Julay Julay.... (or The Baby Lama Drama - Not to be confused with Peruvian entry the Baby Llama Drama)

When I travel, I generally make an effort to learn four words in the local language: Hello, Goodbye, Please and Thank You. Thankfully, in Ladakhi, "Julay" means all four of these....

Spent the weekend at the lovely "Open Ladakh Trekking Meditation Camp," run by a former monk named Vivek who has studied in Thailand and done time as a monk in Burma, now has a family house where he runs retreats outside of Leh. I had arrived late, having been packed into a collectivo like mini-minibus packed with tibetan monks who were playing with their cell phone ring tones.

Although a silent retreat, the western participants all met and chatted beforehand at an opening dinner. It was kind of a scene- a hippie schoolteacher from vermont, an irish guy who the first time he wanted to travel he worked as a mechanic on an oil rig, and saw ports from Saudi Arabia all aroudn Africa, South America, the Caribbean and the states without being allowed off the boat- he quit his job and bought a ticket with the money to go see the world. He was pretty cool. There was an American who had recently graduated from Antioch college, and was surprisingly square (I've emt many Antioch dropouts, but never an alum) who was named Jim and looked like Jim from the office, though much smarter and less smarmy. An American crystal therapist who lives in San Marcos de Atitlan Guatemala (home of the pyramid school), a few woofing Europeans, a Gibraltan who had been travelling for seven years and came to India after a breakup with her boyfriend- the lion tamer in the Japanese circus. This was funny and made for great conversation, because a canadian hippie had also been in the circus in Australia. Anyway, these were a few of the more colorful characters, but most of the people were pretty out there, save one American lawyer who I liked a lot and Jim the American , both of whom I talked to a bunch on the last day when silence was broken.

So, as I said, it was a silent retreat, sleeping outside in tents in a valley of the Himalayas right outside of Leh. The stars were magnificent at night, the mountains majestic by day. We sat outside for much of the first day, in yellow pastures of barley and wheat with crumbling stupas in the distant fields of the other local farmers. Day two we did some hiking in the hills, and then rested again in the fields. The last morning we broke silence and most people decided to stay and trek a bit more, exploring the local palace and monastery. It was a fun day, and then some of the people that had done yoga teacher trainings while in India put on a yoga class which we all did before dinner. It wasnt bad, though a bit embarrassing when they couldnt remember whether to breathe in or out in various assanas. Many of this group then decided to share a jeep the next day to visit more monasteries in the valley.
The monasteries were, as usual, extremely impressive. There was Likir, (below) classically tibetan with a cool museum that had bizarre artifacts like a skull drinking bowl and femur flute for ceremonies, as well as a gigantic buddha outside. Alchi was very different from the other tibetan style gompas, with wooden architecture influenced by Kashmiri mosques, and extremely intricate murals (above) painted on the inside walls. Basgo (left) was built perched on a crumbling cliffside ina moonlike valley that looked rather like Arches or Canyonlands national parks back in the US. I had a great time at the monasteries, but the shared jeep with the hippies really started to grate on my nerves by the end of the day. I really didnt think I could take one more converstaion about how Jesus lived in India, or a debate about auras. I was relieved to return to Leh with a real room, real bed and the first hot shower since arriving in the Himalayas. Of course, woke up super early again, accustomed to arising at 5:00 for meditation, and headed back to Phyang Gompa where a festival was happening. Decided to go local transport on the bus, which was packed full of locals and gringos. The seats were filled overcapacity, so it was standing room only on the bus with a ceiling that came up to about my shuolders. Not the most comfortable half hour ride, stooped over, and the bus stopping to let on more excited monks and local villagers with each town we passed through. The festival was very cool- elaborate masked dances that represented... something... and a festive air at the monastery with merchants, food stalls, and of course beggars everywhere. I finally had the disturbing realization that the beggars I thought were suffering from burns are actually lepers, not burn victims. I also continue to be an Indian media darling, as I was niterviewed about the festival for some Indian TV station. Back today for internet, and signed up to bicycle the world's highest road tomorrow assuming by border region permit comes through...

Better to be Mr. Late than the Late Mr...

Spent the past few days visiting the incredibly beautiful and dramatic mountains, canyons and gompas of the Nubra Valley, northeast of Ladakh toward the Tibetan frontier. My companions were a gujarati couple who were both accountants for US companies, and a professor who was actually from the university of siberia. And, our idiotic 16 year old driver, who was lazy and careless, not my favorite qualities on one lane cliffside himalayan roads. So up we went, (bollywood soundtrack the whole way) winding over Leh into the mountains, up to Khardung-La, which is the highest point of the highest road in the world, at 18,380 ft. Nothing much there but a little army checkpoint, (we were constantly having to show our permits and passports), and with a crashed plane, a bunch of army trucks and soldiers, and prayer flags flying. And a sign reading "Khardung La - Highest Motorable Road in World - 18380 ft. - NO PARKING." Amazing views in all directions over mountains, valleys, and glaciers, and after parking for a few mintues, we descended into the valley. Unfortunately, we were caugfht in the middle of a 20 deep army convoy, and our driver insisted on passing these guys on our one lane road all the way down the valley until we hit another checkpoint, where we could just as easily have passed them then. Oh well.

