Day 96 - The View From Above

We spent this morning exploring Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer is known as "The Golden City" because it is built entirely of the local golden sandstone. The fort at Jaisalmer is unique in that it is the only continuously occupied fort in Rajasthan. In its heyday, it was home to the rulers, the Brahmin, and the Warrior caste. The Brahmin of Jaisalmer were the educators of the rulers. Today, it is still predominently Brahmin who occupy the fort, though now many of them are tourguides. As our guide told us "For generations my family educated the kings. Today we educate the tourists." The caste system in India is still quite pervasive, though usually it is indicated by local cultural clues that as a Westerner I often cannot read. This was the first time where caste was openly discussed, and with some pride, probably because pretty much everyone in the old quarter is of the highest castes.

Around the fort, Jaisalmer is a maze of narrow streets and winding alleys. Cars, people, motorbikes, and cows all vie for space among the houses and open markets. I wish we had had more time to explore, as it seemed an interesting city to get lost in.

In most of Rajasthan, the Havelis are decorated with paintings. In Jaisalmer, the primary decoration is done by intricate carving an inlay work. we visited one Haveli that had beautiful workmanship, but whose royal occupants have been replaced by flocks of bats. Interestingly enough, at this Haveli and some others around India, it is the sale of bat guano (bat poo) for fertilizer that helps fund the upkeep of the buildings.

Jaisalmer is also the first place we have seen evidence of the earthquakes that often rock India. Many of the Havelis had bowed out walls or cracks in their facades, and in some places they were tumbled down entirely. Where they had been rebuilt, the decoration was far less ornate, and the carving much less delicate. This is in part because the kind of decorative carving one sees in Jaisalmeri Havelies is now very expenseve, but also because now it is just a business for the stonemasons, whereas in the past, it was done as a matter of pride.

After exploring the city, we drove out to a tiny village in the desert, where we met up with a few other tourists, and our camels. This post is titled "The View From Above" both because the fort is perched on a hill, and because camels are TALL. The saddles straddle their humps, which puts one's seat at about 2.5 metres above the ground.

The view of rolling sands, combined with the camels' rolling gait, makes it easy to sea why they are called "the ships of the desert". Cz's guide was a tiny boy. His father is also a camel handler, but the boy likes going out into the desert, so sometimes papa stays home, and the kid takes out the camels. It was amazing watching this boy (he couldn't have been more than 8 or 10, and very small) handling the huge beasts.

After we arrived at our perch in the dunes, the boy took my camel and headed back to the village to collect our camping and dinner things. We took the time to play on the dunes, and watch a spectacular suset. While we frolicked, the other guides built a small fire and cooked chapati (flatbread). As darkness fell, everyone (about eight of us) gathered around the fire to talk in the small circle of light.

Soon after nightfall, the boy returned with the heavily laden camel. Balanced acros Saya's (the Camel's) hump, were two bedframes, dinners for everyone, and, and cold beers. I would say that we were roughing it in the desert, but that would be a big lie. We ate by the light of the moon, and then went to bed under a starry, starry sky. The camp was arranged such that it felt we were all alone int he desert. The milky way was clear across the dark, and there were enough shooting stars to do some proper wishing. It is hard to believe that this much emptiness exists in a country with over a billion people!

Day 95 - Local Colour

We spent most of today in the car driving from Bikaner to Jaisalmer. The drive was made a little slower because we took some detours through little villages, and being desert, occasionally sand had drifted across the road. Often, we had to stop completely for huge heards of goats being led across or along the road.

