Day 108 - It's Only Illegal if You Get Caught

Today we rented motorbikes. Or rather, English and German rented motorbikes, and we chipped in on the rent and gas to ride along, as neither of us knows how to drive one, and these were persnickety old bikes to boot. Before heading out, the bike owners informed us in no uncertain terms that we were NOT to cross over to the other side of the Ganges. "Bad cops on that side. Very Bad. Take all your money and your bike." Read, "These are unlicenced bikes. Don't go over there because the cops will check."

We set a course parallel to the river, winding our way up into the Himalayan foothills. The scenery is some of the most spectacular we have seen so far, with lush green hills falling straight into the holy Ganges river. Some of the roads might have technically been closed due to landslides - we had to walk our bikes across a few patches of rubble, and some of the roads could be called paved as a technicality only, but it was all great fun. There was hardly any traffic - a few local buses, a few jeeps, and few white-water rafting operators, and us. Most of the times we had to brake were for herds of cows, buffalo, and goats.

We passed several small villages (a few roadside stalls with one or two houses), where we stopped for chai with the locals. We were something of a novelty, and noticed a few people surrepticiously taking videos or photos. We also stopped occasionally at waterfalls or tributaries to the main river where we rock-hopped and dipped our feet in the water.

The highlight of the day was lunch in a small mountain town about 70Km from Rishikesh. Perched on the side of a hill, the buildings seemed stacked one on top of the other. There were absolutely no cars - the only other vehicles we saw were about four motorbikes parked on one street and several pack mules relaxing above the town. The streets themselves were so narrow that we were worried for our knees as we rode our bikes into the town center. We think we might have been the first non-Indians up there for a while, as everyone seemed a bit surprised to see us, and genuinely friendly. With English's pidgeon Hindi (he took a week-long course in Dharamsala), and our combined hand gestures, we found ourselves in a tiny open-sided restaurant. The kitchen consisted of a mud counter with a two two-burner hotplates. One table was occupied by two men doing some sort of accounting. We shared the second table (there were only two) with a Sadu (Holy Man) and small stray dog. The Sadu spoke no English, but again English's smattering of Hindi, the Sadu's friendliness, and our combined hand gestures made for a very enjoyable experience.

The menu of the day was dahl (lentils) and a mixed vegetable dish with fresh chapati. There was also fresh water drawn from a five-gallon jug. We have been drinking tiny amounts of the local water as we go - figuring that small doses spread out over time will help steel our guts for whatever we throw at them. So far, the theory seems sound, but I don't want to jinx things...

After lunch, we turned around and headed back the way we had come. The steep hill out of town proved a challenge for our bikes, and all the old men gathered around offering advice as to how best to get ourselves back to the road. One of my favourite things we have seen so far has been the crowd of white-haired men in dhoti and Lugi (the traditional pants and man sarongs) calling all at once in Hindi and making motorcycle-revving hand and foot motions.

Safely on our way we raced the sunset back toward Rishikesh. The hills were even more dramatic in the evening twilight, but our bikes were coughing and threatening mutiny, so we only paused a few times to take photos. We were afraid that if we stopped too long, coughing mutiny would turn into all-out coup and we would be left to walk home.

We made it though, and after a lesiurely dinner went straight to bed.

Day 107 - Into the Clear

Rishikesh is a smallish town nestled between the Ganges and the foothills of the Himalayas. We decided to join up with the fellows we met on the train - one English, one American, and one Vietnamese-born German. Together we found the right bus (a challenge since all bus signs are written in Hindi) and made our way to the town center. From there, we hunted and haggled until we found a tuk-tuk driver who would agree to our price and take us further up the mountain above the town.

Up here, the air is clear, and we are surrounded by trees. We had breakfast, then English, German, and I went to scope out places to stay while Cz and American stayed at the restaurant to watch our packs. We settled on a family-run guesthouse with fine mountain views, and large comfy rooms for 200Rs (about $5 US) a night. We like it so much here that we are ditching our train ticket to Lucknow (everyone we talk to says its not worth seeing anyway) and staying in Rishikesh for a few extra days.

