Delhi, Janpath Guest House, Tuesday October 7, 1997

It's 1 o'clock in the morning. I landed a couple hours ago. My thoughts, and my body, are in a muddle. The past two nights have been rather tough. I haven't slept properly as I've been increasingly worried about what I'm about to embark upon. My family are also obviously worried. They think the whole idea is rather reckless and this has been communicated to me. I know their intentions are good but the end result is that rather than ensuring that I am careful, they've actually made me think I'm rather stupid. I should have been all excited on the plane, enjoying the fact that, after years of dreaming about a big motorcycle trip, I'm finally doing it. Instead I spent most of the journey wondering if I'm going to get maimed or worse. I'm feeling a bit calmer now. The cab ride to my hotel was quite enjoyable. There was very little traffic and the roads were in pretty good condition. I'd be rather concerned if the main road from the international airport to the capital of the country were full of pot holes. The taxi was a lovely old Morris Minor (or something similar) and the driver, who didn't speak English, couldn't have been more than twenty. He didn't know where my hotel was and I was rather pleased to be able to direct him. Thank God for the Lonely Planet Travel Guide maps and sign language. I kept on looking out for Enfield motorcycles but the closest I got was a Kawasaki 100. I did note the drivers were wearing helmets. Their passengers (and I saw a few Vespas with two passengers) did not however wear head protection.

Keeping in mind what Natwar (an Indian acquaintance) told me about the seemingly chaotic way of driving, I tried to identify the peculiar Indian traffic rules. So far I've identified the following:

• If you want to save your batteries (or is it your lightbulbs?) you turn off your car headlights when you're around street lights.

• You can go through red lights as long as you've checked that the lights on the other side have not yet changed to green.

• If a tractor in front of you is moving very slowly and you can't overtake it, then turn off the main road, do a VERY quick U-turn and come back onto the main road. If you've timed it properly, you'll be in front of the tractor.

As Natwar said, "It may look chaotic to the Westerner, but there are very logical rules to Indian driving." The sooner I learn them, the safer I'll be.

Plans for tomorrow are: have a little wander, get my haircut very short (more comfortable in the helmet in this heat), buy something more respectable than those old faded black cotton trousers and, if I haven't lost my nerve after seeing daytime traffic in Delhi, go over to the Enfield dealership where I've been assured my Bullet is waiting for me.

YMCA, Delhi, Wednesday October 8, 1997

What a horrible night. Last time I looked at my watch it was 3:45 am and it probably took me another hour to get to sleep. My brain was on overdrive but my body was exhausted -- actually so was my brain. So many thoughts running in and out of my mind. It's amazing how difficult it is to empty your head. And it's not as if I was having great ideas. I can't even really remember what I was thinking about. Motorcycles. Accidents. Sending e-mails. Getting sick (forgot to use bottled water to brush my teeth!). None of this seems enough to keep me awake for hours. Then of course I slept through my alarm and woke up at noon.

Getting out of my hotel and onto the street was a bit of shock. I certainly didn't recognize them from the night before. When I got in last night I thought, rather disappointed, that I must have chosen a hotel in the suburbs, there was so little traffic and apparently no shop fronts. Well, they obviously opened the shutters, and in fact most of the shops were overspilling onto the pavement. A motorcycle car park materialized right outside the hotel entrance and traffic was at a standstill. Can't say it's passing me by.

I walked around looking for a hairdresser, eventually (one hour later) I was directed to an indoor market on four floors and into a tailor's shop. I though they mistook my haircut gesture for made-to-measure clothes. I was about to turn around when the tailor asked me if he could help. I said, "Sorry I'm actually looking for a hairdresser." He told me I was in the right place and showed me a (very) small cubicle at the back of the shop/stall where a man was getting a shave. I hope they weren't offended when I said I'd maybe come back later. However this was not a wasted detour because I then stumbled on a hand written sign advertising an office with email access. So on my first day I managed to send e-mails home. Let's hope it's not the first and last of those email offices.

The highlight of my day, however, was seeing my future two-wheeled companion. It's grey/green, simple, beautiful and was there waiting for me. I just (!) need to get a letter from my embassy confirming I'm a permanent resident in India and live at an address (given to me by Ajeet, the bike dealer) that doesn't even exist....Watch this space.

This evening at dinner, the bill came to 107 rupees. I had 106 rupees or 200 rupees. The waiter disappeared for ten minutes with the 200 to get my change, he came back without success. He would take the 106 and finally another customer made me a gift of one rupee. One rupee is worth one third of a cent. Talk about different views on the worth of money.