Deeper into the valley until we stopped at Hunder- the end of the line for westerners, beyond the heavily guarded little river and bridge lay no man's land, then Tibet. There was a great Gompa that the Russian and I hiked up to, with more amazing views. I was hoping to see K2 in the distance, but other mountains blocked my view.

Stopped briefly by a camel farm, where the Gujaratis wanted to take a ride on the two-hump camels apparently descended from the silk road days. Our idiot driver howver, splashed his way through a stream and mucked up the engine, which meant a much longer time watching the Indian couple prance around on camelback than expected. There were also some nice yaks and montain goats to look at by the time the car got giong again. We then moved slightly back upstream to another charming town with another charming Gompa, called Diskit. It seemed to have apricots on every tree that wasnt a pin-straight poplar, public stupas everywhere, charming little stone walls with brambles on top, yaks wandering about and a prayer wheel on every corner. Mountain streams with little wooden bridges were everywhere, and when you walked over a bridge you could literally feel a drop in the air temperature of a few degrees from the frigid himalayan water.

Awoke VERY early this morning in the hopes of hearing the monks at morning prayers in the Diskit Gompa. We succeeded, but there were not too many monks around. Still, it was very interesting to listen, and the monks offered us some yak butter tea, which I choked down to be polite in spite of its mouth-curdling saltiness. But there was not much else to look at in Diskit, so we moved on to the next town, Sumur, where we looked at another, more modern Gompa. Do you want to hear any more about Gompas? Don't worry, I won't bore you... Heres a picture. And next time I'll add some interior shots as well...

The drive back was uneventful, save for seeing a truck that had recently fallen off the cliff and the halted army convoy below scavenging the wreckage. It was a certainly unnerving to be ther in the immediate aftermath. Happy to be safely back in Leh, and soon at a very safe meditation retreat...

Yakity Yak

If anyone needs a yak-pun-themed embroidered t-shirts, let me know. Ladakh has plenty. You know, "Hard Yak Cafe," "Yakkin' it Up in Leh," "My Best Mate Went to Ladakh and All I Got Was This Bloody Yak T-shirt. "

Up again yesterday at the crack of dawn, pre-dawn in fact. Delhi still sleeping, which was really strange. Dogs laying under trucks and cuddled up to slumbering cows, rickshaw drivers curled up in their cycle-rickshaws, others asleep just in doorways. The flight itself was easy, and 100% tourists, mostly French (as usual, and with their noses buried in their guides routards.) Got to Ladakh bright and early and found a lumpy-bedded guest house for next to nothing, and tried to nap. Little success, so I set out for breakfast to plan my day. The altitude was definitely noticeable, but not terrible, just a mild headache. So about Ladakh: Its a small town about 10,000 feet up in the Himalayas bordering China/Tibet. Culturally, its mainly Tibetan- technically in fact a part of Tibet and pre 20th century basically fell under the Dalai Lama's jurisdiction before borders were as clear as they are today. In the 1950's, as China moved to Tibet, the Indian army zipped up a few brigades to plant Indian flags and snag the Ladakh region to keep it out of Chinese hands, though border disputes remain. What this means is that Ladakh is basically a little Tibet- often described as the last Shangri-lah, though this apparently also describes Bhutan in travel brochures- which I suppose makes it the penultimate Shangri-lah, and Sikkim- the antepenultimate (is that correct latin scholars?) Shangri-lah. The language and script are Tibetan, and the people are ruddy cheeked like ethnic Tibetans and dress in wool robes, sort of like woolly shalwar kineezes with wooden sandals. Also many monasteries around, so lots of robed monks. However, lots of Muslims are here as well, many refugees from the troubles in Western Kashmir and Jammu, many are green-eyed and fine featured, said to be descendents of Alexander the Great's conquering army. The other people that are everywhere are the indian army- there is an enormous base here that guards the sensitive Chinese and Pakistan borders that are extremely close. In fact, permits are needed to basically just leave town and head a few miles toward Tibet/China. Which I will do later in the week.

So yesterday after no sleep and no sunscreen and no altitude adjustment, I decided to head to the Leh palace (above photo) similar stylistically to the Potala Palace in Lhasa, and perched dramatically above the town. Not much inside, but great views. I ascended further, and against better judgment to a small Gompa (Tibetan Temple) atop the mountain-like hill that was fluttering with prayer flags. Now, I think probably everyone has seen the little greeting-card sized prayer flags commonly found in Tibetan restaurants and hippie dormitories, but some of the actual ones here fluttering in the mountain breeze are the size of bedsheets, and just beautiful when they catch the wind. The little Namgyal Gompa (seen in back of first photo, and in this other photo) was very cool, and as I read about it my book warned not to do the hike on the first day at altitude. Oops. I then became paranoid for the rest of the afternoon- paranoiacally trying to parse out the symptoms of altitude sickness from my sunstroke, dehydration, and general exhaustion from waking at 3:45 AM. I guess the light-headedness was not a sign of enlightenment. Stumbled down to explore a few more temples and look around the town, before becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion and headache, I fell asleep for the night at 6PM, not to wake until the muezzin's morning prayer call at sunrise, then asleep again till about seven.

