Travel Truth: The best way to see a new place is always with a local.

What then, do you do, if you don’t know anyone in the place you are going, and how does a guy whose never left his country have so many ‘local’ contacts? This story demonstrates how it typically works for me.

Planning and saving for my trip around-the-world took just under three years, and for just under three years anyone I met I asked, “I’m going on a trip around the world, do you know anyone that lives there?”

Now, as I travel and meet new people, I ask the same question.

In 2007, while volunteering at a Rotary youth camp in Hong Kong I met a guy name Chee-lung who invited me to speak to his Rotary Club, where I was invited to a party at the house of the renown Hong Kong artist Ray Yip, where, on that invitation, I met a young currency trader name Hitender.  Hitender, who presently lives in Hong Kong, actually had grown up in India and upon hearing of my planned trip to New Delhi, passed along an email address of a school friend named Shikha.  On the bus to Delhi, at a pit stop in Nepal, I contacted her with no introduction and mentioned I was coming through New Delhi (where I consequently didn’t know anyone).  She told me to call when I arrived,  and upon fixing an Indian mobile number, she was the first person I called.  She told me she’d meet me that evening at a book store in the center of New Delhi.  A few hours later after she’d driven through a horrendous rainstorm and the equally horrendous Delhi traffic, she picked me up on the side of a water logged street after dark. I, a near complete stranger.

“We’re going to a poetry reading,” she said, “and we’re late.”

“Certainly,” I said strapping on my seat belt.  At this point, I had talked to Hitender (our mutual friend) for just under an hour, and knew only a little about him and obviously the string of connections back to my volunteer experience at the youth camp, was something Shikha didn’t care much about.  So there I was on my second day in India, strapped in a car with essentially a stranger, headed to a poetry reading.

“How in the world did I get here?” I thought.  (I try to make sure I find myself asking this question often, it assures adventure and good stories).

Shikha, as I learned during the car ride, is a talented designer, photographer, and creative, who is playing an integral part in a movement to grow English language poetry in New Delhi, and we were headed to a reading to meet up with some of the other poets.  Her introductions led me to Kunal, a writer and college student who arranged an extra bed for me with his 7 roommates in his college apartment, and Amit, a poet laureate/farmer/rabble-rouser/son-of-freedom fighters/jack-of-all-trades, who was the leader of the poetry movement—consequently named Delhi Poetree.

Following Shikha’s introduction, for the next week, I crisscross Delhi a hundred times by rickshaw, guided by poet laureates, poet chefs, poet military officers, poet college students, poet radio hosts and poet photographers among others, to birthday parties, cooking classes, poetry readings, internet cafes, street markets, movie theaters, shopping malls, parks, temples, schools and restaurants, eating endless, endless Indian food from the simplest street stalls to the fanciest night clubs.

Its likely that without my poet guides, I’m certain I would have hated Delhi, with its massive over crowding, soupy gray air, deadly buses and trash strewn streets.  But my friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend connection, made my 10 days in Delhi an opportunity to see beyond the noise, pollution and grind of India’s pulsating capital city, to see and better understand what makes it tick, tock, burp and shine.  New Delhi is certainly an acquired taste, but their guidance made it a place I’ve come to appreciate for all its character, depth, flavors and tannins.

Its likely without my poet guides, I’d have horrible things to say of New Delhites, with their shifty rickshaw drivers, begging street kids and shady hawkers, but because of my friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend connection, I was invited into homes, shared meals, toasted birthdays and talked face-to-face with Indians of all walks-of-life, who were not afraid to talk frankly about the joys and tribulations of living life in this rising world power.

When asked ‘why’ I am spending these few years traveling around-the-world in the way that I am, I say it’s simply to understand how other people live in this world, and my time in New Delhi gave me an amazing opportunity to do just this.

I had originally planned three days in Delhi and despite the city’s abrasive exterior, the warmth of its poets made me stay for ten.  I’d like to thank my friends-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, who’ve been long since promoted to my ‘friends.’  Your warmth, hospitality and rickshaw negotiation tips, made my time in New Delhi one of the most memorable week-and-a-half experiences of my trip around-the-world.

The best way to see a new place is always with a local.  And even better if your local is a poet.

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What you can do now:

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• Do you have a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend to introduce to Andy? Contact him or recommend them on Facebook
• Read more about another friend-of-a-friend story in Beijing: Tool & Ice in Great Men, Great Wall, “Great” Shoppers
• Read a story about making some random friends in Cambodia in 1 Bus, 2 Motorbikes, 8 Cambodian Drug Dealers, and A Run For The Border

6 Degrees of World Travel or They Were Poets, I Didn’t Know It..s