Gandhi, snacks, cricket and day lost

The tomb of Gandhi is simple and gaunt as his life. A large slab of black marble in the middle of the park where hundreds of school children are scattered and consume a snack. Here was burned his poor body, here the young Indian generations come to thank him for the gift of independence. In the afternoon we cross the city to take the cars in the large parking where the containers arrive from abroad. We did not see yet our GiuGiù - in general, we give a nickname to our companions adventure on four wheels: Vagabunda, Gwendolina, Celestina, this time our Giulia is affectionately called GiuGiù. In short, we still can not pick up our cars, better to wait at the Crowne Plaza Hotel nearby. The long bureaucracy is slow, doubles, alternating with intervals of hope for the whole day. So we finish it in a nice suite on the top floor, where we could see the chaotic traffic, the smog that envelops Delhi, an endless tennis match on television with Federer and a cricket match even longer and for us incomprehensible. Beers, cocktails, contradictory reports from the compound of deliveries. Dinner listless even though we are excited for the upcoming departure. A day lost.