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Wednesday, December 28, 2005

In Which It Begins Again

Ah, little travel blog, what an empty month it has been... pictures are a pain in the proverbial tuchus to post, so I think I got like one up from the India trip. Pain pain pain. Also, within the last month, I have, shall we say, "misplaced" my digital camera (AGHGHGHAHGHGHGHHHH), and it HAS to be somewhere in the house or SOMETHING because where else could it BE?!?!?! In conclusion, this hasn't been bothering me at all, especially as I leave for the Dominican Republic tomorrow.

As always, I'm completely stressed out about packing, and my room is littered with many, many things that will not fit into my suitcase. I also have not been out of the house all day, so in order to de-stress I've been having an iPod dance party (thank goodness for R Kelly and his remix to ignition). Fantastic. Anyway, this little doohickey is back in action. Huzzah. Will be writing again when I actually reach my travel destination.

Friday, November 25, 2005

In Which My Rajasthani Adventure Comes To An End

So here it is, the day after Thanksgiving, and I'm sitting here in my pj's hours after arising. Snow is shining brilliantly out the window, the soundtrack from The Secret Garden is playing on the stereo system (which is actually odd. Since when do we play this CD???), and the family (biological and otherwise) is feasting on Thanksgiving sandwiches in the kitchen. I've almost completely recovered from jet lag, and I'm thinking this stomach bug I developed that last day in India (damn that final Alwar dinner!) might actually work its way out of my system soon. Thank goodness.

What we may conclude from the above: after a really, really long 24 hours of travel, I made it home, safe and sound. I love my family, I love being home, and I can't wait until the next adventure. I'm off to the Dominican Republic come December 29, so this puppy is going on hiatus until then, save for some pictoral additions (hopefully). Most of you I'll see sooner than later now that I'm back, so until then, SITARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!

In Which We Shoot Some Wildlife

Ahh Alwar, such a change from other places located directly on the tourist trail. This town was, by no means, completely off it, but far enough away that for the 36 hours Evan and I spent there I believe we encountered exactly one other non-Indian, not to mention no corner stands sold toilet paper, which is generally a staple item in more tourist-driven economies. Evan and I fully embraced the opportunity to be a bit off the beaten Western path and dined at Bob's Family Restaurant for our first meal of the day, where Evan had one of the best ice cream shakes yet in India (tasted just like one from McDonald's!!).

After failing miserably in our attempts to contact anyone at the Sariska wildlife reserve, we decided to just chance the hour bus ride there in hopes it would be open with jeeps available. As the wildlife reserve was the sole reason we had made the trip to Alwar, we figured at the most it would be two hours wasted on a bus, and even then, it's the journey, not the destination, right? Especially on a bus!

And thank god, the gamble paid off. The Sariska bus stop was seemingly in the middle of nowhere, which makes sense as it is in the middle of a wildlife reserve. The entire "town" of Sariska consisted of the offices of the reserve itself and two hotels, all conveniently situated right there by the bus stop. Therefore it only took Evan and I about three minutes of scratching our heads and looking hopelessly lost before a kind soul took pity on us and pointed to a building not 100 yards away where the ticket office was located. Whew!

Very quickly, it became apparent our wildlife safari came with the most expensive entry fee yet, between the cost of the jeep, the driver, the tour guide, the entry fee for the jeep, and the entry fee for us non-Indian citizens (this was one of the very few places Evan's residency permit held no power and he had to pay the full foreigner rate). Evan was none too pleased with the final total, and spent a good 15 minutes seeing if there was any way to bring the cost down, and seemed about ready to forgo the whole adventure except for the fact I told him that we were going on the damn tour if I had to pay for the whole thing or not (the thought of getting right back on the bus...). Evan graciously accepted the overrule and insisted on splitting the cost, and soon enough, we were off!

Our tour guide, whose name I definitely can't remember, lived in a nearby village where he taught economics as his day job and gave tours as a hobby. He was great lover of animals, and was a strong advocate to give park rangers shoot-on-sight privileges to stave off the rampant poaching problem (a problem so great that Sariska currently had no tigers to speak of, and the other larger Indian tiger reserve a few hours away just had their own population reduced by 16). With only three rangers to guard hundreds of kilometers of reserve with no weaponry to speak of, it doesn't look like the situation is going to get much better, not without major funding the park just doesn't have. All of a sudden the entry fee seemed more than reasonable.

On our three hour tour (a threeeeeeeee hour tooooooooooour!!!), the skipp... I mean, the tour guide and the driver, both with great eyes for spotting wildlife, pointed out to us two or three different species of deer/antelope, jackals, varying avian species, wild boars, monkeys, etc. My two favorites were the Indian Magpie - a brilliantly colored bird that was bold enough to feed out of our hands (I'll give you one guess as to how many pictures we took of that) and had the ability to make 18 different sounds, the best one sounding almost exactly like that triumphant "You Have Collected One Hundred Coins!" trill in Super Mario Brothers - and the Nilgai (which translates to "blue cow") antelope, a virtually untouchable species due to their fortunate resemblance to the holy bovine, not to mention the male's godly blue tinge. The male was stunning to see.

After about an hour in the jeep, our driver and guide brought us up to one of the ranger stations which overlooked an important watering hole, and from where Evan and I had a great view of a herd of Sambars taking an evening respite. One male in particular was having a great time, rolling around in the mud and flinging it around with his huge antlers. According to our tour guide, the Sambar was in heat and the mud helped him cool off (ha ha).

Between the lushness of our surroundings, the peaceful scene at the watering hole below us, the sweet smelling air, and the gently setting sun, Sariska worked its voodoo magic and I felt relaxed like I hadn't in awhile. Our guide wrapped us in blankets for the ride back, a drive taken at a leisurely pace as more creatures had made their way out of the woodwork now that the sun had made its disappearance. All too soon, they were dropping us off at the bus stop headed back to Alwar, and we bid Sariska a fond farewell.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

In Which I Latently Remember To Title This Entry

Evan told me that one hasn't truly, truly experienced India until you find yourself puking out the window of a public bus.

Of course, he might have only been saying that to make me feel better.

It stands to reason that the day Evan finally feels back to his normal self I wake up with a brick in my stomach and my body totally desperate to get rid of my dinner the night before out of any orifice possible. I was actually surprised that I'd stayed so darn healthy the entire trip, and now, with only hours left here in India, I've been hit. Ah well. It could've been better timing, but I'm feeling much, much better now that our 5 hour bus ride from Alwar to Delhi is over and I've had the luxury of lying very, very still in the dark for a few hours.

And yes! Alwar! That was our destination when we left Jaipur only a day or two ago. Evan and I were pretty happy to leave at the end, but I think I'm glad we went. Our last day there we went to the Amber Fort, after which we decided to call it quits on forts as we had probably already seen and lived in the two coolest oness in Rajasthan. This one was a bit more rundown than the others, and had all these creepy dark passageways leading into creepy dark rooms, which would have been great for a game of haunted hide and seek. This was also the first tourist destination I had been to where Evan and I kept being asked to pose in pictures with other, more Indian, tourists. So now we're forever captured in random family photographs scattered throughout Southeast Asia. Excellent.

And oh! In the way the world works, who drove us to the fort-bus that morning but our prize fighting driver of the day before! We were glad to see him alive and unscathed, and after making him promise the drive would be fight-free, we warily got into his auto. He proceeded to explain to us what exactly had happened the day before, which according to him was a massive jealousy-induced brawl. Most rickshaw drivers also work on a commission system, where they get 30% of sales for bringing customers to specific restaurants or hotels. And by getting 30% of sales, I mean the hotel or restaurant charges the customer 30% more in order to pay the rickshaw drivers. This means you get a lot of drivers aggressively pushing you towards one hotel or another and it can be a bit of a battle to get them to take you where you actually want to go. Anyway, this particular driver doesn't participate in the commission system, which I guess results in a lot of tension with other drivers, and hence the tussel.

Ali Baba (as was his name) was quite the entertaining chauffer. Are you ready??

Q: How do you fit an elephant into a refrigerator?
A: Open the refigerator door, put in the elephant, close the door.

Q: How do you fit a giraffe into a refrigerator?
A: Open the door, take out the elephant, put in the giraffe.

Q: What animal in the animal kingdom cannot be found in the jungle?
A: The giraffe - he's still in the refrigerator.

And how Ali Baba picks up the ladies...

Ali Baba to Hot Babe: "Why helloooo. Tell me, what's the difference between a woman and a cup of coffee?"
Hot Babe: "What?"
Ali Baba: "How about I take you out for a cup and we'll find out."

Oh Baba, what a card. Turns out he was worth fighting for...

