Got to get over the hump

Pushkar, Rajasthan, India

Hello from Pushkar, a small, more religiously oriented town nestled between some small mountains around a lake in southern Rajasthan. Beautiful. It's the sort of place with temples all around a lake, where there's this holy feeling as everyone bathes and prays by the water's edge, and the restaurants are more strictly vegetarian. We're rounding off our Thar desert tour on an interesting week; it is prime time for marriages during this special time in the Hindu calendar, and they have dancing and fireworks and drums and decorated horses carrying brides and grooms through the streets in each town we visit, every day. Scott saw an elephant in the street yesterday. It reminds me of the Sicilian wedding style in The Godfather, when Pacino is made to parade through the streets with his bride and her family. There were about 30 people married in Pushkar today, and several times I had to politely refuse to join in with the processions and dancing.

I say "got to get over the hump" not because I've been listening to too much Parliament (although I do have a few friends who still call me PFunk from time to time), but because I'm nearly halfway through my trip now and quite frankly India has been kicking my ass the past couple days. Yesterday I wished I was home for the first time, for about 2 hours. Then it passed. I was lying sick on the 4th floor of a crappy hostel in Udaipur (famous city for the Lake Palace hotel seen in Octopussy) where we had no electricity, no running water, I had no pillow, the showerhead was broken anyway, my boxers fell off the balcony, and it was hot as hell. AND! the "included" pool was closed because it was too dangerous to swim with falling rocks from the higher stories under construction...I didn't eat for about 40 hours except for juice and water, but now I'm back in action and still moving!

So forget all that; we just had a great dinner with two South African girls, Francis and Olivia, who have been on our same route and some other passersby from Wales and Australia, and I'd rather tell about my first impressions of Rajasthan. To new beginnings!
One thought about the South Africans first: I can't get my mind around what it was like for these girls to grow up during Apartheid and watch it collapse at age 12. They attended liberal, private schools and their families are not racist, but what about their education? As they describe it, it was as if they were simply learning about a different era, and they didn't realize until later that they were actually living it. They speak Africaans because it was required then, and they were taught separation within. I wonder too, what they were taught about foreign dark-skinned leaders. Did the racism apply only to South Africans or to impressions and evaluations of people of all nationalities? Would Colin Powell have been welcomed into Jo'berg as a respected equal? My only possible understanding of the situation is from trying to compare it to the civil rights movement at home, which I did not experience.

India, for me, has really been all about new commotion. After the comforts and ease of Southeast Asia, it has certainly been a re-education. What strikes you first are the differences in attitude; the stares and unfriendliness are not what you expect. Just getting out of Delhi was a small victory. It doesn't matter that you have enough money for whatever you want. People just don't speak English (the Times of India said only 30 million) and it's impossible to secure tickets on trains and buses in any fair and comfortable way. This sounds like a terrible first impression, but that is because we landed in Delhi. Nobody likes Delhi. The truth is the more people we meet, the better it gets. People are warmer and more hospitable every step of the way. I've had wonderful conversations with locals on buses, like the father of two children I made origami cranes and balloons for, or a family of 16 on holiday from eastern India who took pictures with us and bought us ice cream.

Delhi, one of the most polluted cities in the world and very overpopulated at 13-15 million, was simply a huge pain. The best part was our trip to the US embassy, where we were given the red carpet treatment and given additional passport pages for free. You do feel bad for the lines of people waiting for hours as you scoot by...Delhi was overpriced, McDonalds didn't serve red meat!, and we opted to go the movies in a rich suburb rather than battle the tourist traps (of which there is nothing good anyhow). Perhaps we were just exhausted. It was fun to see Hitch in a state of the art, a/c theatre. Young Indians seem to love Will Smith. In Delhi we had a mediocre time, but we got things done.

The crazy thing about India that struck us immediately was the remarkable lack of women. This country has 1 billion people, right? Why then, when you enter each town, are there only men working, lining the streets, and serving you in the restaurants and guesthouses? Where are the ladies hiding, and who from? We are told they pray early, watch the children, and mostly stay within the home. Cultural differences I guess. You will never see a young girl walking alone; she is always escorted by a member of the family.

Our first leg west was an overnight sleeper bus to Bikaner without a/c. Tough shit. In town we were overcharged for poor accomodation but had a decent time and visited a landmark temple, Karne Mata outside of town. In the streets that night we were almost bulled over by cows charging and trying to get it on in the roads. Cows are everywhere in every town, and live quite well. They are fed by the poor or scrounge in the gutters, but are holy animals and therefore respected and left to themselves. It is not odd to take a walk around the block in any of these towns and have to dodge 10-15 cows congregating in alleys and squares.

