Advertisement
Published: December 28th 2007
Moving westward into the Rajasthan region of India has felt like crossing over into an Indiana Jones movie. The remains of old sandstone forts and fairytale castles cover the barren wastelands. The vibrant colors and sounds of India reign through, but at times, this thriving desert region can feel more like the Middle East than India. At every angle of your eye there are turbans, camels, veil-covered faces, holy cows and an endless sea of dust and dirt. The hassling has definitely been toned down, but there are still the occasional scams and annoying touts. Nothing like Delhi though, thank goodness.
The last I left you, I’d already made my way to the eastern border of Rajasthan, to the lakeside town of Pushkar (which is one of my favorites). I am still traveling with my Russian friend Vika, which means that I continue to eat well…because she won’t have it any other way. The number of tourists and backpackers here is far less than I’ve seen in other countries. It may have something to do with the Holiday season, but I really don’t know. If it wasn’t for Vika, I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to, so her company has
been nice. She has taught me much about parts of the world that I once knew nothing about and she has also taught me a lot about myself. It has helped me remember why it is I’ve stayed single for so long…kidding.
After Pushkar, we headed west to Jodhpur (The Blue City) and toured the local fort (Meherangarh) that overlooks the city. The site was very touristy with a headset tour guide and everything set up like a museum. It was a nice change though. I usually go around these old sites totally clueless of the history. Also, the Hindi music that accompanied the recording added an age-old feel and bit of humor to the tour. Besides, walking the fort and the nearby streets, we enjoyed the views from the rooftop of our haveli, (which is a traditional Indian residence all fancied up). Our stay in Jodhpur was short lived and it was soon time to travel deeper into the desert.
Jaisalmer is a city of sandcastles (or at least I see it that way) and the gateway to the Great Thar Desert. This is where our desert camel safari would begin and end. We booked a three
day two night package, which consisted of jeep transport to and from the dunes to cut out a couple days of not so scenic travel. On the way out, we stopped off at some historic ruins and a Hindu temple, before our rendezvous with the camel guide. Sumar was our guide’s name and he looked like he was more Pakistani than Indian. He wore a colorful shawl wrapped over his shoulders, a white robe and a Muslim cap. His English was very broken, but would do fine for our time together. The journey by camel began at noon and we made our way toward the dunes on the horizon. The Thar desert is not made up of hills and hills of sand dunes as far as the eye can see, like that of the Sahara, but it is more of a flat, sand terrain covered with patches of desert trees and shrubs. There are large areas of sand dunes scattered about, but they are broken up by the vegetation and flat lands. We set up camp both nights on the dunes and spent our days tromping around on camel back. I can’t say that I love the feeling of bouncing
about the back of a camel. It absolutely wears your legs out after three days. Although, the fact that I was crossing desert dunes by camel back, just off the Pakistan border (50km away), with a turban wrapped around my head, caravan of desert camel riders around me and a Russian on my tail, made me feel like I was in a movie. Vika would call out to me, “Lawrence (of Arabia that is), what’s that there in distance?” I would then reply to her, “Quite down Maharani (Queen), it’s just another mirage…and can you please lay off the Peyote.”
The days were comfortably cool and my turban kept the sun rays from frying my shiny, bald head. The nights were cold and deafly silent. The first night in the dunes our guide realized that the tour company had forgotten to pack the tent poles, which meant that our only shelter was the sky. I had to lay there a top my tent, covered in numerous blankets, with the cool desert wind blowing over me. What first seemed like a major inconvenience, turned out to be a blessing. If it wasn’t for that simple mistake, we would have missed
the meteor shower that graced the skies. The show that unveiled before us was ineffable (check your thesaurus). It was as if the sky was falling. The first meteor we saw pass through the Earth’s atmosphere was closer and brighter than any I’ve ever seen. Its fiery tail streaked the sky like a missile…headed towards Pakistan (that was the first thought that popped into my head). The shower of lights lasted until early morning…and No, I didn’t stay up the entire night watching, but I did see them off and on as I woke from the bitter cold. Along with the meteors, the sun and stars played a part in the sky’s theatrics. Each evening the sun exited the sky with beauty and grace, followed by a brilliant night sky speckled with stars.
Along with the beauty on the horizon there is also conflict. India’s neighbor to the west (Pakistan) is not always a friendly one. Bad blood circulates from past conflicts over the Kashmir region to the North. A dispute over which country claims the land has troubled this region since 1947. War between the countries has subsided, but tensions and violent outbreaks still occur to this day.
In July 2006, seven bombs were detonated on suburban trains in Bombay leaving more than 200 dead and then in February of 2007, 28 more civilians were killed by a train bomb in northern India. The finger was pointed at Pakistan, which of course they denied. The reality of these terrorists’ acts sunk in after I heard news of a recent train bombing in Varanasi (east of Agra) that occurred only a week before my arrival in India. It doesn’t provide a comfortable feeling as I travel across India by local bus and train, but you can’t let fear keep you from experiencing life.