Right before we left Jaipur, we had lunch at this traditional Rajasthani restaurant that served a traditional Rajasthani thali, a dish that consists of lots of little dishes and some bread and rice to mix it with. Interesting to this thali were these tasty little brown balls of goodness, which the waiter crushed onto the plate and mixed with lots and lots of sugar. MMMMMM!!!

We ended up taking this super fancy train to Alwar as it was the last one to leave that night. Getting the tickets resulted in a bit of sticker shock on both our parts, but we bought them anyway as the convenience was too much to resist. The train was much, much shorter than other forms of transportation, and then it turned out to be even better as they kept giving us all this free food and drink, and played background music that actually stayed in the background, and the bathrooms had both soap and toilet paper! It was insane. We didn't want to get off.

Yet eventually, diembarkation had to occur, and we went from the lap of transportation luxury to stuffing ourselves and all our gear into a bicycle rickshaw. We could have taken an auto, but as soon as we got off the train we were immediately surrounded by ten bajillion drivers all offering their services, so in the name of fairness and of escaping as soon as possible we went with the first guy who approached us. Between the fort that morning and the swarming masses that evening, Evan and I were feeling fairly celebritylicious, and were quite ready to retire in a quiet, paprazzi-free bungalow for the night.

The ride through the streets of Alwar was deliciously quiet, cool, and pollution free. It seemed most of the transportation was by cycle rickshaw or motorbikes, with only a few autorickshaws and virtually no cars, trucks, or buses, at least not at that hour. Such a difference from Jaipur.

And as these things always go, we were able to successfully locate a hotel, at which point it was only an hour or two later before we called it a day.

As for right now, I'm off to ready myself for the long flight home. Next time I write in this thing, I'll be stateside.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

In Which India Finally Gets The Better Of Me

So everyone was right.

Jaipur has me completely overwhelmed, not so much with its size (which is huge), but with its general atmosphere of intense aggression. It's a virtually unending assault as soon as we step outside, and it doesn't end until we gratefully duck our heads into wherever our destination happens to be. Oy, I tell you, oy.

After an unusually chilly overnight train ride, Evan and I arrived here in Rajasthan's capital at 6 a.m. Exhausted after a night of not sleeping, we headed off to our hotel, a short walk away. With our front-and-back travel backpacks, obvious non-Indian features, and very Western clothing, I started to feel like the blackhole of rickshaw drivers, drawing them towards us with incredible force and impossible to remove for the twenty minutes it took to find our hotel. I have yet to meet a more determined rickshaw force than here in Jaipur.

The Atihti Guesthouse, however, is an absolute haven from the bustle of this city. It's by far the cleanest place we've stayed, with an incredibly nice staff, comfy rooms, and a fantastic rooftop terrace with card tables and cushioned chairs. I breathed a sigh of relief as I dumped my luggage to the floor and fell onto the mattress, relieved to stop for awhile.

Soon enough, however, Evan and I were on our way out again, with big plans to visit the Jaipur City Palace Complex and then bus it to the Amber fort, apparently a Jaipur must-see. An autorickshaw awaited us right outside the hotel, with quite a friendly driver willing to drive us for a fair price to the entrance. As we were getting into the rickshaw, however, another rickshaw driver told us to get in his rickshaw, and then words in Hindi between the two drivers were exchanged, and then they started to tussle, and then it was seemingly resolved when our driver pulled the other driver into the seat next to him and we drove off. Evan and I were completely confused as to what had gone on, but were just relieved it seemed to over. "Seemed" being the operative word. We drove all the way across the street to a parking area filled with other men. As soon as we pulled in the two drivers got out, at which point a third man in a turban immediately reached for our driver's throat before the whole scene became hidden from view by the throng of male spectators who quickly gathered around the growing fight. It was then that Evan made the wise suggestion of perhaps finding ourselves a new driver.

And find a new driver we did, this time on a cycle rickshaw. It was the first time I've ridden one, and I think I may prefer autos, if only because it feels a bit weird to be cycled around by a man old enough to be my grandfather and not offer to do the biking myself. Anyway, he ended up biking us to the city center, NOT the city palace, and after much sign language and then bringing in an interpreter, it became obvious the cyclist had no idea where the city palace was but wanted about three times more than what he first requested to bring us there. Didn't seem like such a great deal, so we paid him for the ride and then finally, finally found a guy who knew where he was going and didn't get into any fights along the way. Huzzah!!

The city palace had some gorgeous sections, like a courtyard with four beautifully decorated gateways, and two urns made of pure silver (their size earned them a place in the Guinness Book of World Records) that a king used to bring water from the Ganges River to England as his own personal drinking supply. There was also a museum full of the best miniature paintings we've seen thus far, depicting godly events and stories. After the museum, we battled our way towards the Hawa Mahal, a historic estate known for its outer facade and view of the city. By that point, my sleep deprivation had entirely caught up with me, and instead of heading off to the forts we decided on a food-then-nap plan.

After another interesting rickshaw trip, in which our cycle driver stopped halfway through the trip to try and barter a new fee (this was the first time that's happened... usually all the bargaining is done at the beginning and both the driver and passengers stick to the agreement), we found a cool, calm restaurant with good food and great lassis. Fantastic. And then, on the drive home, our driver was just incredibly nice and friendly and looking to improve his english so we chatted the whole way. Oh, oh the gratitude I felt towards that man. He was also the first Indian man I've met who has been adamant in his dislike of the country and his fellow countrymen (he said the only Indians he liked were his wife and kids). Verrrrry innnnnteresting.

And then I fell sound asleep until dinner, where after a very short venture outside I decided it wasn't worth the anxiety and we went back and ate at the small restaurant in the hotel, which was more than fine. Now I think it's going to be an evening of cutthroat jungle boogie and cuarenta (which Evan learned from David and just taught me today, and David, it's just so hard NOT to call that first game jungle boogie that I've now given in to the temptation for good, mwa ha ha).

Tomorrow, we're off to see the Amber Fort first thing in the morning, after which I think we're gonna hop the first bus outta here, off to see a wildlife refuge specializing in tigers. Rawr.

Friday, November 18, 2005

In Which I Write An Entry That Is Of A Reasonable Length

It was too much to resist, and Evan and I finally gave in to the temptation.

After all, with it everywhere around us, hounding us at every turn, it was bound to eventually break us down and give in to its spell.

Yes, my dear readers, last night Evan and I climbed four flights to a candlelit rooftop under the stars, sat down side by side, ordered some cool beverages and southeast asian cuisine, and deliberately watched Octopussy in its entirety, from the beginning to its action-packed, seduction-filled end. Dinner and a movie, Udaipur style.

It was, indeed, a highly entertaining flick, and quite the experience to watch the cameras pan across scenery that we only had to look a few degrees to the left to see in person. So be careful, everyone. I recommend NOT watching this movie with me pretty much ever, as I'll spend the whole time saying "oooh I've been there! oooh I've been there TOO!!" One of those places happened to be the other floating pleasure palace (you know, the one you don't need reservations to visit), which Evan and I had visited a few short hours before on a sunset boat tour. The movie had it all decked out in Octopussy opulence, replete with scantily clad ladies wandering about in colorful sarees. When we saw it it was more a reminder of resplendence past, still gorgeous, but without the harem-like feel, and instead of a force of devastatingly beautiful highly trained jewel thief circus performers, it was more a gaggle of photo snapping tourists ranging from grubby looking 20-somethings to massive group tours of retirees. Viewing the city of Udaipur from the middle of the lake resulted in yet another series of too many photos trying to capture the magnificence of something a digital camera just can't do justice to.

Evan and I leave Udaipur tonight on an 8:00 train to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan and about to become Delhi's equal in population, noise, and pollution. I have a sneaky feeling it's not going to be my favorite stop on the trip... but before we leave this land of lakes and palaces, here are a few jots and jolts I forgot to add...

We ended up switching hotels halfway through our stay, all the way to next door. Hotel #2 had a better room with soft pillows and blankets and a private bathroom for the same price (a whopping $1.50... books cost more than hotels here). Not to mention, Hotel #1 had these huge headless dolls on one of their balconies, dressed to kill in flashy flourescent colors, and gave us a vague sense of unease whenever we were sleeping.

There is a man who runs through the streets here hollering at the top of his lungs. Everyone is quite accepting.

Evan and I found that delicious falafel restaurant that night after a half an hour of wandering through the Udaipur streets trying to find a place that wasn't showing Octopussy with dinner. When we found Shivam Restaurant, it was extremely exciting... on their marquee was As Good As It Gets, which we thought would go down a bit easier with food.