Our second leg was an all-day local bus (no a/c mind you) all the way to Jaisalmer. 6 hours turned into 13 as we stopped too frequently and tripled the capacity of the bus. [The desert averages about 44 degrees celsius right now at mid-day] People don't care about personal space, they sleep on your shoulder, lean on your head, and sit on your lap. Two seats hold 4-5 people. You drink 2-3 liters of water but never need to pee because it is so damn hot. But local is sometimes the most fascinating way to go, if you can stomach the stench and heat. Just the colors, contrasted so starkly against the nothingness of desert terrain outside your window are asounding in their variety (as my new SA friend Olivia put it so well, they are subconsciously battling against the bleakness of their arid surroundings). Desert gypsies clothed in reds and pinks and greens and oranges and browns and blues and purples and mixes of every variety, etc. - all covered in jewelry and embroidery and body piercings and gold chains and necklaces, stare out at you through veils and clutch infants and young children masked in dark, thick black eyeshadow. Some women completely line their wrists with multi-colored bracelets from wrist to armpit. Curiously, when I offered a necklace I had purchased in Bangkok to a gypsy for her daughter, she would not accept. There seems to be stronger values of modesty and cultural lines not to be crossed than in SE Asia.

Arriving in Jaisalmer was as good as expected. A fort city deep in the western Thar Desert and very close to the Pakistani border, the city walls seem to rise majestically from surrounding desolation. The day we arrived however, there was a tragedy in the small community. Two Hindu youths aged 20, one royalty, were killed in an oncoming collision with wo Muslim men. I spoke with Maneesh, a friend of the deceased, who described the tensions brewing and the blood that he believes may boil over after the customary 12 days of mourning. Although locals insist everything will be fine, and everyone agrees nothing can be accomplished through violent retribution, the situation was alarming to me. I hope Maneesh is just venting in his own way; he insisted that he had been raised not to be weak and cry, and it was all I could do to simply listen and advocate for peace. That night we dined with an Israeli, Etai, on the roof of our fort guesthouse, a fine Kingfisher beer in hand for the sunset.

Our desert safari was an absolute pleasure. Scott and I set out with Rahim and Metur, just the 4 of us, on an overnight 50km trek by camel, riding in the morning and evening, cooking and napping in the shade of infrequent trees from 1-3pm and sleeping in the windy sand dunes breathing through shrouds over our faces. My camel was Ratu, Scott's Lala. The great thing was you actually had full control of the animal, alone and sometimes far from the group. It does hurt your ass after 5-6 hours a day though. Though we stopped in several poor desert communities, Scott and I regrettfully had nothing to offer the children but a few hours of horsing around and taking pictures. They claw at your bracelets and sunglasses and ask for candies and chocolates and rupees, but there is little you can do for so many poor kids. Even pens are in high demand. More brilliant than the desert sun are the melodious tunes emanating from the mouths of the guides. I think they are actually incapable of riding without singing, but it is comforting to listen to. It was especially funny when Matur sang the female parts of the songs in falsetto.

Back in Jaisalmer we toured the fort museum and Jain temples, and then wandered the street markets outside the fort for 2 days. It is easy to make friends in such a small town, and shopkeepers have you in for Chai as part of the schmoozing process (strong masala tea with sugar and milk). It is not odd to have 5 invitations for Chai with locals the next day. After much haggling and little progress, you always buy something. My prize purchase so far is a pair of gold earings I now wear, a popular style of the average male in this region and shaped as a lotus flower with a ring of red gems. After a few hours everyone in town knew us, and we were escorted to see havelis (carved out facades of houses from stone) and seated at juice bars learning hindi with locals. After mistaking Scott for every type of Asian across SE Asia, the Indians all seem to think he is Japanese. I call him Japanese now sometimes just because I know it pisses him off.

With Jaisalmer behind us we trained it to Jodpur (with no a/c on the train through the desert we awoke with a layer of sand sealing our eyelids and coating our sweating bodies) and bused it to Udaipur to toast to our friend Kyoko for recommending the city of Octopussy and miniature art. A young Kashmiri boy from Srinigar showcased his miniature painting for us and we bought a little. All profits go to him and his fellow students, who are on their way to international art shows in California and Iowa next week! [God I hope they were telling the truth on that one]
This morning Scott bought a young barefoot boy a fresh-squeezed mango juice on the street. We joked with him as we do with all the kids, and he offered to help us get the "Pushkar Passport," a bracelet you're given after praying by the lake and making a donation. It was sad when he told us he had to find us a holy man for the process and I asked him if he aspired to become one himself. He simply answered that he is not a Brahman. It is never going to be a possibility. I wondered at what age you realize that you are born into a lower class and have no ability to change your status. At what point do you realize that your life is literally of less value than your neighbors? And so it is...

One more night in Pushkar and we're off to Jaipur, where hopefully we can see Star Wars. I hope all is well on the homefront. Thank you to those of you who post comments sometimes, it is nice to know people are reading and I hope I'm entertaining. I gotta say, I never thought this dominos thing would cause such an uproar. It's just a simple, old-fashioned game!