After lots and lots of food, big baths and attentive service, we were hoping that the plane would be full again and that we might get another night of luxury. Unfortunately not.
We arrived at the airport early, as requested, but were told almost immediately that there would be no volunteers list. After a long wait, made longer by delays, we were on the plane to Delhi. This pretty much took up the whole day and we arrived in Delhi 3.10am. The queues to visa and customs were massive and staffed by the obligatory impatient grumpy old men. 2 hours later we were on our way to the hostel with the driver we had booked.
The death-defying drive to the hostel very quickly proved to Matt that I wasn't exaggerating when she went to Bangalore. Most people straddled lanes, weaving in and out of other traffic - regardless of how much bigger it is or faster it is going. The police drive no differently.
The driver was quite chatty but as neither of us could hear much after the flight, the crux of it was how long her had had to wait for us, interspersed by a bit of geranl chatter and tourist info. He stopped the car in a web of small streets he had told us was a market, asked for the tip and then helped us to the hostel with out bags. I remembered how difficult it was to please with tips in India. They all know what the exchange rate is and how little you get for your money in sterling and so are not even satisfied with a few hundred rupees.
After a short trip through a couple of very dark alleys, we arrived at the hostel, banging on the door and squeezing our bags past the staff sleeping in reception. We were told that we were in the other 'wing' -a street round the corner and made our way there. The room was about on a par with my first visit to India (before Nic and I went upmarket) so wasn't quite what the pictures looked like online but was clean and tidy enough.
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