Khajuraho: The Kama Sutra Temples

Posted on April 16, 2013 by hilarylust

We arrived in Khajuraho with a false sense of freedom; no more being told what to do and when to do it. Sadly, this wasn’t the case. Within minutes of arriving we had a man at the hotel trying to organize a tour for the following morning.
“What time would you like the Tuk Tuk to pick you up at?” He said, as if we had already decided this is what was going to happen. “First we will see the eastern temples, then we will drive up to the waterfalls and then you can rest for a little while before we go to a traditional dancing show, then you see the Western Temples the next morning. Ok? 10:00 okay?”
No. No. No. We are sleeping in, we are doing whatever we want, when we want to, and we are NOT paying hotel booking prices! We thanked him for his offer and politely declined any kind of tour.
“We can book it in the morning, no problem” he said. *sigh* We’ll never escape it!
The next morning as we walked out the door there were already men waiting to take photos of us. Just what you want first thing in the morning when you’ve got a cold.
We walked up to the rooftop to have breakfast alone, but multitudes of people kept finding excuses to come up and look at us before walking back downstairs.
Even our friend was back. “We go on Tuk Tuk now to temples?”
“No thanks, we’re going to check out the markets instead” we said, through mouthfuls of breakfast.
“Ok, later then!” And then he just hung around watching us eat some more. It was awkward.
Outside the hotel was worse. We hadn’t gone five feet from the front door and we had four or five guys walking and talking with us.
“Where from?”
“Auto Rickshaw?”
“Please, see my shop!”
“What is your name beautiful lady”
It was too much.
“We need a Tuk Tuk!” We exclaimed. Within seconds we had 4 Tuk tuks in front of us. We jumped in one with a shy, young driver with a great smile. His name was Ali.
“200 rupees for a half day tour, starting with the Eastern Temples” we told him.
“Okay” he said, and drove off, away from the madness.
As we were driving away, one of the young guys who was chatting with me, jumped in the Tuk Tuk.
“Hello! My name is Baia. I am a guide here, I can tell you all about the temples!” he grinned at us.
Kelsi turned to me and rolled her eyes. “You would pick us up a guide!” She said to me.
“Not me!” I said, “He jumped in here all on his own.”
Well, we really had no choice in the matter. The four of us cruised along in the Tuk Tuk until we reached the first temple. We figured that if we ignored what Baia was saying, maybe he’d go away without having to pay him. But strangely enough, he stayed in the Tuk Tuk and let us explore the first temple alone.
Khajuraho’s temples are some of the most unique and best preserved temples in India. Also named the “Kama Sutra” temples, these massive sandstone structures have erotic and sexual carvings of people, animals and nymphs. To Kelsi and I , this seemed strange in a culture that is so conservative with its sexuality. The eastern temples are much smaller than the western ones (which cost money) but they are equally as detailed in their sculpting. We walked through a couple of them fairly quickly, avoiding any kind of information from Baia. But he seemed to get the hint and just let us walk around on our own.
As we moved through the temples heading south we passed by the Old Village.
“Can we drive through the village?” We asked the boys.
“No. No. Not drive. Let’s walk! It’s much nicer to walk through the village” said Baia. He had Ali meet us on the other side of town while we got out to explore.
“Khajuraho is very caste conscious” explained Baia. “It is the one thing I don’t really like about the Indian culture, but that’s life! In the old village we have strict lines defining each of the castes. They each have their own temple, own watering well, own drinking water, own hospital and own barber shop.”
Wow, I knew there were caste systems in India, but I didn’t realize how separate they all are. From the Brahman priests to the street cleaning Untouchables, smaller towns like Khajuraho are very particular about the different expectations from each caste. They each have their own everything, and it seems like their worlds hardly mix.
“You can always tell which caste area you are in by the colours of the homes. Also the colour of people’s skin: the darker the skin the lower the caste”
In metropolitan cities like Delhi and Mumbai the caste system is slowly being forgotten. But Khajuraho is traditional, and despite their liberalism with the Kama Sutra sexuality, they are still very defined in their old ways.
We wandered through the little village for a while. We’d given up on avoiding Baia and just gave in to his charismatic personality. He was a young guy, only 18, but he spoke 4 languages fluently and seemed to just enjoy his job as a self proclaimed tour guide. Every few minutes or so he would break out with some silly rhyme or expression.
“You know what they say, travel is knowledge without college!” Then he’d grin at us.
“You know why they call it India?” He asked us.
“Why?”
“INDIA: I. Never. Do. It. Again” Then he’d break into laughter. “It’s a joke! Just a joke!”
He was pretty entertaining, I must admit.
Soon we came to the old village school. It was founded by some Europeans who gathered funds to create a school for the children.
“This school is the only place where the castes mix. All levels of children come to learn together! It is very nice!” Explained Baia
The school, grounds and all, was maybe the size of my house, and it held 300 children in two sessions: one in the morning and one in the afternoon. There are six small class rooms: 3 old and 3 new ones. The children get all their uniforms, books, pens and pencils free from the school. We walked around the classrooms on our own, the school children giggling in excitement that we were there. There were no chairs or desks, just some bamboo mats on the floor and a small chalk board. The rest was just concrete walls painted white.
“Desks and chairs are not important. Learning is important.” Said the principal as he walked up behind us. He showed us around the place a little more, explaining some of the rules and practices along the way. It was all pretty amazing.
When we’d left the school, Ali was waiting outside with the Tuk Tuk.
“Okay, next temple!”
But the Tuk Tuk wouldn’t start. We tried pushing it to start it in first gear (this happens to us nearly every time we get into a Tuk Tuk) but it still wouldn’t work. Ali apologized and we agreed to walk with Baia to the next temple and meet him there.
The last temple we went to was the largest of the eastern temples. But much like the others, we just did a quick walk around. We instead found a starving little puppy dog and had more fun playing with it (Yup, refusing rabies shots may have been a mistake. We’re still suckers for puppies).
On our way back to the hotel Baia turned around to face us.
“Have you girls ever driven a Tuk Tuk before?”
“Nope. But we want to!”
He had Ali pull over and Kelsi jumped into the front seat. Baia hopped in the back along with some random local that wanted a ride into town. Ali gave Kelsi the low down and then handed her the reins.
I’m pretty sure I screamed in excitement and fear as we flew down the pothole ridden streets of backcountry Khajuraho. It was a quiet road, but only really big enough for one lane. Every time a car came towards us I closed my eyes. Please don’t run straight into it! A car came up from behind and was honking at us to pull over so it could pass. We could hardly hear it over our shrieks of laughter and excitement. Kelsi pulled over at the edge of town to let Ali take control again, a massive grin on her face. We had just written out a list of random missions to complete while in India: this was one of them. Drive a Tuk Tuk… Check!
Baia and Ali wanted to hang out with us longer.
“How about the waterfalls next? Or we can go into the mountains!”
“No thanks. We are doing our own thing this evening. Probably heading to the Western Temples”
“But the Western Temples are so much better in the morning.” He explained. We were just being stubborn now; we didn’t want anyone deciding our itinerary.
“Nope. We are going tonight. We can see the waterfalls with you tomorrow morning”
They finally agreed and we planned to meet at 9:30 the next morning to go out for the day. They were the nicest locals we’d met since we’d been in India. We figured it’d be fun to hang out with them at the waterfalls than try our luck with a new driver in the morning.
That evening we did go to the Western Temples just like we’d said. And guess what? They’d be so much better in the morning!
The sun sets behind them, which makes for some great silhouette shots, but you can’t see any detailing in the buildings. It didn’t matter, we’d been told what to do for three weeks: It was our turn to make decisions now.
The western temples were significantly larger and much better preserved than the Eastern ones (that’s probably why this group of temples costs 250 rupees while the others are free). They were incredible to wander around. Thousands upon thousands of detailed carvings of naked women, nymphs, gods, and Kama sutra poses were on each temple. It was crazy. At first it seemed like all the carvings were the same, but as you look closer, they are all unique. Some women are wearing clothing, others are coupled together or standing naked and alone. A few of them have scorpions, the symbol of sex, climbing up their thighs. They were beautiful, and erotic and some of the stranger temples we’d seen to date. Kelsi and I wandered around, avoiding the myriad guides that wandered the place looking for a couple bucks. We were on a mission to find the strangest kama sutra carving we could find on all the temples! We had a great time just climbing around all the temples laughing at or contemplating each sculpture as the sun went down.
As we neared the end of the group we came to a temple with a bunch of young Indian guys hanging around. They took one look at us and couldn’t stop staring. We rolled our eyes and tried to ignore them. They were sneakily trying to get a photo of us on their camera phones. They held them up and waited for us to walk past before taking the shot. We decided to play with them; we’d get super close to walking through their shot then we’d abruptly turn around and go the other direction around the temple. As soon as we rounded a corner we could hear them running around the other side to catch us. We laughed and went back the other direction. We stumbled upon them all huddled around the corner of the temple watching for us to come by. We snuck up behind them unawares and just as we passed them said “I wander what they’re looking for” then walked off down the stairs away from them. They all got startled and confused at how we’d eluded them. We just giggled at how funny we thought we were and walked to our final temple.
As we walked out of the last one there were two men about to enter.
“Can I get photo?” He said to me. I hesitated then finally got in the photo with him as his friend stood ready to take the shot. I’m limiting photos taken of me per day; this guy was nice enough to ask and I was in a good mood, so why not.
As his friend was about to take the photo about ten more men came around the corner, cameras out towards us.
“I’m out!” Said Kelsi as she ran off to the exit gate. Thanks buddy.
I got stuck having twenty photos taken of me all at once. I politely declined having a photo taken of me individually with each person. This country is crazy!
I took off running after Kelsi as she stood by the gate laughing at me. Time to go home.