The vibe here is totally different from anywhere else we have been in India. It is a yoga, meditation and massage center. Most visitors are long-term, and everyone is very friendly and laid back. I spent the afternoon wandering around with English. We meandered through the town, stopped by the Beatles' Ashram (the yoga center where they wrote the White Album), and in generally puttered about enjoying the calm and friendly atmosphere. Cz enjoyed the calm by taking a big nap and reading his book on our porch with the aforementioned spectacular views.

Tomorow we might rent some motorbikes, or maybe horses, and the day after that we might go on an overnight rafting trip down the Ganges. Perhaps not the holiest of pursuits on the holiest of rivers...

We are feeling free and easy with our time, sort of letting whatever wants to unfold to unfold. This is how I imagined traveling in India would be; spontanious, laid back, and exciting. That is not to say I didn't enjoy our tour of Rajasthan, it's just not how I imagined exploring the country. Now that we are on our own time, with our own schedule (or lack thereof), we will probably see fewer places, but get deeper under the skin of the places we do.

Day 106 - Small Victories

I have lived in NY and used every bus, taxi and train the city has to offer. I have lived in Seattle and navigated the bus system there. I have travelled rather a lot, and used public transporttion everywhere from Budapest to Berlin without hesitation. Catching a night train should not be a big deal.

But in India nothing is simple. Tonight we needed to catch a the train to Rishikesh from Old Delhi Station. We were approached by a taxi driver, but he wouldn't come down far enough on his price despite my best haggling maneuvers. A second tout approached us, offering to get a us a rickshaw (with a handsome tip in it for himself, no doubt), but we managed to shoo him away. We hailed an auto rickshaw (tuk-tuk). The driver refused to go as far as Old Delhi station. We hailed another tuk tuk. We agreed on a price. We headed off.

And into a spectacular traffic jam. Of Sri Lanka, my guidebook says that "If you suspect your rickshaw driver is not obeying any known traffic laws, you are probably right. " The same can be said of India. We dodged and weaved through the exhaust and flooded streets (did I mention that the monsoon season hasn't quite exhausted itself?). Our engine died a few times. We breathed more than our fair share of fumes. But we made it to the station in one piece.

At the station, We only had to shoo away a few touts and beggars before finding our train listed on the big board. We made our way to platform four (easy - labeled an eveything!). Where we waited. A train pulled up near the time ours was supposed to arrive. Incidentally part of the cargo of that train was an entire car full of crates of baby chickens. I had been joking with Cz that we would eventually ride in a train with a chicken, thought, "Ah here's our chance!" But no dice; the numbers on the side of the train did not match up with the numbers on our ticket. So we waited some more. While waiting we met a couple of other backpackers, and in comparing tickets, discovered that one of them had the seat next to ours.

The platform for our train was changed to platform #3. We and our new friends joined the mad crush of people and parcels changing platforms.

Our train arrived about 20 minutes after it was due to depart. A good bit of shoving later, we were safely ensconced in our seats and clicking our way toward the Himalayas. Once in place, the ride was surprisingly comfortable.

And I was very pleased with myself for having gotten us there.

Day 105 cont'd - Homestay

After visiting the Taj, we returned to Delhi, where our driver invited us to his house for dinner. He lives on the outskirts of the city in two-room apartment (living area and small kitchen) which he shares with his wife and three sons. The living area barely has space for the family bed, two chairs, and a broken computer. I often complain about the size of NY apartments, but here was a family of five living in what amounted to a small studio with a shared bathroom down the hall, and no running water. It was humbling to say the least.

In R's home, we were met with immense warmth and hosptality. R's beautiful wife greeted us with smiles and refused to let our plates sit empty for a second. R introduced us to his two older sons (the youngest was away visiting an aunt) with obvious pride. Shy at first, the oldest (age 6) was soon showing us his schoolwork - almost all in english, and sprinkled liberally with stickers of cricket stars - and the younger boy (age 4) was scooting next to Cz for tickles and games.