OK, I’m sorry I spilled off into all of that, but it was one of the topics we discussed in the desert and just another reminder that terrorism is plaguing countries all around the world and can’t be ignored. Don’t worry, I made it out of India safe and sound…now, let me get back to the desert.
The camel trek through the Thar Desert was a great experience and another check off on my list of things that I’ve always wanted to do. I really enjoyed the desert evenings sipping chai around the camp
fire, assisting Sumar in making the chapatti (an unleavened flat bread handmade and cooked over the fire), galloping across the flatlands (although, my chances of having children in the near future have been greatly reduced), feeding and teasing my camel Juju (who always tried to bite me when I messed with his nose), taking pictures of the village children as they wrestled to get into a photo, and standing atop the sand dunes, turban wrapped around my head (volunteer orange…Go Vols!), watching the sky’s colors change as the sun disappeared over the horizon. It was another priceless memory to be cherished and never forgotten.
After Jaisalmer, my travels took me to three more highly popular locations on India’s must see list: Udaipur, Goa and Bombay (Mumbai). In the attempt to avoid boring you all with long drawn out descriptions of my time and happenings in these cities, I will simply give a brief overview and save some stories for future campfires.
Udaipur, known as the “Venice of the East,” was our next stop and one of my favorite locations. We spent three or four days at a waterfront hotel overlooking Lake Pichola. We had now moved from an
Indian Jones movie to a classic James Bond. Many of the scenes from the famous Bond movie “Octopussy” were filmed throughout Udaipur. Every evening at seven o’clock, almost every restaurant around the lake showed a rerun of “Octopussy,” which of course I sat front and center. The following day, we toured all of the sites from the movie (Monsoon palace, Jagdish Temple and the Floating Palace) and Vika even booked me in room 007 (the Bond suite) as a surprise (I was totally shaken, but not stirred). On the final night, we decked out in our finest attire (cargo pants, poly-pro shirt and trail runners) and treated ourselves to some fine dining at Udaipur’s Floating Palace on Lake Pichola. It was a grand evening and one of the nicest buildings I’ve ever dined (it was my first time to taste caviar). This made my departure from Udaipur a much more pleasant experience than my arrival…I had almost forgotten to mention. On the night bus to Udaipur, while fading in and out of sleep, someone stole mine and Vika’s cameras right from our bags. We sat near the back of the bus, surrounded by locals (filling the aisle), holding our packs
securely between our legs. The only way the thief could have gotten to the bags was by going under the seat from behind. It was an upsetting surprise to discover when we reached the hotel that morning. We didn’t even notice until then because the culprit had zipped the bags back in place. It was a shame, but nothing I couldn’t replace and the fact is, my old camera had a shutter that would constantly stick and some newly acquired sand from the desert. So, I went the next morning and purchased a new camera and didn’t let it spoil my mood.
With Christmas just a few days away, we decided to leave the cooling temperatures of the north and fly south to the beach. Hopping a bus, then a plane and finally an hour long taxi ride, we found ourselves in Goa (Anjuna beach) staring out at the Arabian Sea. The beach and town of Anjuna was not as pristine as your five-star beach vacation spots, but had a special uniqueness of its own. Vika described Goa as an ‘Indonesia with cows’. The beaches were not that clean and didn’t have soft, white sand or clear, blue waters,
but they did have loads of cows…yes, there are even cows on the beaches in India. You just can’t escape them and you definitely can’t eat’em. Now, even though it was a little weird having cows roaming around, Anjuna beaches’ unique differences made it special. Groups of Indians walked the beach, the girls fully covered from head to toe and the guys in wet boxer briefs, stopping to talk and take your picture. The women all want you to buy from their selections of jewelry and the men simply want to get a picture with a foreign lady. It was entertaining, but could definitely wear you down. I spent most of my days lounging on the beach, reading my new book
Shantaram and gazing out at the Arabian Sea in disbelief that I was there; for just over the horizon, across those angry waters, stood Iran and the world of the Middle East. My evenings would always include a spectacular show by the sun, watching beams of color dance on the waves. One evening stood out from the rest with a sky I won’t forget (and wouldn’t you know - I left my camera in the room). The sun met
the horizon beaming through a curtain of haze and soon drifted from sight leaving a rosy pink hue illuminating the clouds. I’ve never seen a sky so flushed. The beach seemed frozen with only the crash of waves to break the silence. Every person stood motionless, facing the sea, and soaked in the moment as if the sun was never to return. OK, that’s enough of trying to sound like Jane Austen. I think I’ve been reading too much…or maybe I’m just lonely, angry longing to be loved…whoa…there I go again. Sorry guys, I’ll try and contain myself…although it is kind of fun.
