Kathmandu Gateway to Himalayas

The road to Kathmandu was gorgeous, but switching vehicles seems to be the way to go between here and India. We were brought by jeep to Thamel to the Hotel Tradition (although we stayed across the street by my choice). Young Nepalese snowboarding types working the counter or scattered across lobby furniture like cord wood. Revived upon arrival, we head to the bar/eating area on the top floor. It views the mountains and has a kindly young man attending to us (Bhourna). We soon nip out to find a near ATM in the winding, dark alleyways of the city. Tourist shops that suit my fancy...Asian clothing, wall hangings, jewelry....yet only to window shop this trip for the most part. We pop into Rumdoodles to spy the large paper feet on all of the walls signed by the many climbers that start their treks in this city. Wishing to myself that we would have eaten here and foregone the steaks. This place has such character!

We all meet at the KToo Steak House so everyone can be 'treated' to steak. I opt for dreadful chimichangas and am amazed by how this is such a popular place as Barbara Streisand serenades us loudly in the background. Oh well....it IS Kathmandu after all...who cares? Many head to the motel top bar after, I find I am just wiped and head to bed. Someone down the hall deaf or nearly by the volume of the TV blaring. Thank God for earplugs.

After a good sleep and lie in until 8, we meet up with Julia, Tim and John to have breakfast down the way in a lovely Garden Cafe (muesli and milk curd..heaven). We walk a mile or 2 to Durbar Square. Passing many cars, cycles, wanderers...no begging, no dodging salesmen. The architecture staggering and captivating. We just take our time wandering about, looking at the buildings, people and artistry. We then catch cab to Bodnath Stupa. The largest Buddhist stupa in the city. It is glorious and I am enthralled. It is in a circular plot (as are all to enable the devoted to walk around the stupa in clockwise direction in prayer). The surrounding area laden with shops selling all of their wares and collectables. We wander about and a young Monk 'grabs' us and gives his 'shpeal'. Lovely young man or middle aged..hard to say. He blesses the white scarves, talks our ears off and poses for pictures all for a cheap $10. He is funding a trip to see family. We hand the money to his 'assistant' (monks are forbidden to handle money) and make our way to a nice quiet rooftop restaurant (the Temple Cafe) to meet Tim and Jules for tea. Outdoor seating with a view of the Stupa...ah...the life. They are chatting with Marge, a kind Dutch woman here to study meditation only. I find that I am a bit jealous. How I wish I could stay!

We finally make our way again by taxi to the Patan Durbar Square. The architecture glorious! Ancient and captivating. It doesn't seem so crowded here. We pass by another couple from our tour group and chat a bit. After a lengthy walk about, we head back to the hotel and get ready for supper. It is a lovely night and the city bustling. Our usual 5 meet and they begrudgingly agree to go for an Italian meal at La Dolce Vita. The food excellent and the small bottle of vodka Matt carries along adds to the conversation. A bit of shopping and taking in the madness of the typical night in this trendy city, and we are heading back to the hotel. We see Tamar on the way and exchange goodbyes. I will miss her. She was an amazing guide and good person. She will soon leave Dragoman and start her studies as a paramedic. I'm sure Dragoman will miss her greatly.

Most of us meet in the rooftop bar and have idle chat. Few of us slipping out to retire for the night. Many are to continue on beyond Kathmandu or elsewhere. I feel quite sad for us it is over...our trip cut short.

Our morning takes us to the airport. Our bags are checked 4 times before we board the small plane. It seems to take forever and I can still smell a faint whiff of mothballs....they are in every sink in Nepal and I loathe the smell. When something overwhelms the incense, which burns at every turn, it must be much. We finally arrive back at Delhi and the familiar smell of city stench fills the air. I don't realize how much I will miss it's familiarity. How can we be leaving after what seems so soon? It is just all so sad and the trip home is all that much more difficult. Telling myself the whole time that I have been so fortunate to have been here and have done what so few will ever do. I am so blessed.

Elephants!

We arrive in Chitwan National Park in Nepal mid afternoon. We are staying at the Rhino Lodge and it is a lovely place. It is a peaceful haven in the woods. We settle into our little room (complete with mosquito net, that we don't need)and explore. We meander out to the main road and see the string of tourist shops, the locals always happy to see us travelers. Soon, two large elephants and their solo riders make their way down the middle of the road. Yes, I will like it here.