The scenery was quite spectacular in places - wide expanses of sand and scrub, puctuated only by ladies in bright saris or heards of goats. It seems that in spite of, or perhaps because of, the subdued pallete of the landscape, colour plays an even more important role in the dress of the local people. Women, even the poorest, dress in auspicious shades of bright pink and peacock blue (for good marriage), Saffron yellow (in honor of Shiva), or lucky red, or any combination thereof. Silver too, is abundant and cheap in this region, so all women wear many layers of jewelery that jingle when they walk. The desert is pocked with tiny lakes. There is more water than usual at this time of year - the monsoon just ended - but still, the women often walk several kilometres with jugs on their heads, or with tiny donkeys carrying large bags of water. It is a harsh landscape, and a difficult place to live. We are very insulated in our car and hotels, but it is easy to see the wear on even the youngest faces.

We arrived in Jaisalmer slightly before sunset, and paid a visit to the local Cenotaphs, or memorials built after the cremation of rulers. The cluster of buildings is perhaps my favourite site of Indian architecture we have seen so far, and the reddish-gold sandstone turned luminous as the sun slipped lower in the sky.

The area around the cenotaphs is full of children trying to sell all manner of odds and ends, or offering their services as "guides". Several offer, sometimes quite forcibly, "gifts", which then one will trade a few rupee for. A simple solution is to keep pockets full of sweets. It may not be terribly good for their health, but it makes the children happy. A gift can be turned down with a simple "no thank-you" and then "but I have a gift for you", and an offer of a sweet. The child is usually tickled, and will try to strike up a conversation, or call his friends over for their share of sweets. It's a quick route to popularity with a certain age group in the community!

After the cenotaphs, we went to a bluff overlooking the town to watch the sunset. Only a few other tourists were there, and a couple of children posing for pictures and doing magic tricks (in the hopes of rupee or sweets). A young musician also plied his trade, surprising us with a cellophane wrapped CD for sale. I associate street musicians offering up CD's as part of the New York subway system. I did not expect to find it on a bluff overlooking a medieval fort in India. Proof positive that the world is modernising and growing smaller by the day!

Day 94 - Fort, Camels, and...

Today we arrived in Bikaner. Bikaner is the beginning of the desert region of Rajasthan, and the landscape has changed dramatically. Because the monsoon is just ending, there is still quite a bit of green in the long, empty sands, but by next month it will be a sea of brown and yellow. Much of the trafic here is not cars or busses, but rather ladies in flowing saris carrying impossible loads on their heads, camel or oxcarts, and people on foot. I had seen photos like this in National Geographic, but could not imagine how it would be in real life. The scale and grace of human life against the sheer vastness of the desert must be witnessed first hand to grasp.

Bikaner rises up suddenly out of the desert. Its skyline is dominated by the fort, which, like the Red Fort, is really a comples of palaces, more than a single military fortification. Bikaner receives very few tourists - to say there were a few french people, a few Brits, and us. The rest of the rather large crowd visiting the fort were all Indians. The French and the Brits had private guides. We somehow wound up in a group of about 50 Indians and a guide speaking Hindi. Luckily, a couple of young guys in the group, and the second guide did speak a little English, and pointed out key features to us. The fort was an interesting blend of East and West, with Belgian mirrors and Italian chandeliers living alongside traditional Rajasthani carved sandlewood.

After the fort, we holed up in hotel. Afternoons in Rajasthan are HOT, and siesta is often observed. After the worst of the heat had passed, we visited the camel research and breeding facility a little way out of town. It is the only one of its kind in Asia, and its camel stock have been exported all over the world. There are three types of camel native to Rajasthan. The Bikaner camel is very strong - one camel can pull up to two and half tons! They are used extensively around this region for hard labour. They also sport the longest eyelashes of any dromedary. The Jaisalmieri camel is lighter in both colour and build, and very fast. These were the camels used by the Indian Army. The third type, I believe is called Goakpur. Goakpur camels produce the most milk. Aside from work within the facility, the center provides its finest stud camels free of charge to the local community. Many people in and around Bikaner rely heavily on their camels, and it is in the area's best interest to keep the breeding stock as strong as possible for everyone.

