a private car which operates without a permit. The driver saves on paying taxes and we get to pay slightly less. This is the normal mode of operation in Delhi. There are licensed taxis, these have a yellow license plate with numbers, however many would-be taxi drivers prefer to drive with the white license plates, the normal license. In addition to the taxes, I suspect the driver avoids cumbersome regulation and red tape. This system of private cars operates quite openly and the rates are well understood. For instance, driving around Delhi costs Rs. 700 for an air-conditioned car hired for 8 hours for a maximum of 80 kilometers. The charge per hour above this is Rs. 30, and per kilometer about Rs 6. As with everything else, in New Delhi, I am paranoid about being taken for a ride and so I let the driver know upfront that I know the city and he better not take me for a ride. I keep a map and refer to it regularly. I note down his car’s mileage before we start. This lets the driver know that I am not naïve and he does not try his regular tricks to milk the extras.

All this bleeds time and it is quite dark and so I convince my brother to accept my offer of a room in a deluxe 5-star hotel in New Delhi. My brother first tries the hotel he prefers, The Janpath, which is operated by the government of India. A room costs about Rs. 3000, and the hotel building while big is poorly lit and the fixtures are typically Indian. A large plywood sign with brass letters for announcements. The letters are somewhat irregular and apparent all over India where there is an official announcement. I am not too keen on this hotel especially because I had seen poor reviews earlier. Thankfully the hotel is full.

So we make our way to the Imperial Inn which I had looked up on the Web before our trip. At the time I was unable to make out the quality of this hotel and so deferred making a reservation. This time of course, we drive right in. From the outset, I can make out the “Imperial” in the Imperial Inn. The hotel is regal. Like all across India, there is surplus staff. Unlike all across India, this staff is well-dressed and trained. From the turbaned valets to the dedicated doorwomen, to the numerous “minders”, everyone seems to give a slight bow. I wonder if I am supposed to tip everyone. I walk up to the reception and enquire about a room. The woman informs that they have a room open that day and hands me a price list which is exorbitant. A normal room is $350 per night and is full. The only open room is a suite which is $500. I ask her if there is an Internet terminal. On her direction I walk up to the first floor to the business center and for about Rs. 220($5.50) buy half an hours worth of Internet time. Once again a well-dressed woman signs me in with a bow and politeness that I am still getting used to. I realize that each bow is included in the cost of a room here. On the Internet I find an open room in the same hotel for $199. I book it. There are no other rooms available at that rate in this hotel, so I find my brother a room at the Shangri-La hotel for $185. The Shangri-La is about a half-block away and we had passed it on the way to the Imperial. It is a high-rise hotel and quite new.

My brother and his wife are overwhelmed to realize that I will be paying over Rs. 10000 for a hotel room. It is well worth a week’s salary for a middle-class Indian. I of course don’t want to drive around Delhi looking for a room in some shady hotel at this time of night. Sometimes you pay for convenience and comfort and in American dollars and my pay rate I find it affordable once in a while.

Of course with my brother and his wife commenting on the hotel rates, I start feeling that perhaps I have screwed up as well. That maybe I have over-reached. All sorts of doubts start creeping in and I have to use my brain to find rationalizations for what I did. The truth is that I did this because I wanted to. This night, I wanted the luxury of a 5-star hotel in New Delhi.

The next day we take a step down and I set down on a short trip of Indian hotels that would be affordable. My brother and I leave our respective wives and kids in Connaught Place and go around looking for hotels. We end up at the Regent Continental in the busy Karol Bagh section of town. This hotel has a large size lobby, somewhat decent rooms, and importantly I get a large room for only $50 a night. I like the fact that the hotel is not pretentious and yet it is efficient. My check-in is quick. I have to ask for toilet paper and towels and they arrive quickly. I order tea through room service, it is good and costs all of a $1.20 for two. The hotel room has some defects, the one that creeps me out, is a 6 inch x 6inch gash on the outside wall of the bath tub. I am scared of what I might see through it. I also spy a gecko on the bathroom wall. Other than that, things seem to work well.

In the evening I try to walk through the Karol Bagh market and quickly realize that walking here is no easy stroll. With a narrow sidewalk that often disintegrates into rubble or gets encroached by makeshift shops, I have to step into the streets. Here I have to make sure of not being run over by rickshaws, scooters, and other small vehicles. Thankfully the traffic is slow and there are no bigger vehicles. The amount of traffic coursing through these streets makes those impractical.

