Technically, it's 'Mumbai,' but so many people here and everywhere still say 'Bombay,' you really can't be faulted either way. It is a genuinely cosmopolitan city with vibrant energy, although pretty rough traffic and pollution at rush hour. Tanya's husband, Cash, even told us that just living in Mumbai is to partake in the equivalent of smoking 40 cigarettes a day. Nevertheless, we were kind of blown away by the stunning English architecture as background to palm trees and cricket matches near Churchgate Station at 'The Oval.' We were equally surprised by the number of people who wanted to talk/take pictures/just stand next to us/make conversation with the exotic white people when we got off on other streets off the beaten track.
On Jan. 5th, we were lucky to have bumped back into madeline and chandra to have dinner and said our goodbyes to the family. We took a morning flight to Bhavnagar in Gujarat provice. The only casualty being one of our black, insulated mugs we carried across two continents that Andy left in the cab. Good times. Good times.
As soon as we landed in the small town of Bhavnagar, we grabbed a tuk-tuk past giant, bizarre-looking bulls and oxen and as we pulled into the bus station, we discovered (after shouting our destination to nearby onlookers) our bus for Palitana was pulling out of the station! Two Hindu priests decked in neon face paint had told us that this was the bus and another small army of locals then helped yell at it/wave it down to stop and let us on. It did.
In a couple of hours, we were in Palitana, checked in to our 'hotel,' and ascending the holy, 3,000 plus steps to the top of the hill of 838 temples that Jains (people of the faith Jainism) have been making pilgrimages to for centuries. We heard even some walk up and down 7 times a day barefoot. So devout are Jains about their respect for all life, that many also wear surgical masks on their face to prevent the accidental death of insects, should they happen to be inhaled. Needless to say they're strict vegetarians and it seemed almost no restaurant in the entire province (Ghandi's home) served meat or alcohol. Oh yeah, we also felt like ascetics ourselves as no eating of ANYTHING is allowed on the climb. We didn't have even lunch before we started up. But much like the Halls Menthalyptus with Vapor Action we had a couple of months before, Sarah had managed to smuggle piece of sesame seed candy (one piece each) that gave us enough energy to keep our minds functioning on the climb. On top of that, there was no water -- we couldn't drink the Indian water yet (our stomachs not ready) and no one was selling bottled water, so we were also dehydrated! But wandering around the 838 temples at the top was as transcendental as it gets and not only were there no tourists, in most parts there was no one PERIOD. We saw a giant footprint of a buddah filled with thousands of freshly cut rose heads and a tree doused with electric-yellow powder where a Jain monk had reached enlightenment some centuries ago apparantly. By the time sunset came and we had made it down the 3000 holy steps on the mountain, with no food or water for the 7-hour climb, we too felt a bit like ascetic monks. You can bet we downed as much veg. curries as we could at the hotel that night (we didn't see a single 'restaurant' in the entire city of Palitana).
The next morning began our odyssey with Indian public transport and we weren't as lucky as the day before. The bus for Ahmedabad was supposed to leave at 9am. We got there and some said it was 9:30, others, 9:15. It was not until 11:00am that it finally came. No reason given except that it was 'late.' We were on it for about 30km upon reaching a small town in between when the gears went out and we had to abandon this bus (and our 'comfy' seats in the front, feet and packs resting on a giant tractor tire) and wait for another bus that came an hour and a half later. In the meantime, we were swarmed with Indians and kids wanting to talk or just stare for a while. There was no where to go. But we did meet some amazingly bright and well-spoken teens each going into very different and specific professions like "Tractor Mechanic," "Psychologist" and even one "Photographer."
In Ahmedabad, we had our first sublime encounter with the famous "Thali" vegetarian feast on a beautiful rooftop restaurant. The next day, we also had our first encounter with an unscrupulous tuk-tuk driver. After he had taken us to the wrong place (even though he assured us he knew where it was), we simply got out and walked away, trying to flag down legit drivers. Then he comes around the corner like a bad dream stalking us and telling other drivers not to take us. We had to cross the street a few times just to figure out how to get away from him and get a driver going in the direction we needed. We finally made it to the Calico Museum only to discover they only let in the first 20 people in line and no more -- never mentioned in our book. Holding back a loud, extended scream after going through so much grief to get there, we checked out a couple of baolis (ancient steps down to a water source to provide coolness and conversation) then went across town to see Ghandi's house, museum and where he began his long, foot-march for India's independence.
