What do lakes, auto-rickshaws, and James Bond have in common?

28 November- 1 December 2010

Udiapur is India’s most romantic city. Situated on a lake, it is known
as “the Venice of India” and its claim to fame is the James Bond film
“Octopussy”. Curiously enough, watching the film projected on a wall
at a restaurant we came to realize that the streets of Udiapur haven’t
changed much, from its auto-rickshaws to it’s to its meandering cows,
since the 1960’s. From our breakfast table on our hotel’s rooftop, far
off palaces, elaborate Rajasthani architecture, and local flavor are
all on display from a seat high above the hustle and bustle of the
street below.


The palaces in and around Udiapur were constructed at the whim and
desire of the maharajahs; the city palace for winter, the monsoon
palace for monsoon season, and the water palace- which appeared to
float on the lake- for parties, of course. And from our short visit it
certainly appeared as though it was always party season in Udiapur.
Wedding parties were continually stopping traffic to dance, sing, and
light off fireworks (some that are so powerful the blast could be felt
from twenty feet away ) in the middle of the street and were followed
by a somber bride or groom in a horse drawn carriage or gleaming white
horse.


We took a break from our voyeurism, wandering, and shopping to go on a
city tour via auto-rickshaw. Our driver took us to various gardens and
view points, a local vegetable market that made my mouth water for the
fresh vegetables that I know would make me sick, and a tea and spice
market that made us want to learn to cook authentic Indian dishes. At
the end of the day we visited a place called Ahar, dozens of cenotaphs
(similar to mausoleums) of past maharajahs and their families. The
spot appeared abandoned and forgotten, with only faint paths through
the overgrown grass winding through the cenotaphs and an abandoned car
just inside the gate. Practically deserted, we explored the towering
cenotaphs, marveling at the seemingly forgotten marble relics,
startling a large flock of pigeons, and enjoying a quiet that is truly
rare in India.


After a few days, we made a day trip to Kumbalgarth fort and Ranakpur
Jain temple on our way to Jodhpur and Jaislamier. Both places were
well worth the long day in the car and were situated amongst rolling
desert hills, still green from the recent record breaking monsoon
season. Kumbalgarth was stunning. The views from the wood carved
windows and rooftops were amazing, despite the ever present smog. I
think we’ve all come to the conclusion that we love forts. There is a
self-indulgent joy in the act of finding your way through the passages
and interconnected rooms of Indian palace forts.


The Jain temple, a huge intricately carved marble structure with row
after row of beautifully carved marble columns, was less of an
adventure but more of an awe inspiring sight. Within one of the many
passages growing out of the marble is a 500 year old tree, struggling
to survive. The serenity of the temple seemed inherent to the marble
itself. The Jain religious group is a sect of Hindi that takes the
“do no harm” saying to an extreme. Jainists are rumored to not even
sit or walk on grass because it might harm the plants and won’t eat
food that hasn’t died of natural causes (including plants). If this
religion ever goes mainstream (and it likely will not since it is
considered a waning religious group), I don’t think that Jain cuisine
will be very popular. In fact, I actually have no idea what they eat
and haven’t bothered to Google it.


As we sped tensely along the highway towards Jodhpur, where we would
spend the night and catch a train to Jaisalmier early the next day, we
all learned why the roads in India are dangerous. Large trucks who
don’t bother to turn their lights on at night, crazy motorists who
pass and honk furiously in hopes of slowing down the oncoming traffic,
merging seconds before a lethal collision, a million near misses, and
pedestrians marching through the darkness. During this white knuckle
journey I could not help but think with sadness and regret of my
friend Ajeet who lost his life on roads of India this past summer.
Please drive safely everyone.


We arrived in Jodhpur late and tired but relieved to be out of a car
and happy to wake up at 4:30am the next day to catch a train (no more
car rides) to Jaislimier. After a 5.5 hour, dusty ride in the Sleeper
class (where the locals sit), we rolled into the ancient
walled city of Jaislimier. We were immediately transfixed by the
winding pathway to our guest house, a haveli (mansion) built over 500
years ago. Camel rides, ancient palaces, and desert sand dunes here we
come!!!

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WTF, India!

29 November 2010

At every twist and turn, the sights, sounds, and smells of India surround you. In a short visit to this massively intense country, you encounter enough novel experiences to last a lifetime. At times India is mystifyingly beautiful and leaves us dreaming of wealthy maharajas ordering the construction of intricate palaces and fortresses. Make no mistake; India is not a comfortable place to visit. Filth, poverty, and suffering are abundant and constantly in your face. Some of the things we have seen will, unfortunately, be burned into my memory- like watching two street children (no more than 10 years old) huddled beneath a blanket doing drugs. I have lost count of the number of men, women, and children we have seen picking through mounds of putrid garbage searching for objects that they can use or sell. They sift through societies refuse alongside pigs, dogs, and sacred cows. Walking the streets early in the morning, India’s homeless, far too many of them children, huddle under blankets next to busy streets. During the daytime these children latch onto tourists’ arms pleading for money. They stand alongside the blind, dismembered, and disfigured vying for sympathy and support. They beg for help, but you realize that helping any one of these charity cases literally amounts to “a drop in the bucket,” there are just too many. India breaks your heart.

Many times, however, I have wished that India would break my ability to smell. Sewage, urine and feces from humans, cows, pigs, dogs, and, occasionally, camels or elephants are everywhere. In fact, India might be the only place in the world where if you don’t watch your step you might step in camel dung or trip over a dead dog (no, I am not making this up). Coming into Agra we watched as dozens of men, women, and children performed their morning rituals-squatting along the train tracks. Mental note-never walk along the train tracks in India. Each day, unsavory smells contrast mightily with exotic incense wafting through the air, and the wonderful spicy aroma of food being prepared. As I write this now, early in the morning in our hotel room, my mouth is watering from the smell of breakfast being cooked in someone’s home next door.

Last but not least in this sensory tour of India is sound. If you want to know what India sounds like go stand in front of your car and enlist a friend or relative to honk the horn over and over again. Mix that in with some revving auto-rickshaw engines, whizzing motorbikes, and a pinch of blaring Bollywood tunes and that is pretty much what it sounds like.

In tourist advertisements, India promotes itself, as “Incredible India.” Indeed, none of us can believe what we have seen, smelled, and heard. India truly is incredible. Glossy tourist brochures and posters of the country’s famous sites contrast greatly with the reality that greets you with every step. Two days ago, we crammed ourselves into a rickshaw and made our way to Amber Fort, just outside of Jaipur. We passed beggars, piles of garbage that made me want to wretch, and inhaled enough pollution to last a lifetime (at the end of each day a white tissue placed in one’s nostril comes out black with soot). However, as we walked up the staircase to this grand, amber-hued fortress, the annoyances of India disappeared and we were immediately lost in the “Incredible India” of tourist brochures. Wandering through its hidden passages, gardens, and numerous courtyards of marble and sandstone we were awe-inspired by the beauty of Amber Fort and forgot the travails of travel in India.

Walking on the street one day Kevin and I coined our own slogan, one which we believe fits a bit more properly. It is: WTF, India, or WTFI for short. The proper use of this phase is as follows: It can be used to describe how you feel when your auto-rickshaw dodges a huge tour bus as it speeds past, repeatedly blaring it’s horn, carrying hordes of tourists in search of “Incredible India,” followed by a brigade of camels. It is at this moment that you might feel like exclaiming, above the symphony of blaring horns, “WTFI!”

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