Here are some pictures of Delhi, the last stop before snowy Russia: urine and rose water, babas with long orange dirty kurtas and youngsters in Adidas and Calvin Clein (original, just to let you know), velorikshaws and BMWs on the same road, 1000-for-a-meal restaurants close to 20-rupees momo stalls, clay huts and Indian's prime-minister's several hectares property in the middle of Delhi, Crematorium with queues and Humayun's tomb of marble surrounded by a huuuuge garden, lovely art-galleries and street artist of mehandi, Lodi park with Indian beau-monde - ladies in saris eating hamburgers, speaking Hinglish to each other and just after - Pahar Ganj and its bazaar - stinky, shouting, noisy, colorful, in layers, in circles, in spirals. I was told it would be "violent" for my senses... Well, I've lived in big cities before, so it was not so bad. The only thing that was obvious for me was that your level of awareness drops drastically and it's really difficult to be inside with all this stuff going on around. But I liked Delhi the way it is: expensive, fancy, poor, broad, colorful, exhausting and exhausted, never asleep, cultural, delicious, enormous, shifting, astonishing with its 11 296,85 hab./km², special coaches for women in metro, 8 000 tones of garbage per day, "green" buses on natural gas, 11% of Muslims, 175 patrimonial monuments and 5 universities. I need one more vipassana to digest all that...