We all sit in the dining room for a meal of steamed veggies, spring rolls and chips (different, but good). It is a nice, large, round room that is all windows. After our meal we go the entrance and are loaded onto old wooden carts pulled by oxen. We are to go to an Elephant Breeding Center. I am anxious, but not sure what to expect and concerned. The ride takes at least 30-45 minutes and is through a rustic area of grass huts and livestock...very relaxing. The small children wave and say 'namaste' as we go by. This is the Nepal we were looking for...local, kind faces and serenity.
We must cross another river by canoe and make our way on foot to the center. A large open area with several grass covered huts.
Several females are under the huts. One rubs her trunk and has an occasional cry that is terribly sad and haunting. She is chained to a post as are a few other females. There are a set of twin babies roaming about entertaining the crowd. I must admit, it is difficult to be upset with such joyful little ones wandering and accepting pats and scratches. They are looking for treats and their trunks will go into bags, shorts, shirts. They are fun to watch and attempt to pat. I must admit, I did enjoy the visit and felt I was given a gift. We walked back to the lodge with some of the younger folks of our group. The huts now bathed in candlelight until morning. It has been an amazing day. The end of the evening is veggies and watching the small geckos feed on the flies in the dining room. I feel very content and thankful for this opportunity.
Late night and early morning, I am tired. I attempted to change the memory card in my camera and the camera died. I was SO upset and angry. Leave it to me, to be in a place such as this and it nearly ruins my day and I then bring it up the rest of the trip. Funny how we think sometimes. Silly.
Took boats once again down the river and attempted to walk the bush to find rhinos. No such luck. Bathing pools, scratching and one huge pile of dung is as close as we got. Saw several interesting red bugs, a butterfly and a few chickens. After that long walk, we rushed back to change into our swimming clothes to meet the elephants at the river. I was REALLY excited about this.
They met us at the lodge...nearly at the door. It was not a pleasant process to get onto one, holding the ears and climbing up the trunk, crawling across the bumpy head to finally try to sit. I was always in fear that I would hurt her. Four of us per elephant made the ride down to the river. It was a bit scarey, being so high up, like being on a very large horse....and being one that never was into horseback riding, it was eerie. I wasn't going to let it stop me. Into the river he walked and then tipped and dropped us off for a dip. It was great fun. All except her 'carer' and his stick. I wanted to grab that stick and beat him with it, but held it together...it was difficult. Hege and I climbed aboard a male later on and he gave us a bath, he was a more relaxed elephant and he had a kind young trainer. He kept telling me...'He is the best, a very good elephant.' :) After the fun and bathing, another ride back to the lodge. Most people were a bit timid and reluctant, I certainly wasn't! All of that for 100 rupees, less than a cup of coffee! I gave both of the elephants loads of bananas for thanks. Why should the trainers get the reward when the elephants did all of the work?

Later that evening a ride into the bush on elephant seats to 'try' to spot rhinos again. It was a couple of hours of wandering, tired elephants and riders hitting them on the head at times with sticks. It made Matt and I very sad and upset. I had seen enough and realized it was all exploitation and felt tremendous guilt. I had to put it aside and know that most elephants in those areas are poached. It doesn't make it any better, but made me be able to live with myself.
We spent our last supper in the lovely dining room and decided to bow out of a dance performance in town to roam and do some souvenir shopping. I'm glad we did. It was a nice evening and a lovely little village. It was a peaceful and good end to a very emotional topsy-turvey day. I still felt great gratitude, now exclusively to the elephants. I will never forget.

Run for the Border

What a day this turned out to be. A long stretch of drive on the monster tour bus until we reach the border of India and Nepal. Now, our driver had been a bit punchy most of the trip, but when he saw the crossing, he nearly became unglued....insisting to back up and just go back! Well..he didn't know Tamar and she wasn't having it. The border was a mass of huge trucks, cars and the lucky ones, motorcycles. Our bus driver pulled off the road and we just watched in an awestruck, almost fearful state as vehicles honked, blazed in if they could or just sat motionless. It was dusty, dark and quite unsettling.
Tamar made calls, and headed out, to return with several rickshaws to get us over the border to hopefully get our VISAS into Nepal...the clock was ticking and we were literally running out of time. The luggage was stuffed into the various rickshaws and some of us rode in to keep baggage safe. Many went on foot. It was like a mad obstacle course, like a Texan derby car race on a Saturday night minus the alcohol.
Lydia and I rode with a wisp of a lad...perhaps 100lbs on a well-fed day. I was not too confident. What the hell...all an adventure...right? This young man had the strength of Hercules. We raced between rigs, large and small...stopping when stuck to turn back and slip through another opening where it was available. Truck headlights showing the way...or nothing but a faint light under our feet from vehicles over yonder. Some riders nearly crushed between 2 trucks, another sideswiped by another rig. Scarey stuff. Lydia held her pillow tightly, stuffed her face in it and just uttered a light screech from time to time. My adrenalin was going and I wanted to go on this ride for hours. Which even if only 1/4 mile to the border, seemed to take that long.
Finally to the border...the large white arch....Welcome to Nepal. Indeed. The border office, a small crackerbox building, wouldn't fit all of us, so we waited outside for our turn. $25 later we wander to the hotel...which is nearly next door, VISAS in hand....exhilerated and excited.
We are in Sunali, Nepal...bordertown. The motel is nice and small...it is late and damn near anything is welcome at this point. We reach our rooms....fine for a quick overnight sleep. I see a small dark creature in the toilet and my heart sinks...cockroach...God...I hate them. Changing in the next room and wondering what to do with all of the food in our bags, I hear a familiar sound. It makes me stop....our little friend is actually a cricket. I settle into calm...it's all good. Matt is not happy with the 'singing'...but i sleep in comfort that night hearing it.
Down to the hotel restaurant....we all trickle in slow, but sure. Our waiter is exceptional...best we have encountered on our trip. Matt and I opt for the local vodka to unwind....it gives us almost a euphoric, giddy high...what is in that? The next morning we would spot it in a window across the street at the liquor shop....the paranoid of the group warning us...."Watch that local stuff...it could make you blind." We look at each other and shrugg....we are on holiday after all...make it 2 bottles.
We pile onto a small green bus....I mean small. Feeling pity for the taller folks of our group. The driver a bit crazy and one of his cohorts has an affinity for strange pop music...including 'Barbie Girl' over and over...thankfully I am too happy to be in Nepal to let it grate on me too badly. The countryside remains barren in populated areas...yet more trees and hills.
We are held up one more time for a great length by a large parade of groups....adults, teens, elephants. Apparently a peaceful march or protest. The look of the general popluation different from that which we encountered in India. The look here more Oriental and less Mid Eastern. Such a short distance and such a change. Interesting. We are making our way to Chitwan National Park...to encounter elephants and hopefully, Rhinos.

