Part 2   Tehran to Delhi

Friday 4 December  Tehran (Iran) - Babol-sar (Iran)  Abbas, the Irani who had attached himself to us on the bus from Isfahan to Tehran, arranged with Gino to travel with us as far as the Caspian Sea.  He was handy to have on board as he pointed out and named interesting things on our trip through the mountains.  These included waterfalls, an ancient road that had been replaced by the present one and a sulphur spring which seeped down over discoloured rocks and filled the air with a stong smell.

We arrived at Babol-sar on the Caspian Sea in mid-afternoon and frolicked on the beach for a while.  When we booked into a hotel we found a wedding going on - or at least that part of the wedding where the bride and groom entertain ladies only.  The girls from the bus were invited to join them and eventually the blokes wandered in but apart from some music and a bit of dancing, nothing much was going on as the bride hadn't arrived.

The bus people all went to the ammam, or public bathhouse,  for a shower and good clean-up and then to a restaurant on the shore for a delicious meal of sturgeon fish. Afterwards most of the marrieds, Merelyn included, went back to the hotel where some of them were invited into the wedding which was now in full fling and had a tremendous time. The rest of us went to the casino as it had free entry but it was closed tonight so we drifted back to the restaurant for a few drinks. Gino kidded the fat old proprietor along and, when he ogled the girls, offered to sell Nancy to him. The price was a million rials, about US$1,300. When Nancy declined because her parents were expecting her home in NZ Gino asked the fellow did he like boys. He said he did and offered to buy Brian.

Muffin at Babol-sar on Caspian Sea

Saturday 5 December  Babol-sar (Iran) - Bojnurd (Iran)  A long drive today, 550 kms and the bad road started half way along. The countryside changed from flat fields growing cotton to thick wooded hills and then bare brown mound-like hills and termite nests.  The people also changed.  The men wear a lambswool hat like the Huns wore and the women wear a chador of many colours or a long dress in a lurex-type material. There were very friendly waves from everyone along the road.  Here in Bojnurd there seem to be many Afghanis as well as a number of Turkemans who wear a black winged wollen hat.

Sunday 6 December  Bojnurd (Iran) - Mashad (Iran)  The countryside became more and more dry as we headed east.  A break in the mountains allows clouds from the Caspian Sea to water the area to and around Mashad so they don't need to irrigate.  At this time of the year the ground is ploughed, brown and dusty.  There is a complete absence of green, even of bushes except where there are pools of water.

We reached Mashad soon after 1300 and booked into the very comfortable Darbandi Hotel - central heating, hot water, private bathroom all for US$1.06.  Ruth joined us and we went for lunch in a restaurant where we were the object of extreme interest.  After a while one of the men who waited on us asked me did I have a camera in my bag.  When I said yes he asked would I take photos of him and his friends with the ladies. Everybody posed around the stove and then they asked could I send them copies. Sure, what's the address?  They gave us a business card but it was written in Farsi. When we asked them to translate it they rushed off and came back with a young man named Jam who could speak English well and he wrote out the address for us.

Customers and staff, Mashad restaurant

After lunch we joined the rest of the bus group and headed to the tourist office where we were to get permission to go into the mosque for which this city is famous.  Jam and some of the guys from the restaurant came with us. The mosque and the Imam Reza Shrine form the holiest place in Iran and until three months ago no non-Moslems were allowed to enter. Many people resent the changes that allow westerners to visit.  Jam arranged for a friend of his who works at the mosque to act as guide. All the girls were required to wear chadors which made them slightly less noticeable but we men were conspicuous in our western clothing and it brought us attention and angry glares. We saw some of the features in the mosque but then our guides decided the atmosphere was becoming too tense and took us at a steady pace towards the exit.

Wearing chadors

Outside Jam and his friends invited some of us to Jam's house where we had oranges, dates and tea - it turned into a party. From there we went to a posh dinner-dance restaurant where we had steak and chicken and danced to a groovy band. Some of us older ones left at 2330 and were driven back to the hotel by one of the Persians.  We were tired so he drove fast - Iranian logic.

Afghanistan

Monday 7 December  Mashad (Iran) - Herat (Afghanistan)  Today's weather was superb.  We drove through semi-desert all day.  The highlight was passing through the border. The Iranian side wasn't too bad even though we were held there for nearly two hours. As a grand finale each person had to front up to an official and state their name and occupation and their father's name and occupation.  Merelyn's dad was a fitter and turner and she had extreme trouble trying to get that one across. Finally she said 'engineer' which they understood.