After the camels, we went a little further down the chain of evolution. There is a local goddess whose animal icon is the rat. Consequently, her temple is overrun by masses of rats. Really, rats everywhere - floor, railings, scurrying up and down the walls....sort of like some neighborhoods in Brooklyn. As my guidebook states "This not for the faint of heart or the sockless". You are expected to remove your shoes before entering the temple. It is considered good luck to have a rat run over your foot. Even better luck if you spot the one white rat. We experienced both, so have high hopes. If, by mischance you should step on a rat, you are expected to donate a life-size gold rat to the temple to atone. Not many tourists venture out there, so we were something of a novelty. Cz and I are now part of few Indian tourist albums rather than the other way around.

After the rat temple, we headed back to our hotel. Where we washed our socks - lots of rats equal lots of rat poo - no shoes...

And ate dinner of delicious local food. After washing our hands. Reapeatedly.

Day 93 - Playing Chicken With Camels

Today we began our trip into Rajasthan. The roads are sometimes quite good, and sometimes entirely unpaved, and pocked with potholes and virtual lakes from the recent monsoon. In theory, traffic travels on the left. In reality, traffic travels on whatever side of the road is most convenient. "Traffic" consists of just about anything you can imagine with wheels - cars, busses, bikes, tuk-tuks, handcarts, donkey carts, and even camel carts. We dipped and swerved, only slowing down when the road was completely blocked - usually by cows or goats.

Our journey took us through several small villages. This area is known for the quality of its milk, which comes primarily from the buffalo rather than standard cows. Every house has least a few cows tethered by the front door, usually accomanied by a few goats or a donkey. Along the roads leading up to the villages, small children sell fruit from thrown-together tables. We stopped and bought a bag of something green, maybe guava, with salt and pepper. It was a strange taste sensation - sweet fruit with intense salt and pepper flavour, but very good.

Our stopping point was the town of Mandawa. Mandawa is known for its Havelis, or painted mansions. Our hotel was actually in a heritage building, with beautifully restored paintings on virtually every surface. The town itself is somewhat touristy and dusty, but did boast some pretty impressive painted buildings with rooftop views, and equally impresive puppies.

Back at the hotel, a couple put on a puppet show with traditional Rajasthani puppets. The husband worked the puppets, while his wife sang and played the drums. They had a display of simple puppets laid out for sale in front of the stage, but I was enchanted by the dancing elephant from the show and said so. Turns out he was for sale too, and after a little bit of haggling, I am now the proud owner of a yellow elephant with silver eyes.

Later that evening, as I was crossing the courtyard where the puppet stage was, the musician called me over. She was painting her nails, and insisted on painting mine too. She was very curious as to why I had been married for three years and still had no children. She herself has five, ranging in age from infant to teenager. Her husband's family had been puppeteers and puppet makers for five generations. He showed me a puppet that had been made by his great, great, great grandfather, and for which he had recently sewed new garments from special cloth. The musician played a little on her drum, an sang softly, and her husband showed how even the very old puppet could still dance. This puppet, he explained was not for sale. Many people had offered to buy it, but this one was his history, and he would not part with it for even 25,000 rupees. after a little more conversation in hand gestures and broken English, the musician pressed a Bhindi dot to my forehead and declared us sisters.

And so ends day 3 of India.

Day 92 - World Religion Overview

One of the first lines in my India guidebook states "India is perhaps one of the most visibly religious countries in the world". According to our observations today, this is certainly so. But let's begin at the beginning.

This morning, we were woken by what I thought was thunder. It turmed out not to be thunder at all, but boisterous baby monkeys leaping from the tree outside our window, onto the roof, and back again. For such tiny monkeys, they sure made a lot of noise!

After our shower, we met our driver downstairs for a whirlwind tour of Delhi. Our first stop was to be the Red Fort. Red Fort was offinally the palace of the Mogul Emperor, later turned into barracks and the center of the British Military in the 19th century. Much of the fort is in fairly sad shape - the Brits destroyed a lot of the delicate inlay work, but what remains is still pretty spectacular. A staff is now employed to maintain the fort. India doesn't really have an eqivalent to OSHA - I don't envy this guy's job one bit!

