Love hast no bounds

As I have mentioned before, there is nothing like visiting the East to give you a taste of what monumental grandness and romantic flare can be. The magnificent structures of Udaipur and Agra would have fall into the category of "Wonders of the World."

The City Palace of Udaipur is really eleven palaces all hooked together. Each subsequent Raj had to have more and better and make his mark for posterity. One Raj needed to add enough "apartments" for his 103 concubines (yes, that was not a typographical error). The interior is a maze of rooms, secret stairways, balconies and passageways constructed entirely of marble and sandstone and assorted inlaid precious pieces. The "establishment" stretches out for close to a mile. It is almost the only thing one can see along one side of the lake. The floating palace on the lake that we visited was, in fact, built just for the use of the last Raj on his honeymoon.

Alas and alack, the last Raj could not create, through his one "official" wife, a male heir to the throne. But he had a daughter that he intended to marry off to a "suitable" man in order that she could generate a grandson that would have the right to the throne when he, himself, passed on. The daughter was already in love with another man. The night before the wedding, she threw herself from one of the palace balconies and ended her tormented life. And that ended the entire line of rulers for Udaipur. There has never been another Raj. The guide we had for this excursion could not hide his disdain for such "pluck" in a woman. The Indians can be mysogynists, but they also take pride in the magnificence and melodrama of these past rulers and their kingdoms. They all love a good story (talk to the Hindus about Siva and Shiva....could go on for days) and the story of this kingdom ended the "wrong way" by the look on the guide's face.

Love doesn't conquer all things, but it certainly inspires humans to great deeds. We are off to Agra to view the Taj Mahal today. One of the seven wonders of the ancient world, the complex was built as an homage to Shah Jahan's favorite wife, whom he loved deeply. She died giving childbirth and the Taj is her tomb. Its beauty has been referred to by thousands over the centuries. It took something like 30 years to complete. Unfortunately, upon completion, Shah's son locked him up in a tower and took over control of the Mughal empire. Until his death, Shad Jahan could only view the Taj from afar. He is entombed next to his wife now.

No person could be ambivalent about finally seeing the Taj Mahal in person. It is said the proportions are perfect and that the color of the stone changes hourly as the sun moves across the sky. Once again, we awake to pouring rain. It lasts most of the morning. We are told that we will be going anyway, but noone is in a happy mood. Rain is NOT supposed to happen in Rajasthan at this time of year. Dripping wet, we stand in line at the only site in India where there has been a security check. We are all patted down and every bag and camera is checked. (We were told on the bus that we could only take cameras and "wine coolers" into the gates. That confused us but we were compliant.)

None the less, our entire group was awestruck and anxious to get a closer look. The guide we had was yelling at us through the rain that we had to stay together and get our pictures taken first by a professional photographer (another way to squeeze a few more bucks out of the tourists). It's been a long week and all decorum leaves the group. Most people refuse and whine about being treated like children. It is the first sane thing we've done in hours!! We grab the booties we were given to cover our shoes before entering the tomb...which is only ceremonial because it is sloppy wet and muddy and we have to put them on outside, 150 yards from the entrance.

The sun shows itself for about a half an hour. We walk around and around the tomb marvelling at all the inlaid stone, the arabesque patterns in the walkways underfoot and the garden pools. The minarets on the four corners are actually constructed to lean a little outward so that it will compensate for the optical tricks that would occur in our eyes, as if they were tipping inward. This is a beauty under any conditions. We are lucky enough to get one of the very few photos of the Taj Mahal with black thunderclouds looming over the dome.

This followed by a.....grand luncheon(what a surprise!). All of us smell like wet dogs. The only thing I am interested in is where to find the "wine coolers" we could have taken into the Taj. I ask Muhammed, the train director, and he laughs a great big belly laugh and thanks me for sharing such a good joke. He explains that the guide was having trouble with pronouncing an English word and putting the stress on the correct syllable. He tried to say "binoculars" but it came out wine-a-COO-lars. Don't you just love that?

