The great Delhi swindle

I was aware of the potential difficulties and impending culture shock of arriving in Delhi but also took great comfort in the knowledge that I was now a seasoned pro, a wise guy of the road, I kind of Tony Seprano of the travel superhighway. Hey, my antennae was razor sharp, I was a smart operator out in the jungle traversing across new continents. I could spot a low-rolling-swindler a mile off, you could blindfold me and I could smell an Arthor Daley from a 100 yards…so I thought anyway as I walked through Delhi airport customs at 2 a.m.

From virtually the first minute I was ripped off; Rule 1; DON’T TAKE A TAXI FROM DELHI AIPORT UNLESS YOU AGREE ON THE DESTINATION FIRST, THEY”LL RIP YOU OFF AND TAKE YOU TO AN UNLICENSED TOURIST OFFICE as highlighted in capital letters on Page 1 of Lonely Planet’s guide to India. 15 minutes later I’m in the first cab and arrive in the middle of nowhere outside the ‘Delhi Tourist Centre’ I was literally dragged from the Tuk-tuk by five smiling locals. Rule 2; BE CAREFUL OF ACCEPTING THE FIRST HOTEL OFFERED, YOU ARE LIKELY TO BE OVER CHARGED ON THE FIRST NIGHT ‘I tell you the truth, I tell yout he truth, I give you a good deal, very cheap sir, that will be 14 pounds sir’ as I checked into the worst hotel in Delhi run by a guy with an exact facial resemblance to the infamous George Gaffer, an old lowlife landlord from Cardiff University day, it seemed a bit expensive but hey, they wouldn’t try it on with me. Rule 3 DON”t AGREE TO ANY SPECIAL DEALS FROM A TOURIST OFFICE ON THE FIRST DAY, CHECK THE PRICE AND THEIR CREDENTIALS FIRST By midday on the first day I had handed over 360 pounds to fly to Kashmir, a place I had little or no knowledge of, except that it was the most war ridden state of India, I had not planned to go there. I also paid 3 times what all the other travllers were paying at the hotel. It was as if someone had reprogrammed my brain or maybe it was still in Angkor Watts? Gaffer and his guys did the best swindle and persuasive sell on me that I’ve ever seen, what made it more believable was the German girlfriend of the head manager she was a seasoned traveller studying Medicine! She seemed soooo honest and decent, they bought me coffees, showed me around the Gandhi museum and assured me it was all free, courtesy of the India Tourist Board. I was to find out the truth two days later.

The India sale’s people here are a different league. My former work colleague, Jonathan and I had often joked at our desks about the ‘always be closing’ the mantra of the aggresive sales person; these guys had eaten this mantra for breakfast and spat it out. They name their shops ‘99% Discount’ and ‘Everything for Sale’ you get hassled here for everything and anywhere, ‘hello sir.. what do you want?’ ‘England is a very good country Sir, what would you like’ everything costs money and you need to negotiate or you get eaten alive. It cost me 15 ruppes to pinch a loaf, that ain’t luxury either just a whole in the ground and then its extra if you want some paper, you need to negotiate for each square, not pleasant when you’re in market busting to lay cable. You start to realise to survive you gotta talk hard, fast and hustle like a lunatic for everything. I saw, passive, chilled out, hippy dudes enter Delhi and come out the otherside like rip-roaring-Gordon-gecko negotiators, unleashing explitives at all and sundry, fuck the tie die, you gt wise up fast in this town. The tenacity and simple relentless energy of these people is just undescribable. One traveller told me how he ‘d been asleep at night and heard a guy knocking on the window trying to sell him plastic budha’s at 2 a.m in the morning! Not content with the punter’s response of ‘F@”k off you Cu!t’ (in the Uk usually a clear sign to a sales person that you ain’t gonna make a sale) As he lay half sleeping he then watched as the sales person proceeded to thread through the plastic ornamanets through the Mosi net, anything to get a sale! Delhi is a serious wake up call for anyone beliaving that India is nice and dandy