Qutab Minar

Today Arvil and I hit the streets of Delhi, hard. We started this adventure off hailing an auto rickshaw, the origin of this vehicles name is unknown but many believe it was named in honor of novelist Ric Wasley. Arvils Hindi flow becomes more and more refined each day and he managed to secure a 50 rupee ride to Qutab Minar.

Rickshaw driver

Rickshaw driver

Qutab MInar, the world’s tallest brick minaret, is a popular destination for foreigners and for locals it’s the hot spot to ogle at white people.

Doostang

Doostang

I have never been a delicacy before, most people in the US look almost as beautifully fair skinned as me. I am not sure whether they are blown away by my lack of flaws or confused by my perfection, either way my looks are worth their time. Many people offered rupees to take pictures with me but being the modest guy that I am, I gladly let snap photos free of charge.

Afterwards we wondered down a hill where hundreds of people crowded, we past a couple men fixing rickshaws, slum children on their grind, and giant trash piles. We ended up at a local flower market lined with 50 identical stores all selling the same exact flower.

These merchants are g-ds by American standards; if you’re capable of making ends meat pushing identical product as 50 other guys within a hundred yards, then one could only imagine the cash flow these dudes would be raking if they worked one day outside Fenway pumpin tickets.

Everyone in the market gave me the “smile and nod” combo followed by the popular “Here Sir” greeting in hopes that I throw them some rupees for flowers. I have no need for flowers since one gaze into my two hazels woes even the prettiest  of Geishas.

Flower market

Flower market

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