Delhi: Cobraload

Yesterday was my first day in India.

So I step out of the taxi at my first tourist destination in Delhi. 'Look mister, mister look - a cobra in a box'. 'Bull-shit' I thought - I wasn't going to fall for that one and look...it's probably code for something lude. But I did look, and it was a cobra in a basket with a guy playing a flute. It was like I'd accidentally walked into a cliche of what Delhi is supposed to be like, rather than the wonderful modern mersloperlis that it is. I was instinctively sure that looking impressed would probably cost me somehow so I tried hard not to. My trusty dark glasses saved me from giving away too much, but this was a cobra, in a basket! I tried to look like I'd seen a cobra in a basket three times already that morning and, frankly, I wasn't in the mood. By the end of the morning, I literally had seen three. Welcome to Delhi.

The snake 'charmers' [I don't see them as charmers, more botherers] seem to spot white skinned people and follow them, unfurling a cobra as they go and sitting resolutely in your path as if, at the sight of a cobra, you'll say something like "well lay me down and spank me with a wet glove if that isn't a snake in a freakin' basket - here are my life savings Dr Dofukall". Surely if you want to see a man sat down in skimpy shorts playing the flute at a snake in a basket there are places you can go, with curtained booths - like Amsterdam or Bangkok - do you know what I mean?

More to come.
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