By the afternoon, we were off again, this time crossing into the more well-traveled and colorful province of the 'Land of the Kings,' Rajasthan. More specifically, the city Udaipur. On this portion, we were able to bypass the local bus shenanigans and take private buses, liberally-termed 'luxury.' Highlights of this beautiful city of Udaipur including a drink at sunset on the Sunset Cafe terrace overlooking the gorgeous "Lake Palace Hotel (location for 007 film 'Octopussy')." Also a highlight was our Indian moto-bike foray into the hills on the outskirts past beautiful sights past a beautiful mountain range and truly bizarre sights on the way back such as a giant, dead, bloated pig the size of small John Deere tractor with a dog trying to burrow and eat into something in its backside (it was hard to tell exactly and with the smell, you didn't want to exactly explore). Then there was the enormous cow, simply lying dead and unattended just off of a little side road. We returned the motor bike, grabbed our bags and auto-rickshawed to the bus station to catch the 12pm north to Jodhpur, the beautiful 'blue' city (the houses are whitewashed blue to counter the summer heat and the color is believed to ward off mosquitos) with 'quaint' mesmerizing fort, "Meherangarh." It was here that Andy left his sunglass case on the fort wall and came back only to discover that someone had found it and instead of leaving it or turning it in, simply threw it over the fort wall and down the mountain onto an inaccessible ledge.
After a couple of days in this Rajasthan highlight-city, we were off on the morning bus to the desert outpost, sandstone city of Jaislamer near the Pakistani border that was gorgeous lit up at night but also came with the side effect of what seemed like a thousand dogs for some reason barking incessantly through the night. We later found out this was not just a Jaslaimer thing. It seemed many cities in India had this phenomenon of not just 5 minutes of barking, but 30 minutes of barking broken only shortly for durations of 2-3 hours through the night. No wonder you see so many dogs completely sacked out during the day sleeping in the middle of the street. We would have preferred them to just bark during the day.
A day and a half later, we were off on our 6am bus northeast to Bikaner -- which felt like, at the time, the coldest bus ride on earth. This may have been the desert (we had the hot days and much-needed tubes of lip balm to prove it), but the nights and early mornings were bone-chilling. At this time, in this remote area, there was nowhere serving tea and we simply had to concentrate on not being cold for two hours. The attendant on the bus took pity on us after Andy asked if we might stop for tea and he gave us a blanket (we really hadn't prepared as properly for late night and early morning desert dress and Andy had sent back his sleeping bag with Anne and Steve back in Vietnam).
In Bikaner, we went on a little camel safari. Meaning, we each rode a camel with a guide, a cook and a driver for an entire day and camped out in the night. It was really nice and unusual (when we stopped for lunch, the cook milked the camel right then and there for our tea masala and it tasted very similar to cow's milk, only slightly gamey-er), but at night instead of living up to being romantic, the truth was we were eating bland, dry, aloo gobi with our hands in pitch darkeness while three generations of farmers came in to join us and the grandad kept staring uncomfortably at Sarah. We go back to our tent and when we shined our flashlight, could see the dust caking up inside like a sandstorm. We wondered if we should break out our own tent but were too tired. To be fair though, the stars on that moonless night in the sand dunes were breathtaking.
On Jan. 5th, we were lucky to have bumped back into madeline and chandra to have dinner and said our goodbyes to the family. We took a morning flight to Bhavnagar in Gujarat provice. The only casualty being one of our black, insulated mugs we carried across two continents that Andy left in the cab. Good times. Good times.
As soon as we landed in the small town of Bhavnagar, we grabbed a tuk-tuk past giant, bizarre-looking bulls and oxen and as we pulled into the bus station, we discovered (after shouting our destination to nearby onlookers) our bus for Palitana was pulling out of the station! Two Hindu priests decked in neon face paint had told us that this was the bus and another small army of locals then helped yell at it/wave it down to stop and let us on. It did.