The difficult part started when we got to the Afghanistan border post. The American hippies that we picked up in Greece had obtained their Afghan visas in Athens and someone there had made a mistake with the date, writing 1971 instead of 1970.  It was an obvious error but the officials were adamant - the visa was invalid and the family could not enter Afghanistan. The family, the couriers and Gino tried everything they could think of, even offered bribes, but there was nothing doing.  Finally Gino took the passports, went outside, got a pen and altered the date to 1970.  Went back inside, presented the passports, the officials smiled and applied their stamps and we were on our way.

The rest of us waited in the bus while all this was going on and we were besieged by people wanting to sell us hash or change money.  There were four barriers on that side of the border. The first was police, the second was immigration and the third and fourth, which were several kilometers further along the road, were manned by the army.

We put our clocks ahead by an hour and, even after the delays, arrived in Herat about 2030 and soon found quite a reasonable hotel and some food. After eating several of us went looking at the shops which were mainly selling lambswool lined caps and embroidered jackets.

Tuesday 8 December  Herat (Afghanistan)  Morning dawned bright and warm and our first stop was the bank. It was hard to find - banks in Herat don't look like the way we think banks should look.  They look just like ordinary houses and we went to two banks before we found the right one. It took us three-quarters of an hour just to change money and we had to fill out a complicated form.  The teller, realising we couldn't understand the form tried to short-pay us.  Unfortunately for him he didn't understand Merelyn. She changed US$60 for the bus kitty and he gave her 4,900 Afghanis.  She counted it twice and looked concerned so he suddenly produced another 90.  She counted it again and looked hard at him and he added 5 more.  She went away to the other side of the bank to check against a board and worked out she now had the right amount of 4,995 Afghanis.  The teller was mortified and angry.  Firstly that he had been found out but more so because he had been found out by a young woman.

We spent the rest of the morning looking at the mosque, the bazaar and the people. Two young boys showed us over the mosque - payment was a biro each (we had been forewarned and brought a small supply of biros to Afghanistan as we had been told they were greatly appreciated as tips). As we left the mosque a funeral arrived so we headed out quickly - pushed on by the fact that a fellow left the cortege and headed towards us though, when he came close he appeared passive enough and passed us by.

The people in this city make it the most interesting we have seen; it is hardly touched by Western influence. There are people in turbans and pajama-like outfits, others wearing caftans and trousers to match.  The women are covered by a chador but it is different from the ones in Iran.  They have a cap from which hangs a pleated material around the back and sides while the front has a lace panel for seeing through then a plain piece of fabric which hangs to just below the waist. But for the fact that they conceal the face completely these garments are attractive and the colours are pretty - white, pale blue and other darker colours with matching embroidery

In the bazaar we saw a weaver at his loom, a glassblower at his furnace, shoemakers and even a knife-sharpener at his stone.  Barbers cut hair and shaved customers who sat on a stool on what passes for the footpath - you just walk around them.  The glassblower took us into his shop where we bought some of the famous Herat Blue glassware - some small glasses which we use as liqueur glasses and some bowls.  They all made it back to Australia but then Herat Blue is supposed to be unbreakable.  To prove it they throw glasses down on the hard floor in front of you - a few break but most are unscathed. The price for the glassware was so unbelievably low that we didn't bother to bargain - a few cents each.

The buildings are all made of mud-brick as is the Citadel, an ancient fort which sits on a rock outcrop and towers above the city. (Many of these buildings were later destroyed or badly damaged during the Russian invasion and subsequent battles).  We went to look at some more interesting structures after lunch - some half-ruined minarets, windmills and the tomb of the famous Persian poet Jami. Some of these are about 5 km east of Herat - we walked but some of the others from the bus hired a horse-drawn conveyance. An Afghan with beautiful posture led us over fields and around a village to the Jami tomb. The windmills, which are still in use to grind grain, were the most interesting things we saw this afternoon.  They are perhaps 30 feet high, cylindrical and walled on two sides allowing the wind to pass through the middle.  In the centre is an upright spindle to which the sails are attached. The sails catch the wind and turn the spindle and there must be a grinding stone at the base.

