Amritsar: Home to the Sikhs and Mrs. Bandari

Amritsar was equivalent to a trip to the beach for us (except the beach was Mrs. Bandari's lawn). It gave us our first few days to completely relax with no shopping, haggling, or hassling (as there was nothing to buy) and our first real moments to truly 'people-watch' without a monkey stick. We arrived into Amritsar at midnight on the rather fancy Shatabdi Express train from New Delhi. Now, by fancy, I mean we each had our own seat and dinner was provided. By fancy I do not mean particularly clean, on-time, or relaxing, but I have now lowered my expectations for 'first class' and 'fancy'. We were taken to a rather shoddy hotel where we slept off the train ride and, upon waking up, promptly moved quarters to Mrs. Ratan Bandari's Guesthouse. Mrs. Bandari's has been the strangest place we have stayed in so far and certainly one of the most enjoyable: the strange mix between army barracks, water buffaloes, open fires, and hot water bottles provided a rather 1930s British colonialist feel. We were virtually the only guests there and spent several days under the sun just reading with only the occasional grazing buffalo to disturb us. We refused to eat at Mrs. Bandari's (as the food was ridiculously overpriced!) and so for 2 days our only foray into the city was a block away to chow down on a variety of street food (spicy noodle dishes, fried eggplant and cauliflower, milk sweets, and chai). In these 2 days we spent no more than 2$ per person per day! Street food has been harder to find than we expected although we have been pleasantly surprised when we have found it: cheap and filling.

Amritsar is known for 2 things: The Golden Temple and the Wagah Border. The former is the most important place for worship to the Sikhs and the latter is an absurd border ceremony performed every evening at the Pakistani-Indian border. Each of these takes less than three hours to fully appreciate and, since we had 4 full days, we took our time getting there. We were not disappointed buy our wait. For 3 days, we went into town each day and simply sat outside the Golden Temple peacefully 'people watching'. We were never once hassled or harangued and the locals got just as much of a thrill at watching us as we did them. Therefore, upon our entrance into the temple complex itself on our fourth day we were fully ready (well, almost...one has to enter barefoot and I hate being barefoot in public places so attempted unsuccessfully to tip-toe my way around the entire time). The complex was beautiful! It has been the most beautiful site we have seen so far: both spiritually and aesthetically. The reverence the Sikhs felt for the place was palpitating and the sheer magnificence of the shining, golden reflection of the small Golden Temple into the pond surrounding was astonishing. The fact that we got a free lunch was also pretty great. The kitchen at the Golden Temple feeds more than 10, 000 people per day for free with amazing efficiency. As one enters the kitchen, one is funneled through a vast line where one receives a plate, a bowl, a spoon and is then instructed to a place on the floor to wait. One is then met with server upon server carrying vats of curry, dal, fresh chapatis, and sweets. Even though the lunch is free, it is never-ending and was spicy and delicious. The experience of eating alongside pilgrims, locals, visitors, and those who could not afford to eat on their own was a humbling experience and reminded us to be mindful of all those around us in India who come from vastly different backgrounds and share intensely different experiences than do we.

Now, the Wagah border was a very different slice of India altogether. The notorious Wagah border ceremony takes place each evening at 5pm and is a show of both affection and bravado between the less-than-friendly states of Pakistan and India. Punjab once spanned both borders and its people continue to share many commonalities. However, after partition, Punjab was cut in two and the result is a rather tepid relationship with neither Pakistani or Indian allowed to cross. The ceremony itself is really just a flag-lowering and gate-locking formality which has turned into a 'who-can-scream-louder' and 'who-has-the-best Bollywood-tunes' event. Shuttles run back and forth from the center of Amritsar to the border each afternoon and after paying 75 RS each we were sped to the border just in time to get front-row seats in the VIP (aka 'foreigner' section). Upon sitting down, it was difficult to keep our mouths closed as they kept popping open in shock and awe as we watched groups of Indians dancing in the aisles to the theme song of 'Slumdog' to waves of Indian men jumping up and down shouting "Long Live India", screaming like maniacs, and wildly waving enormous Indian flags about. Unfortunately for the Pakistanis, the Indians certainly had the better speakers and were allowed greater movement to dance and jump about but I can't really say that their soldiers performed any less gallantly than did those on the Indian side. We would have loved to have witnessed the ceremony from the Pakistani side as well, but that will have to wait until sentiments on both sides are cooled. While the entire 'na-na-na-na-boo-boo' atmosphere was perfectly ludicrous, it was a truly Indian affair and one which I have yet to experience anywhere else. Perhaps the U.S. and Mexico could try this rather than a wall?

