City of djinns

Back in Delhi.

For...awhile.

Have a new phone number.

Snippets of conversation that have made my week:

"My, you have a really beautiful wife!" -- The General, a man from whom Sumeet and I may lease a flat, after we conjured up the white lie that we are married so that we can find a habitable abode. Old traditions die hard, even in the city.
"You are very beautiful. You would like me to take you home." -- Kashmiri tout in Connaught Place. Also, general advice: Just because I'm white doesn't mean I'm a slut. I really, really don't want to hear pick-up lines when I'm just trying to take a walk (or remember how to get from K-Block to F-Block).

And, oh, there are more, but I can't think of them right now. Cool things: If you're in the states and you see any AFP pictures of Pushkar in your newspaper, my friend took them! Woot woot.

When I have regular access to the internet again (rather than stop-gap sessions at ramshackle cafes) I'll write a more comprehensive post on house hunting, which, I think we can all agree, is an objective evil. Shudder. And all for a habitable hovel...please, please God/Allah/Shiva/Yahweh let us find something within the week. I hate living out of a suitcase.