One more shopping trip. The ride through the dirt streets of Agra reveals one of the most filthy places I have ever visited, aside from the warehouses near the New Jersey docks. (another story for later) And yet this will be the place where my husband and I will fall in love again. And it happens in a little antique shop on a back street where we were supposed to being paying attention to something else entirely.

On Breakfast, Booze, Beauty and Barfing

For breakfast, you can have pretty much anything you want on the Palace on Wheels, and it's served in a small lounge area in your car, so you share with the other 3 couples. If you ask for cereal, you get muesli with warm milk. I'm not a fan.

Udaipur, the White City, is the cleanest we've seen yet, with the exception of Simla. It's a city of 500,000, with 2 million tourists/year, surrounded by mountains and lakes. We start the day with a tour of the grounds of a haveli in the embassy/up-class section of Udaipur. The owner's daughter remarked that she loved the rain, but just didn't dig the clouds that came with it, so he built a series of fountains to please her. Later in life, she became a drug addict and a serial killer and wiped out her entire family, starting with Daddy. OK, I made that last part up.

Next, we go to (wait for it) a Fort. It's huge, it's spectacular, it's really astounding, but I'm on the lookout for places I might be able to use as discreet Barf Stations. I have the Restroom Radar on full alert Super Doppler Mode, as thundery developments are forming in the South, and I want to be ready.

We take a lunchbreak at the Fort's sumptuous restaurant, complete with good entertainment - music and Rajasthani dancers. I have 2 scoops of ice cream for lunch, Max even less, then it's onto a boat for a tour of the adjoining Lake Pichola. We circle the Lake Palace, where parts of Octopussy were filmed (it's a beautiful white palace seemingly floating on the lake), drift past the new Oberoi Hotel where you can get a room that starts at $1,500/night, and dock at a lesser palace for tea and biscuits. It's been almost 2 hours since we had lunch, so nourishment was essential.

I'm feeling like the Goodyear Blimp on steroids and search out a rest room. It's a very classy restaurant, with seating on a patio area overlooking the lake, and when I enter the rest room, there's an attendant with a disinfectant aerosol in his hand, pointing me towrds the toilet. Only problem is, the toilet has a very thin plastic seat, covered in some sort of grime. He's probably had that aerosol can in his hand for months. I exit immediately.

We have tea with Nathan and Bill, two gay guys from the train, who are both artists - one is a graphic designer, the other a teacher at George Washington U. Very interesting conversation about life in the Capital.

Before we return to the POW, we go downtown Udaipur to the City Palace, the largest palace in Rajasthan. It's actually a complex of several palaces covering an area of 5 acres and built or added to by 22 Maharajahs. Fortunately, we only do an acre or so, but it's still extremely interesting. Part of the complex is a park that has several astronomic sculptures, for want of a better name. These are huge sun dials and other instruments (you can climb all over them) that accurately predict several cosmic events.

Back at the Palace on Wheels, we pick at our dinner, hardly eating at all. Our appetite has disappeared after eating at 5 star restaurants for 4 weeks.

A word about alcohol: If you want a 1.5 oz. scotch on the POW, it will cost you about half the cost of a bottle at a liquor store ($11). I bought a bottle of unremarkable (but also un-Indian) chablis for the table one night and it cost $60. Imported booze is expensive, Indian booze is repulsive. Take your pick. I want to believe the non-drinking Hindus (yeah, right) overcharge as a means of discouraging consumption, but that would be too cool. It's all about taxes. Stick to Kingfisher Beer, if you go - a pretty good beer.

Listening to Indians talk can be amusing. On the other hand almost everyone speaks better English than I do Hindi. For example: our laundry didn't get done in Jodhpur because there was no "electra-city". The Lake Palace was used for weddings by "cele-britties" with the emphasis in both cases on the last syllables. The funniest example of Indian English will take place in Agra at the Taj Mahal, but that's another story.

See how I keep the teaser thing going?

Only Human

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.

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.