The Taj Mahal

Posted on April 8, 2013 by hilarylust

Seriously, what do I say about the Taj Mahal. I don’t know if there are even words in the English Dictionary that can properly describe standing in front of the Taj Mahal as the sun rises. It is beyond words.
It has been coined as “a teardrop on the cheek of eternity,” “the embodiment of all things pure” and finally, as having made “the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes”. Standing there, dumbfounded and awestruck in the morning light, it was all those things and more…
We woke up at the crack of dawn, met up with our guide Dave and walked the short distance to the Southern entrance. Even the gate was impressive, with its massive arched doorway, beautifully scrawled Arabic inscriptions and sparkling golden domes.
“11 small domes on this side and 11 more behind those” explained Dave, “That’s 22 domes for the 22 years it took 20 000 workers to build the Taj Mahal”
Oh my Ganesh! That’s ridiculous.
As we passed under the archway and into the Taj Mahal’s beautifully kept garden area, Kelsi and I literally gasped.
“Look!” Kelsi grabbed my arm and pointed.
The Taj Mahal stood there, glistening white in the misty morning. It was spectacular. It didn’t look real. It looked like someone had painted this elaborate backdrop and just hung it in the sky. I couldn’t stop staring at it. For the next hour, I honestly couldn’t take my eyes off it. Hands down, the most beautiful man made structure I have ever seen.
The Taj Mahal also has one of the most beautiful love stories attached to it. The Emperor Shah Jahan had it built for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, after she died giving birth to their 14th child. She was the only wife to bear him any heirs and he loved her with his entire body and soul. Upon her death he vowed to build her a mausoleum unprecedented in elegance, something that would reflect and capture the beauty of the whole world within its walls…and I believe he did.
The Taj Mahal, it’s grounds and the two surrounding buildings are entirely symmetrical. The mausoleum itself is symmetrical in four quadrants, so each of the four sides look identical. The only small details that are different are A. The building to the West is a mosque, with an altar facing towards Mecca, whereas the building to the East, although identical in shape, lacks the Mecca-facing altar. And B. When Shah Jahan died, his son had his body placed in a casket next to his beloved wife’s. His casket had to be placed to the side and so is not part of the symmetry.
Other than that, every inlaid stone, every tile, every detail in carving and structure is absolutely identical on all sides. No wonder it took so long to build!
The thing that amazed me the most, was how white the building is. The perfectly, shell-white marble that was used looks heavenly. It is an earthly shangri-la. As the sun rises, the Taj Mahal glows and the tiny, inlaid stonework sparkles in the changing light. The whole building is imposing and powerful and yet it looks so delicate, as if it could shatter at the slightest touch. And I just couldn’t stop staring…
We walked around the mausoleum for about an hour and a half. I could have stayed there all day, gaping in awe. To be honest, I missed most of the facts that Dave rambled on about. To me, it didn’t matter how tall or wide the building was. I just wanted to sit there and take it all in.
I do, however, remember the totally unimportant, but more gruesome facts of the day. The Taj Mahal has four, tall, surrounding pillars at each of its four corners. Years ago, it was possible to climb the steps to the top to get a different perspective of the grounds. Sites like this, with romantic draws, unfortunately have a downside. Within 2 months, 7 different people decided to climb the towers and throw themselves from the windows in a romanticized act of suicide. After the seventh death, they closed the viewing towers to the public…
When all was said and done, we were dragged back out to the south gate to head home. The magnificence of the morning forever burned into my memory. There are few things in life that can match the awe-inspiring feeling of standing in front of the Taj Mahal at sunrise. It is a monument built out of love and heartbreak, and a structure that is almost unequivocally considered the most beautiful building on Earth…

Monkeys, Mosques, Money and the Dreaded Paparazzi

Posted on April 6, 2013 by hilarylust

Monkeys, Mosques, Money and the Dreade
On our way to Agra, we had a few stops. First, was the monkey temple.
Just on the outskirts of Jaipur, we were expecting the monkey temple to be on a semi-equal excitement level as the rat temple. Sadly, it was not.
The place LOOKS amazing! It is set in between two beautiful mountains and has gorgeous man made bathing ponds on different levels of the temple. There were a lot of monkeys. They were climbing the temple walls and chillin’ out in the stairs; they roamed by the ponds and were curious around people (probably because so many tourists feed them), but they were not nearly on a similar scale to the rats.
There were a plethora of men, both inside and out, that claimed to be professional monkey handlers. If you hired them, you would be safe from the dangerous monkeys. Throughout the whole temple they kept repeating “Careful! They are so dangerous! Please, let me be your monkey tamer.”
I have no doubt that these monkeys could be dangerous. Having been bit by a monkey in Laos and having my finger ache for days, I can attest to not wanting a monkey to attack you. But as long as you’re not a stupid tourist, these monkeys didn’t seem that bad. They are clearly used to human contact (there were loads of tour buses outside when we arrived) and they seemed content to just chill out. We took photos, but the setting was actually more interesting than the monkeys we saw. We realized they were much less unusual than the rats of Deshnok, and so we moved on fairly quickly.
Our second stop was lunch. Raju pulled up to his usual commission driven restaurant and dropped us off for lunch.
“It’s the last one!” I said to Kelsi as she looked at me and gave me an eye rolling groan. This was our last travel day with Raju, then we were on our own. I figured we could suck up one last touristy restaurant for lunch… But I was wrong.
We were already used to the more expensive places for meals. We pay at least twice what we should at every place we eat. This restaurant, however, was on a whole other level. Where we pay the already expensive price of 30 rupees for a plain naan, this place asked 120. Our vegetarian meals of 100 were now 350 rupees. When converted into dollars I could get a cheaper meal at home for the two of us! Additionally, only tourist restaurants pay taxes here. That’s an additional 14% tax and the expected 10% tip. Hell no!
For some reason I was cranky that day. Not over anything in particular, but little things were sending me into a rage. The prices at this restaurant were one of them.
“This is outrageous!” I said, probably a little too loud. Kelsi agreed.
“In not paying $6 for a plain cheese toasty!” She exclaimed.
We’d had enough of being told where to eat and what to do. We wanted to be on our own and not on this confining, tour-like schedule. We got out of our seats and stormed out the restaurant. The whole staff followed us in a frenzy.
“Wait! Madam! No, please! We give you a discount.” It sounds ridiculous to say it, but I was actually disgusted at how much a place can rip people off. Yes, I’m a tourist. Yes, I expect to pay more than the average local. But when we can go to any restaurant in town and order a 50 rupee thali, which is all you can eat, and this restaurant wants to charge between 350 and 700 for a single curry, even a discount is an insult. We ignored the staff and went to the car.
When Raju arrived we explained to him we couldn’t afford the food. He understood and took us to a local place a couple doors down. The price was 1/5 the cost and most likely more delicious. This is the last day, I had to keep reminding myself.
Next we stopped off at Fatehpur Sikkri. Fatehpur Sikkri is an ancient city about 40km outside Agra. It was once the capital of the Mughal empire back in the mid 1500’s. There are two parts to the city: the palaces and the mosque. The palaces cost 300 rupees for tourists so we opted to visit the mosque instead. We hadn’t been to many mosques yet, so the place was less monotonous than visiting yet another fort.
It didn’t matter what we did though, we were still constantly ripped off. One man showed me where the toilets were “It only costs 2 rupees!” He said with a smile.
“I only have ten.” I replied.
“Not to worry, they will give you change.”
However, when I gave the man the ten he just grunted and pointed towards the toilet.
“Do you have any change?” I asked.
“No change.”
“I was told it only costs 2 rupees.”
“No change. 10 for you.”
This was not the day to say this to me. I snatched the bill back in a rage and turned around after giving him my angriest glare. I refuse to use your toilets.
Before we even arrived at the mosque we were the main focus for photos. I tried to move out of people’s camera angles, but they’d just follow us anyways with the screen. Most of them weren’t even trying to be subtle; they’d just turn around in front of us with camera phones in our faces. It was the first day I nearly went Jackie Chan on their asses.
Then there was the shoes. We stopped taking my purse into tourist sites because it was like holding up a sign that says “I have money”. Unfortunately, that meant we had to leave our shoes outside the temple. We left them far away from the crowd, but when we came back, they had been moved into a pile that some guy was watching. We had to tip him to get them back. *sigh*
Inside, the mosque was lovely. But I could hardly enjoy the serenity of it with people trying to guide us around. Kelsi and I are so stubborn that we walked zig zag across the mosque just to avoid doing what people said.
“Yes, this way to see the mosque.” So we’d walk the other direction.
“Right in here and you can see the tomb!” Even though we were already on our way in, we’d turn around and walk the other direction. It took us four times as long to see the tomb as it normally would. Take that!
In the end, it didn’t matter what we did. We had a young kid follow us around, telling us facts about the place and had to give him money.
Young children came up to us periodically and just demanded money.
“You give me 10 rupees!” One young girl shouted at Kelsi.
“No!” You aren’t doing anything! Why would I just hand over money to you? I wanted to shout back at her, “Get a job! You’re 8! I saw a 4 year old laying bricks two days ago, what’s your problem?!” (Side note: I actually DID see a four year old laying bricks, and had I had my camera ready I would have added yet another photo to my newest “only in India” album)
At this point, there were still more cameras taking photos of us than there were of the mosque and all of a sudden I just wanted to leave. Normally it doesn’t bother me as much, but that day I think both Kelsi and I were at our breaking points.
When some young guy on the bus ride back asked to have his photo taken with us he was met with death glares from the two of us.
“No!” we snapped “We’ve had too many photos taken of us today, thank you!”
He looked mortifyingly embarrassed as he sat back down. He never turned around in his seat again. I almost felt bad. At least he asked! As I said… Breaking point.
We were quiet and exhausted for the rest of the drive to Agra. I finally turned my head from looking out the car window to avoid the stares, winks and eyebrow raises from people driving past us. When we got to the hotel, we just wanted to lie down.
We were shown to our room and the place was lovely. As a bonus, the restaurant had the cheapest prices we’d seen so far! We looked through the menu in our room and picked out exactly what we were going to order. A rest and some cheap food and we’d be right as rain!
We lay down for a few, and just as I was about to feel relaxed Raju came bursting into the room.
“We are leaving!!” He announced as he threw us our passport photocopy that he must have grabbed from the front desk. “Grab your things!” He was shaking with anger and wandering around the room, picking up bags and looking for things we might leave behind.
“Chello! Chello!”
“Woah, Raju, what’s wrong with this place?” We asked.
“It is no good! Not good people here! Chello!”
We rolled our eyes. “Okay” we sighed. I didn’t want to argue because he looked so upset. I assumed that he had just gotten in an argument with the hotel manager and was leaving on a point of pride. But if he was this shaken, then why argue.
All of a sudden, Kelsi and I looked at each other and had the exact same thought. The food! Just our luck that we’d have to leave after finding the ONLY cheap hotel to eat at in two weeks! We just laughed at the ridiculousness of it all and walked out with our bags on, only 40 minutes after we had checked in.
When we got outside, however, we were a little surprised. The manager and all the nice staff that had helped us to our room were standing outside. They were yelling in Hindi and flailing their arms in anger at a police officer. Behind the police officer was about half the police force, all holding guns. There must have been 30 or more policemen standing outside the building. Behind the policemen was half the city of Agra, all watching us walk out of the building and into Raju’s car. What in the world was going on?
Raju was angrily muttering under his breath in Hindi as he opened the trunk and threw our luggage in. Kelsi and I were struggling to hold back giggles. What’s happening!?
When we were a safe distance away I finally asked.
“Raju, what’s wrong? What happened at the hotel?”
It took an excruciatingly long time for him to explain in broken English what was going on. And his incessant habit to say “maybe” between every third word as a filler made it seem like this all “maybe happened”. But in the end, I gathered that some girl had been inappropriately handled during her massage in the hotel spa.
“If you safe, I happy” he ended his explanation. Well okay then, new hotel it is.
Our new hotel was several grades down from the last one, but still well within Kelsi and Hilary standards (which, lets face it, are so low they’re practically non-existent). We threw our bags down and went for dinner in the restaurant downstairs. When we opened the menus, a vegetable curry was back up to 250 rupees. Dammit! We just can’t win…

