festivity and fun in Pushkar

The third week of February was deemed to be one of the most auspicious times in 2007 for weddings and I arrived to Pushkar right in time. A tiny town hosting a holy lake and home to many in the Brahmin caste, Pushkar is an ideal and romantic setting for getting married. Apparently many Indians agree because each night, all in this tiny town, there were upwards of 150 weddings performed. All the ceremonies took place at one time on the camel fairgrounds but every individual marriage devoted the earlier part of the day with the fanfare of a marching band and parade (both one for the bride AND one for the groom) moving slowly through Pushkar’s narrow streets.

At night I was “rocked” to sleep by the several ceremonies that were in earshot of…well, everywhere in town. Did I ever mention the lack of noise control regulations in India?

Actually I did enjoy sitting on my guesthouse’s rooftop chill out cushions looking up at the stars while listening to the current hit songs of India. I was glad to have arrived on the tail end of this auspiciously festive wedding period with things settling down considerably after 3 days.

The catchy festive atmosphere naturally reacquainted me with Ali, the colorful hat man. I met Ali four years ago when I bought several hats from him. In the years since his hats have become much more colorful and expressive. They range from a summery hat made with vibrant silks accented with sequins…to a warm wooly top hat for your funky cooler evenings or if you want to be noticed out on the slopes skiing or snowboarding.

It’s my second time to stay in my favorite guesthouse in Pushkar and until Ali pointed it out, I have never made the connection that the cute family sewing on their front porch across the street is the same hat making workshop! Ali’s father is the chief sewer and while working in the sunshine and fresh air he is kept company on his front porch by his grandchildren and their pet goats. I couldn’t help but laugh when one goat came running out their front door straight toward me and threatening a butt on my butt.

I didn’t realize that goats can be loyal territorial family protectors!

It’s my 4^th time in Pushkar and this place, when looking beyond the tourist offerings and signs (in English, Hebrew and Korean), is a really wonderful source of a magical feeling that brings nice friendships. Having almost reached my halfway point of my journey I needed the addition of friendships to share my experiences with. Pushkar has proven time and again to be a reliable source for the nice travelers who choose to dwell there. Not only do I continue to run into folks I know from previous visits, but I even ran into a woman I know of from Portland…very cool to finally chat with her in a place like Pushkar rather than at a party in Portland.

About halfway through my stay Ron (pronounced “rhone” with a phlegm-y “r”) from Israel happened to try a chai on my guesthouse rooftop to watch the sunset.

His sense of humor is exactly what I needed…silly jokes and laughing all the time. Hanging out and letting hours slip away as we roamed around town joking about all the crazy India-isms. Like, for example, the children who unrelentlessly beg for school pens. I am sure for someone who hasn’t been to India, hearing of us making light of children begging is no laughing matter. But it happens so often that the medicine of laughter eases the situation a bit.

So this first chapter of Pushkar comes to a close…I’ll be returning in one month.

And in the meantime, who knows???

photos

video

dwanjabi

In the midst of it all: some venting

So you know that old tale of the genie that tricked the man by a twisted interpretation of a wish?
Well I have a similar genie in my midst that has played with a little prayer I’d made.
“Dear God,
Please let numerous men throw themselves at me all day every day.
Amen”

MY genie's “trick” is that I’ve spent most of my days in India with my wish having come true…but the men in my reality are local Indian villager men.
And as much as they all would like to think that I’m in India so I can hop from place to place getting a real “in depth” taste of the spices of India…this being based on Hollywood, free internet pornos and their inaccurate but earnest fantasies. But the reality?
No
Nehigh!
Absolutely not…

India aside, traveling alone is a big challenge for a person like me. I’ve been, uh, “blessed” with a very confident demeanor while having the insides of insecurity and shyness.
To usher in some self-growth I continue to leave my unfamiliar surrounds through traveling. This pushes my comfort limits by having to repeatedly extend myself to initiate friendships…and (at a minimum) conversation.

