Day 1: Delhi

Word of advice.

Don’t try and ‘do Delhi’ on no sleep.

Just doesn’t do much for the confidence.

Especially on day 1 of a projected year away.

Such were the timings of my arrival – 6.20am here… but still only 1.20am in England – that my day was just starting when it should have been finishing.

Wise men would say – and me in hindsight – that I should’ve had a quick kip before heading out into merciless Delhi.

But when a typical British public school product, who named himself ‘Dash’ of all things, promised me the delights of Synchronised Swimming (in Commonwealth competition – not some kind of activity date), I thought sleep might wait.

Weirdly – after notoriously low crowds across the sports –  the morning’s Syncronised Swimming was sold out. So sending Dash on his way (he sauntered, without any degree of pace) I bought a ticket to the boxing.

It was still only 9.30am – and this didn’t start till 1pm. Tiredness was starting to kick in, but being a worried old soul, I felt kicking on to try and sync with the daytime here was the best idea.

So sleep could wait.

Killed a couple of hours at the Red Fort – a mighty monument to Delhi’s faded glories. A showpiece in the midst of the Old City – and slumsville. Hawkers and touts dogging your every step, children snapping at your feet –  ‘Mister, mister…’. However sunglasses and iPod don’t half put off even the most persistent.

Feeling thoroughly unrefreshed, knackered, hot, sweaty, grumpy by this point (its got a happy ending), I made my way to the boxing.

If queueing for an absolute age – while the incredibly neurotic Security searched every pore of every person for terrorist related goodies – wasn’t bad enough, when I got to the front, I was told ‘No Bag, No Bag’. Scuse me? Is this you turning me away? AFTER FUCKING QUEUING, AFTER FUCKING NO SLEEP,  AFTER STANDING IN THIS FUCKING HEAT, AFTER- AFTER-…

Luckily my calm and measured persuasion technique charmed their little cotton socks, and minus a pair of scissors, 5 safety pins, my chewing gum and cigarettes (MacGyver would have had a field day) me and bag were safely inside.

Boxing kicks ass (or punches face). Especially when the minnows of Saint Lucia and Grenada – whose lack of technical ability can be forgiven – kick off against each proper stylie and end up brawling. It was school playground stuff, and it was awesome. Ref was enjoying it as much as anyone so let it happen.

The biggest problem I had was nodding off – kept jerking in my seat as I could not stay awake – I was like that really drunk guy at the end of the night who gets told by the bouncers to leave.

However sat next to Mani from Huddersfield who chatted away and kept me sane.

Enjoyed his company so much – and after a strong coffee –  went off to Connaught Place for beer. Lovely chap – and great advice on where to go next – might already be changing my itinerary around India.

Ended up at Delhi’s ‘youth festival’ they’re holding to celebrate the games, and watched a lot of classic Indian dancing as the only white spectator among thousands of locals. Awesome stuff.

But sleep could wait no longer.

Chipped off back to my (overpriced) hotel room, not before a spot of Veg Thali at a local restaurant and then beddy bumbles.

To fight another day. Just.