As a note, this is the BBC news article that came out on the incident at the hotel in Agra just a couple days later.

Exploring Jaipur

Posted on April 4, 2013 by hilarylust

Jaipur

Jaipur, also known as “The Pink City” is the capital of Rajasthan and the heart of India. It is wild and busy! The old town is a crazed mess of shops and rickshaws and historic monuments all mixed together. The city palace, in its luxurious glory, sits right in the heart of it all. The place is a mess. But it sure made for an interesting walk around!
Our first morning stop was actually in a neighboring city called Amber. Amber is only 11km north of Jaipur and has a beautiful amber colored fort sitting high up on a hill.
With another expensive entrance fee, we did our usual sneak attack and followed closely at the heels of a tour group. With guards at every courtyard entrance, we had to find a new tour group each time we moved locations in the fort. We are crazy, but it kept us happily entertained for the trip!
We started by walking the ten minutes up to the fort. The most popular way of entering the fort is riding an elephant. But at nearly $20 for a ten minute ride, we opted to hike it ourselves. Inside, the fort was beautiful. It had some spectacular views of the mountainous landscape and from the top you could see the zig zagging elephants as they ambled their way up the street. We wandered from place to place with our multitude of tour groups and did a full circle of the fort in just under an hour. Forts are all looking the same to us now. The sandstone structure is beautiful, the carvings are intricate, the throne rooms are elaborate and the views reach all the way out to the smog!
The following fort, just higher up on the hill from the Amber fort, was more of the same. At every corner there was someone waiting to give you an explanation of what you were looking at. We learned early on that after any kind of information you are expected to tip them. We simply do not have the money to tip a different person in each room for information we didn’t ask for! Instead, we spent forever trying to avoid them, going the opposite way from which they pointed and splitting up at parts to confuse them. In the end, people were still taking more photos of Kelsi and I than they were of the building, so we blew through the site as fast as we could.
By our third fort of the morning we asked Raju to just drive by while we took photos. We were finished with forts for a little while. So instead, Raju drove us down to some city gardens to check out.
“You see gardens now?” He half asked us as he dropped us off.
That sounded lovely, and different, and with the number of brightly coloured flowers they have here in India we were bound to get a few good photos. It was only 10 rupees (20 cents) to get in, but I still don’t think the fee was worth it. The place was tiny, had a couple of nicely trimmed shrubs and a few waterways with water spraying up out of them. That was pretty much it.
The only good thing about our stop was that there were street vendors outside. We picked up some juice and pakoras and samosas for about a dollar each for lunch. Raju was unhappy because our next scheduled stop was at another one of his pricey restaurants. Take that!
So instead of a scheduled lunch stop, we went back to the hotel for an afternoon rest.
At 3:30 it was time to pick up my ridiculously over priced skirt. We sat and talked to the uncle of the man who ran the place. He told us all about his morning yoga and meditation routine (no idea why) then proceeded to show us all the yoga techniques we needed to know for good lungs, a good stomach and a good brain. He was very sweet, but he talked non-stop for twenty minutes until my skirt came in. Meanwhile, two young guys behind the counter sat and, mouths open, gaped at Kelsi and I. No shame or embarrassment when we shot them glares from across the room. There’s no winning.
When my skirt arrived it was not what I was hoping for. Even with my measurements, it dragged along the floor, didn’t fit my shape and had enough material to make a dress for an elephant. Fabulous. On top of that, by the end of the day, the colour had bled all over my skin. I eventually soaked it in water, and the thing turned four huge buckets of water dark blue before I finally gave up. I learned the hard way, but it’ll be the last time I trust that any product is superior to others because my driver took us there… Lesson learned.
I left brooding and we had Raju drop us off at the edge of old town for our own walking city tour. We had him pick us up four hours later when we were finished.
We had found the walking tour in our lonely planet guide. It wasn’t bad, but not entirely what I was expecting. I guess I thought we would see a bunch of remarkable city structures and historical monuments around each corner. Instead, it just gave you a look at the busy market life of Jaipur while stopping at only a couple historical sites.
The bazaars were fun to walk through. It seamed like each section of street was dedicated to a different craft. One area would be all textiles, then electronics, then stone carvings or spices or hardware. The markets weren’t very touristy either. Although we saw a couple fellow travelers, the Jaipur bazaars cater mostly towards local needs.
About half way through the tour, Kelsi became very ill again. We left the bustle of old town to try to find a quiet spot in the city park. No such luck.
We hadn’t even sat on the ground before we got harassed by a bunch of young boys. They were only 8 or 9 years old, but there were about 7 of them. “Where from? What is name?” “You are so beautiful!” They giggled and called out to us. They wanted us to play a game of cricket with them. Kelsi could hardly stand, and I was in a skirt: cricket was not in the cards. We told them we’d watch them, but they were having none of it. They grabbed at us and tried to pull us onto the field. It was all funny at first, then when one young boy accidentally touched the side of my boob in an attempt to grab my arm he laughed and told all the boys. Then they all just started grabbing at Kelsi and I. I told one kid I was going to backhand him in the face if he didn’t stop (yes, I threatened to hit a child.) and Kelsi had to shove back another kid by her. Then, just when we’d had enough, some guy came along and started yelling at the boys until they ran away. When they stopped to come back we got up and left. If anything in this country is going to break me, it’s going to be the men here. Photos, staring, grabbing: they even think it’s acceptable at the age of 8. It’s not everyone, but it’s a part of this culture I’m not going to get used to and it’s exhausting.
Kelsi couldn’t handle it anymore and needed to get home. We grabbed a Tuk Tuk and called it early, half way through the city tour. She went to bed while I ate dinner downstairs and watched the singers and dancers entertain. The place may have been pricier than normal, but it did have a fabulous ambiance!
Overall Jaipur had a lot to see, the city palace was nice and the Amber fort was as impressive as any other. But it was the same as the rest in Rajasthan, and after two weeks of forts, I was ready to move on. The next morning we were off to a new province: Uttar Pradesh!

