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Exploring Delhi: A Day in India’s Bustling Capital

January 19, 2025


We flew to Delhi, where we spent one day—quite an introduction to India! Our hotel was outside of Delhi’s center, accessible by subway. Shyaam, our guide, led us on a subway journey to Old Delhi’s historical sites and bustling market. We followed Shyaam through the crowded streets. The heat made me wipe the sweat from my face. It felt as if we walked a long way, only to discover that the distance covered was only a few blocks.

Rubbernecking to see the small stores and fighting the jostle of people was tiresome. After a while, we were ready for a snack and looked longingly at the street vendors with their steaming foods. Shyaam cautioned us about buying from a street vendor and suggested that we wait for the next round of freshly cooked food to be ready to eat rather than take the already prepared food in bowls on a counter along the street full of flies munching on the food. So we waited ten minutes for the next round of cooking. It was worth the wait—it was delicious; I think we had chunks of lamb with spices I was unfamiliar with.


The atmosphere in that part of town differed from what I have ever experienced. Besides the teeming crowds, with the temperature hovering in the upper thirties Celsius, the smell of spices permeating the air was powerful. In this district, spice store after spice store with hundreds of spices competed for attention with fancy exhibit boxes containing almost every spice imaginable: mustard seeds, coriander, garam masala, and others. A dispute unexpectedly flared up outside a spice stand between a customer and the store owner. Almost immediately, a large crowd gathered, and yelling started. We were made acutely aware of our vulnerability and the potential for sudden violence by the crowd’s sudden outburst and rapid gathering. I told Kathy we should just move on and leave the crowded sidewalk before violence broke out.

Among the sites Shyaam took us was the Jama Masjid, the oldest mosque in India. A wall surrounded the entire mosque complex, with a football-field-sized plaza in front of the mosque, large enough to hold 25,000 people. At the entrance gate, they directed us to take off our shoes and leave them on the steps leading up to the mosque, next to hundreds of others’ shoes on the steps. I was wearing my good walking shoes and was nervous about leaving them on the steps, but we had no choice; I thought of someone just coming out of the mosque and taking my shoes by accident.

Jama Masjid

But taking off our shoes was only part of what they required. They also gave us a gown to wear over our street clothes. Inside the complex, children played and ran around in the plaza, and adults walked around in gowns. The courtyard seemed like a vast, paved urban park without trees and greenery. Aside from the gowns, it could have been anywhere.

The Jama Masjid is like other mosques we have seen; it is a large space with the women’s quarter separated upstairs. The mosque was completed in the sixteenth century in the old city. The huge mosque in Casablanca, the Hassan II, is like this one, except it has no walls around the large plaza outside and was built recently (finished in 1993). I did not get the religious vibes here that I felt visiting the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, perhaps because I am a Catholic and not a Muslim. We left the mosque, and I found my shoes, which I had left outside.


Following our visit to Jama Masjid, Shyaam guided us to Sheeshganj Gurudwara, one of Delhi’s nine historic Sikh temples (the name means “gateway to the guru” in Punjabi). Unlike the mosque, worshippers, women, and men gathered together on the floor in the principal room. As part of the temple’s mission, a women’s auxiliary made naan bread in a small side room to feed people experiencing poverty. They were working quietly, without speaking, a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle outside. They invited Kathy to sit on the floor and join them in making naan. She did it for a while to learn how to make naan, which was more challenging than it looked.


Leaving the Gurudwara, we took Delhi’s spotless subway to Connaught Place, the center of New Delhi. Shyaam escorted us onto the subway train, gave us directions on how to return to our hotel using the subway, and left us to explore. Connaught Place differed from Old Delhi. It was a large circular park with benches on a grassy field. Seven major roads radiated from the perimeter into the urban fabric of New Delhi. Its street-level stores and mid-rise office buildings around the circle reminded me of North American cities. Unlike in Old Delhi, the streets were uncrowded, and the stores were spacious.


