Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my.

New Delhi, India - There are two distinct Indian worlds for me right now: the calm, familiar one inside my gleaming, five-star hotel and the chaotic cacophony of unknown outside its gate.
I'm feeling overwhelmed and a little insane for attempting this trip. I arrived on Saturday morning. It's Sunday now and I haven't left The Imperial Hotel grounds but once and briefly. I'm stung with culture shock.
My plane from Tokyo via Taipei landed at the airport at 0130 Saturday. My plan was to crash in a "retiring room" at the airport for a few hours before going to my hotel in the morning, but despite my guidebook's listing I couldn't find the facility and no one seemed to know what I was talking about. So I huddled with my bags on the chairs in the arrivals lobby and grabbed some restless shut eye (sorry, Dad).
Six hours later, I set off for my hotel. I was hassled by touts offering rooms and taxis, but I made my way to the official pre-paid taxi counter. I was surprised, though, when I was handed over to one of the very touts that had been bugging me earlier! It was a good five minutes of discussion before getting in the car. Then I ended up with a driver who didn't know where my very famous hotel was. Strange.
We had to go to a tourist bureau to get directions. Using my guidebook, they called the hotel to find out the exact block (very important in New Delhi, they said). The tourism guy handed me the phone, and I was told I didn't have a reservation. It was all suspiciously like the scams I had read about in my guidebook, so I said I would come to the hotel anyway and speak to the manager in person. The man on the phone was a little rude and not at all like someone who works in a five-star hotel. He said it wouldn't do me any good to come by.
I think this is where the tourism guy would produce another hotel - one for which he gets a fat referral commission, no doubt - but I produced my confirmation number.
Speaking with the tourism guy once again, the "Imperial employee" said to call back in 10 minutes. We did and were told it was all a misunderstanding. I had a room for the night, after all.
I was tired and stressed, but I calmed immediately upon stepping into the lobby of The Imperial. It's filled with purple orchids and smells of lovely jasmine. A porter took my bag and I was greeted with a round of smiling good mornings from the staff.
My room wasn't ready, but would I care for breakfast? The receptionist took me to a beautiful sunlit room looking out with floor-to-ceiling windows onto the garden.
The hotel smacks of its namesake, but I don't care. I don't care that everyone who was eating around me yesterday morning was a white Westerner and everyone serving was an Indian in a goofy getup. For the first time since landing I felt comfortable.
Would I like my tea poured for me? How about some toast? The fresh pineapple juice is very good, I should try a glass.
But now, 36 hours later, I have stepped out only once. And I managed just to dip my toe oh so briefly before retreating to the still of the hotel. The longer I avoid going out, the more I start to feel the heavy weight of scaredy-cat inertia threatening to rob this trip of adventure. I was supposed to only stay one night, then move onto a backpackers' place down the road. But I've extended my stay for tonight, too.
I feel held hostage in this grand hotel by my own fears and insecurities. Feelings so alien to me. This is isn't like me at all. I booked this hotel for my first night to ease into India - a country I had been warned was hard. I had planned on doing exactly what I'm doing: nothing but chilling out and taking advantage of cheap luxury. But I thought that was merely a self indulgence, not a necessity. A rare treat, not a place to hide.
Vietnam was chaotic as well, but it never felt like it had to be managed. Here, I feel like its something that needs inoculating against. I better shake this trance or this trip will be a grand failure - and an expensive one, as five-star hotels are cheap in Asia but would still break my budget.