Got up today and took a taxi ride to Phyang and Spituk, Tibetan style Gompas. I realize there is little more boring than reading about architecture, but they were pretty cool. Elaborate white-and-red monasteries perched on cliffsides, with incredible murals inside the main temples, many dating back hundreds of years. Many of the artifacts inside were smuggled in from Tibet after the Chinese invasion, and the places were mostly to myself and the literal hunchbacked dwarf monk who hobbled around and opened the temple prayer rooms and chapels for me at Phyang. The silence and serenity was lovely, just the sound of the spinning prayer wheel bells, the rushing of the Indus river and the birds. Oh, and in the valley below the sound of AK47s at firing range of the massive military base that sprawls across the valley below.

Hopefully the pictures can capture a bit what my description cannot. The afternoon I spent wandering the town, exploring the Old City- a mud-brick and wood pile of traditional tibetan style houses and alleyways that is slowly being restored by the tibet heritage fund. (Sort-of pictured here with standard veggie garden.) It will be truly incredible when its done- probably by the end of the summer- the houses will be painted brilliant whites and yellows, with bright red windows in the tibetan style. and probably the guesthouses and restaurants will migrate there soon after...

Also got my permits in order to visit the Nubra Valley region for tomorrow and the next day, so will be updating then, and likely incommunicado. After than, doing a short stint at a meditation center for the weekend, and then not sure after that....

Udaipur -> Delhi

Udaipur was, as I think I mentioned, generally pretty charming, cleaner (though hardly clean) and prettier than the rest of India thus far. Its described as the venice of asia, somewhat apt in terms of both cleanliness and beauty. Most of the town is painted white, old or old looking architecture abounds, and the centerpiece of the town is a giant lake with two major islands that are completely taken up with palaces of raj's past that look like vertiable wedding cakes. Much of the a Bond "octopussy" was filmed here, and the hotels seem to all advertise shows of the film nightly at 7PM, though we managed to make it the entire time without seeing the show. Because it was off-season, we were able to very cheaply stay in a great hotel with phenomenal views over the city, lake, and mountains beyond, and great food in the restaurant. In fact, most of the hotels had phenomenal food.

One cool thing we did was take a cooking lesson. An older woman carefully taught us an exhaustive menu which we then got to eat- Chai, Biryani, Eggplant-Tomato Curry, Muttar Paneer (like saag paneer but with peas), Pakoras, Chapati, Paranthas, Gulab Jamun (lightly fried chunks of milk dough in sugar syrup) I actually felt confident on leaving that I much better understood how to make indian food. The secret, as Americans are just beginning to discover, is adequately cooking ("blooming") the spices and aromatics (garlic, ginger, onions) to deepen the flavor. (The cooking actually changes the chemical makeup of the spices, releasing new flavors). The whole lesson was a lot of fun, and I'm looking forward to cooking for anyone upon my return and a modest break from Indian food after travelling. I also want to learn to make "butter chicken" my new favorite Indian dish- its sort of like chicken tikka masala, but I guess more authentic. (Chicken Tikka Masala is technically a British dish, invented by a Bangladeshi in London in the 1970's).

Not much else of note in Udaipur- though would highly recommend it. We saw a few other Havelis, browsed the antique stores, and each had a mild run in with a cow. (Head-butted from the rear- a little scarier than it sounds and has now sadly diminished the trust and admiration between us and our otherwise adorable (and ubiquitous) bovine friends.

Returned to Delhi yesterday morning to the hotel royal (seemed a more promising name than the "hotel decent" on the same street.) Spent the day wandering around dazed in the heat and smog again and not really accomplishing much. Visited and were mildly disappointed by Fabindia, and the Khan market- though the latter had an excellent bookstore (Full Circle) that I would highly recommend for books or just escaping hellish delhi, at which we spent a long time browsing the books.

Oh, so more again about food. For the past year we lived right by and walked past the Craigie Street Bistro every day. Outside there was a sign posted from Food and Wine magazine which had rated the 10 best restaurants in the world to eat meat. Our Craigie Street Bistro was named #2. The number one spot was reserved for a restaurant called Bukhara in Delhi. Well, finally, we made it to Bukhara in Delhi, though it was different than we would have expected. First of all, its in a big ex-sheraton hotel that looks like a horrible compound of bunkers (not unlike hi-rise and lo-rise to drop the Wesleyan reference). The restaurant itself has decor that is rather like Flintstones-meets-Genghis-Khan if you can imagine it- stone walls, and bizarre tables and seats made out of tree stumps. And no silverware. However, true to its reputation the meat (lamb kebabs) was amazingly tender and piping hot off the grill/tandoor. An amazing bread stuffed with spiced onions that I'd never encoutnered before, and a wonderful dessert that we had been seeking but didnt know the name of (rasmulai- paneer soaked in rosewater basically).

And this morning, Olivia jetted off to London, and I remain here...
I was supposed to go to Srinagar this morning bright and early, but when I got to the airport this morning I read that an IED had blown up a bus of soldiers on one of the highways outside of town. Freaking out, I found another newspaper, that mentioned a different attack on a different highway the day before that one. Figuring that although I had been planning to take the OTHER of the three highways from Srinagar to Leh, I might want to reconsider. Changing flights was a huge and humiliating hassle, but I'm now heading directly to Leh in Ladakh tomorrow. I like my Himalayan adventures peaceful and shangri-la like. So I headed back to Delhi feeling like a bit of a wuss, but you know, I'm a grown-up who makes responsible decisions and now has things in my life worth living for.