Wednesday 9 December  Herat (Afghanistan) - Kandahar (Afghanistan)  A long day today and driving through desert all the way.  To an Australian a desert is a place of isolation so we were surprised to see people and animals all along the way. There were caravans of camels, shepherds with flocks of sheep and goats and people who just sat on the side of the road.  As there was no cover anywhere Gino always pulled up at a culvert whenever a comfort stop was called for.  On one occasion he made sure there was no-one about before he stopped the bus.  Men to one side, women on the other down in the culvert. The girls were squatting there when they looked up and saw a line of Afghans on the road staring down at them.

Every now and then we saw the black tents of the nomads. We came to one camp which was only a little way off the road.  Gino stopped the bus, went over and spoke to an old man. We were on tenterhooks until he came back and said we could all go over to the camp. All the other nomad males were away and the women were sitting in the shelter of the tents. Only the females from the bus were allowed to take photographs. These desert women were dressed very colourfully, wearing basically black dresses with coloured trimmings and ornamented with masses of tinkling jewellery.  Some of them wore bands of of jewellery across the tops of their heads and one had a jewel in her nose.  They asked us for medicines, quinine for malaria and aspirin.  One woman wanted Merelyn's wedding ring. When some women held out their hands as if asking for money they were rebuked by the old man.  Their home is very simple.  They have large cushions and carpets spread out on the ground, the fireplace is a shallow round hole bordered with small rocks. A tall elegant coffee pot sat in the centre of the fireplace.  This group must have been relatively well off because other groups we saw had tents that seemed to be made entirely of patches.

Nomads

Tonight's hotel is pretty crummy but a bed's a bed, even if it is only half as long as normal.  We shared the room with Ruth.  Dinner was in a new restaurant that was trying hard to be western style.

Thursday 10 December  Kandahar (Afghanistan) - Kabul (Afghanistan)  Breakfast was scrambled eggs which some people later regretted eating. The weather these last few days has been bright, clear and warm - just beautiful.  Today's scenery was much the same as yesterday's - desert with rugged mountains in the distance. We stopped at a bridge for a loo stop and found ice on the ground under the bridge. In the afternoon we stopped at Ghazni where they make the popular Afghan coats and where antiques are for sale in the bazaar.  M and I went mad and bought a brass plate and two oil lamps.

Ghazni to Kabul was a long way for some people.  Up to now we had been very lucky and had had no health problems on the bus except for a few upset tummies.  But today, Merelyn and two other women got a very bad case of gastro which the medical people on board attributed to the breakfast eggs.  The afflicted people sat up the front of the bus, each with a partner looking after them.  When one of them felt a bout coming on the partner would call out "Gino", the bus would come to a halt and the sickie would stumble out and heave up on the side of the road.  More often than not the other two would take the opportunity to do likewise. Fortunately the hotel in Kabul turned out to be quite comfortable and a good place to recuperate.  Our room came complete with a balcony and its own bathroom - all for the cost of 70 Afghanis a night or US 88 cents.

Friday 11 December  Kabul (Afghanistan)  We had expected to find snow in Kabul but instead we got sunshine, warm and strong.  This suited Merelyn.  She was recovering but was still a bit weak so she spent most of the day sitting on the balcony enjoying the sunshine. I went out briefly, mainly to change money but I had a bit of a look around.  Not that there is much to see in Kabul.  It is very primitive in a lot of ways, one of which is the habit the men have of hitching up their robes, squatting on vacant ground or beside the road and defecating in public. 

Saturday 12 December  Kabul (Afghanistan)  Merelyn was well again today, just as I started to develop a bad cough.  I wasn't the only person on the bus to catch it and we were told it was called Kabul bronchitis.  It lasted for weeks and didn't really go away entirely for some years.  Every winter for 5 or 6 years after we got back to Australia it would come back.

We walked around parts of the city but there was a complete lack of tourist attractions.  There wasn't much in the way of interesting architecture either - anything old seemed to have been destroyed and what newish buildings there were were products of the Soviet school of design as Afghanistan was becoming a client state of the Soviet Union. These buildings were ugly square blocks of concrete.

Nor was there anything worth buying in the shops so we went back to our room for more rest.  Later we dined in the hotel.