The Only City Named After a Pair of Pants

Feb. 10th, 2007: In today's news, there is a front page colour photo in the Hindustan Times, showing the foot and a half blanket of snow covering Simla. When we were there, we had temps in the 60's and they'd had no snow during the winter, same as at home in Saratoga. Highly unusual in both cases. The other weather news was a complete summary of weather conditions throughout the nation - yesterday's weather, no forecast. Also, traffic was brought to a standstill in Delhi because of rain and there were frequent blackouts. An electric utility spokesman explained the power outages as being caused by "moisture in the air." The only other news of note was that about 800 cops in Kerala State were written up for a variety of no-no's, including rape, murder, torture, sexual abuse, that sort of misdemeanour. I privately hoped that the "writing up" would show these bad boys the evil of their ways.

Were getting a little rain in Jodhpur ourselves. This is the Blue City, with many houses painted that hue. The reasons for this are either 1) blue is the colour of the Brahmins, the highest caste and everyone wanted to suggest that they were high class dudes or 2) a blue wash was believed effective in keeping mosquitoes away.

The 700 year old Mehrangarh Fort rises above Jodhpur on a 410 foot rock and is the most flamboyantly decorated fort in Rajasthan. The rich detail in every one of the rooms of the Royal Apartment give you an idea of just how wealthy the wealthy were.The Blob Sisters stayed in the bus after taking a look at the daunting anti-gravitational effort required to see the Fort.

Lunch was at the Umaid Bhavan Palace, a spectacularly gorgeous modern structure built in 1929 by an Indian Prince and sporting 347 rooms, including 8 dining halls and a vast underground swimming pool. The owner, Maharajah Umaid Singh commissioned it to provide work for his famine-stricken subjects and it took 3,000 men working for 15 years to complete it. They were working on Indian Time, of course (soon come, Sahib), but nonetheless...

Back at the Palace on Wheels, I'm feeling a little dodgy at dinner and spend the night in the bathroom of our stateroom. The dreaded Delhi Belly has struck. No sleep, so I stay in bed while Max gets up at an ungodly hour the next day to take a cold, bumpy jeep trip into the Tiger Sanctuary, but no tiger is seen.

We both skip the excursion into Chittagarh that afternoon, and reports from the returning tour members are mediocre, so we don't feel too bad. Tomorrow is Udaipur.

Soul Searching

It is hard to even guess at what will stay with you after a long journey to an exotic place. It is hard to explain to people who ask you, "Why would you want to go there?"

Looking at the photos that I have chosen to include in this journal entry, one has to notice that America is missing something. We may have architecture that captures the spirit of newness and modern invention, but we do not have the opportunity here at home to internalize the history of Mankind through ancient masterpieces. We don't have the same grounding that an Asian, African or European enjoys. Travel can be a way to find one's roots.

I find my "ancestors" in the details carved on a bracket or etched on a wall. Just look at the ceremonial care taken to embellish a doorway or embroider a fabric. The need to make Art. The Human Touch. The Mother of Modern Invention. Whether it be Emperor or Pharaoh or Rajah or Shogun or King, one has to be thankful that they left something behind for the rest of us. They may not have been democratic in their use of power, but they gave testament to the intelligence and ingenuity of Man throughout time. India's national treasures are some of the most beautiful and spectacular we have ever seen. They reflect a civilization with the creativity and grandness of ancient Egypt or Japan or Renaissance Europe or any Chinese Dynasty. You just don't get the same feeling from a log cabin or a quilt. (and will pine and poplin stand the test of time?)

The ancient world still resounds in the human soul. Foreign travel is the authentic Antique Roadshow. It's the Time Machine Trip. It's the Big Wow that lasts forever. It is humbling. Makes you think about what future travelers will say about America in 3000 years when we rightfully take our place among the Old Sages. ( I hope everyone wants to go there.)