The Road to the Holy City

Another early start today. We leave this place behind (thankfully) in a large green tour bus embellished with a tiger on the rear... (Mean Tony Green the Tiger) I claim the back of the bus and stretch out on the long seat. I have not slept and I am too tired to enjoy the scenery. Within 10-20 miles, I realize that it just will not work. Bumps beyond reason, curves that are so severe that several backpacks topple on top of me as I lie attempting to rest. We play silly games after I crawl to the front, full of nausea and just attempting to think of anything but how terrible I feel. Tape the name to your forehead, guess who I am...the usual. Matt can't be bothered and I can't blame him. We stop at a roadside dive for samosas and pakoras. This is our 'last' stop in the 'Green Machine'. We cannot take that bus over the 'border' (between what would be counties) and must find a new means for transport. That would be several jeeps or trucks with our baggage on a seperate rig that questionably will make the trip. Our fellow traveler John from Pennsylvania, (far more seasoned in this than most of us) offers to travel with the bags...bless him. Once again, a LONG, arduous, and bizarre day behind us, we arrive in the mecca of India...Varanasi. I feel far too tired and shuffled about to fully appreciate the journey. I have moments and remind myself, but it is hard doing so today.
The city is the usual....filth and the stench beyond explanation. Conditions that us Westerners have no concept of. We are escorted by our local guide to a very elaborate, top-notch hotel. Again, I feel the sting of knowing the poor and depraved are only on our doorstep as we dine in what would be to them, complete luxury. Such a contradiction. Must sleep...I am done for today.
Awakened at 0500 today. We pile into the waiting Tuk-Tuks and rush to the Ganges for sunrise. The smog is heavy, the stench prolific. We wind down narrow alleyways barely missing the pilgrims and beggars....and cows. We are told to get out and walk down the alley...avoiding the excrement and travelers. It seems like we are lost and have been led astray. It is early and many of us in the travel haze, from lack of sleep or sickness.
The walk takes us down one last narrow, covered alley....elderly women and men sleeping near it's walls. Then....into the open again.....it is the Ganges.... out in front of us out of nowhere. It comes out of the darkness of the alley and catches us offguard. It is barely light and hazy. The stairs are steep and I feel a bit stunned. It really is a sight to behold with the steep stairs leading to the river. The pilgrims and worshippers are gathered and beginning their rituals. The candles lit, the prayers have started. I hear piped in commentary from overhead....prayer perhaps....in Punjabi, Bengali or the language of choice.
We approach the river and are led to a boat and climb aboard. It is a long and canoe-like and all of us fit as best we can. The sun is rising and we must be on our way. It is, of course, aimed to tourists...as most of our fellow boats are...loaded with tourists and cameras. Caucasian, oriental, Asian...people from all over the world. We are simply paddled along the shorline. The buildings are beyond years, some even sinking into the riverbed. The air is heavy with smog and chatter from the shoreline. We are approached by a boat paddled by a single man selling religious relics of all kinds. I am not surprised. It would not be out of the ordinary...but it is...sublime. The shoreline...or base of the steps into the river are heaving with pilgrims. They are oblivious to us tourists with our cameras and stares. They are here to worship. They bathe, rinse, wash clothing, do laundry, drink.....in one of the filthiest rivers on the planet. This is their holiest of holy. They are in joy, in bliss, in peace. I am envious. No matter who watches, takes a photo, floats past....no matter. This is the Mother Ganga and she will heal all. To have such faith, such hope, such fortitude. I buy a candle from the young lad, on the boat with us, to float in the river. It sinks. Appropriate, I think....for I am an observer, not a devotee.
These people bathe, wash, drink, worship and upriver are the burning ghats that scrape ashes of the deceased into the river. We come along a cow carcass being enjoyed by a crow. These such things trouble us onlookers and those that travel long and hard to get here pay no mind. The circle of life. What a glorious and profound thing. I am moved and in awe of what I am seeing. Again, I am grateful.
It is time to leave and we do so like the good little tourists that we are. We spend time in the city with an overbearing tour guide at the silk factory. He is far too pushy for my liking.

Although after the Ganges, we attended a Hindi ceremony at the local University....it is beyond amazing. I am nearly moved to tears by the power and ceremony of it.
Alas...we again retire to the splendid hotel amongst our fellow travelers in the tranquility of it's borders. It has been an already eventful day by this time and it is good to rest in the sun a bit. Souvenir shopping in the motel shops with a fellow traveler Julia, and it's drinks in the courtyard. I think all day of how fortunate I am again... to be alive and well, experiencing life.

Testy Trucks and Super Spiders

Daphne won't move. It is a beautiful Friday morning and we are all ready to go (albeit with a longing to stay..I adore this place). Figure her clutch is bad. There are far worse places to be stranded. We pile out and those who haven't eaten head to breakfast. Some of us go on a lovely paddled boat ride on the river.  It really is a gorgeous morning. The remainder of the afternoon is spent in the treetop bar, chatting and consuming drinks. For those of us not tending to the truck, it's all about RELAXING.
Our replacement truck arrives at nearly 5pm. It is the epitomy of the tourist tour bus.  Hmm. I am disappointed, Reclining seats, air, carpeting. Others love it, one being our 4 months pregnant, Norwegian cohort Hege...she has good reason. Nik is left behind to deal with the temporamental Daphne.  I have a feeling we won't see her again soon.
The ride is as smooth as can be with a driver that tries to break the sound barrier at times. The roads are curvy and narrow, putting the narrow roads of England to shame.  He is forever competing with every mode of transportation available.  One or two fellow travelers remain ill. It is the curries I am told.  (I would blame the meat, as I remain strictly vegetarian, but one of our ill mates is as well and still suffers.)