Textiles, Castles and More Creepy Men: Jaipur

Posted on April 4, 2013 by hilarylust

It was a quick drive from Pushkar to Jaipur, so we arrived there before lunch. We decided to eat at the hotel restaurant despite its high prices. Kelsi was in no shape to wander the streets in search of food. Plus the hotel had international foods as well as some comfort options like chicken noodle soup. Still feeling ill, Kelsi ordered the chicken noodle soup, and enviously watched me devour my curry. When the soup came out I had to laugh: the thing was FULL of capsicum. Who has ever heard of chicken noodle soup with green peppers floating through it. She sighed and then started picking out the pieces and putting them on my plate. Poor Kels.
Kelsi and I had a million things we wanted to see and do that afternoon so we could have the whole city walking tour planned for the following day. But our plans were quickly squashed by Raju.
“No, no, not possible. Too hot, too far, not good in afternoon” he had a plethora of excuses of why we couldn’t do what we wanted to. He came up with a whole new plan. We tried to argue, but since he still had included everything we wanted to see, we figured we’d just let him win the argument.
First stop was the water palace. We only took photos, but the place looked gorgeous in the afternoon sun, sitting inside a large lake. Up next, the textiles factory.
The bad thing about having a driver, is he takes you to expensive and commission driven places at every stop of the trip. Spices here, silver there, each place claiming to have the best of something and craftsmanship unequalled anywhere else in India. Jaipur’s claim to fame was it’s textiles. This stop was definitely not on our list, but we were obliged to stop anyways at Raju’s wishes. The initial tour was pretty neat. The place makes all it’s own fabric, and was set up by a woman from New Zealand who created the factory to help people in poor and small communities. It is a co-op, and many families come in from the countryside to create their own textiles. They have wonderfully colored sheets of fabric hanging from wooden beams high over head.
“The sun helps set the colours. After drying this way, they will never bleed” said our guide.
The place also offers jobs to the handicapped and widows, who would otherwise be left out on the streets to beg. It was only slightly awkward when we walked inside the building and saw two men at sewing machines.
“This man is handicapped” our guide announced, pointing to one man diligently sewing away. “Show them your leg!”
The man turned around to reveal a crippled looking leg to us. They had altered the sewing machine so he could still work it properly. Next we walked inside.
“This woman, she is a widow” said our guide.
“Namaste” she said to us.
The difference between our cultures is incredible. We are so politically correct that it would have been horrific if we came in and announced someone’s handicap or the fact that a woman’s husband had died. Here, no one seemed to care.
Then came business. What were we going to buy. I hate this part of the tour. At every place, it is inevitable that either Kelsi or I are going to get guilt tripped into buying something. This time, it was my turn.
The prices in the shop were insane. The guy had given the price of $50US for some scarves that Kelsi was looking at. I will admit, the quality was the best we’d seen, but look at us! We were scrubby backpackers wearing 2 dollar pants we’d bought in Delhi and were too afraid to wash because they will undoubtedly disintegrate. A cashmere or silk scarf was not what we were looking for.
I had been looking at skirts however. All through the markets we’d been searching for something that we could wear in India and then use at home as well! Some sort of maxi skirt that was adorable and we could say “yup, got that in India”. The problem was, all the skirts were very cheap. They were see through or falling apart. Most of them were so full of pattern that I’d never wear it back home. Here, they had a great selection of samples.
“We take your measurements and make it for you perfectly!” Said the guide. I got to pick my own fabric and colour and style and everything. Then it took just a couple hours to put it all together.
After having tea and looking at nearly every scarf and cushion cover that they owned I felt obliged to buy something. It was $30US for a skirt. Absolutely unheard of in India! The price was insane, and I knew it. But I figured it was helping poor families, and widows and handicapped people. And the fabric was made there which was pretty neat. Plus, it would be made to fit me, so it would be a great buy for back at home! I picked out a bright teal colour and chose the style of skirt from their selections. They took my measurements and I was told to come back the next day to pick it up… Did I just spend $30 on a skirt? I’m crazy. But it would look amazing, so who cares!
Them came the city palace tour. For 300 rupees (which is fairly expensive for an entrance fee here) we managed to do the most ridiculous whirlwind tour of the place. Two weeks in and we were already over city palaces. We attempted our usual photo mission, where we try our best to make it look like we are the only tourists at each popular landmark. Then we played “man or woman” with the wall paintings. Before a half hour was even up we were back at the car and ready to go. City palace, check.
After, it was back to the hotel to rest for the night. We decided to venture off to find a cheaper place to eat, rather than spend crazy tourist prices at the hotel. We were conveniently out of town again, however, so our choices were limited. We ended up at this sketchy looking place called AC Restaurant just down the street. The place was fairly empty, but we sat down anyways.
When we opened the menus we realized the prices were almost equal to that at the hotel. Fail.
Just after we ordered we heard some commotion outside. Soon after, our waiter and three other guys came rushing into the restaurant. They had come to see us. Fabulous.
The three guys sat at the table next to us and just sat there staring at Kelsi and I. I am so happy my back was turned, because I probably would have gone nuts. Then they started taking photos of us, and giggling at the pictures as they passed them around the table. It took all the effort in the world to just sit, eat, enjoy our beer and ignore them. We ate our meal, then paid and quickly left. What a way to ruin a quiet dinner.
Afterwards we called it a night. Our full day of activities had been thwarted and replaced with buying expensive clothing at a textiles factory, taking a photo of a building in the water, and being mobbed by creepy young men for dinner… Did I mention this was St. Patty’s day?! Probably the most depressing Irish celebration I’ve ever had. Better luck next year!