The meal was delicious, and we ate far more than we had intended to. Every time a bowl looked even a little low, R's wife refilled it, and R shouted at us "eat, eat!" That small space was full to the brim with happiness and love. As R put it, "I am a poor man, but I am rich in the heart." Under other circumstances, I would have called the statement cheesy, but here it was sincere and true.

Day 105 - Not Another Cenotaph

Technically a mausoleum. It's the most famous building in the world. We were there. The lawn-mower for its grounds is drawn by a team of oxen.

Day 104 - Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

Today we started our drive to Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal. Along the way, we stopped at Keoledo National Park, India's premier bird sanctuary. The rangers are particularly agressive in pushing guides, but we were well warned of this, and held firm on our "just a map and two bicycles please" position. Once clear of the office, the parkland is criss-crossed with a network of paved and partially paved paths. It makes for some bumpy riding, but the ground is perfectly flat, so it is never difficult. We spent two hours peddling about, and saw all sorts of wildlife, from flocks of parakeets, to black buck (like really sturdy antelope), to monkeys and turtles. Also cows.

After lunch, we continued a little further to Fatehpur Sikri, a fort from the time of 17th century King Akbar. The palace was particularly interesting, as it had been built to accomodate the needs of his three wives - a Christian, a Muslim, and a Hindu. Each lady had her own living space, and each space was tailor-made for her needs. The Hindu wife was the only one to grant him a child, so she had the biggest palce, but he spent the same amount of money on each. Thus, the smaller quarters were much more lavishly decorated.

It is interesting that history often calls the people of the East Barbaric, or Primitive. When Christians conquered non-Christian lands, the first move was often to slay any dissenters. This king, however, as he married into other religions, sought to find a way in which all beliefs could coexist peacefully.

By the time we arrived in Agra, it was nearly 5:30PM. We decided to wait until tomorrow to catch the Taj at sunrise. Us and every busload of Japanese and German tourists....

Day 103 - Pink Elephants on Parade

Jaipur is known as "The Pink City", because all te buildings of old twn asre painted 'pink'. Much like the 'golden' of the Golden Gate bridge, the 'pink' of Jaipur is more of a terra-cotta colour. It is still attractive, and the colour is supposed to signify welcome, so I won't knock it.

Our first stop was the Amber Fort, the main palace complex of the king. It is perched on a high hill, and though possible to walk up, most people opt to ride up via elephant. Most of the elephants have pink, freckled faces and ears, and are either painted or wear bells on their necks and ankles. Part of their harness is often a frilly 'hat' that looks for all the world like a prim 50's bonnet, or the hat that Dumbo's mama wore in the movie. They lumber quietly up and down the hill with their loads of tourists, occasionally stopping to (I imagine) gossip with one another through a series of snorts and the occasional muted trumpet.

We rode our elephant up the hill - very scary, the saddle felt like it was slipping - and into the fort. The fort is a stunning piece of architecture, with courtyards and secret passages all linking one into the other. We had a recorded audio guide which I was grateful for, if not for the hiustory and insight, then for the numbered markers to help navigate the warren of the complex.

On the way down the hill, we noticed a distinct lack of elephants going in either direction. I joked that they must be on their union break. When we got to the bottom of the hill though, a whole herd of munching, snoozing pachederms greeted us. Elepphants do get union perks!

Higher still from Amber Fort, stands Ajmeer Fort. Older than Amber, and originally built for city fortification, it is now home to one very large cannon, and LOTS of monkeys. The cannon has a range of 40Km, but has only been used for celebration, never once in battle. Fanning out from the fort, are the city's walls, marked by towers from which signals were sent by semifore, lights, and giant drums.

The town lies in the valley between the fortified hills. Its most striling feature, aside from the pink colour, it its floating palace. It is smaller than the lake palaces of Udaipur, but I felt it looked more enchanted, like something froma fairy tale. I felt the same for the small garden that we visited right afterwards, with its secluded location and a number of its denizens taking an afternoon nap under the trees or in the building steps and niches.