In a couple of hours, we were in Palitana, checked in to our 'hotel,' and ascending the holy, 3,000 plus steps to the top of the hill of 838 temples that Jains (people of the faith Jainism) have been making pilgrimages to for centuries. We heard even some walk up and down 7 times a day barefoot. So devout are Jains about their respect for all life, that many also wear surgical masks on their face to prevent the accidental death of insects, should they happen to be inhaled. Needless to say they're strict vegetarians and it seemed almost no restaurant in the entire province (Ghandi's home) served meat or alcohol. Oh yeah, we also felt like ascetics ourselves as no eating of ANYTHING is allowed on the climb. We didn't have even lunch before we started up. But much like the Halls Menthalyptus with Vapor Action we had a couple of months before, Sarah had managed to smuggle piece of sesame seed candy (one piece each) that gave us enough energy to keep our minds functioning on the climb. On top of that, there was no water -- we couldn't drink the Indian water yet (our stomachs not ready) and no one was selling bottled water, so we were also dehydrated! But wandering around the 838 temples at the top was as transcendental as it gets and not only were there no tourists, in most parts there was no one PERIOD. We saw a giant footprint of a buddah filled with thousands of freshly cut rose heads and a tree doused with electric-yellow powder where a Jain monk had reached enlightenment some centuries ago apparantly. By the time sunset came and we had made it down the 3000 holy steps on the mountain, with no food or water for the 7-hour climb, we too felt a bit like ascetic monks. You can bet we downed as much veg. curries as we could at the hotel that night (we didn't see a single 'restaurant' in the entire city of Palitana).
The next morning began our odyssey with Indian public transport and we weren't as lucky as the day before. The bus for Ahmedabad was supposed to leave at 9am. We got there and some said it was 9:30, others, 9:15. It was not until 11:00am that it finally came. No reason given except that it was 'late.' We were on it for about 30km upon reaching a small town in between when the gears went out and we had to abandon this bus (and our 'comfy' seats in the front, feet and packs resting on a giant tractor tire) and wait for another bus that came an hour and a half later. In the meantime, we were swarmed with Indians and kids wanting to talk or just stare for a while. There was no where to go. But we did meet some amazingly bright and well-spoken teens each going into very different and specific professions like "Tractor Mechanic," "Psychologist" and even one "Photographer."
In Ahmedabad, we had our first sublime encounter with the famous "Thali" vegetarian feast on a beautiful rooftop restaurant. The next day, we also had our first encounter with an unscrupulous tuk-tuk driver. After he had taken us to the wrong place (even though he assured us he knew where it was), we simply got out and walked away, trying to flag down legit drivers. Then he comes around the corner like a bad dream stalking us and telling other drivers not to take us. We had to cross the street a few times just to figure out how to get away from him and get a driver going in the direction we needed. We finally made it to the Calico Museum only to discover they only let in the first 20 people in line and no more -- never mentioned in our book. Holding back a loud, extended scream after going through so much grief to get there, we checked out a couple of baolis (ancient steps down to a water source to provide coolness and conversation) then went across town to see Ghandi's house, museum and where he began his long, foot-march for India's independence.
By the afternoon, we were off again, this time crossing into the more well-traveled and colorful province of the 'Land of the Kings,' Rajasthan. More specifically, the city Udaipur. On this portion, we were able to bypass the local bus shenanigans and take private buses, liberally-termed 'luxury.' Highlights of this beautiful city of Udaipur including a drink at sunset on the Sunset Cafe terrace overlooking the gorgeous "Lake Palace Hotel (location for 007 film 'Octopussy')." Also a highlight was our Indian moto-bike foray into the hills on the outskirts past beautiful sights past a beautiful mountain range and truly bizarre sights on the way back such as a giant, dead, bloated pig the size of small John Deere tractor with a dog trying to burrow and eat into something in its backside (it was hard to tell exactly and with the smell, you didn't want to exactly explore). Then there was the enormous cow, simply lying dead and unattended just off of a little side road. We returned the motor bike, grabbed our bags and auto-rickshawed to the bus station to catch the 12pm north to Jodhpur, the beautiful 'blue' city (the houses are whitewashed blue to counter the summer heat and the color is believed to ward off mosquitos) with 'quaint' mesmerizing fort, "Meherangarh." It was here that Andy left his sunglass case on the fort wall and came back only to discover that someone had found it and instead of leaving it or turning it in, simply threw it over the fort wall and down the mountain onto an inaccessible ledge.