At the ticket booth of the city museum there is a list of prices for different services, such as "entry fee," "camera fee," and "boat tour fee." Also on the list is "soft drink with a crystal touch" and "soft drink with a vintage touch," vintage being the less expensive choice, but both of which are at least twice the price of the entry fee. What are these? What do they mean???? Udaipur, Land Of Mystery...

Thursday, November 17, 2005

In Which We Gaze Longingly At the Forbidden Lake Palace

To state the obvious: bus trips in India are really, really scary. Even my 20-something sense of invincibility is noticeably challenged by the driving techniques of men who use the opposite traffic lane as an extension of their own lane, cars coming in the opposite direction be damned. And yet, time after time, all passengers arrive in one piece to their final destination. It is truly one of life's great miracles (Evan says the night buses are even worse... I don't want to think about it).

And so, after making sure all our limbs and belongings were still where they were supposed to be, Evan and I disembarked Bus o' Death onto the streets of Udaipur, then caught an autorickshaw to Lhal Ghat Street where our hotel for the evening was located. Lhal Ghat Guest House was centrally located, had nice shared bathrooms, and a beautiful rooftop view of the lake. We dumped our stuff in our room, checked in, and wandered off to find some dinner.

It soon became clear why Lonely Planet had kept using the words "romantic" and "for lovers" in almost every description it contained about Udaipur. The streets were relatively uncluttered, and instead of stalls there were actually indoor shops lining the sides of the road, displaying jewelry and brightly colored textiles meant to catch the touristy eye. Evan and I went two doors down to the Rainbow Restaurant, and were immediately seated on their rooftop right by the edge, with a gorgeous view of the lake. Our table wasn't so much a table as a large, daybed-esque seating arrangement with a heavily and brightly tiled short table in the center and rolled pillows on either end. I kind of had to scrunch my legs up in order to fit, and Evan basically had to hang his legs over the side and eat sideways, but the idea of it all was quite majestic. Looking out over the water, we could see the famed Lake Palace, a floating piece of luxurious history, built as an ancient prince's pleasure palace, and today reknowned as one of the world's best luxury hotels. Turns out you can only go out there if you're staying at the hotel or have a dinner reservation, both of which are hard to come by and are generally booked months in advance. So generally, throughout our stay here, it just mocks us from a distant. Some day, palace, some day...

But more than just the Lake Palace, another floating structure reeking of majesty lies a bit farther off in the distance, and is run as a museum which one can visit for a fee. Both are lit up at night, and sparkle off the water surrounding them. As if this wasn't enough, fireworks were soon to be seen exploding in their golden glory over the water. It was too much for Evan and I to resist, and Mom, Debbie, I hate to tell you this way, but in a fit of "this is all too romantic to bear" we eloped that very night. No no just kidding just kidding!! Evan and I ignored it all as we were enthralled by the movie they were blaring, with terrible audio quality, throughout the restaurant. Which movie, you ask? Why, the movie they show EVERY night, 7 pm sharp, that great story of love, danger, and shagging... OCTOPUSSY. And yes, they do actually show it every single night, along with most other restaurants in the area. One can also pay a bit extra at some hotels to stay in room 007. Evan and I wandered around a bit dazed and confused that first night, wondering why every single restaurant advertised at which time their showing of Octopussy would be held, but luckily, Lonely Planet came to our rescue once again. Turns out parts of the movie were filmed in Udaipur, I think at the Lake Palace, and it is now forever entrenched in the tourist industry of the city, almost impossible to escape.

And oh yes, one more notable thing from that evening: Evan. Ate. A. Banana. Which he hasn't done in YEARS. And which was completely not on purpose as it was covered in sauce and he thought it was something else. He still doesn't like it (Jeni, watching him chew it was reminiscent of your blue cheese face).

After spending the night in our fairly comfortable abode, which would have been better without pillows that were rock hard and blankets so itchy I couldn't sleep with them on, we arose to the daylight view of Udaipur, which was just as insanely picturesque as the night view. There's just lush, green mountains everywhere (those in the distance a bit mistier and soft-focus than those in the forefront), all these gorgeous lake structures, and mountaintop castles shrouded in mystery. It's reached the point of ridiculousness, actually. I'm not sure how many more lame pictures I can take of scenery that's just so much better in person.

Evan and I took off for the City Palace, a palace to which we were actually allowed entry (stupid Lake Palace I hate you, but only because you won't let me love you...). A tour guide offered his expert services, which we decided would probably be unnecessary and therefore turned down his offer. As a last ditch appeal to Evan the man beseeched, "But sir, we have the same color shirt!!" This worked, of course, as we just hadn't noticed both Evan and he were wearing red shirts before, but now that it was made apparent...! Okay no, not really. But it was an interesting tactic nonetheless.

The City Palace was a mighty fine place to visit. It had lovely gardens, dazzling rooms made completely out of mirrored tiles, stories of intrigue, war, and sacrifice (we saw the room in which a beautiful 16 year old princess, sought out by two different Kings of competing states, killed herself to avoid making the decision which would inevitably lead her kingdom to war with the rejected party). There was also an entire room dedicated to Ganesh, the elephant god, which turned out to also be an in-store shop (big signs with "no photographs" and then "buying allowed $$$"). Evan and I tried to play the "what nationality are they?" game for awhile whilst sitting in the gardens, and very quickly realized we were really, really bad at it (though not so bad, I think, as some people have been at guessing Evan's. This is often ventured at by street vendors to get your attention, and so I've had people think I'm French, British, Australian, or Italian, all understandable though incorrect. Evan, however, has on occasion gotten Malaysian, Thai, or Japanese. Because those are obvious choices for our fair-skinned, red-bearded friend).

I think my own personal favorite, however, was the museum within a museum, the small Government Museum out of the main complex. For 3 rupees, or just about 6 cents, one had access to a display of molding, poorly taxidermied animals, including a kangaroo whose blantantly sewn patches were starting to come up at the edges, a terrifying monkey holding an empty lamp, and numerous others who looked either possessed, tortured, or both. It was finished off with a fine coating of dust. There were other various random displays, such as turbans, broken statues, and clay tablets on which ancient writing could be found. I wish I could tell you what, exactly, their historical significance was, but generally the explanation plaques (when they existed) were in hindi only. I KNEW I should've learned the language before coming over. Ergh!

We found a restaurant that served dosas for lunch, and THIS time I tried one with cheese baked right into it that gave it a scrumptious hint of Cheddar Goldfish. I loved it.

Evan, at this point, was starting to fade pretty quickly. That banana from the night before, or maybe the sketchy bottled water he'd been drinking, or any number of other things one can encounter in India, was doing a number on my poor buddy, so we went back to the hotel for a rest. We made it out to dinner at this great little restaurant that served Israeli food and had some falafel, pita, and hummus, and then called it a night.

Oh my goodness, just so you guys know, I'VE ALMOST CAUGHT UP COMPLETELY. This is very exciting to me.

Yesterday we ended up not doing so much besides walking around the area and staying pretty close to the hotel, and Evan spent the majority of the day sleeping and feeling crummy. Finally I went out to buy a thermometer and while I was at it bought him some weird-looking pills the pharmacist recommended for fevers and general aches, pains, and bellyaches (I checked the ingredients out online just to make sure, and lo and behold, they weren't poison!!). Turns out he had a temperature of 101, so we turned on the fans, popped in one of those pills, and he resumed the all important task of sleeping it off.

And would you just know it?? Sleep it off he DID!!!

This brings us to TODAY!!

With the great news that he now feels much, much better, we took an auto to some beautiful gardens this morning, where we wandered among the trees and flowers and ruins and marveled at, once again, the beautiful views. The gardens overlooked the other lake found in Udaipur, which has a garden cafe in the middle as well as a floating observatory, both of which happen to be closed today. Still, the walk was lovely, and now, NOW, we are off to find some lunch.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

In Which We Put On Our Jodhpurs Once Again

Did everyone get my slight history lesson/pun as contained within the title? Eh? Eh???? Man, I just get cleverer and cleverer.

After a slightly hairy train ride back to Jodhpur, we arrived at the train station wickedly early in the morning, and we were all bleary eyed as we exited the train. David had arranged for a ride from the station back to the Blue House, and who came to pick us up but the owner himself who gave us a ride in the first real car I'd been in since my arrival. It took about three seconds to get to the hotel at that hour as the streets were completely empty. Quite a difference, let me tell you.

Of course, as soon as we arrived, we all gratefully fell into our soft and stationary beds and slept well into the morning, finally arising still a bit groggy but much refreshed, and ready to explore this city that had served only as a stopping point on our previous stay. After a hearty breakfast of porridge and tea, we took to the streets.