The countryside is lush and glorious, the people exotic and beautiful. I am stunned by the beauty of it. Yet, I am a county girl and see no such glory in the city. The 'homes' are rustic huts of mud and straw, like a huge step back to ages past. Most people are shoeless. What they must think of us gliding by in a vehicle that costs more than most anyone in this place could even imagine in a lifetime. It is vulgar at best.  Most of us are angry that Daphne failed us.  We are not touchable or fascinating to the locals anymore.  Just wealthy travelers looking out at the masses in our elaborate bus. It makes me sad. That part of the experience now gone.

We arrive late, tired and stressed at Bandavgarh National Park.  These long days of driving get to all of us.  Hired drivers are impatient, and rushed...frequently stopping at inconvenient roadsides to 'accommodate' those ill or needing a pit stop. I miss Daphne, with Nik or Tamar at the wheel.

The park is in the appearance of a military camp it seems....nothing warm or cozy about it.  We must put our tents up on the sandy ground under the trees.  Trees loaded with mad monkeys and spiders far larger than any I am used to.  Supper is again late.  Matt likes the 'mess hall'.  I don't care for the staff.  They are rather stone-faced and unwelcoming. It is not the Ken River Lodge by any stretch. It is government run...that explains it. Matt and Amber (a fellow somwhat 'spoiled' gal from New Orleans...that works for a corporate cruise line and I am sad to say...it shows) are quite apprehensive about the spiders and sleeping on the ground. They are roughly the size of my hand, not including the legs, a wild yellow and black. Luckily, harmless. Amber is weepy at the table at the prospect. Ugh...oh boy. In my house, yes...I would likely be crying like a baby...in the wild, it IS expected I would think?

Sleep is hard to get to...big meal late....LOUD obnoxious men, dogs barking.  I REALLY don't like it here...doesn't feel right.  I am told that the trees rustled all night...not the wind.  Monkeys.

We are dragged up at 6am to head out into the park via jeeps to see if tigers can be spotted. The park is worth the trip here.  It is gorgeous. It is, of course, a lovely morning and I just love the open air. Open jeeps with tigers...that can't be right.  No tigers are seen. I didn't really expect to, they are nocturnal after all.  I sit wishing we could have been out at 4am instead.(I have recently spoken to a woman that was there about a year ago and saw 5 tigers...I was sick with jealousy..) There are plenty of monkeys, deer and boars with a few elephants for good measure.  The driver is seemingly rushed as well.  Must just be India...everyone in a moving vehicle just can't resist I guess. He stops the jeep at one point below a huge spider in a web above the road and nearly half of the jeep's occupants nearly jumped out of the rig or at least 'freaked out' in the process.  I don't think she is big and mad enough to come down and get us all...and it makes me laugh. I am only really fascinated and blissful that I am actually in India. India...after all.  Spiders or no spiders.

The remainder of the day is spent roaming the small village nearby for a bit, then sitting in the bar with others chatting. It is nice to chat and get to know those we are with. Matt spends a great deal of time filming the monkeys that roam the grounds and live in the trees.  Man, they are big... and plentiful. They are Hanuman Monkeys named in honor of the Hindu god-man. They are a gorgeous cream/yellow with black faces framed in hair. 

We hear nothing about Nik or Daphne. Tamar and I plan a bit of a birthday celebration for 2 ladies that have birthdays. Matt had brought some pop-up cards from the UK that were perfect and Tamar recruited kitchen staff to track down birthday cake. I spent the day getting signatures from all of the fellow travelers at opportune times and the cakes arrived right on time after supper.  So, it was curries and cake and a knife that sang happy birthday. A nice celebration. The place may not been my favorite, but just being here and having the experience makes me grateful. Even if I must remind myself at times.

It would have been nice to call it a night and get restful sleep.  Not to be. The zipper on the tent would not close...Matt in a panic about the giant spider invasion.  I was more concerned about the huge monkeys hanging in the trees above our heads. It's out of the tent and putting up a new tent in the dark. We finally collapse into the tent and are barraged late in the night by obnoxious men laughing, talking far too loudly and carrying on all night long. I am never so glad to leave a place by morning and being one of the moments I MUST remind myself to be grateful.

Haven in the Wilds

This leg of the journey was especially hard on a few.  The curries, travel and heat taking their toll. A few stops here and there, some vomitting, some diarrhea.  Poor lads. In and out of small towns and cities.  The odors familiar and frequently unsettling. I love the countryside, it smells of grass, incense and smoke. I am sitting facing back, twisting to and fro to catch any shot I can.  My back will feel it.  I like sitting near Hege and Orjan, they speak Norwegian most times and it reminds me of Finnish. Sends me back to childhood.

After nearly 14 hours of driving, on mostly exhausting and nearly non-existent roads, we are met at the roadside in the thick of nighttime.  Two motorcyclists are waiting for us and we venture in after them, though the fields, and trees.  Comments regarding The Blair Witch Project flittering all over...I was thinking more of Deliverance myself. We all felt a bit edgy in any case.  Too much driving combined with fatigue and hunger playing with our minds.