It is now that the commerce in India awes me. Beyond the dust and the grime and the chaos, there are shops upon shops that sell a variety of goods. From Indian sweets at the crowded Bikanerwala to shops filled with Nokias, and everything in between, commerce is bustling. Clothing stores are ubiquitous. Compared to the United States, clothing here has more variety, matches the quality, and is much cheaper. Given a choice I would buy all my clothing in India. Each store offers a unique outlay of goods. I pick up two shirts, a skirt for my wife, a shirt for my sister-in-law, and a stuffed toy for my kid all for Rs. 1100, well under $30. I go into an upscale store and pick up a nice jacket for Rs. 3500. Well, fine the Jacket at $80 is expensive, but I would price the same jacket in the United States at over $200.

I last went into Bikanerwala, 10 years ago. I return to purchase their sweets. The place is packed with people. People selling the sweets, people buying the sweets. The entire shop is perhaps 1000 sq ft, and the counter does a zig on the inner wall. Delectable sweets of all shapes and colors are displayed within the counters. While your mouth waters, it is impossible to figure out how to order the sweets. There are multiple cashiers and certainly dozens of men to sell the sweets. Yet none of them looks at you. The chaos serves the shop. It gives an impression of the difficulty of ordering. I try and order some Bengali sweets, the ones that are made with spongy cheese and milk. I am unable to determine the process of ordering those. So I default to the burfee, the popular and ubiquitous Indian sweet. I rationalize my downgrade to the longer shelf life of this sweet. Once I pay the money, things move quickly. To get these packed, I have to hand them to a guy who puts them in a thin polythene bag which then gets put through a laminating machine. Finally I walk out with a laminated box of sweets.

I like Delhi and so does my American wife. There is more to do here, and certainly the activity is a novelty. However, the busy streets unnerve her because of the stares of men. There are men here like no other place in the world. Men outnumber women on the streets by a 10 to 1 ratio, or maybe even a 100 to 1. With the stares they might as well be a thousand to one. Actually Delhi is a little better than some of the outlying towns because at least here the people are somewhat used to tourists. In the small town of Roorkee where my brother lives, everyone stares. Some pass by and stare for minutes, unaware that staring is impolite. There the staring unnerves me as well. In Delhi, I am a little calmer about the men, because in numbers there is some safety. My wife is worried that some man will violate her boundaries in the crowds. It has happened a couple of times where some man pinched her butt, or called out from a moving car. It is the rare man that will do it, but that rare man will go to great lengths and so there is a possibility of events like this occurring.

The sight that bothers me in Delhi are the numerous panhandlers who tap on car windows and almost always carry a baby in tow. The panhandlers are out to alarm. One dangled a bare breast that looked like it had seen better days.

We devoted a whole day to sightseeing in New Delhi. I have been seeing the name Bahai for a long time and associated it with Judaism. In Delhi, I took the time to visit the Bahai temple and learned that while it is based in Israel it is not part of Judaism and is altogether a separate faith.

We had lunch in McDonald’s and dinner in Pizza Hut. McDonald’s was packed anywhere we went, and while Pizza Hut served a great meal, it was largely empty. I suspect a lot has to do with prices. McDonald’s now offers burgers that cost Rs. 20($0.50) which many school and college kids can easily afford, while at Pizza Hut, the basic pizza is close Rs. 60($1.50). McDonald’s has also adapted their menu to Indian palates. With the proliferation of McDonald’s around New Delhi, I am convinced that this chain has found the formula for success here. A few years ago, there were few McDonald’s, now I can find several in major bazaars in New Delhi. In Connaught Place there were at least two within walking distance of each other.

We leave for Roorkee, the morning of October 29th and that same evening three bombs go off in Delhi killing over 60 people. One in the crowded market of Paharganj, where we had considered staying. I can imagine the destruction that bomb wreaked. In the aftermath the Indian politicians always come out with wishy washy statements that imply no concrete actions.
The Indian police are also quite incompetent. They are however feared by both criminals and ordinary people because even incompetent people can be quite ruthless. Additionally the Indian police are unscrupulous. They will do a lot for very little money. I wonder how the police will stop the terrorists from striking again. It has certainly made me think a lot more about where I would consider staying during my next foray into Delhi.

The Flight

Traveling back to India is expensive, time consuming, and exhausting both emotionally and physically. Certainly the long-haul jets nowadays, have decent legroom, a great selection of movies, decent food, and an attentive staff. But there's jet lag, boredom(SFO-HKG takes 14 hours), and a massive cultural gap. I first have to adjust to being back in India, and now I am having a hard time adjusting back to America.