The only problem was that a tuktuk drove me halfway to delhi and then insisted I take a taxi and pay them more. Enormous argument ensues with exhausted and sleepless me marching down the highway back toward Indira Ghandi International Airport, with now dozens of taxis stopping to fight over who got to drive me to Delhi and holding up rush hour delhi traffic. MAde it back to the hotel safely, and tried to relax and ponder what on earth I'd do in Delhi. Little was open as its Sunday, so more aimless wandering and time at cafe coffee day drinking my iced eskimo (like a tropical holiday on mt everest! - actual description) and reading my crappy backpacker novel until I was politely asked to make room for other customer.

Standing around in the punishing humidity, some Indian guys (call center yuppies sporting Benneton shirts and Gucci sunglasses) started talking to me. I told them I bailed on Srinagar and they were so upset with me, as if I'd insulted them. But there were bombs on two of the three highways in two days! I tried to explain. No no! Srinigar its like heaven, you must change again and go back to airport, you miss the most beautiful place in the world! It is heaven, it is heaven!!! When I said Americans were not very popular in the world these days they just retorted ad nauseum They can kill so many Americans in Iraq and Afghan, here they only want to kill Indian army, not tourist! In spite of their generous offers to use their fancy phones to immediately re-change my tickets I remained unconvinced, and even more difficult was trying to polite decline an offer of taking coffee with them. Although had I felt better, hanging out with Indian yuppies would have been an amazing cultural experience, I just wanted to be alone and not have my masculinity questioned by a bunch of Indian dudes in tight Bennetton shirts.

So, attempting that, I foolishly sat in a park until a funny little turbaned man approached and started chatting with me about ear hygiene. He showed me a little notebook of lukewarm testimonials from tourists, along with photos of himself cleaning the ears of various dutch, english and japanese travellers in the park and simply would not go away. He eventually started even looking in my ears and tsking and exclaiming "oh my god! So dirty!!" and tried to get his q-tip in until I had to walk away. Ambled my way back to the hotel and rested, past junkies literally laying in the gutter to the quiet of my hotel room where I watched the indian news, amusingly entitled "Weekend Update."

Walk Softly and Carry a Monkey Stick

Headed out from Udaipur for a jaunt in the country- or rather, a trip to Mt Abu. Great view out the window, proving the old axiom about the journey, not just the destination. Gradually, the touristy shops of Udaipur gave way to local markets, selling objects of actual use to Indian people. Men pushing rickshaws and singing their broomselling or chai-vending jingles passing little tire shops and mechanic shops, with men in turbans sipping chai in circles and chatting. Past camel-carts and rickshaws, weaving around copulating cows and even past a saffron-turbaned man washing his elephant on the side of the road. One memorable sight was a multistory glass and steel hotel going up on the outskirts of town, at least ten or fifteen stories high, but a construction scaffolding that was entirely made of bamboo! I cant believe I missed the picture. Eventually we passed under the sign leaving Udaipur reading "Thank you, please come again!" and we were headed deeper into the countryside. Nothing much for a while but children playing cricket and cement walls, whose only purpose seems to be providing space for signs advertising cement, and the occasional ad for English classes (guaranteed 100% call center placement!!) We pulled up to a roadside dhaba and had some of the best samosas of my life for breakfast, eating on the morning's newspaper before hitting the road again.

Past more shanty towns of trash bag houses and humans sleeping in filth and rooting through garbage, past roadside mini-mosques where Muslim truck drivers stopped to offer prayers. Eventually we came to some sort of freeway under construction- with construction seemingly by hand (and head, given that people were carrying cement and asphault in bowls atop their heads). We'd get up to speed for about three minutes, then suddenly the road would end, drive down some one-lane dirt roads for a few minutes, then back onto the highway, then back off again moments later and on and on for at least an hour. It was as if instead of building the road beginning at point A and working toward point B, they were just letting each village build their own
section. Which, maybe they were, given that just getting people to work must be extremely difficult. Even when the highway was decent for a few minutes, the Indian people seemed to want to drive on both sides of the divide, in both directions, typically in the middle of the lanes.
Eventually we would our way up into the mountains, and the scenery was drastically changed and more green and lush from mostly desert Rajasthan. The views over the valley were spectacular, even with all the fog and haze, and eventually we made it to the little town of Mt. Abu in our little taxi.
We found a decent enough though overpriced hotel overlooking the lake, and set out to explore what the area is best known for- the 1000 year old Jain temples, carved to incredible intricacy in marble. Photography was not allowed, but it will be hard to forget the incredible detail in the enormous temples, the ceilings in particular were almost alive, dripping with elaborate designs that were almost so thin light came through, in the shapes of gods and demons, but also just sea-anenome-like organic shapes. As usual, words cant do it justice, so I will try to import some pictures from elsewhere to demonstrate. The Jain temples are also incredible serene, and just lovely places to sit and escape the chaos and filth of India for a while. After the temples, we wandered around Mt. Abu where there were tons of Indian tourists (a popular honeymoon spot) and almost no westerners. We were photographed like crazy. One girl was frantically whispering to her father, who came and asked us in English where we were from and could the daughter be in a picture with us. We said USA, and the girl looked ecstatic, she was then literally shaking with excitement while her dad took the picture, and was kind enough to thank us for our trouble. The town, as I described, was a funny combo of mostly Indian tourists and honeymooners, and was really tacky in a very Indian way. For example, a cute lake with bright colored pedal swan boats, and a larger dinner boat named "the Titanic" in a fit of bad judgment or perhaps cultural misunderstanding. (What next, our plane to delhi is called the Hindenberg?) The food in town thankfully, was excellent, got the local thali, and there were some great hikes around.
We also stopped by the Brahma Kumari museum, a sort of cult with branches all over the world with a truly bizarre museum with amazing life-sized dioramas of various vices and members that dressed exactly like the movementarians from The Simpsons.
Next day we were up and headed to Ranakpur, site of more Jain temples. Sadly, no stop at the cafe coffee day we passed (the Indian coffee chain that inexplicably doesnt open until 10am!). The road was beautiful, winding through small villages with just a small market, sometimes nothing but a municipal water pump where women and children were gathered, filling their water canteens to carry back to their homes balanced on their heads. In the smaller towns, many of the Hindu women even cover their faces with a veil. Ranakpur was similar in style to the Dilwara temples at Mt. Abu, though grander in scale with less intricate, though still impressive carving. A few pilgrims were there, wearing their pilgrim clothing and walking softly, covering their mouths with a cloth so as not to accidentally breathe in and hurt any living creature. Impressive and beautiful, the place and the ceremonies we observed.