We finally stop and come into a grassy knoll of sorts.  Time to throw the tents out of Daphne and set up.  Oh goody.  Fortunetly, it all is a breeze and we are heading to the dining area after a tour of the toilets.  A long, winding trail lit by soft yellow lamps.  I like it already.  I see a body of water, a river or lake perhaps?  The 'hut' we find our way to eventually is rustic and reminiscent of something out of a Chuck Norris film.  Bamboo anyone?  I REALLY like it now.  Curry again, but I am not bothered.  The beer and water are cold, and it is just nice to be out of a bumpy ride.

Not long out of bed.  I crawl in and have forgotten that for some reason, we brought mummy bags.  Ugh. Fit for caterpillars or dead Egyptians only. I'm too tired though and after the earplugs go in, I drift off.  I am awakened some hours later by Matt shaking me and am not too happy about it.  Out come the earplugs and boy, he will hear it....until he says..."Jules...listen.."  In the dark silence, what must have been every dog within a mile radius was howling. It was chilling, eerie, yet comforting. I had never heard anything like it.  I went back to sleep, feeling very protected and peaceful.
We had a lovely lie in until after 9:00!  What a treat! The sun was out, it was glorious! Breakfast is waiting for us.  Freshly cooked omelets, papaya, coffee and potatoes. All with a view of the Ken River.  What a life. The bar, next to the dining hut is a treehouse.  It is like being in a jungle haven with monkeys playing in the trees nearby. Like I said, what a life.
Later on, we are off into Khajerao in open top jeeps.  Fantastic. It is a warm day and the sun feels wonderful.  The children call out "Hello!" in good English and wave as we drive by. It is a beautiful ride. The town itself is quite nice.  It was to be my favorite on the trip.  The usual salesman bombard us...."Come to my shop..?"..."Ride on a camel?" "Buy a keychain?" A very animated keychain with 2 people in quite a compromising position.  This is the home of the Erotic Temples, after all. What a home indeed.
The city/village is rather small and enclosed.  The area clean and cared for. A step away from all other cities we have seen.  Soon we enter the grounds of the Erotic Temples of Khajuraho. Lovely, manicured lawns amidst the occasional scaffold...set to repair tattered temples. Our guide is another gent well versed in the history of the place.  He brings us on our tour, specifically pointing out the carvings of bestiality, lust and Gods.  He throws in a joke from time to time to see if we are paying attention.  Informative, but we are happy to be free of him to roam the peaceful grounds. It is a lovely sunny day and the temples stand before us, monoliths of a time long past. They are stunning and lovely in such a green and lush setting. They remained untouched and buried under the scrubbery for hundreds of years.  Thank goodness they were salvaged.
There are 25 surviving temples when initially there were believed to be over 80. More details can be seen here that I simply could not elaborate on accurately or in enough depth here. http://www.shubhyatra.com/madhya-pradesh/khajuraho-temples.html

The outer walls are meticulously carved and are put together in a jigsaw piece manner. Clicking together like Legos. Amazing. The images are gorgeous and frequently improper, but fascinating indeed. Scenes of life and mostly, sexual life. Positions of all sorts, even the occasional horse thrown in for whatever measure. People with heads of cow, elephants...the gods.

I just love the calm serenity of it, I feel days and even years of stress pour away. There are very few here aside from us and what persons are here add to the exotic nature of the place with their colorful saris and cloths. Sitting on temple stairs is even a calming event.  Just breathing, taking in the sites and realization of where I am. What people lived here and when? I feel blessed.
After a lengthy stroll and exploration about the area, we step back out into the reality of the street.  Quickly across the street to the cafe on the roof with a view of the temples and a nice banana lassi and coffee.
A few have volunteered to cook supper this evening and have returned from their shopping at the local food market. They look pleased. As are we...homecooked food.  I love curries, but a break will be most welcome. Many of the young lads are thrilled as well. The curries have done them in.
Back into the jeeps where I am again cut off by a man shoving an erotic keychain in my face like some stag party favor.  Aside from that, I am sad to leave really. It has been a glorious day. The jeep ride back to the Ken River Lodge brings a lovely warm to cool breeze and the sun setting in the distance. It just can't get much better. I am thankful for such a wonderful day and surroundings.
Back to camp for a drink or 2, and a freshen up. Daphne turns into a makeshift kitchen and all is prepared with background music courtesy of Nik, our guide's iPod.  I am not on the cooking team, but help to prepare and clean up.  It is quite enjoyable to mingle and take part.

We enjoy our pasta and sauce around a warm campfire. Accompanied by dogs and a brave cat. They have picked the right group and enjoy many scraps from this lot. One dog even helps herself to bread on the plate left by the fire. A few more drinks to follow, joined by a couple of the barkeeps.  They decided to join us rather than sit in the bar alone.  Nice gents....kind and gentle spirits. They share what seems to be a cross between a cigarette and cigar.  I think it may be something of 'that' nature, but I don't feel much of anything. Just what was to be a bit of a congested cough in the morning.

I am in awe at what a glorious and relaxing day it has been. I will very much miss it here.  I go to sleep happy, yet a bit sad.  I will have to return here again one day. The time has been too brief.

The City of Sadness

In the evening of November 2, we continue our drive into Agra...the home of the Taj Mahal. The ride is between countryside and small cities to larger urban-type areas. The air varies from fresh country air onto wood smoke to incense and again the familiar stench of the highly populated areas. The smell must be witnessed to really 'appreciate'. It is beyond disgusting. A conglomeration of scents due to the lack to hygiene and waste removal. Filth, garbage, human and animal waste, rotting food and a plethora of other things...some only a bit annoying others vile beyond explanation. Animals, primarily cows, goats and dogs stand amongst the filth eating what they can. I am horrifically fascinated and saddened all at once. I feel deeply hurt for all of them. Then, as we drive on into the city, we pass young children in dirty clothing flying small kites on the rooftops, aglow with happiness. Many of them smile and wave when they see us, not sad, not weary.

