Mommy, am I crazy?

Wow....I met an older Indian man on the airplane that ended up being my father figure during the flight. He bought tea and granola on our layover in London and he had the passenger next to him change seats with me, so I could sit with him. He invited me to a very formal Indian wedding on March 3rd and I happily accepted his invitation. After traveling by air for over 30 hours I finally arrived in Delhi, I found no hotel man waiting to pick me up. I deliriously walked up to the pre-paid taxi line to attempt the trek into Delhi by cab. I carelessly did everything you are warned not to do in all the travel books. I walked out of airport at 6 a.m. and was bombarded by touts offering me this and that. Feeling overwhelmed and slightly lost, I got into a cab that was not assigned to me. The cab driver and another Indian fellow got into the front seat. It dawned on me that this was very dangerous. After thoughts of jumping out of a moving cab and being run over by one of the million rickshaws on the road, the cab dropped me off in one of the worst areas of Delhi. I walked by piles of human waste, cows, burning garbage and entered the first hotel I found. Shady looking men were working the front desk. I got a room for $8 that had no toilet paper and dirty sheets. Smells of cow dung seeped through the open window as I lie there contemplating what I was doing there and whether I had lost my mind. I finally got up and phoned a Indian fellow I had found through my fellowship. I took a rickshaw to meet him. What a lovely man he was. He took me around Delhi and we had coffee. I told him I felt as though I was dreaming and I was concerned for my sanity. Slowly I started to feel better and I was dropped off close to my hotel, so I could attempt the trek back to the airport to try to find my friends that were flying in. I hired a driver, Sanchee. As he drove me in a beat up van in severely congested traffic, I no longer questioned my sanity. I knew I wa insane and just began laughing at the chaotic honking of horns and millions of cars and rickshaws on the road. I made it to the airport. I looked at the 1960's arrivals switchboard, hoping to see that my friends flight had arrived in Delhi and that somehow they could restore me back to sanity. I was concerned when I saw no flight from Hong Kong. I stood there praying and waiting with all the other Indians. Standing there in the same clothes I"d been wearing since I left SF, with frazzled hair, bloodshot eyes, sweaty arm pit stains, with a broken bag in hand. I saw my friends walking out of immigration. I started yelling at them. They mistook me for some crazy lady, until they recognized me. I embraced them and attempted to describe the chaos I had so far experienced, but words cannot describe it...I love India...to be continued...xoxo