We were all pleasantly surprised by the lack of aggressive vendors, and enjoyed our stroll of being relatively unharrassed through the busy city streets, dodging autos, motorcyles, cows, and cow patties as we went. We briefly stopped in at a city temple, found the city clocktower, visited the "Tourist Information Center" (a small shack distributing a choice of three pamphlets, manned by an employee who spoke no English), and stopped for lunch at what we all deemed to be one of the best restaurants yet - fast, cheap, and terrifically delicious (saffron lassis...mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm). And then on to our major activity of the day - The Jodhpur Fort. None of us were expecting to like it NEARLY as much as the fort which we had lived in and come to call home for a few short days, but our pessimistic outlook was very soon corrected to having one of the Top Three Best Fort Experiences Ever. Because, um, I've had so MANY of those experiences.

We wound our way up, up, up through the streets of Jodhpur, often taking wrong turns but very helpfully turned in the right direction by friendly bystanders. We all decided we needed to exercise more as the streets got steeper and steeper and we got slower and slower, but soon enough, pavement turned to stone, and we trooped up the final leg of the journey and reached the fort's magnificent entrance. Evan turned off towards the "Residents of India" gate, and David and I made our way to the "We Are Very Obviously Tourists" gate, where, for parting with a few hundred of our precious rupees, we gained admission, camera permission, and a free audio tour. The audio tour turned out to be amazing, and as silly as we looked wandering around with headphones on and walkmans hanging around our neck, I have yet to be more impressed with the organization of any historical site I have visited in India before or since. For instance, I learned (with a background track of traditional Rajasthani music) about those mysterious copper handprints on the wall of one of the gates. They turned out to be the handprints of recently widowed wives of princes and generals, who imprinted their hands upon the wall as they made their ceremonial trek out of the fort, never to return again, to silently self-immolate themselves along with the bodies of their husbands. Whoof. I decided to cross THAT option off my list of What To Do If I Am Ever Widowed, and instead am sticking to my plan of learning how to skydive with other widowed ladies, and perhaps will fit in a lesson or two of bridge if there's time.

After the tour, we hung around to watch the sunset, wandering up and down what we dubbed the Great Wall of China But In India, taking pictures and ogling the giant cannons and amazing view. I had a brief 15 minutes of fame when I snapped a shot of some chipmunks hanging out in one of the holes in the wall through which soldiers had shot arrows or poured boiling oil or something. I immediately had about eight kids surrounding me wanting to see the picture, and then the dad wanted to see it, and then I showed it to his wife and mother at his insistence, and then we all shook hands with a firm grip and exchanged "Hellos" and "How do you dos", and then they all disappeared as quickly as they had come. Chipmunks - gets 'em every time.

And when I say "disappeared," I'm actually lying. As we were all watching the sunset later, they asked David (using mainly sign language... their english was limited and our hindi non-existent, though David is now quite proficient at counting to 10) to take a family picture. This he did, and they were all quite amused and satisfied with the result. This seemed to be all they wanted, however, as when David offered to email them the picture, they casually shrugged and said none of them HAD an email address. So if anyone wants a family photo and doesn't really care as to which family...

After a glorious sunset, we were firmly directed out of the fort for closing by a stern looking man with a piercing whistle and rapidly waving "out out out" hands. Working our way down the inclined streets, we were stopped by a smiley soft-spoken man hanging out in his doorway (who also had this incredibly large and ropey scar across his chest that was peeking above his tank top undershirt, but that has very little to do with the story and is only something I couldn't stop staring at), who in a very friendly way asked where we were from, how we liked Jodhpur and then insisted we come in to see his house and meet his wife. Not knowing quite how to refuse, we all followed him in, where he gave us, as he had promised, a tour of his house, showing us his pantry, his kitchen, the various bedrooms of his three children, two of whom were gone and married, and his living room. He did, indeed, have a nice house, though we didn't really want to be there and were wondering what the catch was to this whole tour. We met his wife, who wore the exact same benign smile as he did, and they showed us pictures of their kids as well as his son's school books and such. And then, the grand finale. "See? Look at this! My son collects money from all over the world! See? He has money from Taiwan, from Tibet, from blah blah blah blah blah [the collection was extensive... he went through almost every bill] blah blah blah blah. But look! This is very sad. He has nothing from the U.S.!" And therein lay our collective "ah HA" moment. Verrrrry clever, Ropey Scar Man. Very clever indeed.

It was at this juncture in time his son came home from school, and seemed less than thrilled to see us there. Not wishing to infringe on any more of their time, or have the son embarrassed for any longer than necessary (if, indeed, he HAD been thinking "OH MY GOD THEY'RE AT IT AGAIN. When will it end? WHEN WILL IT END???"), we thanked them for the tour and made our way out the door, while our delightful tour guide continued to point at the empty space in his son's collection, reserved for that elusive U.S. dollar.

Later that evening Evan made a phone call home (I know mom, I'm sorry, I'm a terrible daughter but you were at work and I was work number-less!) and David and I walked back to the hotel, stopped only by a couple who looked at David, pointed and yelled "Israeli! Israeli!!!" David politely responded, "um, no, I'm American... Are YOU guys from Israel?" to which he got a disappointed, "No no, we're from New York." Americans, man. They're strange sometimes.

The next morning I tried my first South Indian dosa, a staple of Evan's diet back in Madurai and often replicated poorly in the North. This dosa, however, met with Evan's approval (after all, we were eating at that cheap and best restaurant of the day before and expected nothing less than perfection), and I have to say it is a miiiighty tasty thing to eat, a delightful thin sourdough pancake thingy that is often rolled around a vegetable interior. We all chose the masala dosa, which meant a savory potato concoction was contained within, and after doused with the traditional sambar sauce and chutney, we all dug in with our hands and had a delicious messy feast (as the left hand is considered impolite to eat with here in India, I'm becoming quite ambidextrous... you should see me go!).

As our last activity as a troupe of three, we all marched off to the markets where we ventured into the spice industry. David went looking for tea, and as always, the vendors were looking to have him buy more than that. Favorite sales pitch? Glad you asked! "Try the chicken tikka masala spice! In London, 35% of people are CRAZY about chicken tikka masala!" Pfffft. As if we'd want to be just like 35% of people in London.

But perhaps the most popular spice being sold, even MORE popular than chicken tikka masala (I know! It's hard to believe!) was their Winter Spice, which they kept offering as the "Indian Vee-ah-gra." I wish I could remember the description on the bag... but people! Don't be fooled!! They gave us each a little to try, and besides being pleasantly sweet and vanilla-y, it didn't do nuthin'. Yeah, we were surprised too.

Soon, too soon, it came time for us to part one another, Evan and I off to the bus station to endure a hair-raising 6 hour ride to Udaipur, and David to wile away another few hours in Jodhpur before he took off for Delhi and from there, Malaysia. Oh David, parting was such sweet sorrow. The Three Musketeers are three no longer. Who else to suggest sharing dishes at meals? Who else to run up and down the steep stairs at the Blue Hotel, guaranteeing a decent mattress for the person who has to sleep on the floor? Who else to treat us to the most expensive meal we'd been to yet, a farewell dinner that, though delicious, proved to us the best food in India was NOT to be had at the most expensive hotels? Darling David, your presence is missed. May Malaysia quickly find out what a treasure it has gained in your arrival. Adieu, dear friend, adieu.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

In Which We Hold Down the Fort

A day or two ago David attempted to leave a comment on this puppy and was thwarted by my stringent requirements that one MUST have an account on blogspot in order to do so. I had no idea my comment options were so delightfully exclusive! But, due to my highly spiritual journey through India, I decided that exclusivity is bad kharma, at least when it comes to blogs, and I have now successfully switched my options settings to allow comment equality among all, whether they are of the blogging class or a member of the anonymous internet-using masses.

So, where were we? Ah yes, let us go back to Jaisalmer...