Pushkar

Posted on April 4, 2013 by hilarylust

Kelsi woke up the morning we were leaving Udaipur sick as a dog. It was painful. She skipped breakfast and slumped into the back of the car. I don’t think I heard more than four words from her the entire drive to Pushkar. I felt terrible that there was no way I could help.
When we arrived in Pushkar she immediately climbed into bed in the foetal position and fell asleep. I sat for a little while then decided I would go into town.
It was Kelsi’s birthday the next day, and I had promised, months earlier, that I would get her a cake! I had looked up the only German bakery in all of Pushkar and found it on our city map. It was at the Sunset Cafe restaurant and actually came recommended in the lonely planet guide!
Pushkar is a tiny town, but we managed to stay at the hotel on the furthest outskirts of the city center as possible. It was still only a 15 minute walk to the edge of town though, and after being cramped up in a car all day the exercise was welcome.
I found the cafe surprisingly fast. It was right along the lake with an incredible view of the sunset (thus the name of the restaurant I guess).
I walked up to the bakery section and checked out their selection. Some lemon cake, two pieces of old and crumbly looking chocolate cake and part of an apple crumble. Hmmm…
All of a sudden one of the waiters came over to me.
“Oh no! You don’t want those cakes. They are old.”
“Old!” I said, “do you have any fresh ones?”
“Yes, we have ice cream cake”
Nope, that wasn’t going to last over night.
“That’s okay, thanks anyways”
I was about to leave when the owner of the restaurant came up to me.
“Can I help you?” He asked politely.
I explained that I was looking for cake, but couldn’t quite find what I was looking for.
“Well I can help you! We can make you a cake if you’d like, what are you looking for? Chocolate? Lemon? Vanilla? We can make it for you.”
I wasn’t expecting that response. I stood there thinking for a moment.
“Can you do carrot cake?” It was Kelsi’s favourite, and yet I hadn’t seen it at all in India.
“Yes, with chocolate?”
“No no, just carrots”
He walked behind his desk. “Let me call the baker”
Before I knew it, Papu (the owner) had me sitting down in a meeting with the baker. He was a lovely, round man named Krishna who had come all the way down from the bakery to speak with me in person. His laugh ad his flamboyant nature made it hard not to like him immediately.
“A carrot cake?! Well of course! Krishna can do anything! Would you like it with chocolate?”
What is it with people and chocolate carrot cake? I’ve never even heard of that!
“No just carrot, thanks”
“What about chocolate icing?” he smiled a big grin.
“No thanks, maybe lemon? Or vanilla? Can you do that?”
“Oh, Krishna can do anything!” He said again.
And it was done. He would make me the cake and have it back at the restaurant the next day. Papu gave me his phone number, “if you can’t make it back to the restaurant, call me and I will have someone run it to your hotel for you!”
Seriously, these people could not have been any more lovely! I thanked them so much and then made the trek back to take care of poor Kelsi.
The next morning she wasn’t any better.
“Happy Birthday baby!” I told her as she woke up.
She groaned. “You know you’re getting old when you forget it’s your birthday” then she curled back up in pain.
I have to hand it to her though. She sucked it up and we made it into town for the morning. The markets in Pushkar are incredible. It is just one long road that wraps around the little lake that sells a million different things from the markets. We took about an hour to walk three blocks. We kept stopping in at different shops, looking at the jewelry and the brightly colored scarves. We had to take some time to rest along the way as well. Having not eaten in almost two days, Kelsi was exhausted. We sat in the shade on the steps by the lake and watched the world go by.
The Pushkar lake has a bunch of bathing ghats all around the edge. People, young and old, took the time to swim and bath in the waters before carrying on their way. Even a cow was seen cruising up and down the walkways with a headband on, just checking out the watering holes. People watching at its best.
For our lunch stop, we found a little restaurant that had a small garden out back. The air conditioned restaurant was busy with locals, but we decided to sit on our own in the garden. When we had finished eating Kelsi looked at the garden behind me.
“Look Hairy! A turtle!”
I turned around, and sure enough there there was a big old turtle slowly cruising along the garden. Our waiter heard us and laughed.
“There are 5 of them” he said. Then he walked around the garden in search of them. Within minutes he had come up with four of them. He stacked them all in a row for us. We spent way too long taking photos of these silly turtles. It was the highlight of the day! Our waiter just shook his head… Crazy tourists!
After lunch we had to go home for a nap. Hours out in the sun was too much for poor Kelsi, so we rested until dinner.
“Do you have a place in mind for dinner?” Kelsi asked me as we were about to head out in the evening.
“Ya I think so. I found a place yesterday that looked great for watching the sunset. We can check out the menu and see if we like it” I suggested.
“Sounds good”
We had Raju drive us to the edge of town, then walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. Kelsi was in a daze, already searching for a table and going through the menu when the young waiter from the day before spotted me.
“You! Oh! We have your cake! It is here!” He pointed to the fridge where the cake was sitting.
“Oh thank you! Is Papu around? I still have to pay him.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll get him”
I sat down with Kelsi who was still so sick that she hadn’t even heard the conversation go on.
“The menu looks good, lets eat here” she said. Perfect.
Papu showed up and I ran to go talk to him, leaving Kelsi to mull over the menu, still oblivious to her surroundings.
“I think we are going to have dinner here as well” I said
“Okay, okay! Ill bring the cake over whenever you like!” He offered.
I looked back at Kelsi. She was never going to make it through a meal and a cake.
“Better bring it over right away” I suggested, then left to go sit back at the table.
A couple minutes later our waited came over with the cake in hand. “Would you like a candle?” He asked me. Haha, well too late now! Kelsi looked confused, then it clicked that it was a birthday cake.
“Surprise!! Happy birthday!” I said as the waiter out the cake down. She started laughing.
“Oh my god! What?!”
The waiter rushed off and came back with a huge candle in hand. It was so big it wouldn’t fit in the cake, so he stood it up in front if the cake and lit it.
The whole thing was pretty ridiculous, and Kelsi was genuinely surprised. She made her wish, blew out the candle and we tried it out. It wasn’t the most spectacular tasting cake, but it wasn’t half bad for being vegan (yup, Pushkar is a completely vegetarian city, and the only bakery is purely vegan). Krishna had done an excellent job of decorating it, and the surprise was worth it!
In the end, Kelsi was too sick to eat the cake, but we gave it to the helpful staff at our hotel who seemed very appreciative. We watched the sunset as we ate dinner, and then off to bed early.
Pushkar was small, but it’s energy and laid back vibe made it my favourite town in India so far. The people are friendly, the merchants are not pushy, the views are spectacular, and if they’d sold meat and beer the place would have been perfect!
Jaipur has a lot to live up to!

Udaipur: Escape from Raju!

Posted on April 3, 2013 by hilarylust

We arrived in Udaipur fairly late, so we just had dinner and called it an early night. We had plenty of things planned for the following morning!
Raju had us up and out the door by 9am.
“Go to the left here and you will see city palace, then you go to temple, then back to hotel. After you maybe rest, and I take you to lake 1:00. Okay? And if anyone says ‘you like guide’ or maybe ‘you buy something’ you say Chello!”
Ya, ya. We get it, don’t talk to anyone. So off we went. We made it the whole hundred meters on our own to the city palace. Go us.
What Raju failed to tell us is, that before 10am the cost to enter the city palace goes up EIGHT TIMES it’s usual cost.
“You know if you come back in one hour it will be much cheaper” said a man outside.
No actually, we didn’t know that! But we did now, and we weren’t about to pay that much money to get in. So we turned around and wandered through the markets!
The streets of Udaipur sell EVERYTHING! Clothing, leather bound diaries, hand painted door knobs, puppets, tourist trinkets, and anything you could ever need from a market. What Udaipur is best known for, however, is its miniature paintings.
The city has some incredible artists that paint out intricately designed paintings on small pieces of cloth or camel bone. The work is absolutely exquisite, although you can tell the difference in workmanship between shops. Some are much more skilled at the craft than others and yet every second or third store seemed to sell these paintings. Pictures of elephants, peacocks, camels: each animal symbolized a different attribute, whether it was love, luck or courage. It would take years of experience to perfect the techniques that’s for sure!
Kelsi and I wandered the markets for a few, until we found the temple we were told to check out. It was a gorgeous Jain style temple, sticking up tall and seemingly out of place, in the middle of the bustling marketplace. The white marble work was amazing, but after having seen the massive and elaborately carved pillars of Ranakpur we soon moved back to the markets.
Kelsi bought an anklet from one of the merchant stalls. “What metal is this made from?” She asked the man behind the counter. Nearly everyone promised that their jewelry was 92.5% silver and was of the highest quality.
“White metal” replied the guy. We had to chuckle. An honest vendor! I love it! “It won’t turn your skin green though, and the colour will stay like that”
“Will it break?” Asked Kelsi
“Probably.” He said nonchalantly.
Amazing! All we wanted was some cheap jewelry that looked decent. She didn’t even haggle with the guy. Just handed over the couple dollars he asked for and we all carried on happy! Why couldn’t everyone just be that honest?
We wandered down to the lake front and sat on the stairs, watching the locals come and go. It was relaxing and peaceful by the lake. People came and washed themselves and their clothes in the lake. They drank the water too, although I’m pretty sure that would have made Kelsi and I instantly sick. When 10am came along we strolled back up to the city palace.
The city palace was beautiful, but it had another one of those museums where you entered and then couldn’t leave again. And we realized why it was more expensive early in the morning. At ten, ALL the tourists in the world come to see the city palace. The place is cramped and hot and you can’t take a photo of anything properly if you wanted to! We didn’t have a guide, and so roamed aimlessly through the maze of rooms just trying to find enough space to breathe. In some rooms we were actually the spectacle. We had a woman ditch taking a photo of her boyfriend to instead have her photo taken with Kelsi and I. It’s become so common here that I’m almost used to it. I’m probably going to go home and have a couple ask me to take a photo of them, then I’ll sigh and get into the photo myself. It’ll be awkward to say the least.
About 5 minutes into the palace museum tour we got bored, but we couldn’t escape the throngs of people. We started playing our new favourite game with the artwork on the wall: I call it “man or woman?”.
The artwork that is displayed in the palace, and all of India for that matter, has a lot of gender suspicious paintings of people. Sometimes a man is painted in traditional garb, which looks like a dress. He has long hair pulled into a bun, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and I even saw nail polish on one! Normally I would go ahead and guess woman, but not here! Sometimes it’s the beard that gives it away, other times its just a shadow of a beard, and other times its the social situation of the painting. “Nope, women weren’t allowed to do that, gotta be a man”. This new game is the only thing that got us through the palace in a sane state!
It took us over an hour of pushing our way from room to room, rushing past important monuments and getting lost trying to find the exits signs out of each room, to finally escape the palace walls.
“Let’s go home” we both agreed, and we went back to the hotel to freshen up.
At 1:00 we went to the lobby to find Raju. When he wasn’t there, we took the opportunity to escape.
“Let’s just leave a note and head out on our own!” We suggested. So we did:
Dear Raju,
We couldn’t find you, so we left for the lake on our own. See you at 5:00 for the sunset drive!
– Sunita and Anita