We are now in electricity-challenged Varanasi, but have lots to relate regarding our 1AC (first-class) sleeper night train experiences, why Lucknow is really more 'Luck-maybe', and why there are so many Western 'hippies' in this holiest of cities: Varanasi.
Stay tuned!

Jaipur: A not-so Truly Pink City

We took our last leg with Raj, our reliable and ever-re-re-confirming driver (as one is always directionally challenged when in India), to Jaipur. After a relatively easy 6 hour drive (and a few near monkey attacks) we found ourselves in Jaipur, the largest of the cities in Rajasthan. We said goodbye to Raj, who we didn't realize how much we would miss until the next day, and went straight to the rooftop restaurant of our hotel for a beer and some aloo gobhi (a very typical Indian dish: potato and cauliflower curry). Having missed the Jaipur Kite Festival (Indians are particularly enchanted with kites and on any given afternoon one can simply gaze at the skies and the rooftops filled with kite fliers. This festival is in homage to them and is celebrated all over India but is supposed to be particularly beautiful in Jaipur) we were lucky enough to find ourselves in Jaipur on the last day of the Annual Jaipur Literary Festival. Filled with international literary nerds, authors, and journalists the festival also showcases numerous international musicians. We decided that literary musings were over our head and so we spent the day in the not so Pink City (it's really terra-cotta colored) unenthusiastically touring the City Palace and dodging touts and men peeing on the streets. After a harrowing pinch in which we were nearly mashed between a bus and a public urinal, we headed straight for the Diggi Palace, where the musical talents were gearing up for a night of diverse shows. Upon arrival we purchased tickets for at least 6 glasses of Sula wine (as wine is particularly difficult to find in this country) and found ourselves some seats. The opening act, an Italian violinist accompanied by traditional Indian drummers was outstanding. Our favorites of the evening were the Sufi Quawalli singers from Sindh, Pakistan. These were the same sect of singers we had seen in Nizamuddin Dargah in New Delhi on New Years Eve, however, we were much better equipped to appreciate their musicianship equipped with socks and shoes and a glass of red wine in hand.

The following day was Indian Republic Day and we found ourselves atop the less-than-impressive Amber Palace along with all the other locals who had the day off. Our pictures were 'snapped' more than a few dozen times by fellow Indian tourists. By 'snap' I mean that I was requested to pose in my sunglasses with any number of young, naughty Indian men. I don't even want to imagine what they are using those photos for. While I have been a minority in other countries before and had my photo taken numerous times it was always along a family portrait, rather than with groups of young men and so having my 'snap' taken in India seems to carry a different weight. Having only 2 days left in Jaipur, we decided to hone our shopping skills.

By many accounts the best shopping city in Rajasthan, we found ourselves in the basement of a textile manufacturer for almost 2 days straight. Shopping in India is like nothing we have ever encountered before: the terms "wholesale" and "fixed rate" seem to mean entirely different things when in India. Therefore, it really does take 2 days or more to settle on a price, amount, and comfort level. We were lucky, however, to have fallen into this particular 'wholesaler' as we immediately liked their energy and over many yummy Masala chais and thalis we finally walked away with several purchases of textiles and goods. Overall, Jaipur was rather uneventful and we were greatly looking forward to our 15 hour trek by bus and train to Amritsar, Punjab: the home of the Sikhs. From here we now write, more on our four day Amritsar experience soon!

Oh, and I almost forgot! What to do when sold a fake beer? Take it right back to the dirty scoundrel who sold it to you in the first place, pour it out on the street so he sees it's fake, then demand your money back! Now, it is important to recognize that purchasing alcohol in India requires one to enter one of many terribly sleazy misleadingly named "English Wine and Beer" shops where one will be the only woman amongst already quite drunk men buying cheaply made and cheaply costing Indian-made whiskey. All this hassle for just a plain old Kingfisher, and then to return to the hotel, pour oneself a drink, and find it's stinky, dirty sewer water? I don't think so Mr....

Bundi: Losing Motion and Madame is coming!

