Pushkar--An Awake Desert Town

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When we first arrived in India, we had hopes of going to the beach in the South, the holy Ganges in the East, the desert in the West, and the mountains in the North, but once we got used to the country, we realized we’d have to cut back in order to have more time to enjoy the places we were in. So, we cut out the beach and the mountains. That gave us a couple days of leeway, and a few different people recommended for us to visit Pushkar, a holy town in the desert in Rajasthan that’s famous among Western travelers as a shopping paradise. Although it wasn’t on the railway, it wasn’t too far out of our way to go there, so we went for it.

In order to get to Pushkar, we had to take a train to Ajmer, then either a public bus or private car to Pushkar. We decided to take the bus, which was to come every 20-25 minutes. However, it was noon and roasting with our backpacks on. Our bus came, packed full of people, and we waited for the next one. 5 minutes later, it came again, but it would have been impossible for us to jump on without fear of only one of us getting on. We waited another 30 minutes before starting to ask tuk-tuks to take us instead, but they all said no. So, tired and sweaty, we decided to take a break and get a drink. We assessed our options as we sat in the restaurant in full view of the bus stop.

As we sat, our bus came again, but we’d kind of given up on the bus option. After our break, we walked back to the train station to try to get a tuk-tuk from there. However, we soon learned you can’t take a tuk-tuk there because it’s too far away—you instead have to rent a private car (taxi). After a lot of haggling, we got the price down to 220rs from 400rs, so we felt pretty well accomplished. The drive was pretty cool—it looked how I imagine Arizona—desert-y. As we were driving along the switchbacks over the mountain, our driver would attempt to pass other vehicles a bit hazardously. Luckily we didn’t have any crashes.

But our luck was not the best. We soon pulled up at a roadblock. We stopped while motorcycles whizzed through. Two guys came away from a group of ten men sitting in the shade. The two men had a chat and laughed with our driver, and then someone said we had to pay a 20rs city fee. They said it was government, but they had no badges and there was no sign in English. It made me super-angry, because it just seemed like they sat there all day getting tourists to pay them money for no reason. I refused to pay and told the driver to go. My sister was a bit worried, didn’t want to fight, and just said to pay. So we paid, and they then gave us a receipt. I was just fuming. I had the feeling that the taxi driver got a cut as well.

Needless to say, we weren’t in the best mood upon our arrival to Pushkar. We had showers, took a nap, and then rallied. The hostel owner (at Hotel Everest, recommended) told us to go out and explore, so we went out on the town. We stumbled into Laughing Buddha Café, where I ate the best veggie burger I’ve had in my life. After that lunch, our moods improved a lot. We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. Unlike in a lot of other Indian cities, this town had stuff mostly geared towards foreign tourists—clothes we’d like to wear and souvenirs we’d like to buy. We didn’t really sightsee at all, and that’s why I barely have any pictures from Pushkar. We did, however, shop, and when we arrived back to the hotel that night, we were giddily happy with our new “Indian-style” clothes.

The next morning was our last in Pushkar. We packed and returned to the Laughing Buddha for breakfast. From our table on the porch of the second floor, we really enjoyed watching locals navigate around the herd of cows that had decided to lie in the middle of the main road. The later it got, tourists increased, so we also critiqued their fashion choices (some of which were extremely inappropriate for being in India, and more so for being in a holy city).

But the best—the grand-finale—occurred when we’d almost finished eating. We heard drums banging, then very loud carnival-like music. It turned out to be the groom’s party for a wedding—there were 2 “brass bands”; sections of men and women dancing; and men riding dressed-up horses. The entire parade passed right by us on the street below. One group of guys paid a drum section to stop and play so they could dance (which held up the entire parade line and blocked the whole street). It was a lot of noise and partying for 10am on a Wednesday, but that’s just how they roll in Pushkar. We were so excited that we’d gotten to see people having so much fun, and to see the entirety of a groom’s party, but the Indian worker at the Laughing Buddha just said, “It’s so loud.” I can see how it can get old quickly.