And we were off on our own again. It felt wonderful finally being able to explore a place without the watchful and protective eyes of Raju. We didn’t need a babysitter, we needed a driver. I know he is just doing his best to look out for us, but never being allowed to talk to anyone, ever, was going to put us in the mad house.
We hopped in a Tuk Tuk and drove off towards the lake. We desperately wanted to go paddle boating so we got the driver to take us to the docks.
Our driver was elated to have two blonde girls sitting in the back of his Tuk Tuk. He couldn’t stop telling us how beautiful we were and staring at us in the side mirrors. Great. We would get the creepiest Rickshaw driver in all of Udaipur.
When we arrived at the docks we were greeted with disappointment. Something to do with the water levels of the lake, but there was no paddle boating for the day. No! Our mission to paddle in a swan boat was crushed!
So we decided to walk along the waterfront instead. We hadn’t made it ten steps before our Rickshaw driver caught up to us.
“I know another place to paddle boat!” He announced excitedly. “It is at a hotel just down the way.” Reluctantly we jumped back in, our love for paddle boating stronger than our drivers lame advances. About 2 minutes down the road another Tuk Tuk pulled up beside us.
“Wooooooaaaah!” Two young guys, about our age, in the Tuk Tuk next to us saw Kelsi and I and started driving along side us. They started shouting at our driver, asking him how he picked up such lovely ladies. Between the two vehicles we were taking up the entire road. Motorbikes and cars were swerving around the two Tuk tuks as they drove side by side.
“Where are you from?!” One guy shouted at us.
“New Zealand and Canada”we answered back.
“Ooooh, New Zealand!” They reached out to shake our hands from one Tuk Tuk to the next. This was so absurd we had to start laughing. 10 minutes away from Raju and look what happened to us!
One guy ended up climbing into the front seat of our Rickshaw to chat with us some more. His English was exemplary and his laugh was so contagious we could hardly contain ourselves. He talked non-stop for the entire way to the paddle boating.
“Let’s party later! Ill give you my number” we took it to be polite and to get him to leave us alone, but had no desire to party with the guys knowing that creepy Tuk Tuk driver would most likely be there.
“How about 7? We can go to Masala restaurant that my friend owns. We can pick you up from the hotel, where are you staying?”
“Can’t remember actually” we lied. “But if we decide to party we will come find you guys at Masala. Bye now!”
We laughed our way to the paddle boating and then laughed some more when we saw where we were. The hotel had a giant fountain outside it and you could paddle boat IN the fountain. This was too funny. So we paid our 40 cents and grabbed a swan. Two guys walking around the park saw us and hopped in a boat as well.
“Who in their right mind, other than us, would ever paddle boat in this thing?” I asked
“Don’t know, but we’ve made this fountain more popular than it’s been in years” said Kelsi as she pointed to the other two random guys.
We actually had a great time in the boat. Apart from the scorching sun, we were full of giggles as we raced around the small pool of water. And 20 minutes later we decided to head back to the markets.
Our favourite Tuk Tuk driver was waiting for us. Fabulous. We got him to drop us off at the edge of town so we could walk our way back to the hotel without him.
Even after hours in the markets in the morning, we couldn’t get enough of walking from shop to shop looking at things to buy. We stopped in at some amazing miniature painting shops and even bought a couple for ourselves. Then it was back to the hotel to find Raju.
For the sunset we drove to a temple at the top of a large hill across the lake. The views from the top were the best I’d seen in India to date. Peaked green hills with crazy looking twisted trees all over. A stunning view of the city of Udaipur and it’s beautiful lake. The sunset was once again a depressing smoggy fail, but we enjoyed the scenery nonetheless.
As we got back to the hotel, standing about 20 meters from the from entrance was the two young guys from the Tuk Tuk earlier.
“Great.” Said Kelsi.
“Did they see us?” We ducked down. How in the world did they FIND us?! We started laughing, wondering how we were going to explain this to Raju after our no talking rule. Instead we just booked it from the car to the front door and ran inside to hide. The boys spotted us and came running down after us. “Girls! Are you coming out?!” They were met with an angry Raju forcing them away from the area “Chello! Chello!” He shouted at them as if they were dogs.
Kelsi and I fell into our bed in fits of laughter. That would happen to us. Now we had to hide away in our room for another half hour before venturing off to dinner! Just our luck.
When sufficient time had passed we left for dinner. But not before getting the Spanish Inquisition from Raju. “Where are you going? When are you coming back? Who are you going with? Why aren’t you eating at the hotel?”
Ay, ay, ay! We just want to get some food! We had scoped out a lovely place by the waterfront and was excited to try it. The place had a busy but small rooftop patio that we sat in to watch the night away. We ordered a couple dishes and a large Kingfisher to share.
“Okay” said our waiter “it will take me a bit to cook the food, but I will bring you the beer now is that okay?”
“Ya sure” we said “that’s perfect” and he ran back down the four flights of stairs to the kitchen.
“Did he say he was MAKING the food?” Asked Kelsi.
“Ya, that’s what I heard, but it must have been a mistake in translation.”
The food came out fairly quickly and it was delicious. We powered through the meal and got the bill right away; we were in a rush to get home for “curfew” or “drinking time” with Raju.
We walked downstairs to find our server. Down and down all the flights of stairs… then we found him in the kitchen.
“Oh my god!” I said “do you COOK the meals too?!”
He looked at me almost a little embarrassed. He was a young guy, probably in his early to mid twenties “Yes, I am here all alone tonight. So it is very busy for me. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! That’s crazy!”
I counted 11 people on the roof when I left. There was at least one more person sitting down below which made 12. 12 people, 12 different orders, and 12 different meals to cook. Cleaning the tables, getting the bills and the drinks and the beers… I’m never complaining as a server ever again! We tipped the guy very well and ran off to home.
Raju had been wanting us to drink the last of our whiskey every night since the camel trekking.
“You drink tonight?” He would ask, without fail. We were finding it hard to come up with anymore excuses.
“It we just drink the damn whiskey then he won’t ask anymore” Kelsi said.
“Unless he buys another one!” I reminded her.
“Touché”
Either way, we just decided to get it over and done with. We sat in the restaurant with some curried Indian snacks and a bottle of whiskey. Here we go!
I think Raju had a wonderful time getting to hang out with us over a couple drinks. He did seem to just want us to have fun on the trip (as long as that fun didn’t involve anyone else). But by the end, the whiskey was going straight to my head and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. We managed to polish off the bottle and then we walked down two flights of stairs to crash out after a long day.
It was the last time we heard anything about drinking whiskey…

