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Rajasthan
The Great Camel Trek
The Taj
Kristel's 21st birthday
The city you go to die
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Saying goodbye to Kristel, in a classic Ambassador, Calcutta
rickshaws, moto rickshaws, buses and cars all leaning on their horns) jostled for the tiniest amount of space around her.
Rajasthan
Rajasthan evokes images of grand palaces, incredible architecture and unsurpassed romantiscism. Yet the first taste we had of Rajasthan was a simple, rural place where huge camels plod steadily through the fields, turning the earth with an antiquated wooden plough. Each plough is followed by a man in an oversized bright turban, the turban's lopsided size making his skinny legs look all the more stick like. The whole place is hot, and the roads are congested with animals, carts and people: petite donkeys trot daintly, pulling overladen contraptions on wheels. The women, in their bright red, orange and yellow dresses, make a wonderfully biblical image as they carry water from wells, balancing bulbous clay pots or metal jars on their heads. Ragged, barefoot children with big smiles play as they drive a few goats or buffalo along the road.
We follow a gypsy family moving camp through the streets, with at least 10 overladen carts pulled by camels, filled with children of varying size and amount of dress. There are naked babies through to exquisitely and brightly dressed women, laden with jewelry. Two kittens attached to the cart by strings around their necks, had fallen off and clawed frantically at the thin air as the cart jounced along, all the while their necks being ominously stretched.
In Shekawati we became acquainted with the HAVELI (important terminology in Rajasthan) - which basically this translates as fancy house. Shekawati is particularly famed for its fancy houses painted with lots of pictures. we were a bit disappointed as they all turned out to be as faded as the dusty landscape, and the buildings nearly falling down. But we also did stay in what was probably our most exotic room. Picture a white and pink room with walls covered in circular mirrors covering the walls in patterns of flowers. Sounds strange, I know.
In Bikaner we visited a temple inhabited by rats (not just a few like in our Delhi hotel room!) The hundreds of rats are believed to be people who have died. Being holy rats we had to treat them with a little respect - no problem there for Kristel, she was petrified! But then you have to give her credit for even going into the temple! It WAS really quite disgusting. But as visits go, ours was a good one - we saw a couple of white rats - considered very lucky - and one rat ran over Judy's foot. Very auspicious!
The Great Camel Trek
Jaisalamer is out of the Arabian nights, a fort city in the middle of the desert - and with the extreme heat - it appeared before us like a mirage. The fort is perched atop of a big sand dune in the middle of the Thar desert, and in the days of old protected the city within. Wandering in narrow laneways within the fort was almost as if we had
stepped back to medieval times.
Then came the Great Camel Trek - we were thinking four days – but then with 40 plus heat and lots of people warning of the discomforts involved in riding camels, we dropped back to a 2 day foray! Sitting down and standing up on the camels was like being on a roller-coaster as the huge beast would pitch you forward and you would go from a height of about two metres to ground level with a huge rush! The camels were endearing, with google eyes, buck teeth, and a generally out of proportion appearance, but they really were a quite comfortable, rollicking ride! We spent a night sleeping on dunes with a carpet of stars above us, though probably not as impressive as Australian skies!
Elephant ride to see a Tiger, Bandhavgarh National Park
One of the less erotic sculptures at Khajuraho
Taj Mahal
Village woman, Rajasthan
Udaipur is supposed to be "the most romantic city in India". They shouldn't say these things and get your hopes up! In reality it has not rained in the region for about five years, shrinking the romantic lake with its white Moghul palaces to a muddy stinky puddle, with a few derelict buildings in the middle!
Udaipur possibly had the most contented (and actually fat) cows, burrowing in the rubbish, looking for tasty morsels, and lounging in the streets. In the case of being no tidbits, the cows would chew on plastic, paper and whatever else they could find. In the narrow streets the cows caused more than their fare share of traffic jams, blocking a whole laneway and causing a chaotic tangle of rickshaws, bicycles and scooters, all beeping when there was no where to go! The cacophony certainly wasn't going to move the immovably placid cow. We thought the school bus had the right idea, having an assistant (couldn't be a conductor being a school bus!) who would leap out at the first sight of a cow, and beat it off the road with a stick.
Onto Pushkar - a Hindu holy town - if you bath in the waters of the (grotty) lake apparently all your sins are washed away. We weighed it up and decided that sins were preferable to some disease caught in the foul waters.
In Pushkar we realized we had sunk to new lows - we chose a table in a restaurant, and didn't even notice a dog was lying on the table alongside! But then India has really got to you when you realise the dog's male organs (balls) are displayed impressively towards we diners - and we decided not to shift!
Jaipur is known as the Pink city (as opposed to Jodpur the blue city). For us, the highlight was wading with elephants in the moat of the Amber Fort, memorable for its floating elephant poo. Sitting on the elephants and seeing them close up was worth the potential disease, and we spent an hour wallowing with these beautiful creatures.
Like nearly everyone who goes to India, we went to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, famed as the biggest monument to love in the world. I liked the Indian English description of it. "A resplendent immortal tear drop on the cheek of time."
Agra was more memorable for us for our first real brush with Indian bureacracy in the form of the Indian postal service. Innocently, we thought to use the "Book Post" service and send home 5kg of books for the grand total of $5 Australian. First we took several cycle rickshaws to get the parcel wrapped in cloth, as per regulations, and then ended up at a jewelry shop enduring a sales pitch as a man sealed the seams with red wax.