After picking up our tailor made kurtis (traditional women's tops) in Udaipur, we got back on the road for the journey to Bundi, a small haven in-between bustling Udaipur and Jaipur. Along the road to Bundi we stopped at the impressive fort town of Chittorgarh. Chittorgarh is home to the largest of the many Rajput forts and shares temples with those of the Muslim, Jain, and Hindu faiths. After a whirlwind tour of the top, as we were naturally running behind (Indian style), we headed for the last bit of our journey to Bundi. Unfortunately, the lovely toll road (which is really just a nicely paved road with all sorts of traffic coming from all angles) ended about 60 kilometres from Bundi and so that last portion was traveled along a one lane, poorly paved road through unlit villages and rock mines. Through this, our poor driver had to navigate his way around over-burdened 'goods carriers' and more speed bumps in the middle of nowhere than we have seen in our lives.

Needless to say, we arrived in Bundi past 9pm and a little less than comfortable. Upon our arrival to a highly recommended women-run guesthouse, we entered into a jammed packed Fellini-esque living room scene with numerous family members and apparent boarders to find that there was no water, they were banging on pipes throughout, and the term 'haveli' (which in most cases means renovated mansions) really meant run-down, dirty old house. We fled as quickly as possible, with both the driver and the owner of the guesthouse running behind us asking us whether we had lost motion. "Madame, have you lost motion? We fix water very soon. No problem". To 'lose one's motion' in India means to have 'diarrhea'. While madame (Roni) and I did not lose our motion, we certainly weren't staying. We eventually ended up at a lovely rooftop room in the Kasera Paradise where we were duly treated to a beer and a Masala Omelet. Little did we know what was awaiting us in the morning.

As one becomes more comfortable with India, one becomes excited at small comforts provided: the fact that this hotel actually had toilet paper and warmer-than-lukewarm water was incredible. The fact that we had to beat off monkeys with a monkey-stick at breakfast was not such a highlight. We soon found out that the sleepy town of Bundi was a haven for monkeys: both Gibbons and the naughty Macaques. The former are generally quite harmless and afraid of people, however due to close quarters the latter have shown the peaceful Gibbons a few of the many tricks up their sleeves. Therefore, we rambled around town with monkey sticks (really just bamboo scraps found along the road) in tow and a high-pitched scream when necessary. Apart from monkey mayhem, Bundi was simply lovely and had a yet untouched feeling about it. The small fort and palace overlooking the town was in quite good condition, considering that most monuments in India are rather rundown, and the 'Maharani's Quarters' were simply breathtaking. Maharani means 'queen' and in her quarters were allowed only women, eunuchs, or the Maharaja (her husband, the king). The palace was covered from floor to ceiling in magnificently preserved miniatures of women bathing, putting on makeup, dancing, playing music, and generally enjoying themselves. All this was presented to us by the extremely enthusiastic 'keeper of the keys' (the palace's security guard) who opened locked rooms and pointed out details we would surely have missed. The fact that Roni is so close to the Indian name Rani (again, meaning queen) delighted the 'keeper of the keys' to no end which perhaps ensured our special treatment.

We were fortunate enough to run into our friend Sheila, whom we had met in Jaisalmer a few weeks back. We had a lovely dinner and beer with her before the next part of our journey: the hectic and not so toll-roaded way to Jaipur: the Pink City and the 3rd stop on the very touristed trail known as the 'Golden Triangle' (Delhi-Agra-Jaipur).

More soon on the intensity of Indian shopping and the amazing music heard at the Jaipur Literary Festival (and also tips on what to do when one is served fake beer).

Udaipur: Indian Wedding Fireworks and Puja

Udaipur took us 14 hours and a one night stopover in Mt. Abu to reach. Located in Southern Rajasthan, it is by most accounts the most well-liked city in the whole desert state. Overall, we quite liked the energy of the place and the beauty of the rundown havelis, lakeside location, and presence of women shopkeepers. It was the latter that led us to buy even more miniatures and dozens of clanky, steel bangles. After so many weeks of doing business with only men it was quite a relief to work with women.

Udaipur is a beautifully magical city set upon a lake with palaces surrounding and so during Indian wedding season (roughly November to March (though sadly we've yet to be invited to one!)) many Indians travel here for their elaborate wedding festivities. Even though we have yet to be able to be a part of the actual wedding festivities, we have been able to view the many firework displays from our hotel's rooftop. Added to that excitement, a new Hindu temple was consecrated in the courtyard of our hotel and so we were able to witness the puja (initial blessing) and the neighborhood feast which took place afterwards. The neighbors had been preparing beautiful vats of curry and sweets for days, all of which was gobbled up within a mere 3 hours for the temple. Simply lovely to be able to be apart of this, albeit from the rootop!