Jaisalmer was a delightful location to rest our camel-weary hides, a place we could truly let our guard down as we were protected by a desert fortress, a fortess that had yet, in centuries of existence, to fall to enemy attack. The only thing to be wary of were the ruthless shop vendors, who were relentless in their pursuit of our Indian monopoly money. Therefore, we spent much of our time in Jaisalmer sprawled on our gorgeous hotel rooftop, whiling away the hottest part of the day on the shaded daybeds and chairs and catching up on the reading none of us had done since our journey began. We couldn’t spend ALL our time up there, however, and DID venture out during our stay in the Golden City. Some highlights:

Our first day there, and our last day with Roop, found the four of us headed out of the fort and to a historic Haveli, aka mansion, built by a rich dude back in the day and now transformed into a museum commemorating glory days gone by. It was quite impressive, with ornate carvings on the exterior and the faded glory of opulence once known contained within. Roop then hustled us off to the lake of Jaisalmer, where we rented a pedal boat and took a turn around the lake. The last time I attempted one of those was on a 7th grade field trip, and all of us were quickly reminded of how much effort it took to go the whopping 0.5 mph speed we obtained. After pedaling ferociously for about ten minutes (Roop put his feet up pretty early on, leaving just the three of us to provide the brute strength for locomotion), we reached a beautiful shaded island, where we were greeted by a gentleman all in white and requested to remove our shoes before stepping out onto land. Turns out this gentleman was one of the wealthiest in Jaisalmer, now retired and letting his 5 sons take care of him on his monthly income of 3 million rupees, or approximately $66,667. He gave us a brief history of his own life, which involved parachuting adventures as the first man from Jaisalmer to join the air force, his return to his homeland, the building of his very lucrative businesses, and his way of life now that work is no longer a part of it. He was also quite generous with his history lessons of Jaisalmer (we must have been there for 45 minutes or so), and entertained us with the following:
Ages ago, the king's concubine decided she wanted to build a structure to secure her place in the history books. After being denied permission by both the king and the entire royal family (she was a concubine, after all), she went the sneaky route and secretly constructed a stone gate to the lake, hiding the construction in the surrounding rural area. When the king left on a hunting trip, she acted fast. The gate was carted in and assembled in one day, and a temple to Vishnu was assembled on its crown. The king and royal family were outraged when they learned of her doing, even more so as the temple to Vishnu prevented them from tearing it down, as it would be considered an act of holy desecration to destroy a dwelling dedicated to the god. To this day, the gate still stands as the main entryway to the lake, and to this day, the royal family has yet to once pass through it, forever shunning the work of a royal hussy.
After our vigorous peddle back to shore (David, by the way, is quite a talented navigator), Roop gave us one last ride in the jeep we had come to know and love, and we bid a bittersweet farewell to our constant companion of the last few days, he to rush back to the desert to look after his neglected trekkers, and we back to our desert citadel. Sitaram, dear Roop, Sitaram.

I was told by a woman to whom we were chatting, "I love your hair! It looks just like NOODLES!!"

In another episode of Skills We Didn’t Know David Possessed, we found out he had quite the knack for bargaining vendors down to fractions of their preliminary asking price. Without giving away the purchase or the price, Evan and I watched a miraculous 20 minute haggling battle between David and Jacky, the bargaining opponent, which involved begging, pleading, cajoling, and a good dose of harsh truth, which left everyone sweating and David walking away with purchases gained at more than 60% off the initial offer. Well done, my friend. Our hats are off to you.

How they fix printers in Jaisalmer (this technique was employed at the Jaisalmer train station, where the ticket line came to a standstill when the ticket printer ceased to print): After poking at printer for about half an hour with finger, take printer in both hands and vigorously shake upside down, periodically banging on the bottom to excise any existing demons. When this fails to work, angrily declare the station closed and force everyone out.

A Brief Lesson in Bollywood film stars (as given by employees of Paradise Hotel, when we all sat around watching Bollywood films on tv): Today’s Lesson: Salman Khan Vs. Shah-Rukh Khan.
Salman Khan is perhaps the biggest Bollywood star in India today. He’s handsome, ripped, and blessed with devastatingly long lashes, not to mention the way he dances and sings his way through Bollywood blockbuster after Bollywood blockbuster. Women want him, men want to be him. Shah-Rukh Khan, on the other hand, is a little less of a star, a little less handsome, a little less devastating. But! According to our friends at the Paradise, it is truly Shah-Rukh who deserves the stardom, the limelight, and all the attention being currently fawned on Salman. For, in real life, Salman is a rake and a rapscallion, a man who lives only for his own pleasure, which takes the form of booze and women, and a man who feels he is above the law. This latter claim seems to ring true, as a few years ago he ran over four people sleeping in the street when driving whilst intoxicated, killing one and injuring the others (they had no other place to sleep, being of the poverty stricken masses). Apparently he spent a grand total of 3 hours in jail, paid off the families, and that was the end of THAT. Shah-Rukh, on the other hand, is a sweet, gentle family man, whose acting skills far outweigh those of Salman, and whose morals are on a par Salman could never hope to attain. For homework, read pp. 301-342 in the textbook and write a brief paragraph summarizing what you’ve learned.

David taught Evan and I the game he calls "Jungle Golf," a card game that saved us during perhaps the most laughably awful dining experience thus far. We sat down to eat at the "Hollyday Inn Rooftop Restaurant," ordered, and David dealt the cards while we settled in for the customary 25 minute wait for food. After a half an hour, the only other table in the restaurant was served their meal, and we were all a bit taken aback as we had assumed when we arrived they had already eaten and were hanging about to chat. Oh no. Turns out they had been there for an hour and a half already and were JUST being served, as the only customers in the tiny restaurant. Already annoyed, they decided enough was enough when they deemed the dishes to be cold, and all got up to leave. Evan, David, and I were left as the only customers on the rooftop, where we heard a scuffle downstairs as the owner and customers fought over the bill (as in, they didn’t want to pay it and the owner insisted they did). The fighting got closer and closer as they moved it back up to the roof, where the owner grabbed the dish in question and said "What do you mean this is cold?!?! This dish is fine!!" He then proceeded over to our table and insisted we feel the dish and give our opinion (I mumbled a "I really don’t want to get in the middle of this" and Evan gave the classic "Uh, I wasn’t paying attention" response. You know, not paying attention to the vicious argument happening about three inches from our table.). There was much storming about, and they finally moved it downstairs, where I assume the customers left without paying and the owner, who was also our waiter, was officially put in the Best Mood Ever. It was suddenly eerily quiet and we sat in an uncomfortable silence, wondering if perhaps we should leave too, and then just stayed put as it seemed easier to stay, and besides, we had discovered Jungle Golf!
About an hour later (right on time…), our food came out, along with a few things we hadn’t ordered and no way to eat them due to lack of serving utensils and anything to put the food on. We sent back the things we hadn’t requested (the owner insisted we HAD ordered them, oy vey), and then finally got our required eating hardware after a few sly hints of "Excuse me, would it be possible to get some plates?" We were, in the end, just relieved to get some food and pay the bill and leave as soon as we could, and to his credit, the owner came up later and apologized, citing being short-staffed with only one guy in the kitchen. You know, for the six customers he had that night. He seemed so stressed out we felt bad for him, but dang, was that a dining experience we didn’t look to replicate, especially as the food ended up causing some stomach problems later that night. Thank goodness, however, that THAT has been the only dining failure thus far. Everything else has been on a scale from Delicious to Superb.

And those, I believe, are the better stories from our Deliciously Superb fortress stay. All in all, it was fantastic, and I fell completely in love with the rooftop sunsets, and playing Jungle Golf on the roof in the afternoons, and planning our Paradise Fusion rooftop restaurant with the hotel employees, and gazing upon the incredible desert views available from any high point within the majestic fort. Too soon, we packed up once again, and motored down to the train station for our overnight journey back to Jodhpur.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

In Which We Do Not Die By Swarming Bees

I know everyone was in suspense about whether we made it out alive or not. But never fear, dear readers, our night of "My Girl" terror ended peaceably, with the yellow bees keeping to themselves and our wimply little heroes definitely, definitely keeping to THEMselves, and awoke the next morning intact to the sounds of an already bustling household.

The most exciting part of the morning, by far, was bathing. It was a bucket-shower system, that had us hauling water from their cistern to the shower area, but it was glorious. And it turns out that my "tan" was actually a few layers of "dust" that quite gleefully washed away, back to whence it came. Ah well.

Roop Singh had left earlier that morning to pick up his next bunch of camel trekkers and bring them to the farm, so soon after breakfast a group consisting of two Danish girls and a Canadian with the name of Alister made their appearance. Roop was driving us to Jaisalmer that day (so we didn't get there so much on camel back as in the back of a jeep), and so set up the new group with Mohan and set them on their way. Soon we, too, had packed up, said our goodbyes and thank yous in the limited common language we shared with his family, and took off in the jeep.

We made a few quick stops on the way to Jaisalmer, if only to make the 5 hour jeep ride seem a little shorter. Our first stop was at a temple, and was also our first reintroduction to the crowded urban atmosphere we had so luckily escaped for the past few days. Far more than the temple I remember outstretched hands and the calls of vendors, and told myself to prepare for how overwhelming it all could be.

The second stop was at a bird sanctuary, or should I write, "bird sanctuary." It was little more than a dirt parking area with a slight mud puddle to one side and, which was kind of cool, a whole bunch of Siberian cranes you couldn't quite see roosting in its waters. I almost erased the picture I took of it the other day when scrolling through my trip thus far thinking "what the hell is THAT crappy photo?? It looks like I took a picture of a pile of dirt! Why did I DO that??" and then realizing that ah, yes, 'twas the sanctuary of birds, whom you could barely see waaaaay off in the distance.