Our hotel arranged for a tuk-tuk to take us to the Pushkar bus station for 40 rs, however when we arrived the driver wanted 50, and since we didn’t have change we let it go. Sometimes we were in the mood to argue and sometimes not. He was also supposed to have showed us which bus was ours, but of course he did not. Anyways, we went to the bus ticket window and that guy did point out our bus to us. We got on and asked around, and the Indian locals confirmed that it was the right bus . . . but you never really know. We sat down awkwardly with our backpacks on (trying not to take up too much space) and crossed our fingers.

During the 40 minute journey, a bus worker came along and collected 10 rs each from us. Eventually we did make it back to the Ajmer train station. We were still about 2 hours early for our train, so we returned to the restaurant where we’d had a drink the last time we’d been in Ajmer. Of course the server had to get a picture of the two of us to show everyone he’d met that he’d waited on white women. (Although because it’s right next to the bus stop to Pushkar, he must see some every single day!). We also had a conversation with a German traveler who was on his way to Udaipur.

After eating a meal we were pretty sure would make us sick later (due to the ability to see the cooks cooking in front of us), we decided to do some Ajmer sightseeing. We wandered for a bit to where our map said there were interesting sights, but didn’t actually see anything worthwhile. We were still about an hour early, so we headed to the station. We thought we’d stop in and talk to the Tourist Police about that darn fee we’d been forced to pay on our way into Pushkar. We just wanted to know if it was legit or not.

After we explained the situation, our mustachioed, large-bellied police officer told us that if we looked outside and found the guy who’d driven us, he would talk to him. We had some spare time, so we thought we’d try. Normally, we would not have had much hope of recognizing a certain driver or tuk-tuk (which is why we always tried to remember to take pictures of the license plate before getting in), but we remembered the man as around 50 years old, with glasses and a mustache, which set him apart from many others. Also, Jodi remembered some details of the car.

We took a stroll into the parking lot, and almost immediately spotted the car, and then the man! We couldn’t believe our luck, so we went back inside to lead the police officer to him. The driver sniffed trouble and basically backed away quickly. However, we quickly accumulated a crowd of drivers around us, as we were two white women walking with a police officer. He started talking to a Sikh man, who turned out to be the driver’s boss. Just then, Jodi pulled out our trump card—she’d saved the receipt the roadblock men had given us.

Without that, we wouldn’t have had a case, but apparently the drivers are supposed to pay this “fee”, so they should receive the receipt. Because we had it, it was proof that we’d erroneously paid, and the driver had gotten out of paying. So the Sikh man gave us 20 rs in return. In other words, if you take a private car to Pushkar from Ajmer, the driver should pay any fee to get into the town. If he doesn’t, write down the license plate, save the receipt, and then tell the tourist police once you get back to Ajmer.

I cannot understate how this resolution lifted our spirits. Yes, it was only 20 rs (about $.30), but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. We’d encountered so many people during our trip who only wanted to hustle us, and they often got away with it. It was the fact that we could tell that they were doing something shady and at the time couldn’t do anything about it, but, in the end, justice reigned. Also, because it was a scene that all the other drivers were listening to, hopefully they saw what happened, and they’ll be less likely to try to scam people. It may still come off as petty, for me as an American to worry about small change, but until you’ve traveled in India you may not completely understand.

Our train to Jodhpur showed up 30 minutes late, but we were in good spirits to be headed to Jodhpur, the “Blue City”.

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Photos

Desert Land
Between Ajmer and Pushkar

Along the Drive
Between Ajmer and Pushkar

Cows in the Street
Pushkar

Guys Dancing to the Drums
In a wedding procession, Pushkar

Part of One of the "Brass Bands"
The loudest part of the wedding; Pushkar

Sections of Men and Women
In the wedding procession, Pushkar

Classy-Looking Horses
In a wedding procession, Pushkar

Comments

[CB Singh]

Pushkar also has some more to offer
Would like to add, Puppet Show, Rose gardens, Desert Camps (Royal Rajasthan Camp - Ours), Rural weeding, many french tourists, Malpua (Sweet dish) and much more. I'm also planning to start a Pushkar blog on my Camp resort website http://www.royalrajasthancampsandresorts.in/. So if you want to write a post over there I would appreciate it. My site is currently under good level digital marketing, thus I'm looking for some blog writer, If interested just mail me at [e-mail].