As has become the norm in India, we stayed in a lovely 'quiet' hotel (Hotel Panorama) opposite from the palace. 'Quiet' in India really means lots of honking, nighttime dog fights, early morning calls to prayer and pujas, and the occasional bellowing of cows. wedding Therefore, we have rather lowered our Western expectations of 'quiet' and have relied instead upon a few Kingfishers with dinner and halves of Ambien before bedtime. Not the healthiest diet perhaps, but it has so far led us to sleep.

Udaipur is an easily walkable, though hawkable, city and our poor driver, Raj, had no idea what to do with himself for two days straight. He called us at least three times per day ensuring that "Roni madame" was doing well and that we were being charged Indian prices rather than the much higher Western prices. In the end, I found myself haggling over the price of bottled water as one stand would quote 30 rupees and the next 20 Rs for the very same bottle. As I've said before, one must never fully trust what one hears when in India. Amongst the inevitable hawking and haggling, we did manage find a lovely Lassi man who made the best banana/coconut/pomegranate lassi I've ever tasted.

Another interesting fact about Udaipur is that Octopussy was at least partially filmed in this city and virtually every hotel shows it every single night at 7 pm. After 3 nights there, we were sick of it, not to imagine the poor hotel staff who see it every night! We then decided to move on the relatively sleepy little town of Bundi which lies in-between Udaipur and Jaipur on the Rajasthan circuit.

More on Bundi and it's 'relative' sleepiness soon!

We do hope you are enjoying our blog and related photos!

Gujuarati Welcome: Jain Tantric Prayers & Salt Flats

Gujarat: One of the least visited states in India and the nicest one we've visited so far. It took a 10 hour drive to reach the city of Bhuj, the capital of the Katch Valley, home to the last nomadic tribes of India: the Rabbari. Along the drive we passed by every imaginable animal and person: indifferent cows and camels, turbaned men herding groups of fluffy black-faced sheep and spotted goats, slithering mongoose, wild boar, troops of Gibbons and peacocks, brightly dressed tribal women with amazingly large circular golden nose rings balancing baskets of sticks, water, and food atop their head, and Rabbari tribespeople perched atop camels carrying along their belongings to their next place of rest. Indians typically drive down the center of the lane in order to better avoid the above-mentioned traffic as well as vehicles driving down the wrong side of the street or otherwise parked along the road for a chat with the locals. Warmer in both weather and people than Jaisalmer, we instantly liked Bhuj. We found ourselves in the extremely welcoming and inexpensive ($5/night) City Guesthouse right in the thick of the main bazaar. Little did we know that the Guesthouse was also neighbor to the local Jain temple where devotees begin chanting and ringing bells at 6am and which last well past midnight. Thank goodness to our supply of earplugs and Ambien!

We spent 4 days in the Katch Valley accompanied by our lovely driver, Raj, who we hired in Jaisalmer and who will be with us for the next 2 weeks. The Katch Valley is situated along the Pakistani border and one needs a permit to visit many of the local villages. The villages are made up of mostly previously nomadic tribes who have now mostly settled down. There are, however, still some nomads, the Rabbari, who wander the western borders. We traveled throughout the Katch valley meeting with local artisans who weave, block-print, quilt, and generally keep alive the arts and handicrafts which make India so unique. Each village warmly greeted us and offered us amazing Kaatchi meals complete with sour butter-milk and never-ending chappatis. During lunch villagers displayed their ornate wares that we couldn't help but drool over. We thought that we were hard bargainers, but found the locals to be far better equipped with both time and diligence. Most of the time, we left empty handed, unable to afford the high prices quoted but happy with our interactions with the welcoming villagers. I think, in the end, the locals were more interested in interacting with us and less interested in a sale, thus the ridiculously high prices and hard bargaining. We did manage to leave the valley with a small stockpile of hand-woven shawls, hand-dyed and hand-block printed bedspreads, and some adorable Rabbari baby hats and dresses. We wish that we had had more time to navigate the harsh lands of the nomads and spend more time in, so far, our favorite Indian state, but alas we have a loose agenda that must be followed.

We spent another 6 hours in the car today winding our way up to the cool and quiet former British hill station of Mt. Abu for a night of rest and relaxation (hopefully far away from the tantric chanting). Tomorrow, off to the lakeside town of Udaipur.

More to come soon!

