Julie's Online Travelogue

I earned myself a year to travel the world and find adventure. I will bear freezing temperatures on the ascent to Everest basecamp, contract traveler's diarrhea in India, and teach English to Thai students. This will be the trip of a lifetime.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Rajastan II

We are getting used to the long car trips: we are learning where to buy the best-priced fruit and where to stop for the cleanest toilets. If we pass through a town, we keep our eyes peeled for cheap Indian Bagpiper whiskey and Super Strong Kingfisher beer. With every need, our driver Deo reluctantly pulls over, a minimum of five minutes after we kindly ask him. Without fail, I see him roll his eyes in the rearview mirror: "Yeeesssss. Nooo Prableem." We are starting to whip him into shape. I have taken one for the team and assumed the role of the hated-leader. I patriotically fight for our requested toilet and lunch breaks, despite his will to pedal on to our next destination so that he can enjoy his evening off. Give me a toilet or give me death! Let us eat Thali (lunch cuisine)! After forgettable Jodphur (namesake of the riding trouser), we spurred Deo along the five-hour ride to Ranakpur. Ignoring his advice to drive to Akbar's famous fort, we headed on the questionable "two-or-six-something" kilometer walk along a mountainous ridge. Hours later, without a car in sight, our mouths were dry of thirst and we were wondering if we would make it back before dark. But, Dad had prepared me well for the situations! I dug Iodine tablets out of my backpack and added them with water from a small stream. Don't fear for the iodine's bad taste: I also had mini packets of crystal light lemonade mix! Annika suffered from some stomach pain: Julie's travel medical kit of Peptobismal and Immodium should do the trick. I also had some sunscreen for Remy's sunburn, and a jacket for when a sunset chill found me. We eventually reached the fort, and every minute of that five-hour walk had been worth it. The red sun fell just behind the long sandstone wall and towers, casting a brilliant hue over the entire hill. We each found our own private vista: I settled in a courtyard of red-flowered arches as time faded into the horizon. I explored a little Shiva shrine, cared for by a small elderly woman who painted a tika on my forehead. The girls and I also walked along the fortress wall, but briefly turned back after being discouraged by its enormous expanse onto the hilly countryside. It was getting dark and chilly, and Deo should be waiting for us at the front gate. So begins the end of our Rajastan tour, where every city blends together and we become bored with Shiva temples and forts. In Udaipur, we walked around the river-sided markets and succumbed to tempted shopping. We also took a yoga class and saw a traditional Rajastani dance performance at night. Then, in Pushkar, more shopping and bumming around the camel-fairing city. Our final stop: Jaipur, home of the Pink city and our tempermental driver. Actually, his invitation to his home for dinner was one of the highlights of the trip. While his aunt and sister prepared our food, we sipped masala chai throughout the late afternoon on his rooftop. Nestled in a mountainous valley, we watched children fly kites from scattered rooftops and birds hop betweeb white-flowered trelaces. Past the calm atmosphere of Deo's suburban home, we could peer into Jaipur's distant old city, long streets of bustling markets, entirely constructed of pink terracotta. The next day, before we ventured off to our next destination, we were all excited to take our long-awaited elephant ride through Jaipur's most famous castle. Disappointment immediately set in upon our arrival: two dozen numbered, colorfully-painted elephants were parked outside the castle gate, waiting for tourists to pay an exhorbant amount for a fifteen minute stroll. I felt so foolish. I pictured our elephant ride to be in natural surroundings, organized by local elephant-herders. Instead, these business man, dressed in Adidas attire, we retouching the animal's pink and turquoise tattoos. With our tails between our legs, we elephantlessly packed up the car and headed onwards.

If cowboys arrive in Agra on a Friday, how do they see the Taj Mahal? We didn't. Bad planning on the part of our brilliant travel agency: the wondrous Taj Mahal is closed on Fridays with respect for the Muslim locals. We walked around the monument's wall, and enjoyed a gorgeous view from a lunchspot rooftop. A little anti-climactic, but the white marbled dome and pillars, inlaid with rubies and saphires were just as spectacular as I expected. We were satisfied by our visit and tour around Rajastan. Happy to have bland continental food for lunch, we toasted beer and whiskey to our incorrigible driver Deo.