The main Jain Temple is right across te street from the Red Fort. I had read about it in my guidebook, and requested that we would be able to stop there too. Jain is an offshoot of Hinduism that believes all life is sacred. No leather of animal products of any kind are allowed in the temple. Additionally, next door to the temple, there is a bird hospital which accepts all kinds of birds, from pigeons up to peacocks. Some birds are in isolation cages, some have little bandages on their wings, and other live in large communal cages where they get plenty of good food and protection. There is even a chick rescued from a meat farm who has run of the place.

From there, we headed into New Delhi for a visit to Ghandi's tomb. It is a set in a large park - a welcome sea of quiet amidst all the hustle and bustle of teh city. Of course it is a major pilgrimmage site for Indians and Tourists alike, and so is often crowded. We were lucky to arrive just between two much larger groups. It is surrounded by an arcade inscribed with Ghandi's teachings in languages from around the world. The whole thing is a powerful statement for peace and a very fitting monument.

Next was the Lotus Temple, of the Ba'hai faith - very much an agnostic faith that incorporates elements of all religions. Don't really have a full grasp of it though, but it embraces all people of faith and has been recognized by the UN. It has a center in the US as well as in Israel. The architecture of the temple is a sight to behold.

Our next stop was to be equally important on the standard Delhi tourist itinerary - India Gate, Rajpath, and the government (parliment, the president's complex) buildings. India gate was erected to honour the Indians who fought in WWI. It was modeled after The Arche De Triumph in Paris, and stands at one end of Rajpath. Rajpath is a wide straight road with grassy park on either side. The park is home to all manner of vendors, courting couples, and even a monkey tamer and snake charmer. At the opposite end of Rajpath, stands the governmment complex of President's house, PArliment, and two other official building. All are very impressive in red sandstone combining elements of both Georgian and Indian architecture.

Near the India gate was another special request - The Indian Gallery of Modern Art. Many monuments charge a higher tariff for foreigners than they do for Indians. The art gasllery was such a case - 10 rupee for Indians, 150 rupeee for foreigners. Cz and I must have looked pathetic though, because the girl behibnd the desk asked "students?" and then let us in for the Indian national rate. The gallery is a smallish museum dedicated Indian art since 1930. Much of the work was very interesting, some strikingly european, some employing symbolism entirely Indian.

After leaving teh museum, we passed Jantar Mantar, a 15th or 16th century giant sundial, but as it was raining, we decided not to stop.

Back on the trail of temples, we stopped by the Sikh temple. A friend who had been to India said that it had a very positive energy and that we should go there. Along with the Jain Bird Hospital it was my favourite stop in Delhi. A courtly gentleman instructed us in proper etiquette and covered our heads. The temple was filled with the music of live tabla players and chanting. We were among the only Westerners there, and everyone was eager to explain everything that was going on. Once outside, we were briefly befriended by a young mother and her beautiful khol-eyed baby. Then a grandmotherly type ushered me into the women's bathing area. Freed from the view of men, the women were giggling and gossiping as they stripped down to go in the water. I was soundly teased in broken English and Hindi as to why I wasn' t going in the water too. Once outside again, we were re-adopted by the young mother, who took us under her wing and tried to explain the history of the gurus in very broken English. Then she took us into the kitchen behind the the temple where everyone sat on mats, and holy men (the bigger the beard, the holier the man according to our guide) brought around chai, water and a meal of flatbread and spiced potatoes. We were the only non-Indians there. No one spoke more than a few words of English. Our friend showed us how to behave through example and hand-gestures. After the meal, she took us through the cooking area where women sat in circles cutting up onions, peeling potatoes, and singing wehile they made flatbread over a wood-feuled stove. Everything, from the copper kettles, to the bins of potatoes, to the bread cooking surface was huge enough to feed whatever number of peopel might show up. We felt entirely welcomed and somehow invited into the inner sanctum. After out meal, our new friend took us clockwise around the reflecting pool - for goodkarma, and back to the temple, where we were fed a sweet lentil ball of good fortune. From there, we stopped where men were pouring holy water from kettles. We followed our friend's lead, rinsing our fingers, taking a sip, and tossing the unused water over our right shoulders. It was amazing how thouroughly we had been adopted and cared for. The whole area was full of peace and gentleness, from the architecture, to the sounds of music, to the genuine friendliness of the people.