From Ranakpur it was through more incredible countryside and small tribal villages by one-lane road- somehow reminiscent of Italy or southern Spain, hilly and a little bit dry, and huts with brick roofs that probably gave it that Mediterannean vibe. Much of the time I leaned out the window trying to capture the perfect photo of a village scene, or at least village woman with the giant nosering. Mostly came up empty handed. From there it was on to Kumbargarh fort, a decent enough fort and palace complex, distinguished from others mostly by the fact that the views were not overlooking smoggy cities, but just rural landscape, other mountains and green valleys below. Home again to Udaipur, more chaotic and western touristy, but still far calmer than the rest of India thus far...

Tomorrow, more on Udaipur, Tuesday's cooking lesson and other observations...

(Pictures, as usual, not mine)

Sitar Hero

Okay... where was I last, its been a bit of a whirlwind. So, last place we were was Bundi, a really charming small town approximately between Pushkar and Udaipur. This was the first town where people greeted us with "hellos" on the street that weren't immediately followed by "you come to my shop!" which was refreshing to say the least. Very few tourists, and we stayed in an old Haveli (17th century restored mansion), which was very cool and full of interesting antiques and murals and such, and very cheap given that its the off-season. It was the first place where I finally felt relaxed and adjusted in the two weeks that we've been here- I guess India just takes a bit longer to ease into than most places. Bundi has got a wonderful palace and fort at the top of the hill, and winding streets complete with little cupolas and archways that lend it a very exotic feel, almost reminiscent of Chefchauen in Morocco, partly because of the ubiquitous pale blue paint on most of the buildings. We spent some time exploring the palace in the pouring rain, but it did mean no one else was there. Amazing gardens and arched arcades, marble sculptures, and wonderful intricate hand painted murals that were very well preserved inside of the palace. The views were also incredible over the valley and out over serpentine walls snaking outward along the hills on which the palace and fort were set. Many levels to this fort as well, with some dizzying views downward over sheer drops of a few hundred feet- first down walls which grow out of cliffs. Though very Hindu and Mughal in architectural style, there was something reminscent of tibetan architecture like the potala palace just jutting out from cliffs. We also were browbeaten into renting a monkey stick for the fort, albeit for 10cents. "Mot for hit monkey, for scare monkey"- the monkey stick man carefully explained. Well, no monkeys, so I guess it worked?

We wandered around the town a bit because of the rain, and were invited to chai by a kid named Jaypee, who works placing people in jobs with American companies in call cventeres and computer programming positions. His command of English was great, though maybe just his command of dirty words as he spent much of the conversation regaling us with tales of his various conquests of European and Indian women, and his friendship with the local Raj. Still, another genuine non-sales-related conversation was interesting. The guy at the internet there was similarly obsessed with talking about women, and was explaining his internet business to me, which, not surprisingly, was basically a way to get customers for his hashish business.

Dinner we were invited by an extremely charming and charismatic ten-year-old to her mother's homestay house, where we enjoyed the company of the family's children as we ate at a table in their living room. I really cant believe we didnt take pictures of the family and their charming turtle Gobhi (Cauliflower). Excuse, tortoise, the girls were quick to point out that "turtles live in water and are non-veg so they bite you," unlike friendly Gobhi the tortoise. Well, the girls were charming, with excellent English, and the home cookin' was pretty damn good too. Would recommend stopping by if you are ever in Bundi...

So onward by train the next AM to the Chittorgarh fort, the biggest for in Asia apparently. It was extensive- a few kilometers long, full of interesting temples and palaces. I found the temples particularly cool, as most were at least 1000 years old and Hindu temples that had the distinct honeycomb/cornhusk shape and the the bas-relief detailsof the temples at Angkor Wat- also originally Hindu. Also visisted a very pretty, very serene Jain temple. The views over the fort and landscape were also phenomenol, though overall I must confess that fort fatigue is rapidly setting in.