Feeling confident in our navigational abilities, we took the subway back to our hotel. I found the subway extremely clean, although crowded. Upon entering a station, all passengers underwent a security check similar to those in airports: a metal detector check and a baggage check. They allowed no food or drink. This rule and its enforcement ensured cleanliness. It was impressive. We got off at the right subway stop; however, with no idea of the geography and, I guess, not having paid enough attention to our surroundings when Shyaam had accompanied us downtown, we had no idea whether to go left or right when we got off and stood there like the lost tourists we were. Luckily, many Delhi residents speak English, and a very kind man helped us find our hotel. This gentleman’s helpfulness, in retrospect, did not surprise us, as we have found in our travels that Indians are friendly people.

Unboxing My New iRobot: A Weekend Adventure

January 12 2024

The new iRobot arrived from Amazon, but I delayed opening the box. Things were about to get difficult.

That old iRobot developed some bad habits. Like older people, it got cranky; sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not. The situation was far more frustrating than the word suggests when the machine spun around in a circle and went home like a dog refusing a walk. So, it was time to get a new one.

There I was, examining the sizable box holding my new iRobot. When I receive a new product, I usually empty the box to see all the items sent and then look for the one-page instructions.

Assuming that the new one needed powering up, I plugged it in. I then consulted the instructions, but the print was too small to decipher. With a magnifying glass, I discovered that of the dozens of pages, only two were in English. The other pages had identical text in dozens of languages, each two pages long.

Besides the instruction manual, I found two cards with QR codes. I have an iPhone, so I had no trouble taking a picture of the codes and reading the instructions. But what if I had no iPhone?

No other instructions were provided beyond the miniature English text and QR codes. From the two pages of text, I learned to charge the machine until the swirling white circle around the start button stopped. The other and more critical instruction was to “pair” my iPhone with the iRobot. Once I paired my phone with the cleaning genius, instructions arrived.

The first command received was to give my machine a name. We discussed the name. We didn’t intend to imply cleaning is women’s work, but finding a gender-neutral name souncing good to both of us proved difficult. The current recognition of multiple sexes makes using “(he/she)” after names too lengthy. Our old iRobot, Matilda, has a namesake: our new iRobot.

Soon enough, my iPhone indicated Matilda was ready to clean. I punched the starter button, and Matilda came off her base. Then she took off towards the bedroom, changed her mind, and returned to crank around her base. After that, she seemed to meander aimlessly in different rooms until it ran out of juice, returned, and mounted her base for a refill.

I was disappointed by the short amount of time Matilda spent cleaning. At this rate, she will need three or four charges to clean the main floor. The old and faithful Matilda did the entire floor with only two charges.

By now, not knowing what to do next and in a frustrated mood, it was time to call customer service. Connecting with a very courteous gentleman with a foreign accent did not take long. A nagging question about his location tugged at my mind, though I felt no desire for interaction in my current mood. He told me to charge Matilda three hours before starting. I had charged it for less than an hour because my iPhone informed me Matilda was ready to dance. The swirling was slow, and my iPhone said Matilda was ready.

Another key information I learned from the representative was to press the “map” button first so Matilda could survey our house, measure the rooms, and map them in her memory. The first time around, she will not clean, he said. I asked where the map button was. I saw the word map next to the Google symbol for maps, but when I touched the symbol, Matilda jumped off the base and started cleaning. No, the customer service gentleman said. Just touch the words “map,” not the symbol. And so, we made friends with Matilda, and once charged for the third time, she cranked around the entire main floor, mapping our house without cleaning.

She mapped our house into her memory and even called the rooms by their names. For example, there was a living room, bedrooms numbers one and two, and so forth. She correctly identified our Christmas tree, calling it ” the Holiday Tree,” the accepted word for it by today’s standards. How the hell could she recognize it? The star-shaped footing for the tree may have given her the information around which she had to circumnavigate. Very smart. And if I did not find the floor plan realistic, I could correct it on my iPhone.

Now that Matilda had our floor plan in her plastic body, I could enter a ‘new project,’ check the rooms to be cleaned, and then punch the start button.

Opening the box, figuring out the instructions, calling for customer help, and waiting for Matilda to charge and recharge took most of the weekend. Now, with the floor plan in Matilda’s mind, I can still change. I understand how to use the new iRoboy and could retire old Matilda to the basement should she return to life.  

Phew! I relaxed and poured myself a glass of wine, celebrating success. Then the realization hit me: did we not get this model because it is not only self-cleaning but also “mops.” (Self-cleaning means we do not have to empty the dustbin. She does it herself by having a massive blow into the base when she finishes the assigned project and returns to the base). Yes, she does mop with water! Aha, that is why there was another gadget for mopping in the box, into which we put some water. Boy, I’ll need another weekend to figure out how to mop with Matilda! I’ll sit on it for a week before initiating another adventure with Matilda.