Udaipur is also known for its textiles and gemstones. I haggled happily for most of the afternoon over saris and antique skirts. (Came to my senses and only actually bpought one sari). We also visited a jewelery and stone shop. The owner is friend with our driver, and we spent an hour playing dice with them. Our driver and I won both sets. OK, the first was technically a tie, but we got the right number of points first!

India's craze for crticket is only matched by its love for movies. Tonight, we went to the cinema. The movie house was more like a movie palace, dripping with chandeliers, mosaics, niches, and plush carpeting. The seating was assigned, like in live theatre, and each floor had its own lobby with soft couches and wall sconces. There was even a velvet show curtain and an intermission! Furthermore it was cheap. 2 tickets, 2 cokes, and a popcorn all came to under 5 dollars! AMC 24 could learn something here!

The movie (Chak de India starrting bollywood favorite Shah Ruhk Khan) was entirely in Hindi with no subtitles, but the story was formulaic enough (burnt out field hockey player coaches underdog girls' team to world cup victory), that we pretty well could follow what was going on. Coming so close on the heels of the Cricket World cup, the audience was in fine frenzy, cheering and clapping and talking back to t he screen.

Overall, a very fun day!

Day 102 - India Versus Pakistan

Field Hockey is the national sport of India. Cricket, however, is the national obsession. Today was the final match of the Cricket World Cup. India and Pakistan were left to compete for the cup. India last won the World Cup in 1983. The game beagan at 5:30 PM. As of 5:00, the streets were empty, shops were closed, and nobody was walking about. Every ear was glued to the radio, every eye to the TV. Cheering was strictly divided on religious lines. Muslims for Pakistan, Hindus for India. Excitement and tension were high, to say the least.

We arrived in Jaipur at about 4:30. At halftime of the match, we went out for dinner. We had to giggle a little at the name of the restaurant (Indiana), but the food was excellent. Part of the restaurant's schtick is tradiational Rajasthani dance performances during the meal. This extends to audience participation. As one of the first couples to arrive, I was dragged out onto the dance floor to demonstrate exactly how un-coordinated I really am (very). It was all in good fun though, and we had a lovely time.

Better than the the food though was the ongoing cricket furor. There was a small TV in the service area, and the waitstaff all crowded around, only darting out occasionally to attend to their tables. During moments of intense play, it was better to just be patient, because there was no way anyone was going to be torn away from the game.

It was a close match, and the nervousness in the air was palpable. Every table strained to hear whether there were cheers or moans coming from the kitchen. We made a point of asking the score each time our waiter passed by celebrating of biting our nails with him.

A little after 8PM a big cheer went up, and the waitstaff came streaming back into circulation. India had won! Everyone clapped and the muscians and dancers started a chant-song of India! India! India! We could hear (and occasionally see) fireworks going up all over the city. Traffic noise started up again, with a near constant stream of horn honking. The stream of horns is pretty normal for here, so I'm not sure if they was for victory, or traffic just strting up again since the match had ended, but that is neither here nor there.

The point is that India won its biggest match since 1983. India! India! India! Woooooo!

Day 101 - Holy Cow!

Indian mountain roads, like mountain roads everywhere, are narrow and windy. Indian drivers, however, unlike drivers I have encountered elswhere, do not seem to take this into account. In an earlier post, I mentioned that in theory, traffic moves on the left, but in reality, it moves wherever it's most convenient. Same holds true no matter what the road, no matter what the size of the vehicle. Big semi trailors, cars, motorbikes, and busses all jostle for position around hairpin turns, up and down the hills, and on blind curves. I counted no fewer than 4 overturned or wrecked vehicles on the sides of the road over a 100 kilometre distance. Riding in the front seat is like being a front-row spectator to an hours-long game of chicken. I feel marginally safer in our low- center- of- gravity, seatbelt-having car than I would feel in a bus, but only marginally. From here on out, it's going to be travel by rail whenever possible!

