Here we are in Rajhasthan, on a train built for the Maharajahs, and we are being treated like kings and queens ( or as closely to that as possible considering that there we are traveling in a "royal group" of 100 persons). We do not have to handle any money for entry fees or search about for a safe place to dine. Every meal that is not consumed on the train is at a five star hotel and is a lavish buffet. But those little buggies can travel anywhere and Tucker is down and out for the day.
We are awoken at 5 am. Udesh insists on Tucker downing some kind of salts that will replenish the bodies liquids, but it looks mysteriously like the same type of "salts" one would use to purge oneself before a certain type of lower intestinal exam. I will be on my own today. I dress in as many layers as possible. We are given a "snack" that we will consume in the bush, as the tour begins at 6 a.m. sharp. We are taken by motor coach to the game preserve and then are loaded into trucks that seat about 20 people..... that seating is "sardine style" and I am sitting right above the back wheel. It is foggy. Our guide is almost impossible to understand. The indigenous plants and birds were the most interesting wildlife that we would see. The truck bounces and slides around the wet and slippery tire tracks that pass as "roads" through the bush. We arrive at a clearing and are informed that we will have our breakfast here and are informed that there are "toilets" for the women somewhere over a hill. The men are advised to choose a tree.
We are awoken at 5 am. Udesh insists on Tucker downing some kind of salts that will replenish the bodies liquids, but it looks mysteriously like the same type of "salts" one would use to purge oneself before a certain type of lower intestinal exam. I will be on my own today. I dress in as many layers as possible. We are given a "snack" that we will consume in the bush, as the tour begins at 6 a.m. sharp. We are taken by motor coach to the game preserve and then are loaded into trucks that seat about 20 people..... that seating is "sardine style" and I am sitting right above the back wheel. It is foggy. Our guide is almost impossible to understand. The indigenous plants and birds were the most interesting wildlife that we would see. The truck bounces and slides around the wet and slippery tire tracks that pass as "roads" through the bush. We arrive at a clearing and are informed that we will have our breakfast here and are informed that there are "toilets" for the women somewhere over a hill. The men are advised to choose a tree.
I pass on the outdoor relief. Our breakfast consists of bread and butter sandwiches, two oranges and a juice box. Pretty benign. But I have suddenly lost my apetite and the bread and butter isn't going down easily. I begin hoping that it will rain because the clouds have not lifted. I just want to put my weary head down and rest.
No tigers to be seen today. When we finally arrive back at the train, my poor husband is still in the grips of the Delhi Belly. I am cold and tired and get into my wee bed for the rest of the day. At five o'clock, Umesh invites himself in and proclaims that he would like to see us get up and try to take some dinner. Tucker flatly refuses. I get dressed and promise to bring him back some naan bread, some rice and more water. I pick at dinner, find young waiters that are falling all over each other trying to prepare a care package for Tucker and excuse myself from the table before the last course is served. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will be joining my husband in the sick room tomorrow.
We both awaken on the next day feeling better. In fact, I feel like my old self again with only one exception. I have lost my apetite (and will not regain it again until we arrive home in good old Greenfield Center). Tucker is fine as long as food is not even mentioned. And it is going to be another 6:30 am excursion this morning.....into the bush on bicycle rickshaw to view the birds at a special sanctuary. I have actually been looking forward to this. And we will not have to deal with breakfast until we return to the train.
But the Travel Gods have spoken loud and clear that life just isn't that easy. Much like the camel ride, we get about as far away from the entrance to the park as one can get and then the heavens open up with another thunderstorm (a rare occurance at this time of year). We have been given tiny umbrellas as insurance but they are all but useless. We arrive at the bus soaked to the skin. The members of our "bus group" take it gracefully because we now assume that we are the jinx.
Breakfast of tea and dry toast and off to Udaipur. Just eating very small amounts seems OK. Then I realize that we are spending more time sitting than walking, that we have only had a week to try and get our bodies to accept that dinner is served at 2 am our body time, and that all Indian food dishes are created with the same seasonings. I'm beginning to crave lasagna and boeuf bourgignon. We are used to more variety in our diet, smaller portions and only two meals a day. I could not handle Maharani life if it meant huge feasts of food spiced with garram masala every day. I'm only human.
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