A dusty cloud.

It was simply a gift just how simple things were arriving into Delhi, even past midnight.  Asia, a classmate of mine already in Delhi, gave me extensive directions.  Within the hour I exchanged my money, arranged for a pre-paid taxi and bought a phone.  And I was prepared for my driver to get lost too, so when we spent over an hour driving, stopping for directions a dozen times, and turning around half a dozen times, I didn’t worry (too) much.

Nothing however, could have prepared me for my first experience of Delhi driving.  My driver makes his way onto the high way and immediately the city’s dust and fog dance in the headlights.

Visibility could not have been more than fifteen feet.  We’re not going fast, other cars have their blinkers on and rather than go it alone, my driver makes his way behind a larger car and tailgates.  Not an American tailgate but an Indian tailgate, we’re maybe two feet from the bumper of the car ahead of us.  The car behind us takes a similar strategy and the three of us make it slowly toward the city.

The cars float between lanes.  In theory I’m in a country which drives on the left as in the U.K. but in practice it is more of an unchoreographed dance.  More on that later.  The cars shouldn’t be able to drift through the narrow openings but, like magic, they do.  I suspend my disbelief and lean back to enjoy the ride.


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