Our final stop was the Hindu temple. It was actually a complex with a large central building, and several smaller buildings around it dedicated to specific gods and goddesses. Again, the air was filled with music, and everyone was very welcoming to us foriegners. Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed, so none were taken. One of the striking things on the temples though were the swaztikas that emblazon the towers and carvings. This symbol has been around for centuries that represent purity and "God with Man." It has many different meanings, including Aryan. Amazing how a symbol can be corrupted when only the narrowest of definitions is used.

Delhi is a sprawling city of noise and chaos. Traffic laws are handled as suggestions, and maniac tuk-tuks zoom around like angry hornets. There are humans and cows and cars everywhere. That said there are islands of extreme calm, and some of the warmest and most generous peole we have met anywhere in our travels. It is a strange and beautiful place, or perhaps strangely beautiful in its contradictions. And that's just one city!

Day 91 - Monkeys, Monsoons, and More

We are officially in India! We wormed our way through the crush of people waiting for taxis and tuk-tuks, and climbed into the public bus. We and our bags were thoroughly wedged in with about twice the legal capacity for said bus. Luckily, we were some of the first on, so we had both seat and window. After a few horse vrrooms, and an ominous smell of something burning, the bus began to pull away from the airport. Then something clanked, and the bus stopped. Much yelling in Hindi, and further clattering around under the hood ensued. After a few minutes, and bit more banging, we were off and away.

The area around the airport is a plain scattered with bougenvelia, shantytowns, cows, and monkeys. All I could think was "Toto, we're not in Knasas anymore". The bus's turn signal consisted of a man hanging out the side and waving his arm. If anyone wanted on or off, the bus would slow down and the person would either jump off, or run alongside and hop on. The bus never actually came to a full stop.

Until us, of course. Our packs were somehat buried, and it was with some resentment that the driver stopped long enough for us to dig them out and clamber down.

We were somewhere in Connaught Place. There are no roadsigns in Delhi. Sometimes a building will have the address prined ona sign over the door, but often not. Our guesthouse was somewhere nearby, but which direction was anyone's guess. Beggar children tugged at our clothes, and tuk-tuk drivers tried to get us into their cabs, and street sweepers pointed us in opposite directions. After a few disorienting minutes, we found a guard at a school and he directed us partway. Where we met a yoga teacher who took us to the Government information center. I knew from my map that this info center was literally around the corner from our guesthouse, but even that "around the corner" proved to be a confusing maze of alleyways.

We found our way though. Our room consisted of a plywood box perched on the roof of the main guest lodge. By this point we had been travelling for over 24 hours. We spread our sleep sack and tumbled into bed for a few hours' nap.

After napping, I spent the rest of the afternoon plotting our next leg. Train plans in hand, we headed off to the New Delhi Railway station. Again, looks easy to find on the map, actually sort of hidden. We found it though, and immediately fell prey to a tour tout. I did clue in before we got too scammed (just a 10 rupee tuk-tuk ride to a dubious tour agengcy). We began walking back to the government office when our driver pulled up and said that if this was the wrong office, he would take us to the government one.

