“A philosopher…Great.”

           I emerged outside, and took my first unfiltered Delhi breath, followed immediately by my first hacking cough; my body’s initial response to the thick diesel filled smog sadly posing as breathable air.  After I regained my composure, I, to no avail, repeated my ritual pacing in search of my name.  Shortly thereafter, a white, bearded, middle-aged man appeared in front of me.  I went up to the man, and introduced myself, asking him if he had ever been here before, what he was doing in Delhi, and if he knew where his ride was.  I discovered that like myself, this was his first time in India, he was a philosophy professor, and I really don’t need to write anything further on him, because, lets face it, this was not going to be my savior.

            I decided my best course of action would be to go back inside and make another phone call.   Unfortunately, this proved impossible, as the Indian man with the large automatic weapon explained to me that “once you’re out, you’re out”.  Frantically, I began searching again.   I could not find any trace of a placard with my name on it.  Then while I was devising a plan to get back inside with the philosopher, Roopchand appeared with my name in hand.  Only after an hour after I had begun searching for him.  Filled with relief, I handed two of my bags to him and we made our way to the car.

            Leaving the airport parking lot, I began to observe surroundings, when the reality of the contrast between Indian poverty and Indian wealth began to set in.  Feral “street” dogs wandered aimlessly through crowds of men, sitting in the dirt for no apparent reason.  Women, who appeared exhausted, were followed by young shoeless children making their way across the city.  Teenagers with model airplanes for sale tap on the window as we pull out of the airport’s guarded roadway.  We pass a bull standing outside the entrance to one of the Hindu temples.  After about a kilometer of this, we enter the Lodi Park area of South Delhi.  Here, the roads are immaculate, with beautiful flora guiding our path all the way to the hotel.  We arrived at the entrance to the Indian Habitat Center (http://www.indiahabitat.org/main.htm).  Roopchand unloaded my bags from the trunk of the car and told me he would be there at 10 the next morning to pick me up.  I then made my way to the front desk to check in, and make sense of my surroundings.