This trip was essential, because my brother and father just built a new home and our entire extended family will attend the "grah pravesh", a ceremony blessing the house. This will allow an opportunity for me, my wife, and child to see everyone. Since such occasions come about rarely, I planned on all three of us going. It also helps that the celebration occurred a week before Diwali, a major Indian holiday, and I felt it important that I spend Diwali with my whole family in the new house. The last Diwali I attended was over seventeen years ago, in fact the last major Indian holiday I attended was over seventeen years ago.

Buying tickets to India, is its own cultural subsytem. If you ever buy a ticket to India on travelocity, you will pay big bucks. Buy the same trip through an Indian travel agent (i.e. a travel agent located in America, but generally of Indian ethnicity, and one whose primary business is selling tickets to India), and you will pay at least $1000 less. The secret I am told is that these agents buy seats in wholesale and then retail them to the travelers at a marginal profit.

I googled the web and found an agent with good reviews. He sold me tickets on Cathay Pacific, a Hong Kong airline for $1200 roundtrip, San Francisco to New Delhi, taxes included. I preferred Cathay Pacific because it has only one stopover/aircraft change in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, on the outgoing trip, I learned that Cathay Pacific did not have this flight on the day I was traveling. So I had to switch to Indian Airlines from Bangkok.

Switching airlines mid-way on International routes is a major no-no. If one airline screws up, and you miss the connecting flight on another airline, chances are it'd be your monetary loss, not to mention the hassles of hanging out at an International airport until the next flight. All that didn't occur to me until I was well in the air, and short of flying with an elevated blood pressure, I had little recourse.

Cathay Pacific is well organized, and their aircraft was spotless, had good legroom, and easily on par with the best airlines I have flown with. My 4-year old son was flying with a fever and was on antibiotics to treat a throat strep infection. The attendants were nice enough to offer us the needed refrigeration for the antibiotic.

The San Francisco airport charges $3 for a cart. In all our flight segments, this is the only International airport that charges for carts. Our flight was departing past midnight and once we passed the security checkpoint, all the restaurants or snack bars were closed. Thankfully the flight left on time and we were able to snack on the aircraft. The passengers were a mix of Indians and other Asians with a sprinkling of Caucasians. Several of the Asians were American and it is apparent from their accent. This flight which takes 14 hours is the hardest segment, but somehow between a long nap, movies, and waiting in line for the bathroom, we made it to Hong Kong.

The Hong Kong airport is immense and has great facilities. The massive transit area has free carts and they have a lounge where a range of services including food, showers, a chair massage, and lazy boys are available for a fee. In our short stay here, we got showers and had food for about US $40 for the two adults and the kid.

The flight to Bangkok from Hong Kong was short and I was preoccupied imagining the horror scenarios of connecting through to Indian Airlines. The only excitement on this trip was when one of the overhead bins fell open and a heavy briefcase nearly creamed the passenger underneath. Why the manufacturer designed these bins that rotate all the way through such that the lid holds the weight is beyond me, but clearly it's just waiting for a lawsuit to happen. For the remainder of all the flights, I added a couple more points to my blood pressure, by keeping a wary eye on overhead bins.

The arrival lounge at Bangkok International Airport, is dingy and suddenly makes you aware that you are now in a developing country. I could feel the heat in the jetway. By this time my kid was certainly tired and ready for his next night's sleep. Thankfully we brought a stroller and that freed us from having to carry him.

I found a sign directing us to Indian Airlines and we starting walking down this endless hallway towards it. After walking for several minutes, I stopped to double check directions and this is when I found that the flight number on my ticket and my itinerary was different and so was the departure time. Learning this in-between flights was enough to make me sweat profusely, and being in a warm airport didn't help. The Thai airport personnel were genial and very nice (as opposed to those in Malaysia, more on that for another time), but the best they could do was to guide us to more walking.

It's then that I found a reassuring sight, a trio of older Indians casually walking the hallway. They first helped by pointing me towards the Indian Airlines counter and then in customary Indian pessimism recounted their horror stories with the airline.

Shortly thereafter we found the Indian Airlines counter with a broken glass sign. The entire setting was dingy, but thankfully there was a bookshop, a restaurant, AND a decidedly shabby massage parlor right next to it. So while my kid feasted on Pringle's (US $4 for a small box), I tried to find out how to get to New Delhi from Bangkok. The ticket agent, a young thai woman was helpful, and in addition to the boarding passes, she informed that our flight will leave no more than an hour late. She also solved the mystery of the different flight numbers and times. The flight number had changed between the time I got the itinerary and the tickets were issued.

