more delhi and onwards north

I've used some quite varied forms of public transport since 26 March. I've been on buses, trains, in taxis, on the back of a motorcycle, around town in cycle-rickshaws, and through city streets in more than my fair share of auto-richshaws (or tuk tuks as they are known). On Thursday I added a ride in an HM Ambassador to the list. The HM Ambassador is an Indian manufactured vehicle based on the design of the 1948 Morris Oxford. Despite the British origin, the Ambassador is one of the transport emblems of India and until recently was even used as the official car of the Prime Minister and India's political glitterati. Ambassador's are mostly used as tourist carriers and government cars, are generally white, although some in Delhi are yellow and black, and have bouncy soft bench seats in both the front and the back. The one I rode in was gas powered. Check them out: http://www.hmambassador.com/

I travelled in a white Ambassador from the centre of Delhi out to Qutb Minar, a 73 metre high tower begun in 1193. It has a 15 metre diameter at the base tapering to just two and a half metres at the top. It looks like a big red chimney. After Qutb Minar I went on to Purana Qila (the Old Fort) and Humayan's Tomb (which predates the Taj Mahal and shares many of the same design features). I still have two more sights in Delhi I want to visit: Jama Masjid (the largest Mosque in India) and Raj Ghat (where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated), but I'll slot these in on my third and final visit to the capital in about three weeks time.

I arrived in Haridwar last night after a five hour train journey up from Delhi which for some reason I found a rather uncomfortable experience. I'm staying at the Krishna Guesthouse, and find myself a few hundred metres from the Ganges. It's a little bit cooler up here and there seems to be less hassle to endure from drivers and sellers which I find a great relief. This morning I had vada samba (Indian doughnuts) and tea for breakfast. My first time and I thought them very tasty. The street front chef who served them to me got quite exasperated whilst trying to teach me how to pronounce their name. The situation wasn't helped by his altering pronunciations...

Chef: wada!

Me: vada?

Chef: (louder) no, yada!!

Me: wada??

Chef: (louder) v-a-d-a!!!

Me: yada???

Chef: (louder) WADA!!!!

Me: vada????

Chef: (given up) ok, now you pay.