We stopped for lunch soon after, at a place Roop knew of in the middle of nowhere and which was quite good, not to mention it held the first bathrooms any of us had seen in awhile, squat toilet or no. Fantastic! We enjoyed a lovely meal and were off again.

Somewhere along the ride we were stopped at a train crossing, and it soon became clear that the train was going to take a bit to actually CROSS where we were. Roop took a philosophical view and said "SITARAM! It is on India time. Just take a break SITARAM!!!!!" By this point his sitaraming had gotten a bit out of control and David, I think, was going a bit berserk. It didn't help that apparently Roop and Mohan had spent a good portion of that last day in the camel cart shouting back and forth "sita!" "RAM!" over and over, to the detriment of poor Dave's mental health. We entertained ourselves at the train crossing by singing along to "It's a Small World After All," which happened to be the song Roop's jeep played when in reverse, and which it happened to be put in for much of our train delay. David, being a musical genius, actually knows the words, so could do the verses whereas I only could join in on the chorus (which the jeep DIDN'T play, but which we decided to include anyway). At long last, the train made it's way past, and we were off again.

There was something incredibly cathartic about the jeep ride, and I had a great time lounging in the back and looking at the landscape as it rushed passed. We ran through the repetoire of songs we had, including some classic Simon and Garfunkle, Simon all by himself, Bon Jovie, and Aerosmith. We passed camels and busses, motorcycles and street-wandering cows, and became used to the slightly hair raising style of driving in India, though to his credit (or maybe because it was broken) Roop never used his horn, which seems to be all anyone else does.

We stopped for the sunset by the road and watched to see if there would be a flash as the sun finally dipped below the horizon (David insisted, even though he ALSO said it would only occur when the sun set on the ocean... but he's a scientist at heart, so I guess one could say it was a fruitless experiment...). Soon after, Jaisalmer, in all its golden glory, could be seen through the fading light, and we wound our way up its sand colored streets to the entrance of its famed fort, where Roop bid adieu to us for the evening and we autoed it up inside the desert citadel to the Paradise Hotel. Our room had retained its original stone walls (we got a cheap one, and they didn't plaster those over, and dang, it was the COOLEST ROOM EVER) so we, of course, danced around for awhile in our awesome fort digs (it completely, completely blew any pillow forts out of the water), found a delightful rooftop restaurant (all restaurants here, actually, seem to be rooftop), wound our way home, and fortily fell asleep.

In Which Our Camel Adventure Comes to an End

This time, we didn't miss the sunrise.

It helped that we were sleeping open-air that night, so no tent blocked the harshest streams of sunlight. It also helped that it was three of us huddled together under one blanket, so no one slept all that well as the blanket wasn't quiiiiite large enough to fit us all underneath and it was almost a relief to truly wake up. But perhaps the greatest aide to our awakening was the cry of "SITARAAAAAAM!!! DAVID, THE SUNRISE! DAVID?? SITARAAAAAAAAM!!! EVAN, HANNAH, IT IS THE SUNRISE!!!! SIIIIITAAAAARAAAAAAAAAAM!!!" And so we were awake.

David had, by this point, perfected his own ingenious way to successfully avoid the desert burrs when taking a break in the wilderness, a carefully thought out method that had gone through much discussion ("I think I've thought of a new way to go to the bathroom") and resulted in the wearing of his pants on his head when it was necessary to remove them completely. Speaking of his head, on this trip he was also the great entertainer to the kiddos as a headstand afficionado, and I took a lovely photo of him upside down on the dunes at sunset. (Note: I don't think I can post pictures here in India, but when I get back home I plan to have much fun illustrating this thing).

After some breakfast and some lounging while Roop and Mohan went to find the camels, who were free to wander during the night and seemed to enjoy this freedom to the fullest and therefore took about an hour to find, we got going. To switch things up a bit, I betrayed my darling Mr. Raj for Mr. Singh, David hopped on the Raj, and Evan decided to take a mid-morning snooze in the camel cart. At first, riding Mr. Singh was a relief. He's a bigger camel, so all those parts of me that were sore from riding Mr. Raj remained untouched on the back of Singh. Not to mention, it was quite fun being in complete control of such a beast, and I had about as much luck as Evan keeping him from snacking on what he wished. About 20 minutes into the ride, however, a dozen NEW sorespots were screaming for mercy, and it took all I had (and the fact that Mr. Singh was lagging behind enough so that asking everyone to stop so I could get off would require more effort than it was worth) to not beg to be let down. After what seemed to be an eon, we finally came to rest at a camel watering hole under the trees, where camel, cow, and sheep intermingled in harmony. Three giggling little girls watched us closely, imitating our speech and leaving us pretty sure it was a laughing AT and not WITH situation. We WERE pretty goofy looking, after all.

Convinced we had stopped for lunch, we all groaned a little when Roop directed us back on the camels after they had refilled their humps with water. I quickly reclaimed Raj, as at least I had had the last few days to get used to the dull ache caused by his saddle, Evan was once again on Singh, and David helped direct Chon from the camel cart. It was only a quick ride, enough to get us to our lunch spot, and for the two minutes it took to get from point A to point B Roop attached Mr. Raj to Mr. Singh, an interesting experiment as Raj was moving much faster than Singh and we kept ending up wandering in circles and having to muckily work our way forward until we reached the base of the first truly movie-like desert dunes we had happened across. Roop told us to go explore while he and Mohan got lunch together, and off we went.

Photo opportunities abounded, and we had quite the time taking pictures of shadows and of David taking a mighty leap from the edge of a dune into the soft sand below. The same three giggly girls followed us up there, and insisted on their picture being taken, which resulted in more giggles every time I showed them the result. One turned out to be a great dune jumper herself, and another entertained herself by feeling my face and my weirdo mickey mouse hair, and the last was the shy one who stood off to the side and smiled behind her hand. The girls succeeded in working my two silver rings off my hands (the ones I never take off) and putting them on their own tiny fingers. They offered me chewing tobacco, which THIS time I was smart enough not to take, but was a little thrown when they were trying to explain to me what it was by showing me the chewing tobacco they kept tucked in their bottom lip. They were just so little for such things! After some more jumping, a little dance lesson (the dune-jumper had some GREAT moves), and more picture taking, we were ready to go back down the mountain and we gave the girlies some stickers David had in his bag and asked for the rings back. This was nothing doing, and soon they ran away, stickers in hand, and one girl with a ring in her mouth. Darn little girls, outsmarting me.

A bit sad at the loss of my rings, David, Evan, and I made the trip back to the camel cart, where soon all these fried things made their appearance on plates in front of us, fried potatoes and onions and such, delicious in a way only fried things can be. All of us were slightly shocked when the three girls made a reappearance over the dunes and then made their way over to our little lunch site, having their own midday meal only a few feet from ours. We were convinced that after they had acquired the stickers and rings they got what they had wanted and would have nothing more to do with us. I was still put out about the rings so didn't pay them much attention, but after awhile it became clear they wanted what we were having for lunch, and Evan was able to barter a trade: the rings for the food. And so now I have my rings back!! A little bit yellow, from whatever they had in their lunch tins as that's where they had been storing them, but my rings nonetheless. And still they wanted to play around, and waved big goodbyes when we left with shouts of "TA TA! TA TA! TA TA!" following the camels as we ambled off, and we came to this conclusion about the whole experience: well look at that, kids are the same no matter WHERE you are.

What followed lunch was the last big haul on the camels before our trek came to an end. This was the longest, by far. It was through beautiful landscapes and farmland, and it became clear we were getting closer when Roop told Evan not to worry about directing Mr. Singh, he knew the way from here. And so at THAT point, we thought we couldn't be more than ten minutes from our final destination, having made the trek from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer. But oh no, let us not be fooled any longer. I'm thinking it may have been another hour, maybe two, before we finally stopped, or at least it felt that way as most of my time was spent adjusting and readjusting myself on Mr. Raj, often to no avail as that dull ache was becoming not-so-dull by the minute. I was determined, however, to ride triumphantly into our final destination, and therefore took a deep breath and did my best to endure. Evan took the smart route and joined David in the cart after Mr. Singh's back became an instrument of sheer torture and they had a lovely evening ride through the desert. Tenaciously, however, I hung on, and felt a brilliant flash of triumph when at last, AT LAST, we reached the end of our cross-country trek and reached the finish line, nobly ambling into.... the family farm. Where we had begun our journey. Which wasn't anywhere NEAR Jaisalmer. Which meant we had just done a big, big circle around the surrounding desert of Roop's home and come right back to where we began. I felt a bit deflated, to say the least. A tour, more than a trek, shall we say. So the moment of triumph wasn't quite as sweet, but we had still done it. We had still braved three days in the bathroom-less desert, and slept with no shelter but the sky, and crawled up and down desert dunes, and learned to live among the deadliest of desert burrs.

