Sunrise less lazy, crazy breakfast at the hotel I request 2 eggs and they actually do come, medium-hard eggs, all naked, stunted, without toast. And room service did not understand that I wanted a coffee without milk. I confused the sugar with the salt ... I'm going to the German Bakery for a frugal brunch (the "black cofee" there is much more expensive but the advantage is being able to leave his computer. Above all, it is an enclosed area in a lane perpendicular . There is a little less cold than elsewhere in that day without sunshine, a cool and damp seeping everywhere (wrapped in my blankets tonight, I have a little cold). The fog covers the city .
my way to the German Backery, a young shoeshine smile very cute to me offering his services. I limply resists ... "How?" - "What you want". Under these conditions ... I wax generously shoes, stitching redone, replacing the insoles (I'm not sure they are first hand) and then calls me ... 300 rps I negotiated to 250 ... good for him.
I decide the adventure of Old Delhi. Boarding, after a little negotiating deals with the helicopter pilot. I stop first at the great mosque.
ama Masjid, Friday Mosque, one of the largest in the world. "It is with the Red Fort, the largest construction Mughal Old Delhi. We owe it to Shah Jehan, who visibly interested in great monuments as current political affairs. The mosque of Delhi resumed the plan centered around a large central court established nearly a thousand years earlier by the Umayyads in Damascus, and developed in Central Asia and Iran. It differs, however, this type of urban mosque in that it is raised above street level. Two staircases lead to access, one on the north side, for those who come from Chandni Chowk, the other on the south side, for those who come from the neighborhood of Karim's restaurant. Once up there, we take off our shoes. "
I take some pictures - to enter the mosque is free but must pay 200 rps for the privilege of photographing.
From there, pedaling up Red Fort. place famous for its magnificent architecture, perspectives and hanging gardens, dream for an architect .... This fortified built on a hill overlooking the city was the residence of sultans and their court .
artery, large market maddening that I promise myself to visit.
By the way, I saw to my left along the thoroughfare that joins the mosque and the Red Fort, a sort of vast hangar surmounted by a sign indicating a Tibetan market, Full "Sundy market". I decide to go for a ride after also visiting the fort.
Arrive at Red Fort in a deafening din and chaos of a broom vehicles of all kinds. A long queue at the esplanade opposite the entrance. I do not dwell on, thinking to come back later and especially ... earlier. A smiling Japanese shows me where to buy the tickets myself noting that the Indians have access to the Fort for 15 rps and foreigners, to 250. I do not dwell. But I decided to turn back foot to drown myself in the "Sunday Market". The market's most indescribable I have never lived ... thousands, even tens of thousands of people. Of tuktuk, the ricshaws, carts of another time, men and women carrying huge bags. A compact and lively crowd, buying, selling, eating and drinking throughout the artery, hundreds of traders on the floor for all kinds of supplies, clothes just piled on the floor. Completely stunning. I photograph a lot. Most people allow themselves to photograph or ask me spontaneously when I show them the photo taken, they have fun. Well, yes, we smile and laugh a lot. The sunday market stretches for hundreds of m2, hundreds of meters along the street and behind, in other streets and grounds are planted camps of misery.
I am looking for the Tibetan market, I can not find it, I begin to sense reverse. Just in case, I'm on my left a supercharged street sellers and buyers. For over an hour I have not seen a single Western and so it will be almost to the end. Finally and by chance, that's my Tibetan market. Less highly charged atmosphere, very quiet even. I am struck by the serenity and beauty of the faces of some women's faces to well groomed. Photos ... with, for some, a lot of humor.
Still walking, I go up the street toward the hard to reach C, one of the major arteries of Delhi, a bit Champs-Elysées. Official buildings. But that artery is the main nerve of the souk itself contained Old Delhi. Same atmosphere as the Sunday Market. We advance difficult. From there on the left, sinking a maze alleys flanked by stalls. This Sunday, most are closed but the atmosphere is even more strange and calm is striking. Only a few stalls are open tissue; rich tissues, families sitting on the floor. I'm looking for a Jain temple which I have read something on the Web, I plunge into the bazaar itself, I am a little confused in the streets strangely empty (was bikers at any gait and other tuktuk, at least where they can go).
I come back strong when I saw another Jain temple. But it was actually ... hospital for birds. However, I take off my shoes (the Jains are extremely strict about hygiene).
Completely dazed and stunned by the noise, the bustle, the crowds, the stress of this market and these crowded streets, I decided to return to the Main Bazaar. Next to the fury of the Sunday Market, the bazaar hand seems like a quiet Sunday morning.
In Chandni Chowk, I found this very fair presentation of the web root:
" The Champs Elysees in Old Delhi. This artery straight in view of Red Fort is the backbone of an urban bazaars plot on the orders of a daughter of the famous Shah Jehan, to whom we owe the Taj Mahal. A map of the city, Chandni Chowk appears to be a very orderly place, the equivalent, less extensive, the Raj Path in New Delhi. The reality on the ground is quite different. Raj Path, the logic of the vacuum, sees absolutely nothing (or anyone), Chandni Chowk is the logic of full. A place full of everything. Rickshaws, ox carts, pedestrians, street vendors, saddhus, priests Jain sweeping the entrance to a temple and beggars followers of self-service have their hands in your pockets. When one is immersed in this location is not known or put your feet. It is also full sound, with the din of car horns and traders who constantly challenge you, with all the visual and colorful stalls, the crumbling facades covered with flashy signs, billboards and posters of Bollywood productions. On a shabby building, we see the name of the Columbia Tristar Pictures (Agents for India!) Sometimes there are exceptions, holes, places a little less saturated, such as Jain temple, a Sikh temple, or the monumental façade with columns of a bank which occuppe a former palace of the eighteenth century.
Since Chandni Chowk, narrow alleys and bazaars to rush specialist in the city. Contrary to appearances, this chaos is perfectly organized. The structure of Old Delhi is close to that of Arab cities. Major axis, the souk, served by transverse souks or bazaars are secondary. We go out of Chandni Chowk to enter one of these bazaars, on the left (the Red Fort is behind us). Is that of the jewelers. An endless gold market or shiny ornaments fill the windows of shops. It is not only jewelry, but also all accessories relevant to the jewelry (media showcase, tools, etc..). In other words, jewelers buy and sell. Also for completeness. India is one of the major consumers of gold in the world. Indian families will need to provide their daughter a dowry of jewelry made of gold. Jewelry a woman is virtually everything she owns, its capital. Who says marriage jewels said. Perfect timing. Since the gold market, a perpendicular down to the right (coming from Chandni Chowk) opens on Kinari Bazaar, the market for wedding items. Welcome to the realm of kitsch and color. A Kinari Bazaar, you will find everything produced as the east colorful clothing and accessories: wedding dresses (and other clothing ceremonies) luminaries, garlands, it sparkles everywhere, it's Christmas all year round. We are caught in a whirlwind, we no longer know where to look. To heaven? By raising our eyes can see the poles and electrical wires woven in a tangle so impossible that one wonders how all this still working?
(www.baronbaron.com)
end of the day. I'm back this afternoon apocalyptic - but rich in pictures - in a small restaurant bar hand bazaar, and I sit in the bottom to be at peace. With a good thali (flat vétégarien) and playing a book on Indian art. Finally, a little quiet.
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