A miserable wait for the bus on the side of the road, followed by a lot of time standing on said bus, before a seat opened up on the way to Udaipur. Though a bunch of kids wanted to clear their seats for me, I really didnt feel like the extended conversation that would result, so stood until I couldnt take it. Finally sat and had everyone on the bus staring for the few minutes I was talking to my neighbor- this must be what being a celebrity is like. We were also mobbed at Chittor by people taking photos, literally blocking our path until we relented.

But Udaipur again felt reasonably relaxed and clean, and least by Indian standards. Also a lot of tourists, which can be sometimes irritating, sometimes just kind of comforting to have around. A great dinner at our really nice hotel with lake views, and up today to visit the city palace. Again, do you really want to read another attempt at describing a palace? Probably not, okay- but let it be stated for the record that Udaipur has by far the best palace of anywhere yet in India. Elaborate murals, integration of Persian and delements like marble carving and inset glasswork. We also got a guide, which meant we explored less, but learned a lot more. Got to see the Raj's car colelction, including his attempt at creating a solar rickshaw, and looked at crazy old armor, including horse armor that disguises the horse as as elephant so that other elephants won't attack. Beautiful marble courtyards and lawns, and just generally an A+ palace. Classy those maharajas were/are.

(Photos: As usual not mine: Bundi Palace, Bundi Palace, Chittor Fort, Angkor-esque temple at Chittor, Udai Palace, Udai palace - pics of udiapur forthcoming in next blog)

Pushy in Pushkar

Just had what may have been the worst busride of my backpacking life, on an overstuffed 25 year old Tata bus of easily 70 indians in standing room only in the 100 degree heat through the surprisingly humid Indian desert from Ajmer to Bundi. Stuffed into a worthless bench essentially with little or no padding, crammed in next to various extremely sweaty and staring indians. It rivalled 6 hrs in Nicaragua on an ancient chicken bus, 3 to-a-seat, with my backpack in my lap, which surely must have been worse, but perhaps I'm just getting old and dont have the patience or body of my youth. Anyway, Bundi is charming so far, and a bit less filthy than other spots we've visited. So allow to back up to the end of the last entry...

I believe I'd been writing about the dozens of people taking our photos, yes, this continues unabated, but there is an amusing coda to the "look natural" photo at the top of the Jaipur minaret. We arrived home to our hotel from the Amber Palace on the outskirts of town to find the woman who is perpetually reading the Indian paper and sipping tea on the terrace flagging us down. "Excuse me" she asked us in her high Brit accent, "But is this you?" She pointed to a photo in the Jaipur daily newspaper of the two of us "acting natural" with a caption that reads "Foreign tourists enjoying a day out." Unbelievable! Perhaps that explains all the stares- we're just celebrities! Needless to say, we kept the clipping, and took a photo to hopefully upload here soon.

Preceding this, we visited the Amber Palace (in the "top 5" forts and palaces according to our rough guide), which was pretty impressive. Now, I'm going to totally geek ou t here for a moment, and give you the best possible description I can think of for desribing this place, which is like being in a real live level of say, the old PC game Quake- an old castle with stairways and winding passages, towers than overlook gardens and mazes of yellow corridors that we literally got lost in after only a few minutes. (though the video game had less red betel spit on the walls). The whole place had great views over the valley, though like apparently everything in India was in a state of renovation, which meant it wasnt quite at its full glory. Lots of workers shuttling around carrying bowls of cement on their heads, even lengths of pipe balanced! (horizontally mind you).
Back down to Jaipur to leave, with a brief detour at our fave pseudo-american style coffee shop (Cafe Coffee Day)- coffee is hard to come by in these parts, to down some real live fake frappuccinos (aka Iced Eskimos)- and amuse ourselves with the overly elaborate wording and descriptions on the menu. They also always ask if we want ice cream and chocolate sauce on our coffees.

And then a bus onto Pushkar, where backpackers mix with extremely devout locals at a holy lake with 52 ghats, 400 temples and the only shrine to Brahma in India- very important pilgrimage site. And it is charming and beautiful, but it is also quite filthy. Also, far more cows here than anywhere else we've been, which really are quite adorable. Of course, the whole time we're evading various priests trying to lead us to the ghats to open our wallets, which we eventually succumbed to on the last day (more on that below). But it did feel relatively holy and sacred, watching people bathe in the ghats, pilgrims walking through the streets, tons of holy cows everywhere, bells ringing and holy music constantly in the background along with the smell of incense. The temples were reasonably interesting, though one giant one had some casino-like flashing and dancing lights, which seems a bit... I don't know, culturally different. Though I suppose we in America invented the electric Christmas light. We also found out that we had just missed the Dalai awho'd been visiting pushkar that very morning. Oh well.
Breakfast was witness to a massive monkey battle royale, which the restaurant owners son became heavily involved in, complete with menacing his bamboo stick at them, only to have them running screeching into the kitchen and then out again, pounding like thunder across the metal roof of the restaurant.
So we spent the day wandering the hippie-trail streets, evading priests until we were pulled into the ghats (steps to the lake) by an older gentleman who was very friendly. We went through the whole rigmarole with the holy men, threw the flowers and said the blessing, and made the "donation." We then sat aroudn while this older Indian gentleman (Maharaj Shiva- I'm not making that name up) drinking chai and having an extremely awkward though interesting conversation. He is a biology teacher in Ajmer, and comes to Pushkar once a year which he loves for the serenity it brings, and always on the same day. First year he got a wife, the next year a child, the next, another child... He seemed to know everyone in town, then asked us for our email and birthdays, promising to send birthday greetings every year. Oh, and of course he wanted a picture, which we will be emailing him next download. Though awkward, it was nice to finally have a genuine cultural interaction with a local.
Later that evening after a hike up the hill to a temple of one of Brahma's wives, we heard the sounds of an insanely bad marching band, who we then decided to go watch. Turned out that there was a procession to march the local Raj prince down the street, though if I were him I'd think seriously about investing in lessons for my personal band. (And since then, we've seen many more marching bands- seems that hipster trend has made it all the way to India).