Oddly, there were no emergency vehicles at any of the crash sites. And that got me to thinking. Indian cities (and a lot of India in general) is very noisy. A large component of the noise is traffic - motors horns, shouts, etc. However, I have noticed a complete absence of sirens. A main component of traffic noise in big city or road in the US is the sound of sirens - police, ambulance, firetruck, etc. In India, that particular note is conspicuously absent - the closest I have heard have been a few car alarms. Are horns so widely used that a siren would only serve to confuse? Furthermore, I have only seen a few run-down ambulances, a few police cars, and no firetrucks at all. I am curious what happens in an emergency, and where (surely there must be some?) the emergency vehicles are stored.

We broke our journey at an 11th century, partially ruined temple just outside of Udaipur. We were the only ones there aside from an old man sweeping the steps. Several of the places we have visited have been actively religious. Religion here is often a boistroius affair with much fanfare. There is no doubt of the depth of the faith involved, or the sacredness of the sites. However, this place felt holy in a differnt way. It was one of the only places we visited that felt sacred in the manner of silent cathedrals. I can't quite put my finger on it - it something like a watchful stillness, or a pregnant pause that continues for centuries.

Several hours, and many stomps on my imaginary brakes later, we arrived today in Pushkar. The city is famous for its camel melee in November, but for the rest of the year, it is one of the holiest cities in India. Legend has it that the city was formed around lakes which sprang up when Brahma dropped his lotus flower. It is a relatively small city - only a few hundred thousand- and full of temples and shrines.

The lake itself is surrounded by Ghats, and these in turn, are surrounded by 'holy' touts. These touts press marigolds into your palm and lead you down to the water to make an offering and perform a little ceremony by the lake. In return for the blessing, you are expected to make a 'donation' to the temple upkeep and charity work. I doubt much of said donation actually makes it to charity, but once you have been blessed (marked with vermillion on the forhead and a red string around the wrist), the touts generally leave you alone. The practice is so common, and the touts so aggressive that almost everyone ends up participating, and the red string is known as "The Pushkar Passport".

Agressive touts aside, I really like this city. The streets are narrow and winding, only some are paved, and nearly all are lined with interesting market stalls. In betweent the stalls, around nearly every corner is another temple, and every temple has its own set of daily rituals. These rituals oftenm involve elaborate ceremonies of parading the idol downt he street in a marigoild-decked palinquin, with a band and banner in front, and women tossing rose petals behind.

Consequently, the streets have an almost constant air of festival. In between the waves of chanting and singing, the stall-owners hawk their wares, and a steady flow of people and animals (cows monkeys and goats, mostly) move up and down the alleyways. The cows here are particularly friendly, as children often hand-feed them leftover chapati or fruit scraps.

Among the more interesting buildings is the Brahma Temple. Brahma had a falling out with his wife, and as a consequence, she ordered that only in Pushkar could there be built Brahma temples. As a result, you will find Shiva and Vishnu temples all over India, but the only Brahma temple in the whole country is right here. Furthermore, there are two temples to his wives - the first wife has her temple perched high on a mountain above the town, the second is at the edge of the desert on the other side.

I toyed with the idea of spending tomorrow hiking up to the wife's temple, but my bum is still a little sore from steps up to Ranakpur's Shiva Temple. I think instead I will spend the morning puttering around the market stalls, perhaps further honing my haggling skills.

Day 100 - Day in the Lake City

We spent today exploring Udaipur, the Lake City. It is so named because it is situated around three man-made lakes. Until recently poor management and spotty monsoons had reduced the lakes to almost nothing. The most famous hotel, the Lake Palace, which used to be on an island was suddenly accessible by jeep or elephant, and cricket was played in the lakebed. 2005, however, brought proper rains, and within weeks the lakes were full again, and they remain so today.

Our first stop of the day was the Hindu temple built in the 15th century. Our guide explained in great detail the significance of the different carvings and rituals. For example, the tiers of carving on the towers show the levels of existence. On the bottom level are the demons, then animals, then humans, with the angels and gods occupying the highest level. Souls move freely between the levels according to how they live their lives on earth. Also striking were the erotic carvings all around the temple. Sex is considered a way to honour the gods. The relief carvings are illustrations of the kama sutra, dreamed up by a blind monk to educate the people.