And we sat back, and enjoyed our chai tea of triumph, and refused the celebratory rum (okay, fine, I didn't refuse, but I didn't manage more than a few polite sips), and came to the decision that a game of cards must be played, so David went into our little mud hut and didn't find the cards but DID discover a huge nest of giant yellow desert bees among the boxes of bottled water they had provided. After quite a bit of contradictory information - "No no, the bees are friendly, but DON'T SHINE THAT LIGHT ON THEM!" "Don't worry, they sleep at night and only get active in the morning (David's point: "yes, but we will be IN there in the morning...")" and "No no, they won't sting you, unless they do. And it's only bad if there are 20 of them (Again, David's wisdom of noticing there were at least 100 in there...)" - we relocated to a different hut, one located within the family compound and filled with everyday living stuff, which was actually a little bit more awesome than sleeping in the guest hut.

As we were getting into bed David remarked "Now wouldn't it be ironic if, after all that, there was a nest of bees in THIS hut... Roop would just LOVE us then." We all had a good "yeah, geez, woooo!" when Evan, who was playing with the flashlight, said "Oh look, there's a bee right there! And, um, a few more farther up... and... oh god." Turns out a whole OTHER happy huge yellow bee family was living in the hollow post in the middle of the room, but at this point we were all too tired to care and uneasily rolled over to sleep.

Friday, November 11, 2005

In Which My Camel Adventures Continue

Yesterday I succeeded in flushing my sunglasses down a squat toilet. Oh, sunglasses, what times we had, and what a bitterly foul end you came to. I am sorry, lovely $2 sunglasses. You may have been $2, but in my heart, you were priceless.

Please, everyone, a moment.

And now, catching up with our heroine on Day 2 of the epic Trek Through the Desert...

Having fully expected to view the sunrise, I was shocked to awake long after the once-in-a-lifetime event, cocooned in our camel scented blankets that were as burr-free as possible in the height of the burry season. And by "long after the sunrise," maybe about half an hour after, but felt plenty late. We ambled about our campsite, brushing our teeth, utilizing our knowledge of angles and depth perception and such to take care of our personal toilette (punctuated every so often by a shout from the wilderness of "OUCH! goddamit, stupid burrs."), and were served some delightful breakfast by Mr. Roop Singh, which THIS morning happened to be, of all things, french toast with bananas. I should have asked him to throw some of his rum in their and voila! It's like a little bit of the Even Keel half way across the world. Generally, the toast tasted like the soy bean oil it was prepared in, but all in all, not too shabby. Not to mention, Evan was able to fashion a FANTASTIC likeness of India out of the last uneaten piece.

And then we lounged, as we were wont to do on this journey, and chatted, and the kids came back so we played some more frisbee, and we distributed water bottles and said we had no pens, and then we were off and back on the desert trail by mid-morning, with Dave in the camel cart, myself on Mr. Raj, and Evan high and mighty on Mr. Singh, made even more so by the unexpected event of Roop giving Evan the reins and a very basic lesson on how to guide his camel ("you go right, you pull right. you go left, pull left. want to stop, pull very hard, sitaram*.").

*Sidenote, which isn't so much on the side as in the middle: Roop Singh said sitaram about ten times every minute. It was either contained in his response to all queries or was the answer to a query, whether if it was a question about dinner, a response to someone begging for money, or a farming family yelling at him at how his camels destroyed their trees during the night. It was how he answered his phone, how he said good-bye, and, according to Evan, he spent a good portion of a jeep ride muttering it to himself, over and over again, under his breath. It just about drove David up the wall by the end, whereas I found it wedging itself into my vocabulary. A few more days, and who KNOWS what would have gone down. For the first day or two, I thought he was saying "sit around," and thought what a relaxed guy this was, but turns out it's an amalgam of Sita and Ram, a great Hindi God/Goddess love story. As far as we could tell, he's the only one who uses it.

So there we were, once again on the road, a little bit sorer, a little bit wiser, a little bit dirtier than the day before. Roop Singh stopped to chat with some of his grandfather's friends in the area, older sheepherder men in white turbans, and we did our best to properly Namaste as we passed by. Eva tended to lag behind as Mr. Singh wasn't feeling very fast (he IS 11 years old) and liked to take frequent snack breaks. As Evan said, they had reached an understanding. Mr. Singh carried Evan, and Evan let him have a snack when he wanted, because Evan couldn't stop him.

Roop Singh led us to a village he knew where the mainstay was clay pottery and rug weaving, done the old fashioned way. It took two men crouching over a low loom about 15 days to complete one rug made of camel hair, and an older gentlemen demonstrated the making of a few pieces of pottery on his completely hand spun clay spinny thingy (what are those called?? Pottery wheel! On his pottery wheel!!!). Roop then ushered us to the exit, but on the way we were ushered into side activities, i.e. a group of men beckoned David and Evan into their opium den, blessed their foreheads with red paint and rice, and fed them a mild chewable version of the poppy derived substance, and I was shown into the lady and childrens quarter, with a group of giggling children surrounding me and a smaller group of colorfully garbed women (then again, not much ISN'T colorfully garbed here) sitting nearby, who giggled a bit more subtly behind their head scarves. They offered me chai, and then a packet of what looked to be some sort of Japanese candy with a cute little Kirby-ike cartoon character on it. Once dumped into my hand, however, I was at a loss of what it could be. It looked like greyish blue lint, and was then directed to put the whole thing in my mouth and chew, which I did, and which eliceted MORE giggles from all corners. It tasted fairly minty and weird, and was (thank goodness) not meant to be swallowed as the very idea made me gag. The kiddos then directed me to spit it out with the aid of water to get it all out of my mouth, and followed me outside to watch me do my best to expel every little last bit of it. Finally having gotten it all out of my mouth, I stood up and immediately felt terrifically, terrifically dizzy. The boys, who had completed their opiate experience, were ready and set to go, none the worse for wear. I, on the other hand, was having a bit of trouble, and the dizziness soon turned to feeling quite queasy and weird. I therefore called the camel cart and curled into the fetal position for the ride to lunch, which was mercifully short, wondering what the hell I had eaten and praying that there wasn't some insidious parasite making a nest inside my belly. Once I decided that it helped more to sit up than to lie down on the cart, I was able to locate the wrapper, AND they listed its contents on the back. Turns out I had me some "betelnuts, catechu, tobacco, lime, [and] permitted spices and flavors." So instead of some weird Japanese breath mint, I had injested some very Indian chewing tobacco. I was okay after about another hour or so, but it was a valuable lesson to always, always look gift horses in the mouth.

Roop came up with the magical cure of soda water to cure my tummy, which definitely helped, among his reassurances that he was our mother, father, grandmother, etc. for the trip and not to worry ("You miss your mother?" he said to David. "I am your mother!"). We snacked, napped, hung out with some more kids who showed up, and then I was well enough to hop back on Raj and make our way to our campsite for the night, a spot right below these beautiful shrub covered dunes that offered a brilliant view of the sunset after a steep and sandy scramble up the side. We chilled with the beetles and the burrs while the sun set, David showed us a few of his hives (they come and go... every day brings something new and exciting and it's become something to look forward to, David's Daily Hive Check), we had another delectable dinner, had another poor showing when it came to rum drinking (on our part... Roop did alright, I think, and when he came to wish us goodnight after awhile he fell asleep on my blanket covered leg for a bit until I started laughing), and eventually fell asleep under the stars.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

In Which Raj is My Camel and I am His Queen

You are now reading the words of an experienced desert camel trekker, a woman who traversed the Thar desert on the back of a spindley legged mammal and lived to tell the tale. Yes, my friends, I have achieved a wisdom beyond my years, an intimate knowledge of the desert and its peoples, and an almost uncanny connection with those noble beasts who have, for ages unknown, braved the dusty and arid clime that is Northern India with forbearance and dignity. Not to mention, I learned how to pee in the bushes!! WITHOUT getting those damn desert prickers all over my pants!!! And so now, as long as I carry that lifesaver, Scott tissue, in my bag, I can do anything.

