Day 98 - Into the Jungle

Today we were supposed to go to Udaipur. The drive took us rather quickly up out of the desert and into lush green hills. On the way, we stopped at Ranakpur to see the Jain temple complex, considered one of the finest in India. It consists of three temples, two small and one large. All are very elaborately carved with mazes of pillars and domes. The large one in particular has 1444 columns, each one covered in carvings, and each one unique.

The temples themselves were nestled in the jungle, surrounded by tangled trees, flowers, and steep hills. Everywhere was saturated colour - green, orange, fushia - so different from the desert just this morning! As with the Jain Temple in Delhi, all life is considered sacred, so every tower is populated with parakeets and other small birds. Hanging from one ledge there was even a huge honeycomb seething with bees.

After visiting the temples, we went to a nearby hotel for lunch. It was delicious, and very fresh - the hotel grows some of its own vegetables in a jungly plot behind the kitchen. Afterwards, we went for a walk down to the village proper where our first stop was a typical house of the region. A lady was resting on a cot outside, and her friend was sent to "fetch the laundry". We were told to see the inside of the house, and then to sit on the second cot outside and wait. It all felt very invasive. We were in the personal home of these two women, being shown around as if it were a museum. The lady sent to "fetch laundry" returned with a key, with which she opened a large trunk and produced traditional Mawari clothes. At this point it turned fun. The ladies spoke no English, but giggled wildly as they helped me to dress in the traditional garments. Giggling turned into outright laughter at my complete inability to move without some part of the drapery slipping. It in no way felt malicious - sure I was the punchline of the joke, but it seemed like a shared joke among friends. After posing for a picture in my new look (after the ladies showed me how to stand properly), they tried to help me out of the garments. The skirt would in no way come off over my hips. One of the ladies then held up her friend's baby and waggled her hips at me, giggling and talking in Hindi. I think I was just told that I've got birthin' hips in Hindi. Some things never change.

From there we continued to a dance performance being held on the front lawn of the more posh hotel. Because of the location, I thought it was going to be some touristy showcase. That could not have been further from the truth. There was one German there taking photos. Besides him, we were the only non-Indian people. No one except our guide spoke more than a word or two of English. We were treated as the guests of honour - given plastic chairs, offered cold drinks, and stared at by nearly all of the assorted women and children. The show itself comprised of much chanting, drumming, and dancing. It involved several Gods, the only one of which I recognised was Dhurga. I think part of the story was something about a family plagued by demons and that they called the gods to make the demons go away. I figured most of this out from the reactions of the children in the front row.

We returned to the hotel where we had our lunch, and decided that we like the little village so much that we would shorten our stay in Pushkar (the city we will visit after Udaipur) in order to stay the night there. Decision made, we settled in for some relaxing in the country. I went off for a horse trek, and Cz submitted his head to the ministrations of the local barber.

Mahawari are the national horse of India. They were orginally bred for the warriors, and are exceptionally spirited, brave, and loyal. You may recognise them by the crescent shape of their ears - when the horses are are at attention their ears touch over their heads like a pair of sickle moons. Before mounting up, the guide asked if I was a good rider. I said I had ridden before. I don't know what they do for non-riders. My horse turned out to be the most spirited horse I have ever ridden, and it took all of my skill to keep her under control. She aslo did not understand English. The most important word I have learned so far in Hindi is Push (pronounced sort of like bush and push with a smack to the neck), which means whoa.

After a few minutes and some sideways dancing and fussing, the horse and I got used to each other, and proceeded to have a great ride. We raced monsoon rain in dry riverbeds, tracked tigers and panthers (only saw the tracks, not the cats), met a huge tortoise, chased water buffalo, and even saw a rainbow arching over the jungle. The ride was only supposed to be an hour, but the guide and the horses were having so much fun (the usual clientele requires a leadline and a walking pace) that we ended up staying out for nearly two.

By the time I returned, it was nearly dark. We had tea at a roadside stall with some locals, and walked back to our hotel to the sound of distant thunder as the monsoon storm rolled away over the hills. Back home, our driver produced a bottle of whiskey and some cokes, the hotel owner brought an assortment of snacks, and we spent the next several hours drinking, telling off-colour jokes, and laughing with our driver and his friend. Overall, it was one of the best days so far with quiet, lovely people, clean air, and even a horse fix! And Cz is very pleased with his extra-short new 'do.