From the temple, we moved on to City Palace, the largest fort-palace in Rajasthan, maybe all of India. The tour took us through sumptious rooms and lavish courtyards. Peacocks made of over 5,ooo,ooo pieces of coloured glass decorated the wllas of one courtyard. Some rooms sported large silk fans or elaborately carved screens. It was a very informative tour into the life of the Mahwari rulers, but unfortunately we took no photos. The camera fee was more than four times the entry ticket, and that money goes directly to line the king's pockets.

One wing of the palace is still occupied the by the current Mahawari. Nearby, another wing is a five-star hotel. In this wing, there is an impressive collection of Murano crystal. Almost as striking as the exibit itself are the views of the other palaces and landscape around the lake. These are enjoyed over the complimentary tea and cookies which are included with the museum admission.

From the crystal collection, we moved on to another of the king's collections. Back in the day, Mahrajas and Mahawari kept many wives and concubines. Today they keep many cars. We started with lunch at the car museum restaurant - very good, and super cheap - and then were shown the antique cars in the current Mahwari's collection. There were some beautiful machines, ranging from a 1924 rolls, all the way up to a 1971 Rambler. One of the Rolls (there were several) was even used in the James Bond movie Octopussy, as was the City Palace!

Udaipur is also known for its miniature paintings. We visited a workshop to watch the artists at work, and to learn about their technique. Of course the end of that tour ended with a sales pitch, and we bought far more art than we had been intending to. Oh well, Christmas is coming, or our hypothetical apartment will be very thoroughly decorated.

Our final stop of the day was the ladies' garden. Orginally only open to the king and his wives, it is now a public park with an assortment of pools and fountains. The fountains are all gravity fed from the lakes, an each is named for the sound that it makes. My favourite was the monsoon fountain, whose jets were directed into the branches of elephant-ear and other tropical plants. the water rattling around the leaves sounded just like the monsoon rains, and I can imagine how cooling that would be on a hot summer day.

We returned to our hotel by early evening, which was fine by me, as I was tired. We spent the rest of the day doing laundry, planning flights for the final legs, and updating the blog. We are now totally current. Don't get used to it.

Day 99 - Bad Monkeys

Poor Cz. He thought he was done with trekking when we finished the Camino. Little did he know that we would spend the morning scrambling through 15 kilometres of jungle hills.

We left at about 7:30 AM, in the relative cool of the morning. By 9AM we were sweating like we have never sweated before. Along the way, we spotted a panther prints, buffaloes having a good mud wallow, all sorts of flowers, and some of the most spectacular scenery we have encountered so far. And that's the short list!

We puffed our way up and up and up. We came to a road where a troop of monkeys were grooming each other. We paused to take a photo, and our guide warned us "stay away, very dangerous monkeys". Yet higher up was a tiny village clinging to the edge of the mountain. Past a small temple, a river fell in a series of pools, where people bathed and did laundry. Higher still, past stalls selling coconuts, flowers, and other offerings, was the natural Shiva temple, a tiny cave from which springs holy water. On our way up, we bought a coconut and incense to offer. Our guide had us hide it until we reached the temple because the bad monkeys. Once in the cave, we offered our coconut (symbol of leaving our ego behind), and our incence, and washed our hands in the holy water. On the way back down the mountain, we stopped in the man-made part of the temple where a holy man blessed us with saffron, tied a string around our wrist, and fed us sugar sweets. Throughout it all, we were the only foreigners, and I believe even the only people not from the village itself.

Back in the village, we exchanged pleasantries with the locals (mostly with hand gestures). A little child clutching a handful of flatbread with one hand and his mother's sari with the other stared and stared at us. Just outside the town's gates, as we waited for the jeep driver to take us back to town, a huge monkey snatched the child's snack and ran back up his tree. The whole area was teeming with theiving monkeys. Several nibbled flabreads, one hopped on the handlebars of a motorbike - we even caught one trying to steal a jeep!

The road back into town was bumpy and crowded. A tractor full of locals drove by and our guide quickly covered my face. No luck though. A big ball of pink powder came whizzing through the open side of jeep to slam into my leg. Apparently anyvehicle with any girl in it was subject to such pelting. It was all very good-spirited with much laughing on both sides, but I still haven't figured out what the occasion was.