The journey began mid-morning, when Roop Singh picked Evan, David, and I up at the Blue House hotel and spirited us away on his sand-worn jeep to the desert country side, finally arriving at his family farm where he performed his formal welcome by smearing red paint on our foreheads, draping us with quite the colorful lei-like garland (which I was forced to throw out by the end of the trip as it shedded its little strands everywhere and was a total desert burr magnet), and sprinkling red dust all over our shoulders. Once adorned, they prepared the camels for departure. Our fleet consisted of four camels - Mr. Singh, the oldest at 11, and the best trained; Mr. Raj, who I considered to be MY camel, was at 5 years of age surprisingly docile and sweet and on his way to become the best of the best; Mr. Chon, the camel who lugged the camel cart, and was absolutely HUGE; and lastly there was Mumel, the baby at 4, who had been purchased only a few months before from a herd of 300, and who still terribly missed home and sang us his song of discontent every time he was expected to do anything other than walk. Pobrecito. Coming with us on the trip was Roop Singh himself and his cousin Mohan, who spoke just enough English to tell us to watch out for branches. And so! Once mounted upon our noble steeds (which got only SLIGHTLY less terrifying by the end of the trip... it's this three step process of rising and sitting down for a camel, and I was continuously surprised at just how BIG these animals were), we were off on our adventure, from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer!!

Out of respect for our untrained bottoms, camel riding was kept at a minimum the first day, so after about twenty minutes we stopped in a shady spot for lunch. Roop and Mohan had their tourist system down, so they made this little bed-couch out of the mattresses they had brought along and positioned us so the camel cart blocked the sun. From the other side of the cart, we heard the delightful sound of the camping stove being started (It was about 2 at this point, and the last we had eaten had been at an early breakfast), and what seemed to be eons later they produced this AMAZING mix of potatoes and vegetables and spices and who knows what else, but we didn't really care as it was just. so. taaaaaasty. And after lunch we lounged, and read a bit, and then noticed that over this slight bump in the topography a group of about 6 or 7 kiddos peeking at our little campsite. As soon as they saw us see them, they immediately all crouched down out of sight. This quickly developed into a wave-and-hide game, with the waves getting bigger and more flamboyant the longer it went on, but they still ran away (only to come back) as soon as it looked like we might get up and go closer to them. What finally won them over?? Ah yes, that good ol' Amherstonian past time, ultimate frisbee. David conveniently hauled a disc all the way to India, and soon there was a group of about 10 kids runningly manically around shouting "YES! YES!!" and holding out their hands to whoever happened to have the frisbee. Great, great fun. It soon became time to pack up and move on, at which point the frisbee was put away, we got all our stuff together, and all the kids requested our empty water bottles. Over the next few days this request was often repeated, and if not for water bottles, then for pens. Water bottles we sometimes had, but none of us had brought pens, at least not in the bulk supplies the demand asked for. So, so many kids.

And then back on the camels! David, by this point, had had enough of the camels for the time being and relocated to the camel cart, which became his main location for the rest of the trip with a few quick forays back to Mr. Singh and Mr. Raj (and a quickly aborted trip on Mumel, which came to an end NOT because Mumel threw him off or rolled over with him on, which I was kind of expecting, but because the saddle kept sliding). I didn't blame him. My camel-riding muscles aren't exactly well-defined, and everything ached for almost the entire duration of the trek. Evan made quite the sight on Mr. Singh, on that huge beast with his red beard and his traditionally wound red turban (the kids gave THAT look a decided thumbs down). In about another twenty minutes we stopped for the night on this beautiful sandy mesa that offered us a beautiful view of the desert sunset. Once again, our delightful bed-couch was set up, another slew of frisbee playing kids came to visit, and we had no pens but a water bottle or two to offer. I quickly learned to never, ever, EVER rest my pants on the desert terrain during burr season, and that the burrs were way more deadly than the huge black beetles that dotted the sand (they were like ugly bug BFGs).

Everything soon calmed down, the sun set, and Evan, David and I sat back and enjoyed the phenomenal desert sky. Roop had quite the culinary system, and he had us sipping on chai tea in no time, followed by a "special surprise." This he had us drink before he would tell us what it was, a beverage with a decidedly grainy undertone but milky in consistency, i.e. camel milk. According to Roop, the stuff has amazing healing qualities and is used in India to cure obesity (is that correct to say? "Cure" obesity? anyway...). Then, as if we hadn't had ENOUGH to drink, he broke out the rum, which he said was very good, very good for the desert! I think we highly disappointed him in our inability to drink it. Evan and Dave had a sip or two before giving up, and I think I was able to finish maybe half of the spiced, warm, straight-up-right-out-of-the-bottle glass before regressing to pretending to drink it and then dumping it in the sand when he next left us. Roop regaled us with stories of the huge parties he had at this location, sometimes with 20 tourists and then inviting all the surrounding village folk, with a lot of drinking and dancing and all night revelry. I think he went away thinking we were kind of wussy. Ah well. But we talked of other things too, how Roop Singh has only in the last two years really become quite successful after 11 years giving tours, thanks in large part to the help of some German customers he had who bought him two camels and a good quality cart. He now works like crazy for the trekking season for six months, and then plays for six months and builds his business. Sound familiar, anyone...? He has a wife and a five year old son, but doesn't really sound so enthralled with family and seems to get much more pleasure out of being on the road and visiting friends and building a desert tour empire.

And soon enough, we were all exhausted from our first day's journey, and all crawled into our tents for bed. And so, I think, ends this installment of this apparent novella I am writing. Dang.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

In Which I Arrive in Jodhpur

Ha HA! Finally figured out where the "h" goes in Jodhpur. Applause applause.

Last night was spent on an overnight train from Delhi to here, and it's the only way to ride. We were in a sleeper car, which is much, much nicer than the "unreserved" section, i.e. wooden benches that are crowded at all times, but not quite as nice as the private air-conditioned cars. As it isn't exactly sweltering here at this time of year, the air-conditioning was pretty unnecessary, so we were juuuuust fine where we were. There are basically eight beds to a section, two bunks three tiers high and one bunk with two tiers. Each car has about, erm, 4 sections or so. When no one is sleeping, the middle bunks fold down and create nice little bench seats to enjoy, but I was so damn tired from jet lag I lasted until about 10 minutes before the train left before I crawled up to my top bunk and fell fast asleep, where I remained, drifting in and out, until Evan told me it was time to wake up as the train was pulling into our stop 12 hours later. The fews times I woke up during the night I was pleasantly surprised at how calm and quiet it was, especially as there were at least 32 people within hearing distance. There were no shouters, no screaming babies (though babies there were), and no chainsaw snorers. Gentle, lulling snorers, yes, but nothing that wasn't tolerable and gently soothing.

Now we are staying in the Blue Hotel for a night, which (shock surprise) is BLUE! In fact, the majority of this city is blue, painted so as it's considered to not only be a holy color BUT ALSO an effective mosquito repellent. The family who owns the hotel lives downstairs and insists on the old adage "our home is your home... please, please, when you are here you are family." Speaking of becoming family, we met with Roop (or as I can't seem to stop calling him, Roop a Doop) a few hours back, our camel trek tour guide for the next week. He also insists on our being his family for the duration of the trek (and beyond!), hit home by his answer to almost all our pre-trek questions, i.e. "whatever you want, just ask. We are family, I get you whatever you need, please ask. We take care of you." So basically, he is awesome. And now I have an Uncle Roop. Who knew??? He's also a great believer in Kharma, so always takes good care of his trekkers, and in exchange hopes what goes around comes around. So if anyone wants to take a camel trek through India, have I got a man for YOU!


Tomorrow, off to the desert.

Friday, November 04, 2005

In Which I Arrive in India

Am currently sitting in an Israeli internet cafe located in Old Delhi, with adorable disease ridden puppies outside the window and Evan going crazy over how well he did on fantasy basketball last night to my right. So I made it! Safe and sound! And! Am just really, really tired, but the plan today is to stay awake until we hop on the overnight train to Jahdpur, where the camel trek will begin... Delhi is just slightly larger than Nantucket, as far as I can tell. Just. A. Little. Bit.

Finally got in last night at about 11:30, was through customs and on the way to the hotel at around 2. The hotel room for three of us consisted of a really, really big bed and a bathroom. LOVED the big bed. Fit all of us with room to spare. This morning we woke up, packed our stuff, and kicked off our daily adventure with a good dose of chocolate babka, courtesy of Evan's amazing mother. And now we've visited the ATM, had some lunch at the delightful Appetite Restaurant, and now I'm alerting everyone (especially you, Mom) that I'm not dead or maimed and am safely where I'm supposed to be. Excellent.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

In Which I Test The System

TESTING TESTING ONE TWO THREE.

So I have nothing to report on India yet, as I haven't left, and am sitting here in my house on a beautiful fall day in New England tippity tapping on the computer trying to think if there's anything I forgot to pack. But it's gorgeous out here, and the ride to Boston promises to be a nice one, and soon, SOON, all of you who are perusing this, I'll have something (hopefully) way, way more entertaining for everyone to read. But now we know this works! Oh huzzah!