I found one of the few photos from India featuring both myself and Mrs P. There aren’t many of them, for obvious reasons. Someone has to hold the camera, and that’s usually me. But I clearly must have trusted someone here. Enough to let them hold my Fuji for just a few moments. It’s a nice shot. Nicer now that I’ve processed it with a little more care. But maybe it’s a little over saturated. Or else I had a better tan than I remember.
We departed Delhi early in the morning, catching an Ola taxi to the train station. Or as close to the train station as our driver could get. The crush of people, tuk tuks, roaming animals and other vehicles became more dense the closer we got, and we gradually ground to a complete halt. The final couple of hundred metres were on foot, pushing squeezing and banging past the many obstructions on our way to the station entrance. Once there, we queued up to go through security. Continue reading “Less Agro, More Agra”
We went. We saw. We didn’t get the infamous Delhi Belly. Furthermore, we survived everything else that India threw at us. We have lived to tell the tale. One day soon, perhaps, I will have a little spare time to tell it.