Jaisalmer, The Golden City

We wake up in Jaisalmer, a city that many consider the most interesting in Rajasthan. I like it because it's smaller than Jaipur, and, because we spend all our time in the ancient walled city/fort that is surrounded by the more modern Jaisalmer, it is more laid back. About 3,000 people still live in the walled fort and walking the streets is a fascinating exercise, as there are no 4-wheeled vehicles allowed and it's almost possible to believe you're back in the days of the Rajput.

We walk (OK, the Blobs take a motor rickshaw) through the Fort gates and through narrow cobblestone streets to a Jain Temple, one of many in the city. The Jains believe they cannot harm any living animal, including insects, and can be seen wearing face covers to avoid the inadvertent inhaling of an insect, sweeping the ground in front of them as they walk to avoid insect fatalities, etc. They even avoid eating root vegetables, in case the uprooting causes an accidental slugicide, or whatever.

The temple has ornate marble carvings, some quite erotic, on the interior walls

(see photo). We remove our shoes, as usual, before entering.

At one point in our city wanderings, we pause while some rogue cattle from our group are rounded up, having apparently made a wrong turn at some point. We enjoy the chance to just observe what's going on in Jaisalmer. A hundred yards away, we see a group of women squatting with their kaleidoscopic saris covering their heads as they mourn the passing of a friend's family member (see photo). While waiting on some steps, we look down and see fecal matter passing by in the open sewer. A colourful Ganesh is painted on a nearby door to bring luck to a newlywed couple.

Jaisalmer is famous for its havelis. Havelis are the homes of the super-rich of the Rajput dynasties. They have intricately carved screens and balconies on their golden stone facades and are overwhelming in their beauty (see photo).

After another lunch that is absolutely fabulous, it's Camel Riding Time. We're bused out into the far western reaches of the Thar Desert, not far from the Pakistani border, keeping a keen eye out for Osama. We're loaded onto camels, two per. Ahead of us, a 75 year-old lady from our bus is paired with a 65-70 year-old male from Germany. As the beast rises to its feet, it galumphs forward and then back (or vice versa, I'm not sure). At any rate, the heads of the two riders smacked together rather loudly. Things would get worse.

Once on the camel, we lurch out into the dunes, led by a young lad, our Camel Meister. Just as a public service to any of you out there who may want to do this in the future, I would advise you, if you're a male/female couple to say the hell with gallantry and ensure that the female take the stern mount. If you're a male who has never been castrated, this position is a tad excruciatingly painful. I'll delicately leave it at that.

Near the end of the 1/2 hour of torture, the darkening clouds that have been teasing us break out in all the fury of a desert rain/hail/sandstorm. We dismount and head to the bus, not able to raise our eyes to get our bearings for more than a second at a time, and stagger onto the bus having been totally soaked, then dipped in a coating of sand batter. But we were the lucky ones.

The two elderly riders mentioned earlier were on a donkey that was spooked by the thunder/rain/sand/hail, causing the man to partially fall off the camel, causing the camel to spook even more, causing the 75 year-old woman to fall off, but with her foot still in the stirrup, and be dragged across the sand.

She was taken by the POW/camel ride people to a crude hut near our bus and then just abandoned. The two guys from our train car, John Kennedy and Bill Cannon, go into the hut after it's clear she's being ignored by the staff, and carry her onto the bus. She's sustained a broken ankle, pulled ligaments, etc. He's got a collar bone with two fractures. And we're 'way out in the desert.

After an hour trip back to Jaisalmer, she's taken into a crude "clinic", with no medical facilities to speak of. Bill Cannon and a nurse from England on our bus spent many hours for the remainder of the week looking after her and ensuring she got taken care of by her insurance company. She ended up staying on the train until we reached Delhi 5 days later, then being flown home 1st class with a nurse accompanying her.

That night we eat at a wonderful restaurant with decent entertainment. Another full day.