Reflections on Christmas Brunch Conversations

December 31, 2024

While others watched football on Christmas Day, we relaxed with friends over brunch. Years ago, we used to start these special days with mimosas, but that’s become a thing of the past as we’ve gotten older. Instead, this year, I started the fireplace, brewed coffee, turned on the Christmas tree lights, and scanned the news on my iPhone. A headline claiming Assad’s responsibility for 150,000 deaths caught my attention—an expert called it the worst massacre since the Nazis. That news was a real downer, and I looked forward to socializing with friends to uplift my mood.

Perhaps because of Christmas, my friends and I casually discussed religion during brunch. I inquired if anyone attended church. No one did, and neither did their families. We are not church-going people, although one of our guests volunteers vacuuming in one.

Remembering the headline news I read this morning, I could not help but ask: “If God created this world, how could he tolerate Assad’s killing spree?” God gave us “free will,” someone responded. I did not find this comment enlightening, but I continued to delve into our religious background. Surprising was the realization that some of our children had not been baptized, or we could not remember whether they were.

During our conversation on religion, one claimed that religion had triggered most wars, while others believed religion’s relevance had diminished. The spread of science has contributed to religion’s lessening role in today’s world, as it is based on facts rather than beliefs. All I have to do to confirm this is talk to my daughter and son-in-law, both scientists. Contrasting this latter view, some recounted friends whose marriages followed religious conversion by one spouse.

While serving coffee, I overheard someone mention that she missed the King’s Christmas address last night. That comment stopped me cold. Who were we talking about? A King? But a few seconds later, my brain switched gears, and I realized it was the British King. Since Canada is in the Commonwealth, we often discuss the Royal Family.

Thinking about heads of government addressing the public, I asked if anyone had listened to our Prime Minister addressing Canadians on Christmas Eve. We saw him on TV, but no one else did. That surprised me because, to some of our guests, a Christmas speech by the King of England apparently took priority over the one our Prime Minister gave. Where is our loyalty? But I remember our Prime Minister said our country is beyond a multicultural state and we live in some international order. What he meant wasn’t clear to me, and it still is not.  

Most families watch a movie on Christmas Eve, and I brought up the movie we watched, “Hot Frosty.” One friend mentioned it as a “cute” one, while another thought it was horrible. The film, about a snowman’s transformation into a human, was unrealistic but enjoyable and heartwarming. I thought this was a children’s film, but others saw it as simple entertainment for adults. It was relaxing, although I prefer movies with some messaging and reality.

However, the tasty brunch included cinnamon muffins, quiche, coffee, tea, and cider. The fact that we were all friends enabled open communication, calmly sharing our views on potentially divisive issues.

Cultural Insights from a Kerala Tour Guide


December 27, 2024

Heavyset, with an average height and a dark face, Dinesh was our guide in Kerala. He grew up in Kochin, his birthplace. Malayalam, the official language of Kerala, was his mother tongue, although he spoke English but with an Indian accent. Over a couple of weeks, we had gotten to know him. Married with two small children; his family surely missed him while he traveled constantly for work. We found him easy-going, affable, personable, and eager to please us.

Everything about him was clean; he wore a clean shirt daily, befitting a professional chauffeur and guide. Although I never asked him, it impressed me how he got his impeccably starched shirts every day. He must have carried many shirts or had them cleaned overnight. Similarly, his car was shiny and always impeccably clean, and the interior was spotless. No objects, like the newspapers we read on the road, were ever left behind. His company’s car was like a jewel to him, and he hoped to buy it soon. Years later, I saw him showing off “his” car on Facebook.

Proud of his country, he showed and described it to us in glowing terms. His work was very important to him, and he related his experience with the English chef Gordon Ramsey collecting recipes for a book on Indian cooking. Dinesh showed us a photograph of Ramsey, his crew, and himself for emphasis. Impressed, Kathy bought a copy of that book in Kerala.


I noticed he was conscious of his class, a reality in some countries, including India. He deferred to others, whom I assumed he considered high-class people. It always happened when we invited him to eat lunch with us. He excused himself by claiming to be busy.