Pakistan

Sunday 13 December  Kabul (Afghanistan) - Peshawar (Pakistan)  Today was quite exciting and the scenery was spectacular.  After leaving Kabul the road descends off the plateau via the Kabul Gorge, goes along the flat for a while besides a river and then climbs up again via the Khyber Pass. The Kabul Gorge road is much steeper, windier and scenic than the one up the Khyber Pass yet it is the latter that we have all heard about. How many have heard of the Kabul Gorge?

The Kabul road twisted, went though tunnels and doubled back all the way down. A swift flowing stream flowed down the gorge, becoming rapids in some places and a brown waterfall in another. Further on the brown water became green and blue and much calmer. Out of the gorge, the river valleys became wider and are used to grow rice and other grains. Fortified villages, sentry boxes and army camps lined the road all the way to the border.

Kabul Gorge

At the border we had two long delays on the Afghanistan side and one very long wait on the Pakistan side. After getting through the checkpoints Gino agreed to give a lift to Peshawar to two young English people who had been passengers on a London-Delhi bus run by another bus company.  Sundowners, who we were with, had a good reputation but some of the other companies were less reliable and the one these people were with was one of the worst.  Their bus had broken down a number of times and finally stopped altogether so they were forced to go on on their own. They had paid £98 for the trip which was supposed to take 6-7 weeks but they had already used up 9 weeks to this point and it had cost them a fortune in extra accommodation expenses.

We went up the fabled Khyber Pass but it was all vaguely disappointing. It wasn't what it was hyped up to be and an anti-climax after the Kabul Gorge. The British battalion badges cut into the rock face are only seen long after the actual ascent of the pass has been completed.

We soon got a taste of what to expect in Pakistan.  So far, except for the Kurdish region of Turkey, everyone had been welcoming and we had mainly paid local prices for everything. Now it all changed.  We felt that everyone was out to take us down. Our hotel in Peshawar, after hard bargaining, cost us 12 rupees or US$2.40 which doesn't sound much but it was well above what we had been paying.  The room had a bathroom included but it was just as rough as usual. Our meal cost us $1 each and consisted of a small plate of rice, some hot curry syrup and a very small and bony piece of chicken which we had to argue about to get.

Monday 14 December  Peshawar (Pakistan) - Lahore (Pakistan)  520 km today, a long way and a slow trip. The countryside was covered by a strange haze, like dust, with the sun filtering through but it was nice and warm. We traveled alongside the the Kabul River until it met the mighty Indus River.  All the rivers we saw today had wide floodplains of light coloured sandy soils. On the Indus we stopped to photograph an old fort surrounded by an even older wall.  There were remnants of a bridge leading from the fort.  A bit further on we crossed the river by a bridge built in 1880 and heavily protected by the army.  No photos were allowed in this area. We started to see trees again and a number had been planted along the roads including Poinciana, eucalypts and a variety of evergreens. There is a lot of erosion, the worst we have seen with huge holes, almost ravines. The soil looks very fertile and there were a variety of crops such as rice and sugar. Irrigation was done by a bull walking in a circle pushing a wheel which pushed another wheel which spooned water into irrigation channels.

We stopped at Rawalpindi for lunch in a Chinese restaurant and it was very good.

Our hotel in Lahore was quite amusing.  It is called the Park Luxury Hotel and it may have been been luxurious during the Colonial era but now it is a shabby mess.  Each room is a suite having a lounge, bedroom, bathroom and balconies back and front.  It is easy to imagine British Army Officers or Civil Servants swanking around the park-like grounds.  Breakfast is had sitting under an umbrella on the lawn.  Dinner is served in the Rainbow Room.

Tuesday 15 December   Lahore (Pakistan)  A beautiful fine warm day.  My Kabul bronchitis was giving me grief so I stayed in bed for the morning. We went out for lunch and tried another Chinese restaurant which again was good. The trick is obviously to find Chinese restaurants to eat in because everywhere else seems to rip you off and give you very little for your money. We then walked through the bazaar area to the Fort and the Mosque. The Fort is in a dilapidated condition and there seems to have been little attempt to restore it. It covers a huge area and is surrounded by a wall.  Inside are buildings built in different periods and there are breezeways, pagodas, fountains (now without water) and verandahs decorated with frescoes and crystal mosaics.  Parts of it have been beautiful. The mosque was not very interesting, had little decoration compared to the ones in Iran and seemed to be purely functional.