The Jain Temples of Ranakpur

Posted on April 3, 2013 by hilarylust

On our way to Udaipur, we stopped in the lovely little village of Ranakpur. On our way there, Raju decided, out of the blue, that he was giving us new names. We had all been in silent thought for a while when Raju turned around and made his announcement.
“Your new name is Sunita!” He pointed at me. Uhh, okay Raju. “It is very famous Indian name, Sunita” Alrighty. I’ve had enough nicknames in my time, Sunita works for me. “And you… Anita!” He pointed to Kelsi. Of course we would have matching names. It doesn’t confuse people enough that we look identical to all Indians. Some of them stare at us perplexed when we say we are from different countries, trying to figure out how we could be twins and from the other side of the globe! Now we had matching names; it was going to confuse everyone. But from that point forward, we were Sunita and Anita to Raju.
“Sunita! That your home!” Raju said, pointing to a dilapidated and broken down mud shack at the edge of the town.
“Uhh, thanks Raju. It’s so lovely.” And then he giggled to himself for making such a funny joke.
While in Ranakpur, we first hiked to the top of a small hill which looked over a gorgeous lake. It was the first sign of rolling hills and small mountains that we’d seen yet in India and the view was beautiful. The green background was quite a difference from Rajasthan’s golden desert to the west.
At the foot of the hill was a small house and inside, a man who made handwoven dhurries for a living. Dhurries are like carpets, but the pattern is double-sided and the whole thing is a lot lighter. The process is fascinating! He showed us how he weaves the wool or silk or hair, through this wooden structure, and then uses a comb-like object to push all the material into place. One Dhurrie takes him 35 days, working 8 hours per day, to complete. Are you kidding me?! That’s insane. The man just sits there all day, pressing and weaving and designing beautiful looking carpets. It was amazing.
After the demonstration was the usual “please buy my stuff” speech. He had us look through his works and pick out our favourites. “Don’t worry about the price! It is very cheap!”
That’s what they all say. But we were not about to haul around massive carpets on top of our already insanely packed bags.
“I’m sorry,” I said “your work is beautiful, but I don’t have a home of my own to put one in!” I explained.
“You don’t have a home of your own?” Some guy, obviously another tourist traveling on his own, popped his head around the pillar to talk with us. “That is very sad”.
We laughed and chatted about where he had just come from. He was absolutely lovely and the first tourist we had spoken to in ages! He was so excited to hear that we were heading to Udaipur because he had just had such a wonderful time there.
“You have to stay at the hotel I was at! It’s called Ganesh Ghats! Can you remember that? Would you like me to write it down? Oh! And I went on this wonderful hike through the jungle. It was the best thing I have done in India so far! My driver has the name of the company. Please, if you would like, come and get the name from him.”
We were excited to hear about all the fun stuff to try in Udaipur. It was the first city we were visiting that we stayed in for two nights, which meant lots of time for exploring. “Ya, we’d love to get the name!” We started, then Raju cut us off.
“Okay now, Chello! We go now, in the car” he practically stepped in between us and shuffled us towards the car.
What? Wait. We’re in the middle of a conversation! We shouted apologies over Raju’s shoulder to the guy just as we were pushed into the car.
“Don’t talk to young men. They are bad. I do not like them. Do not talk to them, okay?”
No. Not okay.
“We were taking to him Raju. He was very nice!” We said.
“No! We go now” he said definitively, and we drove off.
Okay. So a few of you know that NO ONE tells Kelsi and I what to do. A couple people on this trip have learned the hard way not to treat us like children that need to be looked after. It’s not pretty. We were more than unimpressed to be told who we could or could not talk to. We were in silent fury as we drove off to the next stop…
When we arrived, Raju acted like nothing had happened. “Okay, you go into temple, and you take photo, then back to the car. Okay? It is free, so don’t bring any money, and when anyone talks to you, you say Chello!”
We got out of the car without a word and walked away. We were going to go talk to everyone we saw, just out of spite.
We stopped at the first temple which was small, but beautifully carved. It was all in white marble, with many carved pillars and unique looking designs. Ranakpur apparently is home to India’s biggest and most important Jain temple complexes: and that is what we were looking at.
When we had finished with the first temple, we carried on to the larger and more complex temple.
Sitting on a bench outside the large temple we ran across the guy we had just met at the Bhurrie factory.
“Look Kelsi! There’s that guy again!”
“Let’s go talk to him”
Just out of pure spite, he was going to be our new best friend for the afternoon. Lanz from Denmark turned out to also be one of the most genuinely nice people I’ve ever met in my life. He was one of those people who would get ripped off by everyone in India. He accepted flowers and photos and bhindis, then was asked to dole out money as needed. He did so with a big smile, not ever feeling taken advantage of. When it turned out that we needed to pay a fee for my camera as well (even though we left all our money in the car as instructed) he didn’t even blink an eye and paid for two cameras to enter. Every nice thing he did made us angrier at Raju.
The second temple was absolutely spectacular! In the same milk white marble, this temple was a massive collection of rooms and pillars. The temple has 1444 individually engraved pillars, each one more elaborately decorated than the next. It was stunning!
We must have spent 45 minutes or so just wandering around the place, looking in all the little crevasses and rooms that the place had. When we were done, we wandered back and found Lanz, with an awestruck look on his face only about half way through the temple. We thanked him for the camera and the information in Udaipur and wished him luck on his travels. Then we walked back to the car to find Raju, silently triumphant for disobeying his strict “no meeting people” rule. If it was going to be like this for the whole two weeks, we were going to have a problem.
Next stop: Udaipur.

Jodhpur

Posted on April 3, 2013 by hilarylust

On our way to Jodhpur we demanded that we stop back in Jaisalmer to see the fort.
“No, no, is much nicer fort in Jodhpur.” Explained Raju.
No! We were exhausted of being told what and where we were going to see things. WE really wanted to see the fort. He said he would, but only because he liked us. Reminding us that he wouldn’t have done it for some other tourists… So much for “you choose the places you want to see!”
In the end, I’m so glad we made the stop. The Jaisalmer fort is bustling with life! Shop merchants and locals and guesthouses: the place was full of tourists and temples and most of all, history. Can you imagine living in this fort so many years ago? Before the city was built up around it? Before the smog rolled in and you could see out forever across the distance? Wow. The place was incredible. We walked the streets for a little while, took some photos of a view point and then headed back to the car. We had only one night in Jodhpur and we weren’t going to miss it.
Our hotel in Jodhpur was incredible, just like all the the others had been; however, I think this was my favourite. It had a swimming pool, very nice rooms, outdoor courtyards and a huge rooftop patio with an outstanding view of the Jodhpur fort.
The Jodhpur fort may have actually been more impressive to look at than the Jaisalmer one, and from right underneath it, the walls looks imposing and impenetrable.
For the afternoon we checked out the markets. Jodhpur is known for its delicious spices, so we spent some time smelling all the different curries and teas that they had to offer. It was hard not to buy everything in the shop! But we did manage to get a few small things to carry with us for the next month and a half (our bags are becoming so full we will soon fall over with the weight of them!). For the next hour or so, we wandered the streets, with Raju as our unnecessary body guard of course, and checked out the markets. The center of the market has a beautiful clock tower right in the middle. Below it is a chaos of motorbikes, horse drawn carriages and a herd of cows, all trying to co-exist with one another. Good luck!
Eventually, we strolled back to the hotel for dinner on the rooftop. Our hotel restaurant just happened to be the number one recommended restaurant in the Lonely Planet guide, so we didn’t have to go very far for a delicious meal.
In the morning we checked out the fort. Unlike the living Jaisalmer fort, the Jodhpur fort, named Mehrangarh, no longer has any permanent residents. The fort does, however, have some outstanding views from its outer ramparts and a museum that snakes it’s way through the inner castle. Once you start in the museum though, there’s no getting out! You have to move through the crowds of people, up stairways and down passages until the end of the tour. We didn’t realize this until it was too late. An hour later we escaped through the exit, exhausted from seeing throne rooms and decorated hallways!
When we finally found Raju back in the parking lot, we drove off to a nearby palace. We opted not to go inside, but had some spectacular views of the palace behind the lake. It didn’t even look real standing there! Finally, we carried on to our next stopover: Ranakpur.