YMCA Delhi, Thursday October 9, 1997

That's it. I've parted with my money. But I don't have a bike to show for it. I tried the, "I won't pay until you give me the keys." To no avail. The shop is bringing the bike and various documents to whatever government office deals with this and, if all goes well, I shall be the proud (and registered owner) of a 500cc Enfield. I've got to be honest the bike does look a bit small. If I'd been willing to pay $300 more I could have had the jazzed up version that looks rather like a Harley. However as a purist (!), I felt it rather uncouth to buy an imitation Harley when I could have an original Enfield. Also I'm too cheap.

As you've figured out, getting the letter from the embassy was easy. They did charge $30 for the burden of typing it out. In fact it's a form letter off the computer. I'm already starting to resent paying Western prices, even for Western services. Another good thing I got out of the embassy was the address of a beauty salon. I went directly there and spent three hours being pampered: hair cut, manicure and a facial. All for $15. The facial was amazing. The woman massaged my face, neck and shoulder for probably half an hour. The young girl who did my hands also massaged my arms. I felt so relaxed and clean when I got out of there. But it didn't last. The rickshaw back to the town centre got stuck behind a diesel fuel spewing truck. Even the driver was coughing. Then we slowly passed a gruesome sight: a blanket covered body in the inside lane. They hadn't covered it very well because I could see a pool of blood just by the edge and what I think looked like a piece of a jaw with teeth attached to it. People must be used to this because it didn't really slow down the traffic and there wasn't a crowd of curious onlookers. Or maybe Indians have better manners and don't approve of gawking at the scene of accident.

I haven't started giving money to beggars. I come across them so suddenly and they are so shocking I feel embarrassed shuffling through my wallet. Tomorrow I'll put real money in my pockets.

YMCA Delhi, Friday October 10, 1997

I am now the proud possessor of a motorbike. The dealer did give me my bike and in fact I'm the one who still owes him money ($50). I couldn't start it however and had to ride piggy back to the Y. Rather embarrassing but you'll be glad to know that once I got it in the car park and away from people watching me, I got it started on the third attempt. Whew!

I rode it in second gear around the car park and there is nothing to it. Having said that, I've decided (on the advice of the dealer) to get up at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow and ride it in the hopefully deserted Delhi streets. I might even ride it to the Red Fort which is a major sight of Delhi but which I have not yet seen. I have been here for two days and have not done any sightseeing. I have ridden around most of the town in a rickshaw but you can't see much out of those.

I also went to a tailor who is making a silk outfit for me. It consists of a pair of narrow trousers and a tunic. I found the measurement taking rather embarrassing as back home, the saleswoman would have to buy her clothes in the children's department. Even by Western standards I'm not exactly small.

Today I started giving money to beggars. There was a man with no legs or arms (unless you count stumps). I wish I could say I'm still shocked but I'm not. My ability to get used to horrible sights is quite surprising -- and fortunate.

P.S. Having walked around with my camera for two days, I finally took my first picture...of my motorbike.

YMCA Delhi,Saturday October 11, 1997

I put my earplugs in last night as the fan noise was keeping me awake. However, it meant my alarm clock rang for 45 minutes before it woke me up. I hope it didn't wake up my neighbors. I rode around for an hour and a half and didn't do a great job. I kept on stalling and confused my foot brake with the gears (they're the other way around on an Enfield). When I came back for breakfast at the Y, I met this Indian guy called Mo who used to be a bike courier in London. We went out for a ride and he too had problems stalling. He informed me that I had a tank full of adulterated petrol. It seems that's a common problem in India. Great. He also informed me that I had the gears all wrong. Rather than being one down and three up (push down the foot pedal for first gear and use toes to bring it up for second, third and fourth), in fact it's one up and three down. No wonder I was having problems ! I hate to think what an hour and a half of this did to the engine.

Tomorrow I'm going to ride the bike for a good few hours. It's Sunday and it's a holiday so hopefully the traffic will be relatively light. Another useful thing my Indian friend Mo showed me is the highway to Amritsar (my next destination). I'm really itching to get out of Delhi and start this journey through India. These past few days just feel like the prologue.

YMCA Delhi,Sunday October 12, 1997

I had a pretty easy day today. I seem to be riding the bike better although it still stalls for the first half hour if I leave it idling. I also managed to drop it as I was putting it on the stand and I had to get someone to help me right it. It weighs 160kg and I should be able to do it on my own but I was at a funny angle and I think I panicked a bit. I broke two of my rules already; I drove at night (although the streets were light) and I went through a couple of red lights (but so did everybody else). I hope (and have promised myself) I don't break rule number one: always wear my helmet.

I'm off for Amritsar on Monday. I'll report back on this first leg.