After another lunch in our hotel, we trekked back out again, this time not so far, to the local reservior lake. It was very beautiful, totally surrounded by mountains and jungle. We didn't see them, but apparently some crocodiles live there too!

On our way back, we stopped by a local Dhurrie weaver. Dhurrie are a type of rug made of all-natural fibres and all natural dye. Several families produce the dhurrie, and each one has their own particular style. After some cheerful haggling, we bought a small rug, and negotiated shipping to the US. We have no apartment yet, but we have a very nice bedside rug!

We raced the daily monsoon squall back to our hotel for a final pack-up, and by 4pm were on the road again. The 100KM to Udaipur passed slowly due to the road being under construction. India is trying to build a network of roads connecting all cities. Unlike in the states where a paved road is kept open for traffic while the new road is being built, in India, one simply drives through the construction site. I don't want to even consider the environmental impact of cutting this new swath through the hills. I was also very surprised at the relative lack of heavy equipment. Much of the work was being done by ladies in saris scooping dirt and carrying it away in baskets on their heads.

Udaipur is a pretty city perched on the shores of three lakes. We checked into our hotel, and then had a late diner right on the shore of the largest lake. The food and view were both excellent. Someone wrote that Udaipur is one of the most exotic places on Earth, and in India it is kown as the honeymoon city. I don't think I would go quite that far, but it is lovely, and I am looking forward to seeing it by daylight.

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.

Day 97 - City Trousers

My guidebook writes "Camel farts and sore bums aside, the camel treks are generally great fun". It is true. Camels are gassy, our bums are a little sore, but we are having a great time.

This morning we woke up early enough to catch the sunrise over the dunes. The camels were also waking up, and rolling in the sand like huge, ungaingly horses, farting and grunting with pleasure.

In short order, the camels were packed with the beds, bedding, and dinner supplies. We were loaded up in front of the packs, and headed back into the village where a breakfast of tea, fruit and toast was waiting for us. We had lovely time visiting with an international family currently living in Australia, but had to cut our chat short in order to head out to Jodhpur.

On the way, we drove through yet more desert scenery. The road was a virtual river of brightly-dressed people carrying banners on their way to toadside temples and festivals. We stopped at a pure tourist restaurant where the waitstaff was all young Indians wearing Jodhpurs and turbans. It felt terribly colonial and insulting, and I was glad to be away from there.

The outskirts of Jodhpur are dusty and seem particularly dirty. The old city, however is known as "The Blue City", and is very nice. It gets its name from the blue colour on all the buildings of the quarter. Orginally only Brahmins could paint their buildings blue, but now anyone can. Aside from looking nice, the colour is cooling in the summer, and acts like a natural insect repellent.

Above the town lie the city's two main attractions. The white Cenotaph of the kings, and yet another fort. The cenotaph is done in white marble with loads of delicate carving. It is said that it was one of the models for the Taj Mahal. Whether this is true or not is anyone's guess, but it is a very nice piece of architecture.

This fort is particularly well-preserved as a museum with an audio guide and several interesting exhibits. It also affords very good views over the city. By the time we finished exploring the fort and cenotaph, it was getting dark, so we headed back to our hotel for dinner on the roof and a cold shower.

Most places we have been staying claim to have both hot and cold water, but in reality, the water is just cold, or at the most lukewarm. That said, even when hot water is available, we rarely use it. It has been so hot that our nightly cold shower is one of the highlights of the day. Many of the hotels offer the option of bucket shower, or a western showerhead. Depending on the position and state of the drain, sometimes we use the bucket, sometimes the showerhead. In either case, we have had very good luck with our laundry.

You may remember that we packed only a few shirts and trousers. With as much sweating as we are doing now, we are doing laundry pretty much daily. Having a bucket is a great convenience. After everything is washed, we usually string our clothesline across the bathroom, open the window, and shut the door. The result is a veritable sauna when we need to use the toilet, but the clothes dry in record time!