of (mostly) poverty and tourist draw, maintains the bazaars that you may see as the intro video to some PBS special on India. The minute we stepped out of the metro station I was awestruck (and this is after a year and a half in China) by the truly incredible amount of people, movement, trash, sound, smell, and car horns. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced before. There were plenty of other tourists, so we were able to find our way to the Red Fort.The Red Fort was a great place to visit, and kind of calm down after the madn
ess of the streets. We wandered among the various forts that had been used during various dynasties of India’s history. It was a Mughal empire citadel (not one building as the name would suggest). It became clearer and clearer as we traveled around India, that the Mughals were by far the coolest (they had lots of swords) and most successful of the various dynasties in India’s past. The Red Fort is of special significance to Indians, as it was where the first Indian flag was raised in 1947 after Gandi, Nehru, and co. kicked out the British.We also visited Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India, which successfully augmented its relatively small
entrance fee with a monstrous camera fee-but I guess I wasn’t coming to worship, so maybe I shouldn’t complain. It was gorgeous though, and offered great views of Old Delhi. And, I am all about gaining random, trivial accomplishments like the fact I’ve been to the biggest mosque in India.We wandered through Raj Ghat, which is a big park where Gandhi was cremated (his ashes were/are spread all over the place). It also contains the cremation sites of various other important figures in recent Indian history, including many former presidents and prime minister-including that of Nehru, the first Prime Minister of modern India. We really did wander, as the guidebook map wasn’t quite on the ball, and some cremation spots weren’t as well marked as others. It was wild how just by crossing the street and walking into the park it was immediately a million times more peaceful (and I actually might not be exaggerating) than the streets of Old Delhi.
In the evening we met up with Rob Hall and Rob Adams, two friends from TU that are living in Delhi as missionaries. The four of us had a delicious and plentiful dinner at Ba
rbecue Nation, a fancy, all you can eat barbecue joint. We checked out their apartment after dinner, and I grabbed a short ride on Rob Hall’s Honda Hunk motorcycle around the neighborhood (yes it’s called the Hunk, yes people in India should know what it means). The event of the evening for me was chewing some non-tobacco paan. Paan, well rather, paan spit, was one of the first things I noticed in India. Almost every street corner, every bathroom, every trashcan, and often the corners of rooms will be covered in a brownish-red stain in a spray pattern. This is the effect of the fact that a huge number of Indian men (and every single auto driver) chew paan ALL THE TIME. Normally, I balk at the use of all 
caps, but my limited vocabulary lacks the ability to express it any better. Paan was ubiquitous in India like no other drug/habit I have seen anywhere else in the world. Most of the time, it is chewed in small beads out of a plastic packet much like a condom wrapper. But, the true way to chew paan is to have the full out areca nut with spices wrapped in a betel leaf covered in lime paste. We asked the Robs about it at dinner, and on the walk home, Rob Adams ordered up a giant wrap of paan for me. It was about the size of a tennis ball. He told me that I should just throw the whole thing in my mouth, and I think he was right. I just wasn’t ready. I ended with paan stains on my pants for the rest of the trip, and was just one sticky mess for the whole metro ride home. It wasn’t too bad of an experience, the mixture was pretty sweet, it was just the incredible size of the paan wad combined with its unwillingness to break down (kind of the idea) that made my mouth a big, paany mess.
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