Delhi has a smell. You notice it about 5 minutes before your plane hits the ground, a kind of spicy almost-like-some-kind-of-food-cooking-but-not. Delhi also has smog like LA. There are men pushing carts with children on them, religious men in what look like white jumpsuits, 3-good-legged dogs hopping through the streets. My hotel has more security than customs does. I drank Jura whiskey and Jack Daniels. The numbers on my money hold no emotion. I am halfway across the world, and I am tired.