Everyone's First Sale of the Day

After a 5 hour car trip along the bumpy and largely empty roadsides we found ourselves in the equally brown and dusty border town of Jaisalmer. Situated in the very western region of Rajasthan along the border with Pakistan, Jaisalmer is ruled by an amazingly fortified fort overlooking the intricate and deteriorating havelis (old mansions) of the main town. One would think that this far west that there would be few tourists, but this is not the case. There are hawkers and hustlers at every corner, yet we managed to scope out the truly good-hearted and passionate artists that still exist. As seems to be the Indian custom, while one seems openly genuine and trustworthy, they are really taking 30-40% commission and so it is difficult to trust anyone who recommends a shop or offers to show you the way. As the title suggests, everyone tells us we are their first sale of the day. Regardless of the time, we somehow manage to be every one's first sale of the day, thus implying discounted prices. Please! We may be newbies to India, but we know a huckster when we see one!
However, the gregarious and charming Gappu showed us that true Indian hospitality does exist and that the revival and continuation of traditional arts is being maintained through his efforts and others like him. We met an extremely talented and humble miniature painter, Kamu Swami, who we found ourselves returning to time and again. Naturally, each time we returned we drank never-ending cups of chai and bought more paintings, they were all so tempting.
After many days wandering around we found the most delicious samosas we have ever eaten. Flaky and puffy and filled with a spicy mixture of peas, potatoes, and peppers you buy them piping hot from the stand, break them open and squirt sour tamarind sauce all over and try to eat them as daintily as possible. All this for 6 rupees (45 RS to the dollar)! Our love for these samosas led us to the charming Mr. Desert. Mr. Desert Emeritus (D.E), 4 time winner of the Jaisalmer Mr. Desert Beauty Contest, now runs a camel safari outfit in the center of town. To his credit, Mr. D.E. claims the Mr. Marlboro Man of India, 4 international commercials, and 1 Bollywood part. This charming gentleman accompanied us into the desert for our evening under the stars. Mr. D.E. is quite a talker and makes a mean spicy Rajasthani curry. Around the fireside with the most incredible stars I have ever seen and camels farting in the background, Mr. Desert Emeritus told us his life story from being raised in the desert to becoming an overnight success. This was certainly one of our highlights in India (even though Mr. D.E. tried to feel up a few of us ladies along the way).
We now find ourselves once again along the Pakistani border, but in the very different state of Gujurat. More on that soon. For photos of Mr. D.E. please look at our Picasa album!

The 4pm Meltdown

Phew....we are out of Delhi. I must be honest, Delhi was way too much for us. Traffic, construction, people, poverty, anxious energy, filthy streets, lack of sanitation, it was all too much. It is so very true, one is really never ready for India until one arrives and, as we nonchalantly planned our trip, nor were we. Not by a long shot. As two women who have traveled to many places across the world alone and together and who have experienced poverty and the development of countries, we were still not prepared for the stark poverty and the absolutely disorganized chaos of the place. We chose to leave Delhi early on a night train headed for the deserts of Rajasthan to end in Jodphur. As train travel goes the incommodious bunks were rather tight but we shared our berth with a lovely older couple from Jodphur who shared our sentiments on the frantic-ness of Delhi. As the woman put it, "It [cleanliness and order] has to come from within and no amount of money can encourage one to keep the city clean unless one has chosen it". Seemingly so true, but the way in which the everyday Delhiwallah lives makes cleanliness difficult as so few resources are available.

As our train pulled into the station at Jodphur, 4 hours late, we were met by the hotel's driver. And from our lovely hotel, an old haveli, I sit writing this. the Ratan Vilas is a veritable oasis within the equally chaotic (though much smaller) city of Jodphur. I cannot help but feel like an ugly Westerner as I retreat back to my hotel replete with never ending pots of chai, streaming fountains, and beautifully tiled floors all opening upon an inviting courtyard. However, we have realized our limits and in order for us to truly take in India we need someplace to return to in the afternoon that is peaceful and quiet. Hence, the title: the 4pm meltdown. It seems that neither of us is able to bear the non-stop intensity of India past 4 pm. By 4pm we have reached our boiling point and must return somewhere calm. Unfortunately, we are unable to find a calm atmosphere within the city and so must return to our calm hotel. That being said, we have most certainly ventured out each day on our own. We have yet to use drivers (beyond the first two days) and have instead walked or rickshawed our way around both Delhi and Jodphur. We have stood in long and confusing lines at the train stations to buy, change, and re-change tickets. We have wandered and haggled through the cities bazaars, eating amazing street food and taking photos with the locals (I think that at least a dozen locals have asked to have their photo taken with me, on their own cameras, much the same way we wish to have ours taken with them).

India is a wonderfully colorful place. Beneath the layers of dirt and grime and poverty and desperation, there are smiles and laughter.

More to come.....