But once, we asked him to take us to a local Indian restaurant, a highway stop. There, we had thali food on grape leaves filled with curries. Looking around, I noticed that most of the people looked like laborers. He did not hesitate to sit with us and explain our food. After we ate with our fingers, local style, we washed our hands in the sink at the end of the dining hall.

At another time, we invited him to dinner to discuss the next day’s plans. He did not want to join us, perhaps because it was a more expensive restaurant. We were forceful and did not take no for an answer. He obliged us. When the waiter came, he gave Kathy and me menus, but not Dinesh. Even the local people knew and discriminated according to what class they were serving.

I requested an extra menu for Dinesh, which the waiter provided. We were all served, but I knew Dinesh was uncomfortable throughout the dinner. He remained silent, avoiding eye contact. Later, I realized we may have asked too much of him by insisting he eat with us. What we thought was normal was not for him.

 After days of traveling with Dinesh, I noticed he did not come into the hotels with us; he dropped us off. I remember the Tharawad Homestay, where he left us with the details of when he would pick us up the following day. Drivers were not permitted to park in high-end residential areas or obstruct driveways. We learned he slept in the car every night.

We were on a tour, and the tour operator paid for all our hotels but provided no accommodation for our guide. He had to find a place to park and sleep overnight. I do not know how he looked so fresh every morning, drove us around Kerala, and provided knowledgeable comments. I follow him on Facebook.

Exploring Alleppey: A Journey Through Kerala’s Backwaters

December 23, 2024

We drove from Munnar to Alleppey in five hours. Our journey through Kerala’s backwaters led us across numerous canals to Alleppey, a city with a population exceeding 300,000. Alleppey district, with over two million inhabitants, boasted a 96% literacy rate and harmonious religious coexistence, according to our guide Dinesh. Hindus comprised half; Christians and Muslims, a quarter each.

Reclaimed lakes around Alleppey formed a backwater area for rice paddies and coconut groves. Manual labor initiated the first reclamation in the late nineteenth century. The second reclamation wave of the early 1900s relied on steam engines, while electric motors powered the final, larger phase of that same century. Reclamation efforts resulted in the canals and rice paddies. Today, the backwater area spans over three hundred square kilometers.


Rice paddies and coconut groves formed the economic foundation of this region. The canals served as transportation routes. Rice barges were the conveyances used to bring the rice to Alleppey; this area is the rice bowl of Kerala. The coconut groves created the coir industry. I was unfamiliar with the word “coir,” but Kathy believed it was identical to sisal, a material her seafaring relatives, including her father, used to craft carpets aboard ships during their downtime. However, sisal comes from a species of flowering plant native to southern Mexico, according to Wikipedia, cultivated and naturalized in many other countries. Like coir, it produces a rigid fiber suitable for rope-making.

In contrast, coir or coconut fiber is a natural fiber extracted from the outer husk of coconut and used in products such as floor mats, doormats, brushes, and mattresses. Coir is the fibrous material found between the hard internal shell and the outer coat of a coconut. Brown coir, derived from mature coconuts, also finds use in upholstery padding, sacking, and horticulture. White coir, harvested from unripe coconuts, makes finer brushes, string, rope, and fishing nets. This material doesn’t sink, so it’s useful in deep water at long lengths without weighing down boats and buoys.

The Alleppey area has always been popular with domestic and international tourists because of its climate. When the rice markets collapsed in the 1960s, rice farmers converted rice barges into houseboats for tourists. There are more than one thousand houseboats now, also called kettuvallams. Coir ropes tied in knots hold the entire boat structure together. This boat uses no nails. Instead, the boat comprises vast planks of Jackwood or Aanjili joined with coir.


Dinesh explained the coir industry has become a significant economic force in the Alleppey area. After giving us all this information, Dinesh took us to the port where we would embark on a Kerala backwater cruise on a kettuvallam. A backwater cruise was our principal attraction when we came to Kerala, and we had grand expectations.

Dinesh left us by the houseboats, docked side-by-side and connected to the port via gangplanks. We started walking toward the kettuvallams, and it was such a major disappointment! At the water’s edge, a dirt path ran alongside the port’s bulkhead. The path extended several hundred meters, with boats moored at the bulkhead and trees bordering the water. Garbage lined the entire pathway. The path was littered with paper boxes, wrappers, and empty soda cans!