Camel Safari in the Thar Desert

Posted on March 28, 2013 by hilarylust

We woke up early after our first night in Jaisalmer and saw some more cenotaphs. They were a peaceful escape from the city, apart from the few young boys harassing us. I don’t care what Bollywood movie star I remind you of, and no, I don’t want my photo taken from every possible angle. I just want to enjoy the serenity of the cenotaphs alone!
There was no escaping though. When we had successfully dodged a couple clingy young boys and wanted to leave, Raju had an entire photo shoot for us in mind.
“Stand by pole. Ok. And you, over by wall” *groan* There’s nothing I dislike more than an awkward photo session where every limb has it’s exact place.
When we got back in the car it was a relief. We were excited to go see inside the fort, then head off to the camel safari in the afternoon.
“Okay I get tomatoes and then after maybe we chello camel safari” said Raju as we pulled up on some street corner and he got out.
What?
“Did he just say he was going to get tomatoes?” I asked Kelsi.
“I think that’s what I heard”
“What does that mean?”
“No idea.”
Big surprise. Kelsi and I still have no idea what’s going on. We watched Raju disappear into the crowd. We waited in the scorching heat in the car. While we waited, we looked around at the busy street.
Motor bikes, bicycles, rickshaws, vendors, cows, goats, children, shoe polishers it was dizzyingly busy around us. And once again, all eyes were on the two blondes in the car. Great. I feel like I’m in a zoo: gawked at behind glass with loads of farm animals around me. What more could a girl wish for?
There was a bottle shop on the corner where Raju had left to.
“Bet he’s gone into the bottle shop” I said. We had joked that we have never seen Raju eat anything since we’ve been on the tour with him.
“No wonder he doesn’t eat!” Kelsi exclaimed, “he’s an alcoholic!”
“Or maybe he went in there to buy us a bottle of whiskey now that he thinks it’s our favourite drink!” We laughed.
“I wonder what he meant by tomatoes…”
Then just as we were pondering, Raju came back around the corner with a big green box in his hand. He walked up to the window of the car and dropped it on Kelsi’s lap. Then he turned and walked back into the crowd.
Inside the box was a big bottle of whiskey.
“Oh god, you’re kidding me. Did he just buy us a bottle of whiskey! What the hell are we going to do with a bottle of whiskey!? And where did he go?!” We had no choice but to sit there perplexed until Raju came back.
When he came back the second time he had a black bag with him. Without a word, he once again walked up to the window, dropped the bag in Kelsi’s lap, and walked away…
We opened the bag. It was full of tomatoes, cucumbers and chili peppers. Okay, what the hell is going on. What’s with the vegetables?! We were so lost. Was this some weird Indian drink we were about to make? Like a Caesar, but with fresh tomatoes? Do Indians eat vegetables while they sip on whiskey? Was this even for us?
Raju came back again with another small black bag. This one had a handful of peanuts in it.
“Eat” he said. It was the first thing he’d said since he’d left us in the car.
We were so confused as we sat in the back of the car, eating our peanuts, that we didn’t even notice we were driving in the wrong direction from the fort.
Apparently the fort wasn’t in our agenda anymore and instead, we drove straight out to the camel safari in a town called Khuri, 40km outside Jaisalmer. Lunch was also not in the program it seems. We arrived at the camel safari start point 2 and a half hours before anyone else, and just had to sit there, with the man who worked there, until everyone showed up. Plenty of time to have explored the fort and eaten food. We were cranky to say the least.
The guy that worked there was at least nice. Love was his name, and he only works the camel safari part time. Normally, he is an engineer that specializes in wind power. Sadly, engineers in India don’t get paid well, so he has to work with camels part time to pay the bills.
Love chatted to us about life in the desert.
“People just work with camels, and relax when it is hot and eat opium.”
Oh, ya. Wait, what was that last part?
“Did you say EAT opium?”
We asked.
“Yes, we eat, it clears brain! Wait, I have some in my pocket.”
Sure enough, the man pulled out a black chunk of opium from his back pocket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen opium before, so I just had to take his word for it. I have also never heard of people eating it in small chunks.
“Is opium illegal here?” We asked.
“Yes, but in the desert no one checks, so everyone eats it here.” So weird. Turns out the man carries hashish and marijuana in his pockets too. I had to laugh about how absurd it was that he just walked around with all sorts of drugs in his pockets and didn’t seem phased by it at all. Only in India.
Soon enough the other tourists arrived and we set out on camels for the sunset. It was deathly hot, and we still had four hours of trekking round the desert until sunset. Plus we were starving. Nonetheless, we were excited to head out in the desert and finally meet some other tourists!
The camels we jumped on were massive! I thought the camels in Africa were large, but these ones are insane. I bet some of the larger ones reached 10 feet high with their heads up! I felt like I was sitting on top of the world on my camel, Kaloo.
Turns out, it didn’t really matter that Kelsi and I had waited two hours for the rest of the group. Three minutes into the ride, our two guides split off from the group and we went our separate ways. So much for making friends!
We walked for a while in the sun, then decided to take a break in the shade for a few minutes. Kelsi and my guides could not have been more different. Kelsi’s guide was a young boy at the age of ELEVEN! Yup, eleven years old and working hard. My guide Luna, on the other hand, could have passed for one hundred and eleven. Either way, they were both very nice, and seemed to get along great with each other as well.
In the shade of the tree is when Kelsi and I realized how funny looking camels are. They chew out of the side of their mouths, which looks hilarious in photos, and although they apparently don’t spit, they do bite! Kelsi’s was a mean little camel and tried to nip at her when she stuck her face close. Mine was older and a little less temperamental, but both camels left us entertained for a good half hour as we took stupid photos of them. When we turned around from the camels, we saw that both our guides were asleep. What a great tour. So we went back to the camels.
“Let’s just take them and escape to Pakistan!” We said. We were only about 30 kilometers or so from the Pakistani border. It would be easy! I grabbed the reins of my camel and pretended to run. But Kaloo wasn’t having any of it and just sat there with a stupid look on his face.
It’s hard to believe it, but eventually we got bored taking photos of the same two camels over and over again. Unfortunately, our guides were still passed out. So we decided to go for an adventure. We ran around the desert (literally running. The sand was so hot on our bare feet we could hardly stand it) searching for more fun. We climbed up hills and sand dunes, got tangled in some prickle bushes and finally we found the goat.
There were a number of black goats roaming around the desert, but this goat was our target.
“Let’s see if we can get it” we said.
He was a sneaky goat, that’s for sure! He saw us coming and immediately went skidding away in the other direction. There were so many prickles on the ground at this point that we were at a disadvantage with our bare feet. I chased him around one bush and then got very close as I hid behind a shrub before creeping up behind him. Then a lizard skittered by me and I got distracted. The goat saw me and ran off again. Foiled again!
Kelsi tried next, running round and round this big bush. The goat outsmarted her too and just climbed into the depth of the prickles to get away. Damn you goat!
We give up… Back to the camels.
The camels were sprawled out on the sand and scratching themselves when we got back. Kaloo swung his legs around and flung a goat pellet, hitting me straight in the chest with a thud. Excuse me! Kelsi burst out laughing.
We’d been stopped in the shade for an hour and a half before our guides woke up. Hi. Remember us? You are our TOUR GUIDES and we are supposed to be riding camels! They seemed unphased.
We hopped back on the camels and towards our sunset viewpoint. Kaloo was apparently still tired, because he stumbled his way up the hill and got stuck trying to walk over a huge bush. Kelsi broke out into fits of laughter once again as I struggled to stay on. When Luna freed my camel from the tangle of the bushes, we carried onward up the dunes.
About 20 minutes later we came to our viewing point and back off the camels to sit in the shade. Kelsi and I entertained ourselves by playing xhonu in the sand and taking photos of a camel who’s lower lip was flipped outward and stuck. I was in stitches laughing at this camel, until we found out that his lip is probably permanently stuck that way. Then we felt a little bad for making fun of it.
The sunset was incredibly disappointing. Even in the middle of the desert, the sun hit a layer of smog long before it touched the horizon. We didn’t even stay for the whole thing. We were so hungry at this point, having not eaten more than half a handful of peanuts in 12 hours.
When we got back to camp, we were greeted by Raju.
“Look! I made you a treat!” He said with a smile. He pointed into the back of the car. It was a salad of sliced tomatoes and cucumber and chili peppers. Next to it was three glasses and a bottle of whiskey. My stomach churned. What a surprise!
“Now you go eat your dinner. But drinks, they maybe are too expensive, and many tourists, so no talking to them. Then when your dinner over, maybe we drink whiskey and eat the tomato!”
What? First of all, don’t talk to the tourists?! Kelsi and I have been craving ANY conversation with someone who speaks English for about a week now! Also, do we want to eat a salad after we’ve already eaten a four course meal? Probably not. And I really don’t want to drink a bottle of whiskey right before bed. But Raju looked so excited and had prepared everything for us, so we politely said we would join him after dinner.
Turns out we sat next to Italians and French at dinner, so our excitement to speak English was shot down anyways. Dinner was lovely, and came with wonderful dancing and fire breathing entertainment. When dinner was over, Love came around asking if we would like to sleep in cabins or in the desert.
“Desert, please!” We said.
“Okay, we leave in ten minutes then”
Oh no, we hadn’t even seen Raju. We rushed out to the car to tell him we couldn’t join him, but he said “no problem” and filled our glasses with whiskey. “Eat” he said and pointed to the salad.
Oh my god, I was so full. I couldn’t eat a salad now! But we had a few bites to be polite. When it had been a minute since we’d touched the food he repeated “you, eat”. No!!! I don’t want to. But our polite ‘no thank yous’ were brushed away with another “yes, you eat”.
Meanwhile, we had a cup of whiskey to drink. Why oh why did I mention the whiskey yesterday! To be honest, the whiskey wasn’t bad. It was very smooth and reminded me of drinking Sangsom back in Thailand. When we drained our glasses he filled them up. “Oh, no thank you” we said.
“It’s okay, it’s okay” and he poured in more.
This was weird. We were sitting in the desert, in the back of our car, eating slices of cucumber and tomato and drinking back shots of whiskey like they were water. ‘I just want to be sitting inside meeting people’ I thought.
We downed our second cup and jumped out of the car before he could fill it up a third time.
“See you in the morning” said Raju “be very safe, and no talking to anyone!”
We hopped on the back of a camel drawn cart and rolled out into the desert, feeling a little tipsy.
It was pitch black out there. We couldn’t see a thing as we rolled along the sand dunes and into the night. All you could hear was the grunting, growling, snoring sounds that were coming from the camels.
We slept apart from the group with two girls from Italy. We had no choice in the matter, that’s just where they put us. But our guide set up little cots for us, and full bed rolls and lots of blankets. It was the most comfortable I’d been in weeks!
Kelsi and I watched the stars for a little while, then I fell asleep quite quickly. I was woken a couple times in the middle of the night with the sounds of singing and drumming coming from somewhere way off in the distance. It could have been the small village, or perhaps it was somewhere in Pakistan. Apparently you can hear the village on the other side of the border when the wind is right. Then finally it was morning. The sunlight looked incredible over the sand dunes. It was the first time we saw where we had been sleeping and it was beautiful. Kelsi and I hiked up a small dune to see the sun rise, but really it just came out of a black cloud just like the sunsets.
Just after daybreak we were back in town, having breakfast. Then we were herded back to the car.
“You sleep good in the desert?” Asked Raju.
“Yup!” We both said. Then Kelsi looked down at the back of her seat with a horrified gaze.
“Look” she nudged me.
It was another bottle of whiskey….
Kill. Me. Now.