Our motel is not elaborate by any means, but we are fine with it...(until Matt and I discover the next day that we were chewed mercilessly by small nits of some type through the night...the only bites I suffered the trip...Matt much worse than I). We have a quick supper late...as usual...and it's off to bed for a very early a.m. once again. The crickets serenade us in the back courtyard compete with the occasional call to prayer at sundown and before sunrise. Into the Tuks we pile, before dawn and off to the gates of the Taj. I am quite excited at the prospect. The reality of where I am sinks in...all of us in a long line waiting to be let inside. Monkeys sitting on the gate arch (30-40 ft high) looking down at us...probably laughing at the stupid humans up so early for what they see everyday. Everyone is restless and anxious...I look over to see a meagerly dressed man on a bicycle that stops by every stray dog he passes to give each one a small cookie or biscuit. It reminds me of what contrasts there are in this nation. Some know what really matters.

The gates open and we are allowed inside...we enter into a large courtyard and are surrounded by the red sandstone fences and gates. We finally turn to the left and there it is...we can see it through the archway. It really does take one's breath away. Fantastic. It is barely dawn and it is quite an impressive site indeed.

The crowd is not yet so terrible and we are able to wander and take shots without much waiting or disturbance. Men nearly accosting us at every turn by wanting to 'assist' us to find the best shots (all for a small fee of course). I find that annoying and am a bit abrupt....(it IS early). Plus, it IS the Taj Mahal...it is really hard not to take a decent photo. It is the perfect subject. We see a few monkeys about, chipmunks, small finches and small green parrots. It is a gorgeous morning and will be quite warm again soon.

I break away on my own and take several shots alone, it is an amazingly spiritual place. People on the temple areas either barefoot or wearing plastic booties. The entire grounds immaculate. The mausoleum is small inside compared to it's surroundings. It is peaceful just to sit outside and look at the building in contemplation. Worth the trip.

We regroup after a few hours and head to our guide's family home and have homemade breakfast on their small rooftop near the street. Kind, accomodating family again. It is very humble and I feel very grateful that those who likely have so little give us so much. The women never join us, only the men. The street continues below...horns all conversing with each other,then suddenly the ghastly sound of a dog crying in pain, perhaps struck by one of the racing cars or lorries...we look at each with bleek glances. The reality of where we are sitting a bit heavy...it is the reality that is this place.

After most of us politely eat the meal before us, we are brought to a local marble shop. The small lobby has 3 or 4 men sitting carving marble and a spry elderly man explaining the procedure to us. The men use old world means with a wheel and footpower. The work tedious and intricate. It is beautiful, they have kind faces. I wonder how much of that money from their work they actually see...I am certain very little. We are 'encouraged' to go to the back to see the fine marble and another discussion even offering drinks for free. The set up. We are not shown the more inexpensive items, only the finest for us tourists. These men know how to be encouraging and we walk out with a couple of items that are roughly about $30.
Our Tuk driver Gofar is 'ours' for the day and we aren't sure where to begin. We ride through the city with Amber, another American (a rather spoiled girl from Lousiana, used to her own way). We attempt to go to the Red Fort and are put off by the crowds and inundation of merchants. We opt for a lunch at a nearby Indian place called "Indiana". Matt attempts to encourage Gofar to come in for a drink or lunch on us. He finally says yes, and we sit in waiting to begin and realize he will not come in. It occurs to me that is likely the difference in Caste that would not allow such. As in Jaipur, Matt took a photo of snake charmers and later felt the need to pay them, Ajah simply laughed at his efforts to get money to the men...not realizing that Ajah NEVER would have himself given money to street people. It is simply not acceptable.
We end up stuck in traffic most of the afternoon and just watch the passersby that are more fascinated with us. We go across the river to get a different Taj view...Gofar reminds us not to take photos of the people, some of the poorest in the city. Assuming it is not good etiquette, not so much as them wanting money for being a subject. We walk from the Tuk and are met by a spry, chipper Japanese man elaborating on the thrill of a perfect shot. He is quite pleased. The shoreline has men in a bungalow with guns playing cards perhaps, keeping a close eye on us, 2 young lads in tattered filthy clothes, and a rather under nourished puppy.
We return to the Tuk a bit somber and are met by a young blind man, Gofar tells us he is asking for money....we are quite upset explaining that we are strongly encouraged not to do so, to discourage the prevelance of mutilation and maiming to get hand-outs. Afterwards he hounds us to stop at a shop of someone he knows, only to admit that he will get a 100ruppee commission. Matt is not too pleased at this point and we strongly urge him to take us back. It has been enough.
Evening comes and we are to go to a homestay in the city. I am apprehensive at best. The area of the city is dark and dingy as expected. The home is lovely. A kindly Sikh couple welcome us in and we sit in a small room to chat. There is another couple from Holland and another couple that comes in later from Chicago. They have posh written all over them and seem quite out of place. We chat briefly, it is time for a quick shower before dinner. We are moved to a house next door, since couples just keep coming in. We don't mind, the place to ourselves and it is gorgeous. Although the shower is not the least bit hot, since power outages are common here. I am getting used to cool/cold showers.
The food is wonderful and we have great conversation with our fellow tour mates. Nice close to a rather gutwrenching day. Matt and I even sit after dinner and have a nice chat with the elderly gentleman after dinner. He is the typical older person, remarking on increase cost of heating, food, and how all has changed over time.
We head in to rest and Matt gets to doctor up his angry insect bites before bed. A real trooper. It will be a long day on the road tomorrow and in all honesty, I am anxious to leave this city. I am thankful for the trip, but the stop here has been emotionally devastating.