The Revenge of Otm Shank... Fatehpur -> Jaipur

Okay, so where was I when I left off... Ah, Fatehpur Sikri. Took a local transport from Agra to Fatehpur, which was a relatively bumpy and crowded with Indians. Bought some of the local specialty- candied pumpkin, from a street vendor, which was frankly a little odd, and so sweet I thought my teeth would immediately fall out of my head. Rather like the ubiquitous chai here- very tasty, but very very sweet. Food in general delicious. Usually taken on high-perched verandas above the fray and in the breeze, though not above the sounds of mooing cows, fighting cats and monkeys and some degree of street noise. Still, already growing weary of even the best, largest and cheapest all-you-can eat-Indian buffet. Ready for some western food, though the interpretations are usually about as well done as the spelling (sample breakfast menu choice of eggs: scrumbled, poched or freed). My other favorite misspelling was the sign advertising outside a hotel"1 Badroom." But I digress...

The road between Agra and Fatehpur was scenic enough, though again the typical developing world sights of rural poverty and unfinished cement buildings with metal rebar sticking out the top. All kinds of vehicles on the road, and an equally interesting view through the enormous hole in the bus floor as out the window. Anyway, arrived in Fatehpur in the center of the market chaos, still a town where once mughal emperor Akbar had build a semi-utopian city of all faiths, ethnicities and backgrounds. Its a thrilling piece of architecture- also combining muslim, hindu and jain architectural styles with large square pillars, delicate domes and intricately carved details all in the same red stone as the various other forts around. Sadly, the city was built too far from water, and was abandoned almost immediately following Akbar's death.


After visiting the main palace area, we stopped the the mosque- open to the public, and VERY open to the public- touts were out in full force, relentlessly calling out to offer their guide services, handicrafts (just to look! Yeah, no way Sanjay) After avoiding paying shoe-watching fees, and not avoiding knee-covering cloth offered at the gates, we made it inside. It was quite impressive, and still an operating mosque which was interesting, though mostly full of young men touting tourists and holding hands with each other in the way that only muslim men can do. I did like the smooth line of one tout- "You look like movie star!" "Which one" "Bollywood star! (insert bollywood star name here- Otm Shank perhaps?) Ha-Ha. In general, there is actually very little American pop cultural infiltration- less than almost anywhere I've been in fact. Perhaps because the still semi-centralized government and managed economy only cranks out Indian pop culture- quite refreshing in general. People are still thrilled to meet real live Americans though.

Ah well, on and back to the hotel after a jaunt through the market and a few cool pictures there, though I became violently ill upon return to the hotel. I realized too late that rinsing my mouth with indian tap water post-vomiting probably did little to help the ingestion of germs, which haunted me in a different way the following morning. Which reminds me- I've been to many places in asia, and still dont understand the how exactly one makes use of the water bucket in every bathroom.... But I digress....

A wait in the rain by a muddy roadside to catch the bus to Jaipur, and off we went to the Pink City. Long busride later we arrive in so-called pink city, which is really just a part of the city, which may in fact be dirtier than Delhi. Decided to go to India's largest and most famous bollywood cinema to take in a picture, and it was truly an unforgettable experience. The tackiest place on earth, an enormous cinema with a larger than imax screen, thousands of seats, and an amazing purple and green with lots of mirrors decorating theme. Everyone was dressed in their best and thrilled to see the horrific comedy we were endured, (link forthcoming), which did have some truly unforgettable musical numbers, broken up by some truly forgettable semi-comic plot which the audience LOVED. Back home for early sleep (still jetlagged), and up today to see the pink city.