Indian Airlines still operates by word of mouth. That is the ticket agent talked to some manager who told her when the flight will leave. There was no automated information about where the aircraft was, if it had indeed left its last stop, when it would exactly arrive in Bangkok. Just that the aircraft will depart no more than an hour late!

After lolling around for a while we made our way up the escalators to the departure lounge. Now we saw the Bangkok airport in all its glory and kicked ourselves for not having come up here immediately. Fancy shops, restaurants, clean and proper massage parlors, juice bars and other facilities lined the hallway. And this is one long hallway. We walked close to half a kilometer to get to the gate.

By this time our son was deep asleep in the stroller and we dreaded having to rouse him from his deep sleep to take him through the security check. Thankfully the Thai security guards used their common sense and allowed us to wheel the stroller through the gate. That would never happen in America, Europe, or developed Asia.

At the boarding gate, while we waited for the aircraft, groups of young and middle-age Indian men arrived to take the Indian Airlines flight to New Delhi. Families were few and far between. I imagine there is a lot of business between Indian and the other Asian countries and hence the young men. The cultural shift now happens. The men choose to sit right next to us even with plenty of space available. They also talk and joke loudly. One of them casually lays his arm across the top of my chair, as if I was his long-lost buddy. These are all ways to include me in their midst. While this is all nice and warm, at this time I do want my space. I am tired, I have a sick child, and I am not sure how my wife is receiving this. So we leave for another area.

The aircraft arrives and as we go through another security check, I am reminded of another Indian habit, that of jumping lines. People constantly cut across in front of me. I finally relearn the aggression of cutting in front of others, and by the time we board, I shamelessly cut in front of everybody and board.

The Indian Airlines aircraft was older and the bathroom was messy. There was no television on board and no refrigerator(they use cooler ice to keep things cold). The flight attendants and the pilot though get top marks. They flight was smooth, and the service was excellent. Four hours later we were in the Delhi airport.

Eager to get out, we did not pick up the stroller from beside the aircraft and went on through to immigration. I have noticed a marked improvement in immigration service in India. However, the "babus" (clerks), still try to make themselves relevant by finding mistakes in your form and pointing out the hard work it takes for them to accept these mistakes. Ok, these guys are just rude.

As we were leaving baggage claim, a couple of staffers personally delivered our stroller to us. It was a welcome gesture after suffering immigration bureaucracy. Customs was easy and we made our way out where my brother was waiting for us. Finally we were in India.

New Delhi Hotels

Traveling to the home country is always a logistical conundrum(good word!). Being married to a Westerner and gifted with a kid who knows American comforts, means that I have to go out of my way to ease them to the Indian environment. Being neurotic means that I project more discomfort than they probably will ever experience. Nevertheless, I try and find a nice luxury hotel at New Delhi, our port of entry.

The hotel we have chosen in the last two trips is the Grand Intercontinental in Connaught place. The first time we stayed was in December 2002, a year after the attack on the Parliament in New Delhi. The rates were rock bottom -- $90 for a Deluxe Queen room. Since we ended up staying an extra half day, they gave us a half-day rate for $45!!! Fast forward to Oct 2005 and I paid $250 for the same room.

Was it worth it? Every penny! My brother who has not ventured outside India in his adult life, argued against spending this absurd kind of money for a night's stay. New Delhi has hotels up the wazoo from $20 to $60 that have a good bed, bath, and running hot water. They also MIGHT have a cranky clerk, an indeterminate booking system, roaches, bedstains, and poor service. Generally the taxi or car has to squeeze through alleys and traffic and being jetlagged means that you could delusionally experience the afterworld, with the heat, dust, and chaos.

In short the $250 bought order, cleanliness, and predictability for that first night. The food in New Delhi hotels is by far the best I have experienced in the countries I have visited. Their buffet (about $9 - $20, breakfast - dinner), offers variety in Indian, Chinese, Continental, and the wait staff is supremely gracious for small tips (USD 0.25). For bell staff I tipped about $ 1.25 and they were thrilled.