In Indian culture it is rare to see women alone and independent. Since I’m usually in this situation over here the more lustful and less shy men see me as a target…or as some Indians have explained to me: I’m a free game.

I decided to take an overnight bus from Madhya Pradesh to Rajasthan. Each time our bus made a potty stop I (and my wee bladder) made a beeline for the “open toilet”.
What’s an open toilet?
Going to the toilet in the great wide open.
My strategy was to follow silhouettes of flowing sarees heading toward a dark alley and as far from the men’s eyes as possible.

Several hours late and one flat tire later I arrived to Udaipur, the romantic and over-touristy city home to palaces, lakes and the pride of having been the location featured in the 70’s James Bond flick, “Octopussy”.

Most of the Udaipurian shopkeepers have brushed up on their charming and slick lines. Their approach appeals to a shy person like me and my need to have a conversation every once in a while. But it’s not just that, these guys are really nice and interesting to talk to. The problem is that there is usually a turning point during our chat when they amp up their charm and become very pushy. They eventually insist repeatedly that we share a beer, or I come to their house or that we spend the day together on some adventure.
I’m certainly not too shy at this point to say NO.
…and then to say no repeatedly as many times necessary until I ultimately have to just walk away. It gets frustrating because every time I pass their shop or see them around this continues. I’d like to think that the conversations I’ve had would remain a pleasant platonic acquaintance when ultimately I end up wanting to steer clear of these guys altogether. This effort to avoid the pressure tactics becomes exhausting when all I’d like to do is chat with the locals and enjoy a nice hot cup of chai.

When I moved north to Bundi I assumed that in a less touristy place this situation would be lessened. That was definitely not the case. And this is truly a shame for my first impression of this new place. Upon arrival I had already reached my limit of being patient with constantly having to have my guard up from getting this kind of energy from men.

Bundi is an amazing and beautiful small village that is surrounded by a tiny range of hills that host palaces and forts. The hilltop within the huge fort is empty of most anyone but monkeys and has so much room to explore. Like the more famous and well-known Jodhpur, the village homes are painted uniformly in a Brahmin blue, creating the effect of a beautiful sea when looking down from the ancient fort.

As much as I can see the potential of Bundi being a wonderful destination where a week or more can easily slide by, I let my reaching the limit of male advances mar my experience. I don’t mean to pick on either Udaipur or Bundi since neither is any worse than other spots in India. It’s just unfortunate timing and me reaching a point where I need a break.

So now I’m off to a haven I am more than familiar with where I am certain that I will be mostly free of this attention.
And I will be more careful in the future about what I wish for.


photos of Udaipur

photos of Bundi

videos

dwanjabi

Authentic Adventures in Madhya Pradesh

As much as Goa’s beaches & lively atmosphere helped me get my chill-out going on, after over a month I couldn’t have felt more ready to venture into REAL India.
You know…Indian people, saris, blaring Bollywood music, the non-stop staring and delicious and cheap authentic Indian food.
Feeling some haste to make my exodus, I was able to consider taking a flight thanks to several new private domestic airlines that have introduced incredibly reasonable rates.
It couldn’t have been more perfect to arrive in Mumbai on India Republic Day. Orange and green and waving flags were found throughout the city and I accepted this as my welcome in arriving to this new phase of my journey.

When chatting with a Mumbai physician during an office visit (for an unmentionable and minor affliction) the doctor was perplexed when I told her of my onward travel plans.
“WHY are you going to Madhya Pradesh??”
With her one question I was filled with slight nervousness and confirmation that I had chosen a destination not widely heard of in the common tourist trappings. It’s true, you don’t often hear of Madhya Pradesh in the standard tourist lineup of Goa, Hampi, Rajasthan, Agra and Kerala. Those are all wonderful places for sure but this herd-like movement of tourism is exactly what I am trying to avoid.