Ah Jaipur, the Pink City. (Pink City Much filthier and less pink than appears in photoshopped guidebook photos). Saw the Jawa Mahal pictured here, a weird palace that is basically a facade, with vertiginous views of the streetscape below, made more nerve-racking by the ultra thin cement railing that look like they'd snap off if you leaned on them. The city palace was none-too-impressive, and we looked at the observatory from the outside while waiting for the rain to clear up. Still, I don't mean to be a downer, it was pretty cool place, just very different than we expected. Did see a cool actual snake charmer, and touristically broke down and got my picture taken with him. What can I say, cobras are badass. Also wandered through some interesting temples and the flower garland peddlers outside the temples made the filth and stench of the street instantly and overwhelmingly change and become beautiful. Many photo ops- which is to say, people asking us to get in their pictures, my favorite was when people asked us at the top of the minaret to not pose but "look natural" while they took a picture.
The most amusing part of the day was probably when O's flip-flop broke on the street, and a man hustled over to us gesticulating wildly. Of course, it turned out he was a street cobbler, and meticulously cut up some rubber, took new thread and sewed the strap back onto the flip flop rendering it usable again! A minor street miracle. Also enjoyed learning that the bizarre guy at the hotel is some sort of washed up Hindu rock star, who's dreams of making it big were dashed, though he enjoys telling any sympathetic ear about his plight. Well, enough for now, tomorrow is a new day, with hopefully Pushkar as mellow as its made out to be. I have to say, India lives up to its overwhelming reputation. Was thinking when our rickshaw driver got lost that I'm feeling a bit nervous about being on my own for the last three weeks of the trip- so who wants to join me on the 20th?

(As usual, pictures here are not my own, but stolen from google images)

Neon Delhi... and Agra...

After a lovely night in the Yotel London Heathrow, it was a mostly uneventful flight to Helsinki, and from there connecting to Delhi, where we flew over Russia and watched the sunset over the horizon of Afghanistan before landing late in Delhi. From the moment of stepping off the plane it was oppressively hot, and walking out of the AC airport was like opening an oven door, even at midnight. Got to the hotel okay, though it was much less pleasant than it appeared in the guidebook, oh well.

Up the next morning to see Delhi, every bit as overwhelming as expected. Constant haranguing by people to get in their auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuks), and the roads were terrifying to travel on by such a vehicle- the ride dodging peacocks, camels, cows, dogs, pigs, beggars, bicycles, bottomless potholes, open sewers, swerving around semitrucks and buses by inches, with the horn sounding the entire time. And visibility severely reduced by pollution and oppressive y that smogged up the air seemingly reducing visibility to a matter of feet. The smell is overwhelming- fumes of diesel mixed with burning garbage mixed with disinfectant. Another charming addition to the olfactory overwhelm is the novel addition of street urinals everywhere, just little walls that one can go behind literally built onto the sidewalk. (Though more effective than the "no orinar aqui" signs ubiquitously painted around latin america) Just getting down the street by foot is difficult, with the sheer volume of people making moving difficult, not to mention the heat and various nonhuman obstacles.

But Delhi was not all madness. The Red Fort was extremely impressive old fort in Old Delhi, and the place was crawling with monkeys who were carrying their adorable monkey babies, though we kept our distance having heard about various recent monkey attacks. Also visited the Jema Masjid, or old Mosque,- another impressive feat of mughal architecture made of soaring red stone and intricate carving.

But it was on pretty quickly by train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. Train ride was decent, but somehow lacked the charm of the Darjeeling Limited- though the sweet lime drinks are quite delicious. Arrived in Agra only to find the Taj Mahal closed on Fridays, so visited the Agra Fort, a rambling half mile long fort along the river, from which there were very cool views of the Taj. We also had lovely views of the Taj from the hotel rooftop at "sunset" (or the hour when the smoggy air becomes even more pronouncedly yellow), while listening to the cry of the muezzins from the local mosques while local kids flew kites from rooftops. There are an enormous number of muslims here in spite of the partition fifty years ago, apparently if not for the partition India would have had the largest muslim population in the world. Its amazing what an incredibly diverse country this is, and that is seems to manage to work. Another surprise is the lack of Western tourists, even at the Taj, the Europeans and Japanese tourists made up less than 5% of the total tourists, who were almost exclusively Indian. And boy, people talked about how Indians have no problem staring- these people are practically leaning into the rickshaw to stare, literally taking pictures of us, and even asking if we would stand in their photos!

Everywhere there are stares, and everywhere there are metal detectors, half-assedly manned (or womanned) by the Indian Army- its the most security conscious country I've ever been to, from the constant inspections to the massive amounts of paperwork and ID needed for hotel check ins and even internet use.

The Taj itself was decidedly amazing, living up to expectations even in the rain. A little expensive, but they also give you little booties so you don't scratch the marble its made of. I don't know what more to say about these fairytale forts and places like the Taj Mahal- they are incredible, but words just cant really capture them. Go- its the only way to really get a sense of how insanely cool they are. Though I have the distinct feeling that fort fatigue may be setting in by the end of Rajasthan.

Thought the rain would have that cleansing effect, washing the streets of their grime and garbage, when in reality it seemed to only slightly break the oppression of the heat, but replace it with freshly re-hydrating all of the odors of cow and goat shit all over the streets, bringing it wafting up. It also seems to stop and then turn immediately into humid vapor again, oh well. The people are charming in the rain- the Sikhs fit shower caps neatly over their turbans, and everyone else has matching dark umbrellas hovering over their bright saris. And the women DO all where saris it seems, almost none where pants or Western clothes. Well, enough ramblings for now, tomorrow I write of Fatehpur and Jaipur, and the nation's most famous bollywood moviehouse.

By the way, street vendor of the trip award goes to the man insisting on selling me a ridiculous fake beard outside the red fort "Fake beard! Good for picture, good for picture! Only twenty rupees! Look very real!" And yes, he was proudly wearing one.

(I'll get these pictures fixed stat)