I expressed my disgust to Kathy, declaring my intention to leave. Given this awful beginning, what good outcome can we expect from this trip? They advertised Alleppey as notable for its backwater cruises.

But then, a young fellow approached us and asked if we were his passengers. We said that we were waiting for our cruise. We crossed a gangplank to his boat, and the atmosphere suddenly changed. Inside, the boat featured teakwood lounge chairs, a bedroom, and a bathroom, all spotlessly clean. Two boatmates and a chef stayed in the kitchen area.

We departed, gliding along the canal toward a massive lake. Relaxing on this lavish boat allowed me to contemplate the stark difference in condition between the decrepit shoreline and the well-maintained boat. Was it because the coastline and its maintenance are a municipal responsibility, and no money is available to upgrade it? Perhaps boat owners prioritize tourist competition and maintaining boats while lacking resources or desire for approach improvements. I think boat owners should be more keenly interested in a pleasant and attractive approach to their boats.


We were not the only ones getting into the canal system; several houseboats were leaving, and it looked like a busy street with lots of traffic. The blue sky and summer weather were lovely, but many people following the same routine detracted from the trip’s special quality. Despite that, we sat in lounge chairs and enjoyed the scenery. And the entire trip was like that; enjoyment depended on your perspective.

There were minor drawbacks. For example, the boat lacked alcoholic beverages, such as beer, but I could purchase some in the small villages along the way. People complained about the lack of Western channels on the boat’s TV. Television viewing hadn’t crossed my mind. I  took a positive approach and enjoyed every moment.

We cruised until we stopped for lunch by the shore, joining other boats in line. But the lunch was ample and delicious, consisting of local fish we enjoyed. We also stopped and bought fresh prawns for our dinner. It was in addition to the full vegetarian meal included with the trip. The cabin crew provided tea and banana fritters for a snack. We had ample food for dinner, including chapati, del curry, aloo gobi, cabbage, a vegetable salad, and vendakka. The chef prepared the food with local spices and heat.

The waterway offered a view into daily life: women in vibrant sarees washing clothes, children returning from school, and people fishing or traveling by small boat. Observing children playing in the water, we guessed the polluted water must have built up their immunity. We also saw commercial barges moving rice. The people along the shore waved at us.

Travelers we spoke with later expressed different views on the boat tours. Some thought an hour would be sufficient. Others found the trip dull. In contrast, we enjoyed the private time we had on the boat. The boat trip offered a relaxing, mosquito-free evening. We observed the morning rush hour in the tiny village where our houseboat docked. Boatloads of children went to school; others were readied for fishing. The chef served us breakfast of idli with sambar and tea. Then, the captain took us back to the dock to disembark, where Dinesh awaited us.

Dinesh took us to the fish market next. I have always liked fish markets, seeing the variety of fresh fish caught in the area, and the Alleppey market was no exception. Photographing the busy fishmongers proved rewarding. Several looked like genuine characters with enormous mustaches and used their long knives to clean fish expertly. Before taking their picture, I asked them if they would mind. Nobody refused.

Having walked around the fish market, Dinesh took us to the Tharavad Homestay, where we would spend the night, leaving us at the door for the evening. He mentioned he could not park overnight in the guesthouse driveway. I suspected hired drivers could not leave their cars in this neighborhood even though we were traveling in an unmarked SUV.

The hosts, Maria and Zac, received us at the homestay, and they were the most hospitable people I had met anywhere. They showed us our bedroom, which was large and spartanly furnished with a bathroom that was not modern but functional. Breakfast was included in our reservation, however, dinner was at our own expense. Although we were the only guests there, Maria provided us with a choice of menus for the night. She was an excellent cook serving local dishes.

During dinner, conversation with our lively and insightful hosts covered all aspects of Alleppey and Indian culture. They were well-traveled, and we discussed politics. The election of a communist government in Kerala surprised everyone, including our hosts, making it one of the first Indian states with such a government. The hosts were involved in the coir industry and had a son in the United States.

The next day, we visited the coir museum and saw lots of coconut remnants used to make the coir in the area. After breakfast, Dinesh picked us up and drove us to Kanyakumari.