Forts and Palaces...

We are all weary from travel, but excited about the day ahead. A few stops here and there and we make our way along the countryside and villages closer to Jaiper and stop over at the Amber Fort. We wind around the hillside and there it is along the hillside. Like an elaborate sand castle. Exotic and gorgeous in the midday sun. We are invited to stop in to a small temple at the roadside before our trip up to the Fort in jeeps, for a small bit of lunch. We sit under a tree on a cement slab after removing our shoes, and are given plates of a very soft thin fry bread, like a pancake accompanied by a yogurt(curd :) and a spicey, greenish, thin sauce. Eat with fingers only....(left handers trying to politely eat right handed only). It is fantastic. Thank goodness I have a small hand gel for this trip, it comes in very handy.
We seperate into covered jeeps and take the steep, rocky road to the fort. Winding through the small village...children waving...motorcyclists hoping to have their photos taken pull nearly onto the jeep's rear bumper. We arrive outside the Fort and the moment we step from the jeep we are swarmed with men and children selling everything from postcards to pens to wooden carvings. They are relentless. It is a relief to get within the Fort out of the courtyard to be free of them. They have their wares to sell, but it is too overwhelming in the heat.
It is Persian style, elaborate and beautiful...more of a palace than a fort. We wander through, enthralled. The view within and without is amazing. It is beyond anything I have ever seen. Our guide is a local man named Ajah. He is knowledgable and does all he can to let us know such. That is the beginning of our time with him...and it will try all of our patience before our visit to Jaipur concludes.
Tamar returns after a short while with a much welcome pot of Massala Chai. The first of several I will have on this trip. It is glorious...many do not enjoy it...which suits us fine...more for us! It is sweet with loads of clove, cinnamon, pepper and a multitude other spices. We stay at the Fort until nearly dark and must make our way back to Daphne on the jeeps...the salesmen are again relentless. I stand my ground...no sale today gents.
We happily reboard Daphne and wake Nik from his nap (one of many he will have along the way...:). We make our way into Jaipur City...the Pink walled city. To our left just after sundown there is a lake, (which always catches my attention due to the lack of them). They stop and we are encouraged to go to the waterside to see Jal-Mahal...the Palace on the Lake. Amongst the curious, if not obnoxious locals, are the hoards of mosquitos...needless to say, we didn't stay long. Shame.
We went into town and it never ceases to be fascinating, sad, disgusting and so many other things. There is also an incredible beauty to it. Many people wave, clasp their hands in prayer and bow to us. It's welcoming and kind. I feel intrusive at times, like I am on the outside of a prison gate, looking inside. Yet, these people know that this is their lot and accept it. A gentle Grace about them. I am thankful that I can witness it, even the bits that make me look away and the smells that make me want to retch.
After witnessing the city and desolution, we pull into our 'hotel'. The Bissau Palace Hotel. Tamar calls it quaint. Most of us call it opulent...especially after what we witnessed. It is a former palace that has a definite charm and ambiance about it. Even a warning to keep our windows closed and locked at night to avoid an abrupt crasher that would be in the shape of a monkey. We freshen-up for a bit only to hop into what would be our first of many Tuk-Tuks to go to our guide Ajah's family's home for supper. Hot damn, what a ride! It is ground level with all the madness! Matt, John (a fellow American) and I are not prepared for a ride of our lives. It is with giddy joy and laughter we happily go, like 3 school kids on a carnival ride. We never wanted it to end. That feeling would pass after 2 weeks!!
We are welcomed into Ajah's family home by his sisters and given a gorgeous homemade meal. A fellow travelor (American), Amber apparently noted a 'bug' in her food Matt tells me later. Oh well...she came to complain about MANY things during the trip, we learned...so how much of that was really tur, we may never know... Ajah continues to give us his 'verbal tour of India'..like a Hindu automaton... until we all grow tired and head back to the hotel. Where we enjoy a nice cold beer at a former palace on the porch with the crickets and somewhat tropical surroundings. A nice balmy evening...life was good.
A bit of a lie in and we are off like mad people once again. A strong coffee and breakfast and off into the City to the Palace of the Winds. We are not allowed inside and police stop the relentless traffic to get us across the street. Watched closely by 2 street snakecharmers and a maimed beggar looking to approach us. We don't stop long. Off to a 17th century observatory built by Sawai Singh. I love it there. It is brilliance and science and the sun makes me feel content....plus, it's QUIET!
A nice tour and photos then over to the City Palace. A tour of pure decadence and military weaponry. The museum holds everything from huge robes encrusted with jewels of obese kings to rooms full of any type of military weapon in use at the time. Swords and knives of all shapes and sizes. The crowd becomes intense and we all bail out. We catch an overpriced Tuk for 4 of us back to the Hotel and spend the rest of the day lounging by the back pool with drinks and conversation. There are 4 of us that just don't care to fight the crowd in town...and Nik, of course.
Matt and I venture into town, a bit later, a few blocks down to explore. It is filthy, foul and we are instantly spotted. I have come to learn to not make eye contact and just move on...Matt is far more polite than I. We have enough in that short time and are happy to retreat to our fantasy world inside the palace hotel. Cowards.
We stay at the hotel on yet another rooftop restaurant and have dinner under the stars for our last night in Jaipur. I am a bit saddened by this, but we have many days to go. Tamar has an interesting time sorting the bills out with the waiters. This proves to be a common occurance in India. She just pulls it together and deals with it as she does the entire trip. Time is passed in chatting and exchanging ideas. One of many nights of this. It is one of my favorite parts of the trip.