After a couple of days in this Rajasthan highlight-city, we were off on the morning bus to the desert outpost, sandstone city of Jaislamer near the Pakistani border that was gorgeous lit up at night but also came with the side effect of what seemed like a thousand dogs for some reason barking incessantly through the night. We later found out this was not just a Jaslaimer thing. It seemed many cities in India had this phenomenon of not just 5 minutes of barking, but 30 minutes of barking broken only shortly for durations of 2-3 hours through the night. No wonder you see so many dogs completely sacked out during the day sleeping in the middle of the street. We would have preferred them to just bark during the day.
A day and a half later, we were off on our 6am bus northeast to Bikaner -- which felt like, at the time, the coldest bus ride on earth. This may have been the desert (we had the hot days and much-needed tubes of lip balm to prove it), but the nights and early mornings were bone-chilling. At this time, in this remote area, there was nowhere serving tea and we simply had to concentrate on not being cold for two hours. The attendant on the bus took pity on us after Andy asked if we might stop for tea and he gave us a blanket (we really hadn't prepared as properly for late night and early morning desert dress and Andy had sent back his sleeping bag with Anne and Steve back in Vietnam).
In Bikaner, we went on a little camel safari. Meaning, we each rode a camel with a guide, a cook and a driver for an entire day and camped out in the night. It was really nice and unusual (when we stopped for lunch, the cook milked the camel right then and there for our tea masala and it tasted very similar to cow's milk, only slightly gamey-er), but at night instead of living up to being romantic, the truth was we were eating bland, dry, aloo gobi with our hands in pitch darkeness while three generations of farmers came in to join us and the grandad kept staring uncomfortably at Sarah. We go back to our tent and when we shined our flashlight, could see the dust caking up inside like a sandstorm. We wondered if we should break out our own tent but were too tired. To be fair though, the stars on that moonless night in the sand dunes were breathtaking.
The next day started out nice, leisurely, and thankfully warm as we took our time shopping for local fabrics, meeting the guide's friends, etc. And then we boarded the bus to Jaipur. Alternatively known to us as 'the bus from hell.' They first tried to shaft us on the tickets saying the only seats were the less comfortable sleepers for the 5-hour journey. We went back and forth between about 3 travel guys, one saying he did have a seat at the regular price, then he didn't, then he said we could sit next to the driver, then the driver said we couldn't, and that the guy shouldn't promise it. Then the original seat becomes available at the original price. We take it before they change their minds and Andy agrees to have his pack thrown into a questionable bin underneath, which later would turn out to grease up his entire pack, and by default his clothes, but that was only the beginning. It was a dust-ridden, rattletrap journey, with pretty much everyone staring at Sarah the entire way and trying to sit and talk next to her. The view was mildly interesting, but about halfway through was marred as we found out that there were now passengers riding on the roof -not bad in and of itself except that we learned of it by a stream of puke, that's right, vomit, that flowed, dried and caked on our window, obscurring the mediocre view in the worst way for the rest of the trip. And it turns out we didn't arrive in the expected 5 hours. It ended up being 8.
Not only that, we arrived late into Jaipur only to find out our hotel had given up our reservation to someone else and was completely full. Wow. We then managed to find another place, and feeling pretty brutalized and wanting something easy, straggled to a over-touristy restaurant, Niro's, with overpriced food, and a heartless, we'll even say soul-less, money-mongering staff. Ahh, the romance of travel, right? Jaipur didn't start off well, but it ended well. In fact, the best part about the city wasn't even in the city. It was just outside at the beautiful, raw and evocative Amber ('Amer') fort with spectacular views and the world's largest canon which supposedly only needed to be test-fired once (built centuries ago with purported range of 20 miles) as it served to deter attack indefinitely.
Our Rajasthan tour would be over in a couple of days as we entered the much more uncharted territory of Uttar Pradesh, or "UP" and then the poor and lawless provinces of Jarkhand and Bihar. It would also turn out that the Jaipur bus wouldn't be the only form of transport from hell. We still had our first train to take -- this time to a religious festival Ardh Mela (the 'half' Kumb Mela) consisting of no less than 150 million people (which sounds farfetched to impossible had we not been in a country of over 1 billion). Stay tuned.