The Pink City, The Sisters Blob & Other Stories

Readers of this blog from the beginning will remember (or may not, it's been thousands of words and you are to be commended), that I was initially enticed by the naan wallah in Saratoga to board the Palace on Wheels (POW). So here we are. Each car has 4 staterooms, as Max mentioned. I meet the guys from 2 of the other staterooms on the station platform B4 we leave. They're having a cigar. One is John Kennedy, the recently retired CEO of Johnson Controls, the other, his buddy Bill Cannon, a corporate lawyer, both from Milwaukee. Both are great guys and will show their common concern for their fellow travelers later in the trip in dramatic form (this is called a teaser, to encourage continued viewership of this channel).

In the bar car, we sit beside Ian from Glasgow. I mention my mother's town of Airdrie and he knows it well. He reminds me of several Scots I know, white-haired and full of life, always joking. We move on to the Maharani Dining Car (the other is the [wait for it] Maharajah Dining Car) and are seated next to an elderly (more elderly than us, anyway) (I'm really enjoying the parentheses thing 2nite) couple. They live in California, but he was brought up in Greenwich NY, a town Max taught in for 2 years. The coincidences will continue throughout the trip, as I discover 2 more Tuckers ON OUR BUS the next day.

It's Thursday, the 8th of February and that means it's Jaipur Day, the Pink City. During the night, we have traveled into the Thar Desert, where we'll be spending the next 6 days exploring Rajasthan, one of the most interesting and colourful areas of India. This was the region once ruled by the Rajput Princes, who built breathtaking forts and palaces.

Today we will see one of each. The Hawa Mahal, or Palace of Winds (see photo) is a magnificent structure that is a tiered 5 story edifice of balconies and perforated stone screens, but only about 10 feet deep and with walls only 8" thick. It was built to allow the harem ladies, in purdah, to observe the goings-on in the street below without themselves being seen.

Personalities begin to emerge from the people on our bus. The Blob Sisters are two females who are gravity-rich entities encased in clothing by Omar the Tent Maker and topped with baseball caps. During the trip they will refuse to climb any stairs taller than Mickey Rooney, and will constantly request climate changes in the bus that are contrary to those desired by everyone else. To their credit, they will work hard to maintain the image of the Ugly American, a heritage we are all proud of. We also have Dr. No, an elderly psychiatrist who is constantly negative and verbally abuses his psychiatrist wife at length during the trip. They both need counseling.

At the Amber Fort, the Blob Sisters actually throw themselves onto the back of an unfortunate elephant for the ride up to the Fort. Dr.No is right behind us, muttering about how he wishes he were back in Texas. We all silently concur.

The elephant ride is a hoot, and the view of the fort and the environs is spectacular during the 20 minute ride. The stone work in the various courtyards astounds us, but we'll be seeing much more of this in the next few days. The fort is interesting, and although some people who have taken this trip are bored with the many forts and castles they are taken to, in retrospect each was unique and beautiful in its own style and history.

We're taken to a fabric emporium, but Max is 'way ahead of this game, and we spend our time on the street while the others shop. We see a school out for recess, the kids in their uniforms, a pig rooting for garbage scraps just out side the school door. A few feet away is a lean-to of sorts, some tarpaulin stretched over a fence and a couple of poles, with a family living inside.

Later that evening, we have dinner with Neil and Sareena, a gorgeous young couple from Manhattan who work for Goldman Sachs. Sareena was brought up in Paris and gets us up to speed on the upcoming French elections. She says the woman candidate is a whack job.

One of the criticisms I came across in my research into the POW, was that for $750/day/couple, it was expensive. If you wanted to see Rajasthan, they said, rent a car and driver for $12/day and stay in expensive hotels and eat in expensive restaurants and save money. Except, you have to assume you will find a reliable driver and guide with a reliable car who will reliably take you where you want to go, not where they want to take you. You have to assume you won't mind the hours of driving through the desert on questionable roads, meaning you will take several more days of unholy discomfort to cover the same route we did. You have to assume you won't be cheated in many ways, as you work to arrange your schedule, your entry fees to the various sites, your lodging and meals - everything will be a gamble. India is not an easy gig.

But tomorrow, we'll be within rocket-launched-grenade distance from Pakistan. In Jaisalmer, the Golden City. Stay tuned for the Great Camel Adventure.