An urban lullaby in the heart of Delhi

My first experience of life in Delhi, was stepping out of the airport and being greeted with the sight of several police officers with rather large guns. This was more than a little bit unsettling but we had all arrived with open minds so carried on with little fuss. Our next test of nerve came in the form of a bus journey to our training venue. Though one of the most common things said to me about India before I set off was to watch out for the driving, I still wasn't quite prepared for this journey. To sum up Indian driving I'd have to say that the most important part of the vehicle is not the brakes, nor the mirrors, but the horn. The constant sound of honking horns is one that I soon get used in to but is more than a little irritating. As a driver in the UK I would consider the horn as a warning to other drivers if they pull out in front of you or start snoozing as the traffic lights turn green. Here, the horn means everything and nothing all at once. Instead of indicating, people use the horn. Instead of fixing their brake lights, people use the horn. Instead of checking their mirrors, they use the horn. Often honking your horn just means "I'm here" or "you're driving too slow for my liking" or quite often "look at that white person!". Experiencing Indian roads for the first time was definitely an experience. Looking out the back widow of the bus we saw people hanging off the side of buses, people on motorbikes, scooters and bicycles squeezing themselves through the narrowest gaps between vehicles. Lanes were painted onto the road but seen as decoration rather than guidelines and one of the scariest things was seeing that people just don't stop at junctions, they keep on driving and assume everyone else will slow down to let them through. After about 10 minutes of such excitement we all fell asleep to the lullaby of screeching breaks and beeping horns.
After a quick nap and tense game of Harry Potter top trumps, we arrived at our training venue: a rather fancy 4 star hotel. We were quickly informed that this venue was chosen solely on the size, as we were a group of 60 volunteers, and not to get used to the luxury. We were given our room keys and warned that there might already be someone in our room as we were all sharing with national volunteers. Like zombies we all stumbled to our rooms, hoping to find them empty so we could nap and shower before introducing ourselves. On entering my room, I did not find my roommate so treated myself to a nice hot shower. Note to self - make the most of having a nice shower for the next 4 days, it's bucket baths for the rest of the trip! Feeling almost human again, I headed out to meet the other volunteers over lunch and find that, thankfully, they're all pretty normal. After a few slightly awkward introductions, we all start to get on and feel pretty comfortable around each other. We even get taught a basic Punjabi dance move: hold your hands at shoulder height, point your index finder to the sky and shrug your shoulders. Surprisingly this actually comes in useful later as a wedding procession passes our hotel with a huge band and the groom on some sort of regal carriage. It was extremely extravagant, highlighting the feeling that we weren't in the India we expected.