Navigating my way through the blend of chaotic energy and gorgeous architecture of Victoria Terminus Railway Station, I boarded my first of several trains to ride within days.
My first stop in Madhya Pradesh was in Sanchi, home to some of the oldest and most magnificent Buddhist stupas in India.

With the city of Bhopal as my home base, I was unable to move onward before catching a curious peek of the location of the notorious Union Carbide plant, a US owned company. One of the deadliest toxic leaks in history happened here in 1984 with a death toll of over 20,000 people. The affect to the local people continues even today as affirmed by an Italian friend who volunteers as a teacher in nearby villages. She told me the low weight and slow growth rate is evidence in many of her students.
Quickly moving onward from this gray, dirty and very depressing city I boarded the first of two rickety local busses towards the holy city of Omkareshwar.

A remote destination that is an island village straddled by the holy Narmada and lesser-known Kaveri rivers. My intention in visiting Omkareshwar was to tap into some of that Holy Hindu ju-ju that brings forth thousands of pilgrims each year to the river’s ghats.

But what ended up happening for me was a dhaba hopping pig out!

You see, up until this point since my arrival to India I have had a serious loss of appetite…to the point that I had become concerned. But when I arrived to this village the problem had vanished.

Now, I’m not sure if this is due to the antibiotics prescribed to me by the Madhya Pradesh-skeptical-doctor having run their course. Maybe the pill popping for the past 5 days killed some bug that had kept me from wanting to eat.

Or perhaps it’s because western food prepared in India is simply not even close to as good as at home. Pizza, veg burgers and pasta just don’t have the same appeal here.

I had finally entered an authentic region offering a wide selection of freshly made Indian dishes. My attention diverted from the colorful puja displays in the Narmada to the steaming hot thalis and chais from various dhabas around the market square. Thalis, mutter paneer, navratan korma, poha and samosas, just to name a few.
yummmmmy

Feeling full like on Thanksgiving Day, it was time for me to swap the Omkareshwar table for a nearby village hosting ancient Afghan architecture.

The trip from Omkareshwar to Mandu is only ~84 kilometers but in a state like Madhya Pradesh this distance requires a series of 3 slow moving local busses. Throw in a lunch stop (and some bad judgment by 2 traveling mates and myself) and it became 4 bus rides and a total travel time of 8 hours for our tiny journey.

Mandu is an even smaller and more rural village and due to no other options at the time we arrived, I settled in at the Ram temple dharamsala (rest house for Hindu pilgrims). I was able to soak up the authenticity of the village experience by staying there…and even had an opportunity to join in a village-wide thali feast to celebrate the wedding that would take place that coming night in the Ram temple.

My fondness for this authentic rest house shifted quickly at nightfall when I realized how noisy staying in a Hindu temple can be. I’m not that light of a sleeper but the M-80’s exploding in celebration of a new marriage through the night followed by trumpeting blasts of busses beginning at 6am sent me and my backpack running toward the traveler guesthouse across the village.
Hotel Maharaja butts up to the rural areas of Mandu and features a lovely brown calf that will eat our books if we don’t keep an eye on him.

Like in Omkareshwar, in Mandu my focus shifted mid-stay. Initially I was transfixed while exploring in solitude the expanse of huge palaces and mosques. But later the sweet disposition of the villagers lured me to delve further into the rural areas beyond the gorgeous ruins of a bygone era.
Mohan, my guesthouse’s owner…and incidentally the former mayor of Mandu, took 4 French and myself on a lengthy tour through the fields, cliffs and huts of rural Mandu. Prompted not by a fee but by his passionate knowledge and love of his town, Mohan introduced us to the farmers, local wine distillers and even the wild panther lairs of the areas of Mandu completely untouched by tourism.

It’s magical experiences like these that you won’t find in any guidebooks.
And one of the many reminders of why I love to visit India.
I’ll let the photos speak for the beauty I have found.

Mumbai

Sanchi, Bhopal & Indian transportation

Omkareshwar

Mandu

...and VIDEOS !