He still took us to a differernt office, one I'm sure he gets comission from, but we decided to go in anyway. Considering our experience just trying to buy one train ticket, we decided to book through the tour company for our first few weeks, and then to strike out on our own after Nepal.
It turns out that this company is the same one the US State department or the Indian Embassy linked me to to get more info on visas.

By now it was getting late, so we headed back to our room to plan and to tally how much we have spent to far. Our plotting was interrupted by rain thundering down on the roof. After very little coaxing, Cz stripped down to his boxers and darted outside. I hunted frantically for my bathing suit, but by the time I had it on, the squall had reduced to a shower. I was most put out.

We finished our scheming and went in search of some dinner. Another girl in the hotel had reccommended The Banana Leaf, a little place just down the road. We headed that way, and were rewarded with delicious vegetarian curry and rice, chai, and a sweet lassi. In theory, the good bacteria in the lassi will duke it out with any bad bacteria we might ingest. The restaurant had all the hallmarks of a good place - lots of people, no tourists, and an open kitchen. Halfway through the meal, the power cut out. Luckily Cz had his headlamp, which we set up on the table like a little candle. For about five minutes we had a very romantic little dinner. Then the lights came back, the fans whirred to life, and we were back in the thick of things.

A short dash across the highway (the underpass closes in the evening), and we safely back in our little room. Where we discovered ants had invaded my pack. We de-anted, sealed up everything that ants might find atractive, and crawled into bed once more.

Delhi is like nothing I have seen before. It is noise and colour and chaos on a scale I could not have imagined. Right now I'm having a bit to much of a sensory overload to give a verdict on whether or not I like it, but it certainly is exciting!

Day 90 - Holy Rollers

Today we left Vienna for India. We had originally intended Istanbul to be a ramping up from the extreme European-ness of the rest of our summer itinerary, but with the eight days spent in Vienna, that plan sort of backfired. (Not that we didn't have a terrific time)

H escorted us to the commuter train for the airport. We went off with only the smallest of hitches. As stated before, our water filters consistantly attract attention by the screeners. This time, they looked at them so intently and called over so many people that I was worried we wouldn't be able to take them with us. Eventually the screeners did let us through, and we were off to Istanbul. Again.

We made it into Istanbul without a hitch, and followed signs to the international transfer area. Akbar airport is very nice, and we spent our long layover puttering around the duty-free shops and calling home. Oddly enough, even with the plethora of shops, we could not find one single deck of playing cards. We might be in for some looo-ooong trainrides. Besides shopping and calling, we had some choice people-watching. The airport was FULL of holy men. Most were wearing all white wrap garments (sort of like heavy cotton man saris), plus an African holy man in his embroidered outfit, all escorted by vieled women. Ramadan is starting, but these men weren't fasting - unless brownies don't count as breaking fast. Does anyone know of any really important holy event happening around Istanbul or somewhere that Turkish Air might be flying?

When the time came to board the flight to Delhi, our visas were checked, our tickets stamped, and into the plane we went. It was like a trans-atlantic flight in seat layout, and unfortunately we were stuck in the middle row. Also in our row was a gregarious young Indian man who is part of the couch-surfing network. We may get in touch with him once we are in India if we decide to go to his neighborhood.

We landed in Delhi at 3:30 in the morning. Our book had warned that the arrivals hall would be utter madness at this our because most international flights arrive in the wee small hours, but the baggage claim area was nearly empty. We settled into chairs with our packs, and decided to wait for daylight to venture out into the big, bad world. For that, next post!

A few of my favorite things (cz)...

Day 89 - Really Traum v Trauma

Though that other exhibit we saw was indeed both dreamy and traumatic, it was not, in fact, the actual Traum v Trauma exhibit. That one, the real one, we visted today. But it wasn´t our first stop.