At $250 a night, the personal budget is quickly exhausted on longer stays. We tried two more top hotels: The Imperial and the The Shangri La both in Connaught Place. They were more luxurious and impeccable than the Grand Intercontinental. Call me partial, but I found two traits in both that endear me more to the Intercontinental. They overcharged me on the exchange rates (rip-off), and their liberal use of staff following me around, made me feel stalked. Especially at the Shangri-La, sari-clad, perfect looking women will bow in front of you and crowd you at the check out counter until you sweat and quickly sign whatever paperwork they place in front of you. A piece of advice, be shameless, and don't be afraid to fight the charges. A point of comparison, I agreed to pay $247.50 exactly for the Intercontinental and with taxes paid about $275. At the Shangri-La, I booked a room for $185 and paid $250. What gives? The exchange rate rip-off and taxes. The hotel converts the $185 into rupees at the rate THEY decide. You won't even know it unless you ask. Then when you charge it, your bank will convert the rupees back into dollars at the rate the bank decides. The latter is unavoidable, and for the former always question the exchange rate. The taxes in New Delhi, I suppose, are based on the published room rate which is always much higher than what you actually pay.

Nevertheless, if you are on a Corporate budget or are just filthy rich, staying in a luxury hotel in New Delhi is worth it. You can retreat into your Western oasis, when you have had enough of the Indian chaos. One last word of advice, never walk into a 5-star hotel to book it, they will charge you the published rate, which may make you look for the nearest bathroom. Instead find an Internet terminal (in the same hotel or outside if you are really cheap), and book it through travelocity or their own site. You will immediately knock off a couple of hundred dollars and you can use the bathroom in your own room.

Now for you cheapstake brothers and sisters(sorry, I am married). I break up Indian hotels into 3 categories, the luxury hotels(the 5 stars), the moderates(Nirulas, Hotel Marina, Hans Plaza), and the budget.

The moderate hotels are boutique, and will charge anywhere from USD 60 to USD 100 for a night. Generally the rooms will be adequate, they will have staff that will serve Westerners well (Indians get second rate treatment, more on that on another date), and the restaurant is decent. The four I mention: Nirulas, Marina, Hans Plaza, and The Connaught are all in Connaught Place, although Nirulas has a bigger hotel in Noida, close to New Delhi. Be forewarned that these hotels book up fast, because they are accessible, reasonable, and still provide some quality. The Nirulas in Connaught Place is not exactly luxurious, but you cannot go wrong at their restaurant(s). They have 3 adjoining their facility and for Western food I would certainly recommend them. They also have an excellent bar that served a superior Indian buffet for a whopping $2!!! When was the last time that happened in the West?

You can find budget hotels in Connaught Place, Pahar Ganj, and Karol Bagh. I am not a big fan of the Connaught Place budget hotels. They know they have the prime location and so you are paying for the location than the room itself. Don't worry you won't be on the street, but it may feel like one. I recommend traveling just a short mile to Pahar Ganj, or a couple of short miles to Karol Bagh.

Pahar Ganj is accessible by rickshaw from Connaught Place and near the New Delhi railway station. I imagine it was setup to cater to the train travelers but now also serves the Hare Krishnas, and well-heeled travelers like me. Pahar Ganj has one street that is lined with small hotels on both sides. You can book the popular ones like Ajanta off Travelocity or just walk-in. These hotels are pimped by rickshaws, meaning they get paid by the hotel if they take you there. My suggestion is do not get scared by these pimps, they are innocuous and use their knowledge to find a proper rate. It may take a visit to several hotels before one meets your fancy(or paranoia), but since they are all clustered, it won't be tough.

Pahar Ganj was bombed by terrorists this October, but the brave people here have returned to chaos with the efficiency that only Indians are capable of. Send those dastardly terrorists a message, stay here, and put on a "F*** You terrorists" T-shirt. I am sure someone will be selling those for about $.50 a piece.

My favorite is Karol Bagh, if you can make your way through the traffic here. The hotels here are a tad better than Pahar Ganj and also clustered on one street. The prices will be about $10 higher, but you will have access to shopping and restaurants within short walks. Walking here(like in most of India) is an obstacle course, and you will need to develop the skin for it. Women unescorted by men have the biggest challenge. Western women will certainly be accosted by the teeming Indian men since they openly believe that every Western women has done a cameo in at least one porno. I believed that too, but now that I live in the West, I have been disappointed enough to know better. And no, I haven't seen any pornos.

The hotel I stayed in is the Regent Intercontinental. It is in the cluster of hotels in Karol Bagh. I liked their large and open lobby and the rooms while not like the 5-stars were reasonably clean. I did find roaches in one of the older rooms, but like my brother said, "roaches and India go together." I paid about $30 dollars for a room with a double bed and $40 for their so-called suite which happened to be just a much larger room. I found a Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and Chinese restaurant just a block and a half away. The Pizza Hut will deliver, so when India gets you down, hunker in your room, and get the delivery.

Enjoy your stay, and please post your Indian hotel experiences on the web.