In all our travels Pakistan is the first country that has left a bad impression on us. We think it is expensive and  the people are aggressive. One fellow leaned out of a horse-drawn taxi and thumped me as I walked past and Vicky from the bus was pushed very hard by one of a group of young men in the street.  The women feel very uncomfortable here - they are used to being stared at in Asia but the way the Pakistani men stare at them is disgusting.

Wednesday 16 December   Lahore (Pakistan) - Amritsar (India)  It was Merelyn's birthday today and as birthdays go it will take some beating. We traveled only a short distance but it took all day. Gino had made enquiries and been told that we didn't need a permit to travel from Lahore to the Indian border.  Then he found out, by accident, that a permit was needed and if we didn't have one when we arrived at the border we would be in trouble and would have to return to Lahore. He suspected it was a scam and he had been deliberately told no permit was needed so he could be apprehended and fined or forced to pay a bribe. Gino went off to obtain a permit and we waited in the hotel grounds. Some of the fellows started a game of cricket and were soon surrounded by a swarm of young boys eager to join in.   This happened whenever we had a prolonged period of waiting in Pakistan and India. Some of the boys were excellent bowlers and batsmen and could trounce some of our blokes.

Waiting in Lahore

We had also picked up four hippies from the bus that had broken down.  Gino had kindly agreed to take them into India but when we started off about 1000 we had only gone a short distance when one of them found she didn't have her passport and must have left it at the hotel.  We turned around and she retrieved it. At the Pakistan side of the border we had a long, long wait and another game of cricket started up. While we waited Gino decided to redistribute the luggage at the back of the bus to even up the load on the axle.  When he lifted some bags he was confronted with a stowaway hiding underneath.  He realised that if he hauled the fellow out at that point the border guards would be all over us and there would be hell to pay so he said nothing and stacked the luggage back. After some hours of waiting we had a final parting gesture from Pakistan.  The officials picked the prettiest girl and got her to sit next to them at the table. She had to hand them our passports one by one so they could stamp them.

India

Finally we were out of that country and crossing into India but the fun hadn't stopped yet.  We had more hours to wait at the Indian post until we were finally told we could go on.  But, just before we started off we were stopped by a very officious female Customs officer who came on board and moved down the bus looking in our camera cases and hand luggage.  Gino sat in his seat and said nothing but he was sweating blood.  If that officer found the stowaway that would be the end.  Of course none of the passengers had any inkling of this problem but we were getting really fed up with all the stupid goings on of both the Pakistan and Indian officials.  It had been a long day and we were getting cranky so we started to give the Customs officer a hard time, moaning and groaning and backchatting her. She was taken aback and quickly retreated when she was only halfway down the aisle. There was a town only a short distance away and as soon as we reached there Gino stopped, turned around and told two of  the hippies to get off and to take their mate with them.  All the passengers got a shock as this figure rose up from the luggage compartment.  It turned out that the stowaway was the driver of the bus that had broken down and, because of previous misdemeanors, was banned from entering India. He couldn't enter in the usual way so he got his friends to hide him on our bus. The villains endangered all of us, especially Gino who could have finished up in an Indian prison, all because he did someone a good turn.

Gino was really upset by the incident but it just wasn't his day.  We stopped at a service station to get fuel and as he was pulling out he ran over someone's bicycle which caused an almighty kerfuffle.

We were very late in arriving at Amritsar, about 2045.  We had only one night scheduled here so if we wanted to see the Golden Temple it would have to be tonight.  But nothing was destined to be easy today. There was a power failure in the area of the Golden Temple so we had to walk in a group through dark, narrow and crowded streets, dodge cycles and cows and avoid stepping in muck  To get into the temple, which had arranged some temporary lighting, we had to remove our shoes and socks, wash our feet and cover our heads. The Temple buildings are built around a large square pool which contains sacred water. The main building, which is the centre of worship, is built on an island in the pool and reached by a catwalk. This building is beautifully decorated with marble, precious stones and ceramics of intricate design.  It was 2300 before we sat down to eat and 0015 before we headed for our beds.

Now, wasn't that a birthday to remember?

Thursday 17 December   Amritsar (India) - Delhi (India)  Another long drive today and the scenery wasn't all that interesting. It was flat but there were little villages all along the way. What is interesting is the people. There are so many of them!  There is no space that isn't filled with human beings.  They are very curious about us and whenever the bus stops we are surrounded by masses staring in the window and crowding up against the door as we try to step off.  It is harmless curiosity and most people are very friendly, especially in the villages.  If they speak English they will engage us in conversation.