We stopped first at the Spanish Riding school. Every morning from 10-noon, the Lippenzanner Stallions have their morning workout. The Lippenzanners are internationally known for both their colour - 99% of them are light grey - and their level of training. I am a little horse-obsessed, and Cz patiently sat through an hour of watching their schooling. They were doing some pretty impressive dressage (sort of like equine ballet) moves, but my favourite bits were when they behaved like "real" horses. A few of the stallions were acting up, with ears pinned back and tails swishing, one even considered throwing a little buck or two, and another tried to bolt. It was nice to see that even these highly trained, animals still have a proper independent or rebelious streak (as all good horses should). In between exercises, the stallions walked on a long rein looking curiously and calmly around the arena, receiving frequent pats by their trainors. At the end of each session, the horses lined up, the riders dismounted, and grooms came to collect them. But not before each rider produced at least one, usually several, sugar cubes from a secret pocket of his tailcoat and rewarded his horse with sweets and a pat on the neck.

Then we went to the Traum v Trauma exhibit. It was in the Kunsthalle Wien in the Museums Quartier. The museum has continuosly rotating exhibits from contemporary artists. This exhibition featured rooms filled with images of dreams and nightmares. The closest category for the exhibit from art history, I suppose, would be surreal, but it doesn´t quite fit. The first rooms are entered under a tangled web of red yarn stretched over branching shapes, and tangled around all sorts of objects. Moving through the space felt like a cross between travelling through an Alice in Wonderland spiderweb or the synopses of a brain. We will be stealing the idea.

The rooms after held an assortment of skewed sculptures and strange prints. It almost felt more like a really great (and somewhat perverse) sideshow than an art gallery. In this side of the exhibition hall, my favourite piece was titled "Black Narcisus". A spotlight on a seeming abstract sculpture of painted black dildos and fingers produced a detailed silouette of 2 men´s heads on the wall behind.

Across the courtyard, another series of rooms showed a second work by Tim Noble and Sue Webster (of the dildo sculpture), this time a double self-portrait made by shining light on sculptures made from scrap metal. That they look like their peeing is intentional. It is part social commentary on waste, and part a reference to Renaissance curiosities. In addition to their shadow-sculptures, a large-format work built of nearly 300 baby carraiges and video intallation also occupied the space. The video installation was by South African artist William Ketridge, whose work we had seen in Berlin, and whom I like very much.

The rain stopped while we were in the museum, so we decided to have lunch in the little plaza just outside. Apparently many visitors have this idea, and consequently the sparrows are quite brazen. One even tried to snatch my sandwich from my hand when I wasn´t tossing the seeds from the roll fast enough. Several perched on Cz´s lap, and hopped up into both our hands to be fed.

We were so entertained by the sparrows that we missed the tour of St Michael´s crypt. Instead, we took in an overview of the city on Tram 1, which does a loop around the city center and offers views of many of the important buildings.

After our tramride we went to the furniture museum. The many palaces of the Hapsburg were not furnished yearound. As a result, a specific office developed to arrange the logistics of transporting and maintaining the vast array of furniture needed to support a royal household. When the furniture wasn´t in use, or when fashions changed, it was held in large storerooms. Those storerooms have been recreated here. Only in Vienna does essentially prop storage get to be a museum! In addition to the storerooms, there were rooms set up to represent typical arangements, rooms dedicated to single objects (like spittoons!) and an exhibit of 20th century Viennese furniture.

By the time we finished there, most museums were closing. We considered heading to a cofeeshop, but thought it best to catch up on the blog. We hope you appreciate today´s lack of kuchen. That, and since tomorrow will involve international travel (Vienna to Istanbul to Delhi at 2:30 Thursday morning) and getting our bearings straightened out, we may not be blogging for a few days...then again, India is supposed to be internet saavy.

Anyway, off to a Chinese dinner with D and H and then pack up our bags once again! We will miss the nice little apartment...we felt sooo European.

Day 88 - VISAS!

