I’m in a f%*#king hot rickshaw and don’t know where I’m going. Next to me sits Jan, my boyfriend. I can hardly see him, since he’s stuck under two backpacks. Also in the rickshaw are two new met friends from England. I wouldn’t have guessed we‘d all fit in (and actually we don’t). How could we know the hostel we were planning to go to be fully booked? And the second and third hostel too? And how could we have expected that in the middle of the night they’d allow only one-way traffic from the New Delhi airport to the town centre (thus cutting off the option of returning to the airport)? And how could we not have known that it would be very dangerous to get out of this particular rickshaw in this particular neighbourhood at this particular time of the night? Welcome to India! In a sudden act of decisiveness I tell the driver to stop, jump out of the rickshaw, cross the street to a building with a sign saying ‘Hotel’ on it and go inside. I hope I look brave. Do they have a room for the night? Yes, they have. Can I see it? Yes, I can. Am I satisfied with the room? No, not at all. Are we staying? Yes, we are (no options left). There’s probably other ways to start your trip to India, or even, to start traveling independently. This was ours.