Fatehpur Sikri is a fort a few miles out of Agra built by the grandfather of the builder of the Taj Mahal. It is in the usual Persian style and built of sandstone. As with all, the entrance is elaborate and the buildings geometrically laid out. The courtyards are wide and large. The inner mosque had a mirage type pool in front of it with men playing traditional islamic music. Children roamed about and only asked for a photo to be taken. Most of this was accepted unless is was to chaotic, then the children were ran off. I wonder if many of them had parents? It was difficult to tell at times.
A lovely, well-preserved building with grandeur, but again, the inundation of merchants became hard to bear and took the charm away from the site. Yet, the smiles of the children who watched us with open curiosity made up for it. My heart went out to them.

First stop....Delhi.

We landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport at Delhi, early October 30th. We exited the plane and were shuffled to a small make-shift booth with 2 men with surgical masks. We presented them with forms they provided on the plane regarding Swine Flu. We had heard that if we even presented with slight symptoms or fever, we would be in quarantine. They had heat sensor cameras at customs entrance. Luckily, we weren't in the red. I was happy to get through customs without any problem. There were 'military' police throughout the place, I was a bit apprehensive. No need, they didn't seem bothered about much of anything.
To the desk to exchange dollars to rupees and off we go...(it was roughly 70 to the pound at that time or about 45 to a dollar) We step out into the main corridor and they are lined up on each side...cabbies. Some are holding signs, some offering lifts. Thank goodness ours was booked ahead. A young wisp of a man collects our bags when we see the sign and acknowledge him. A man of few words. The long corridor to exit seems to go on forever...typical airport, with the exception of beggars every so often. Young children with men at times, maimed. Very difficult to see and not engage. We know that children are frequently intentionally maimed so parents or those who abducted them can get more money. My stomach turns to think of it and combined with the sudden heat, I feel sick. We come out of the building in time and I feel I can breathe again. Nearly. The air is full of dust and it instantly sticks in my throat and eyes. It's everywhere. Most of the passerbys are men and they stare openly. Something we would have to adjust to quickly in every place we visit.
The drive from the airport seems to take hours. I am too tired and fascinated to become completely engaged in the driving. Thankfully. The roads are sparce and seem to be under some sort of construction. The men all in long sleeves and trousers. Many barefoot. The traffic is beyond reason. Cars of all sizes, partial semi-trucks decorative and adorned. Motorcycles, many with 3 and 4 passengers....tiny children on the front without helmets, women side-saddle with saris being worn. Bicycles, oxen carts, rickshaws, Tuk-Tuk's (small 3 wheeled taxis...sometimes with up to 12 people). All of these vehicles moving in and out in a type of orchestrated ramble. It works somehow. He races on...of course, there is no air conditioning...(not that I care for it...) but the horns work!! EVERYONE uses theirs...it's like it's own language. The horns never stop...day or night...and they're all driving 'hell bent for election' like granny would have said. Even with the cows, dogs, goats and people mixed in. I even see an elaborately dressed man on a fancy white horse. Most all of what I have seen looks like a warzone...trashed and dilapidated. Sad, but incredibly fascinating and exotic. Around one of last bends before we reach the hotel, I see a massive Hanuman statue(a Hindu monkey god)facing out proudly...it's an incredible site.
The motel is in a dirty corner of the city and the minute we step out, we are consumed by crowd and dust. It really is like a war zone. The inside not so bad, comfortable, a bit of Indian kitsch. I find the bed in our room and just crash...construction workers pounding above my head it seems..(as they did for most of the night we found). Earplugs would be my friends the entire trip.
We meet on the balcony to chat at 6 pm and discuss the itinerary. We have 2 guides: Nik (an English lad) and Tamar (Swiss-German lady). Nice, earthy duo. There are folks from all over. Mostly the UK. There are 2 Americans, an Aussie, a Spaniard and a couple from Norway.
We meet later to venture off to supper nearby. We walk down narrow, dirty alley ways dodging vehicles of all sorts. I am just thankful that I am not alone and most definitely with a group. The sort of alleys you see in movies...the scarey ones. We reach the place...The Crossroads Restaurant. Dark, busy and not so bad. I don't feel so brave and stay with noodles...that with one Corona and I am done.
The next morning comes early (0620) as we head up to the rooftop for a breakfast of soft porridge with curd (I grew to love curd on this trip...I think it saved me from Delhi belly many times), french toast and even fried cornflakes with peas...(I don't recommend them...)
Time to board Daphne our tour truck. She is a medium sized rig, orange, equipped with tables, refridgerator and stereo....not as elaborate as she sounds. The name grew to fit her quite well...she was a temperamental gal...much to our dismay. She had to rest up a few hours into the drive and was quite hot and bothered. Oh well...another opportunity for a water refill and squat toilet. I was in India...I wasn't bothered.
The roadside stops always interesting. It was nothing to attract a crowd of 20-30 when we were at the roadside...unfortunetly, it was usually when we were looking for a place to pee. I kept forgetting where I was, and that to them is as common as looking at your watch. We get quite spoiled as westerners...the things we take for granted. Like running water and toilet paper. In places...these ARE luxuries.
It's on to The Amber Fort and Jaipur...