We were intrigued to see peppers and other small crops spread out along the road to dry.  This is in spite of traffic speeding past and cyclists and pedestrians passing up and down. The roads are chaotic.  If there are any road rules no one obeys them and drivers have to contend with overloaded trucks, millions of cycles and cows wandering in the road.  Gino had plenty of experience of driving in India so we told ourselves to relax.

It is impressive to see trees planted along the main roads in strips about 25 yards deep - acacias, eucalypts, poinciana, etc. 

It got dark long before we reached Delhi.  On arrival we booked into a very comfortable hotel called The Ranjit and then got back in the bus so Gino could drive us to a good restaurant he knew in Connaught Circle.  He stopped the bus in the Circle to let us off and immediately a policeman jumped on board and told him he couldn't stop there. Gino looked at him and said, "Go away or I'll hit you".  The policeman backed off and went away.  We were shocked.  You couldn't do that in London but it appears to work in Delhi.

Friday 18 December   Delhi (India)  Today was a business day for most of us.  People had air tickets to collect or arrange. Two of our number went to pick up their tickets to Australia that Sundowners had arranged for them.  No tickets and Qantas had never heard of them. Frantic telexes to London but Sundowners denied all knowledge of the arrangements and said the couple had not given them any money for tickets. Fortunately they had receipts and correspondence from Sundowners which proved their side of the story so they were able to secure tickets for some legs but not all.  Qantas told them to check again when they reached Calcutta but they were really worried.  (In the end the tickets were waiting when they got to Calcutta).

I went into the city to enquire about sending cases home by airfreight.  Now that we no longer needed winter clothes we intended to travel light.  Our plan was to keep going overland as much as we could, as far as Bacau in East Timor where we could catch a flight to Darwin. However airfreight charges from Delhi were prohibitive so we decided to keep the cases for the time being and try again later.

Tonight we went to a theatre at the Ashoka Hotel to listen to a recital of an epic Indian poem "The Ramayana". The story is 5,000 years old and tells of the ascension of man to divinity. The central character of the epic is Rama, one of the ten incarnations of Vishnu the Godhead in Hindu mythology. The version we heard was in English and all the parts were played by one woman. Music and sound effects were recorded. It was an enthralling evening and, for us, unique entertainment.

Saturday 19December   Delhi (India)  We took our time this morning seeing as were tired out and then spent the rest of the day in the shops.  Mainly looking but we did buy some handcrafts. Some of the stores seem to be co-operatives selling craft ware from particular areas of India such as Kashmir woolen and embroidered fabrics and silks and carved wood from other places. The colours are magnificent and most of the goods for sale were of high quality and excellent workmanship. There isn't much bargaining as most prices are fixed.

Sunday 20 December   Delhi (India)  Sightseeing today.  Ruth accompanied us. We walked past the Delhi Gate  to the Red Fort.  Inside the fort is an arcade of shops which you have to pass through to get to the main area which has many pagodas.  The most attractive of these pagodas is the one that housed the Peacock Throne when it was in use.  The walls had been decorated with precious and semi-precious stones laid into the marble but these have been picked out leaving just the grooves. 

From there we made our way to the mosque.  We didn't go inside but we walked through the precincts and into the old city.  The new city is quite clean, spacious and prosperous but, in contrast, the old city is dirty, cluttered and poor.  The avenue leading to the mosque was full of people, street vendors and beggars and lots of people sleeping or lounging on the street.  The streets or alleys in the old city twist and turn making navigation quite difficult.  Cyclists race up and down and cows wander aimlessly. Every time we stopped, crowds of young children and beggars clustered around us asking for bakshish. We did what we had been told to do and ignored them.  If this seems harsh it wasn't really because we saw what happened to a couple of the young nurses from our bus.  As they left the hotel they gave bakshish to the first beggars that approached them and from then on they had a crowd of people dogging them and demanding money.  They got upset because it took so long to shake the beggars off.

Tonight we returned to the ritzy Ashoka Hotel to see "Ranga Nartan" presented in Manipuri dances and ballet.  The dancing was beautiful as was the singing and the lavish costumes of the performers had Merelyn entranced.  Most of the dances told a story which was explained to us, in English, before each dance began.  There were some tourists but most of the audience were upper class Indians who seemed to speak English as their main language.

Posing for passport photo, Old Delhi

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