It was one of our last stops of the day, but I know a lot of you have been worried so here it is at the top of the post. We got our visas for India. According to the dates printed on them, they were already ready on Friday. The talley - One day spent trying to change flights, some hours spent in the Embassy, a bit of stress. The lessons learned - Jess version: It´s relatively easy to pick up a visa on the road. The Cz version: Know all countries´ visa requirements WAY in advance to avoid panic. I suppose a combination of the two will serve us well along the way.

As for the rest of the day, we spent the morning at Schloss Shönbrun. We played real tourist, and took a headset tour of the palace interior. It was interesting to hear the history of the rooms and he people behind them, though I could not begin to tell you who belongs to which generation. Empress Elizabeth, the wife of Franz Joseph, is the most popular figure, but my personal favourites were the portaits of Maria Antoinette, later Mrs Louis XVI, as a child. It was interesting to see the childhood portraits juxtaposed against the history of royal marraiges. From cradle to grave, these children were political pawns. One of Marie Antoinette´s sisters, Maria Christine, was said to be the favourite of her parents because she was the only daughter allowed to marry for love, but I wonder if it wasn´t that she was the favourite, but simply that she had less political capital than her sisters and brothers.

Outside the palace building, formal gardens spread in every direction. We went into the privy garden and admired the flowers from the viewing terrace. The garden also featured some luscious looking lemon trees. We (or at least I) was seriously tempted to snag some fruit, but the guards probably would have frowned on that.

Equally fun, and far more legal were the boxwood labrynth and maze games. The labrynth was sufficiently tall and thick to be confusing, but not too challenging. The maze games were set up in a second labrynth with much lower bushes, and therefore much easier paths. A central fountain operated by means of a rocking board - balance for a split second, and a jet of water shoots up. A cluster of mirrors created a kaleidescope view of the garden, and a series of tiles set in the ground played the "dance glockenspiel". A precourser to "Dance Dance Revolution" perhaps?

After the mazes and games, we wound our way back up to the Gloriette for a cup of coffee. Our pass to the palace and gardens came with a coupon book, including free chocolate with our espressos.

We had wanted to also visite the zoo, but it was already after 2PM, so we opted instead to head out to Karlskirche. Karlskirche is a large Baroque church. Here too we went touristy and got the information handsets. They turned out to be very informative. Among other things, we learned that the church was build specifically because Vienna was in the throes of a second round of the plague in the middle of the 18th century. St Charles Borromeo had been a significant figure during the first round. It was hoped that by building a church to his honour, he would intercede on Vienna´s behalf for this round.

It´s strange how such a cheerfuly round-shaped and brightly coloured church should have such a dark story. Sort of like how even tragic operas from that time all seem somehow bouncy and written in a major key.

The church is currently undergoing restoration works. Rather than apologise for the scaffolding, the management has put in an elevator system, and opened some of the scaffolding for tourist viewing. It wobbles, as scaffolding is wont to do, and it is very, very high up. There are even steps up into the lantern for views out over the city and down, down into the depths of the church. The result is a mix of terror of falling and dying, and of pleasure at being able to look at the frescos close up. As we were looking, my ears perked up at another tourist saying "St Jacob" and "scallop shell". Lo and behold, up in the dom of the Karlskirche is our old friend, a Perigrino of St James.

Karlskirche is in the vicinity of the Nachstmarkt, a consistant reccomendation from our assorted friends and family. We meandered past the retaurants and through the assorted stalls, stopping to buy a back of wasabi-covered peanuts for an afternoon nosh. Interestingly enough many of the stalls were selling Indian spices, and the colours and smells made us excited about our next leg.

From Nachstmarkt, we walked to the Secession House, a landmark of Jugensteil architecture, and a museum of the Vienna Secession. Unfortunately, it was closed because today was Monday, but even the outside was pretty neat.

By then it was 5PM, and we had a date at the Indian Embassy. You can see how that went at the top of the post. Short version: We are cleared for landing in the Subcontinent.

With that off our minds, we celebrated by...

blogging.