My Christmas was unlike any I’ve ever had. There were no Christmas trees, poorly wrapped presents, stockings over the fireplace, egg nog and cookies, or family and friends to surround me, but I was entertained and reminded why I’ve chosen this path for my life. The sands of Anjuna were alive with characters from all walks of life. There were traveling hippies in Santa hats tripping on acid , Thai Chi acrobats performing somersaults in the sand, young gypsies walking the tightrope, dogs chasing cows, and drunken men chasing women, dreadlocks and mohawks, tattoos and nose
rings, Arabs and Indians, Expats dancing around the bonfire, children setting off fire works, and backpackers toking on hashish from Kashmir and smoke from Afghan. It was more of a circus than Christmas, but at least I wasn’t bored. Sitting there sober simply people watching, my heart smiled in reconfirmation of this path that I’ve chosen; for what I observed was a life I once lived. And as I sat there in silence, my gaze slowly shifted to the sky, heavy with stars, and I thanked Jesus for leading me out alive…and then I softly whispered, ‘Happy Birthday,’ followed with a smile.
Before I move on, I have to tell a quick and funny story. While Vika and I were shopping in the local market just off the beach, I found a colorful hammock that I wanted to buy for the IAA orphanage (I’ll be there soon). While haggling over the price with a local Hindi woman, a couple of Indian guys walked past, then stopped to stare. One of the guys stood and stared directly at Vika’s body with undisguised eyes. Suddenly, the woman I was bartering with flew into a rage, grabbed a stick the size of
a baseball bat and charged the guy. She caught him swiftly with one good, solid lick to the leg before a friend pulled her back, but that didn’t end it. She cursed out in Hindi until her tan face turned beet red and waved the stick like a mad woman. Soon she had attracted attention to her cause and a man came running over to assist her; also wielding a beating stick. It could have gotten real nasty if the guy with wandering eyes’ friend wouldn’t have pulled him to safety. After the local feud had died down, the women walked back over, apologized for her countryman’s disrespect (claiming that Indian men have the sexual maturity of a teenager), and continued with the price negotiation. Standing there speechless, eyes still tracking the daggling stick in her grasp, I finally mustered up the words, ‘maybe I’ll come back when you’re a little less distracted.’ ‘No problem,’ she exclaimed ‘You can give me 1000 rupees…good deal for you…and a good deal for me.’ Without hesitation, I handed her the cash , said ‘Yes Mam! That sounds great,’ thanked her for the kind gesture of violence and then scooted off toward to the
beach. That woman knew how to barter!
My final destination and city of departure was Bombay (aka. Mumbai). This chaotic monster of a city is home to over 16 million people, in which fifty-five percent live in poverty-stricken slums. The largest slum area here is Dharavi (over 1 million people), which is the largest in all of Asia. It is always a tough site to see; even when you’ve seen it time and time again. The stomach-turning smells and gut-wrenching sights sear into your memory, leaving a permanent recollection.
On a more cheerful side, Bombay is home of the glamorous Bollywood. This Hindi-language film industry puts out over 900 movies a year; more than even the likes of Hollywood. You may recall the recent controversy caused by Richard Gere and the kiss he gave a Bollywood actress during a public ceremony…what a scandal. But don’t you worry, I’ve kept my lips and hands to myself…an Indian prison is the last place I want to be.
Most of my time in Bombay was spent hassling with the change of my plane ticket to Kenya. It was a nightmare that I won’t even begin to go into,
although it did give me a chance to take a taxi all over and see the city…so, it wasn’t all bad. Vika stayed in Goa for the New Year, so I had to battle the airlines on my own. She had been assiting me with dealing with them over the past week and was a great help...especially when I wanted to lose my cool. I'll miss my Russian friend.
Bombay is crazy, but still no comparison to Delhi…at least from what I saw. I went to eat several times at the famous Leopold’s Café in Colaba, which is the main setting for the story I’m reading -
Shantaram. I also made a quick pass by the Gateway to India arch and the Taj Mahal Palace hotel. If you look past the pollution, poverty and trash of the city, you will see stunning architecture and a vibrant culture.
Another chapter is closed with another culture experienced. I must say that I have a love/hate relationship with India. I learned that you must first surrender yourself, before you can even begin to get anywhere in this country. Then it begins to grow on you and find a way into your
heart. Speaking of heart…my next stop is Africa and mine is thumping with anticipation. I will be in Kenya for the next three months working and living at the IAA orphanage, but first, I have a little New Years present for myself that I must go and collect. I have decided to head into Tanzania for the New Year and stand at the base of Kilimanjaro, the highest free standing mountain in the world, and who knows…I may even try and climb it. You’ll just have to wait and see. Well, I hope that you all had an amazing Christmas. It is hard to believe another year has past. Take care and Happy New year!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.581s; Tpl: 0.018s; cc: 34; qc: 125; dbt: 0.1524s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.6mb
Penny
non-member comment
WOW
Jeremy....What a trip you have had. Such memories you will hold with you forever. Enjoy your time at IAA and please tell Jen, Christina, Ann and everyone else there hello for me and I hope I will be able to get there soon. My heart longs to be there. Give each child a hug and kiss for me. Take care and great to hear from you. I pray for you daily and know God's hand is upon you. Your friend, Penny