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Published: January 24th 2013
Notes From A Dug - Pushkar to Mandawa
Leaving the duplicity of Pushkar in the rear view mirror, we travel five hours through a modified desert of scrub brush and pine (or whatever the Indian equivalent is) to reach Mandawa, Known for its Havelis (in most parts of India these are smaller-type palaces; in Mandawa the Havelis serve as communal living spaces that convert to merchant stalls during the day), three of us engage a guide for a walk-about. Three slugs (Anna, Lisa & Terry) stay behind to fan themselves beside the pool. Deb, Janice & Doug do the real work.
So much of the world has so many people leading hard scrabble lives. If it wasn't for extended families under one roof, those living in poverty would collapse upon one another. No social safety net means a motivated underclass of hucksters, sharks, and greasy palms are just a coin's toss away. Deb, Janice and Doug step into this merchant underclass in two Havelis. On the periphery of their lives, we tip toe through what they have for sale. Disappointing both them and our guide (who will make no commission from us today), we search out one of the street vendors in an area known for its bangle production. The Dug would really like to get some bangles made for his girlish wrists. On a street like many not known for laughter, the thirty-something woman tries to suppress her laugh. She almost succeeds. For Doug, though, there is no success. Fat boy wrists leave unadorned.
We begin our journey back to our hotel, the Castle Mandawa. The hotel, in a converted castle in a backwater town of 17,000 people has proven itself to be superior to many of the more upscale locations where we have stayed. Organized, efficient and better trained than most, the Castle Mandawa has been a delight. Every room is delightfully unique and we could visualize the earlier days of Maharajahs and Maharinis when they lived here. The only point of debate would be the Ayurvedic spa treatments that Deb, Anna & Doug received. Deb asked for a facial and got a sandpaper finger treatment with a drippy nose thrown in at no extra charge. She bailed after a few minutes with her skin in tatters and a Kingfisher beer in her cross-hairs. Anna, shy and retiring that she isn't, became fully liberated when, following the sign language of her masseuse, tossed her clothes with the wave of a hand and had a full on, full body, transcendent massage. She had to be dragged out in a state of bliss. Doug, in his own version of clothes confusion, wound up with his undies on. He got the shimy-shimy shake all over and wound up later with a bruised arm and a bleeding nose. Two rounds with the Mike Tyson of masseurs accompanied by a fleet of flies doing a polka on his back left him with mixed emotions and a rubber body. But ... it is all part of a great road show with good and comedic companions. Off to Bikaner we go.
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Terry Brown
non-member comment
Pushkar to Mandawa
Hi there Doug, Thanks for hooking me up to your blog on what will no doubt prove to be a trip never forgotten about! My compliments to you Anna for taking the time to write such incredibly descriptive passages which develop in my mind in high-def technicolor (ie Terry trying to get back into her room without her pass key). In all honesty Doug, given some of your "hillarious mishaps", I can only think how Rita's unbridled anger would come to surface for each unexpected event on your journey that does come off according to plan. None the less, I will be eagerly following your continuing adventures. Take care and safe travels to all. Terry B.