Unfortunately this was not the right red wax seal - as the bureacrat in the post office was to gleefully, but regretfully, advise! This was circumvented when he magnaminously agreed to cover the wrong wax with his, very official seal! Forms filled out, we survived an interrogation regarding what TYPE of books they were exactly. At this point we had spent 2 hours getting the parcel wrapped according to India post regulations and then endured another hour in the annals of a huge building where rickety fans whirred above like they were going to take off and cause us serious damage. In the post office room
where we were questioned over the suspicious nature of our parcel, there were 16 men and one woman (the person that stuck forms onto parcels with glue.) Of these people only one actually did anything in the two hours we were there!
Then came THE PROBLEM that we needed a hole in the parcel – seemingly so the post man could see they were books. "Easy fixed!" said the bureacrat, snipping snidely with his scissors. "We cant send it like that!" we exclaimed in horror, " the books will fall out.!" He smiled condescendingly, "Madam, It is India Post regulations." On went the standoff as he then got a designated hole sewer to stitch the hole. 'It will break!" we protested. OK, he said, wielding the scissors with new enthusiasm, "New hole!" . which as you can imagine was not to our standards. Four hours after the parcel posting exercise was commenced, we charged through the dusty corridors, parcel of books still in hand and our patience just a whole lot thinner.
Onto the laid back village in Orcha - and when I use the words "laid back" its because hardly anywhere in India is so hassle free. No shop keepers and touts shouting from their doorway, "Madam, where you from? A place where there were few beggars or children following you, grabbing at your arm, or reeling off in a well worn line, "Pen,chocolate, shampoooooo, Rupeeee???"
Woman, Khajuraho
Sunset, Orcha
The faithful, Fatepur Sikri
Unpronouceable Khajuraho is famed for its temples dating back over 1000 years, and the reason for the many tourists is not really through devotion. Let's say that the exquisite figures carved on the outside of the temples are. erotic and as we visited the temples we played a weird game of "Where's Wally?" where we searched for sculptures described in our guidebook but more fitted to a porno magazine.
Khajuraho was also where we celebrated Kristel's 21st birthday – in fine style, might I say, considering India is more or less a "dry" country. Dressed in our best, we graced a five star hotel for a meal and drinks. The crowning glory of the night was a huge 1kg chocolate cake with 21 candles. The white jacketed waiters were so excited by the cake they blew the secret early on only to realize their mistake and spend the rest of the night whispering conspiratory messages in Judy's ear. The candles - all 21 of them - befuddled the waiters who finally whispered, "we fire - then come!" With a pink rose on the silver serving knife and a diamond ring on her finger, Kristel was the epitome of elegance on this special day.
Did you ears prick up about the diamond ring? Yes, she was given the ring by a young Indian admirer (tout on the street) whose birthday is also on 5th October. And don't worry, it WAS plastic, but a most romantic gesture!
In Bandhavgarh National Park a crazy jeep ride didn't spot us any tigers so we lined up with all the other tourists for an overpriced elephant ride through the bush to a tracked tiger. (I am not going to tell you all that we had any part in finding the tiger) "Bush bashing" has new meaning when you are on the back of the elephant going through the jungle! The elephant driver would shout something like "mamut" and the elephant reached up with its trunk and cleared the thick bamboo away. So ensued another game of "Where's Wally" as we looked for the tiger in the undergrowth of the bamboo – because the stripes REALLY do camoflauge!!!!
The city you go to die
Varanasi, the holy city on the Ganges seems to typify India. Except it seems naive to say that anything is "typical" in India, its all so crazy and different. It is typical in that the traffic and congestion is diabolical - each day we saw heaps of minor accidents - side
swiping, clipping the backs of other vehicles. Cyclists often hit the dirt as their back tires are often clipped, and motorcyclists seem to take it in their stride as someone t-bones them in the side!
Varanasi is like other places in India in that power is erratic - more off than on, and as a response most places have generators. This results in a loud buzz of motors in the street, competing with the blare of Bollywood music, and the incessant "Halloo? Rickshaw" of the rickshaw wallahs. India is literally crippled by poor power, dodgy
phone lines, and potholed roads. (Kristel was fond of saying, "Clark road has nothing on this!")
Varanasi is also the place that Hindus come to die. The great Ganges and the spirtual rituals associated with it are powerful, confronting and appalling. If they have enough money, adults are cremated alongside the river - but babies are simply let to float downstream.
Varanasi, more than any other place, made me felt the heartbeat of India, with its' intensity, vibrancy and cruelty. It also made me realize how very little we had seen in 2 months. And yet it is so "full on" we realized that if we spent the final month of our holiday in India, it would be far from a rest!
So here we are in Calcutta, a huge decaying city, with broken footpaths, yellow cabs and plenty of people living on the streets. Its got a certain amount of charm but like everywhere in India we don't have long enough to delve in and understand. I think, that
would take a lifetime.
Kristel drove away this morning in one of the classic Indian ambassadors, all of us waving madly with a few tears in our eyes. She is off on her own adventures in Asia, but we will miss her big smiles and wonderful nature very much.
Tomorrow we fly to Myanmar (Burma) for a month before heading home to the greener pastures of Walpole. The current government of Myanmar doesn't permit internet surfing and that includes web based email. So we will effectively be out of touch for the next month. but before you know it, our smiling faces will be right on your doorsteps.
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Copyright 2005, Ariana Svenson Updated: 22/01/05