And stay away from down town, its gonna be a little smoggy.

Delhi. Big. Filfy. Covered in shit, popular with the boys on a friday night dirty Delhi. This is already my favourite city so far. Even though its cold, its crowded and congested in a way the Mumbai was not, there is an energy here. Something uncanny, undefinable - but you can feel it. See it, even. Having only been here a couple of hours, i am probably not in a particularly advantageous position to pass comment... but, the traveller oriented district we have set up in closely fits my minds idea of what a major Indian city should look like. Mumbai was great. But this place has something else going on. We flew in from Hyderabad this morning. Hyderabad was awesome. In Hampi i was given some advice that has proven sacred: "Be open and be yourself." Upon arrival in this big irreducible slippery country my guard was up a bit. Forgivable of course. Mumbai is spastic, and the idea of India, bravado aside, is terrifying to the would be wandering scholar but i only eva left home once before and i'm shitting myself just a little me from easy nice all my friends are there Melbourne. Looking back, it has taken a while for those walls to come down, and i reckon i could relax even more yet. But in Hyderabad we discovered that the Lonely Planet guide book plays a part in the economy of fear. Most backpackers manage greetings from locals with a blanket "No" or with simple cold unresponsiveness. Of course, this is sometimes perhaps justified as the hassle factor does get a bit much, and most of the time you're just a walking white skinned money pouch that requires a little persistant pressure toease the wallet open. But the more likely scenario is that they just want a chat. I'll tell you a story: Last night after we went and saw an (atrocious) local film, we came across some well pimped up rickys. We stopped to admire their slick exteriors, fat tyres and strange decorations, when their drivers started asking us where we wanted to go. When we said we didn't need a ride they still crowded around asking us the usual torrent of questions: where you from, whats your good name, what is your religion, you are married, why come India? But when we said we liked their rickshaws, they offered to let us sit in the drivers seat and even have a bit of a go driving them. Ridiculous in its novelty, but the lesson is in the exchange. For us cool kept to ourselves Aussies it can take a little while to open up to a people who seem to be all but socially reserved.

Of course, coming to a new place is always a bit stressful. Where we gonna stay, are we gonna get mugged like the book says we will, whos gonna get the squirts in this polluted dirty filth pit of a joint? But it just keeps working out no worries. Infact, getting out of the Cab in front of our hotel, the first person i see is someone i know from Melbourne! Dan, who used to work at Kelvin's on High street. In Delhi. Nothing much else to report. But i did record some of the early morning prayers in Hyderabad. That quirky place that kinda looks like some impulsive character went and cut out some life size drawings of Tokyo's neon sky line and then pasted them haphazardously over a messy albeit progressive minded indian city. No regard for the cracks and mess bursting from the cracked seams. Did i mention the kites? They were everywhere! The sky was ful of competing little darts with glass encrusted lines, strait out of The Kite Runner. God Bless India.