the abridged version: Mumbai to Rajasthan.

Shilo and I both really wanted to see the amazing caves carvings and paintings of Ellora and Ajanta.....I good side trip east from our ultimate northern destination of Rajasthan. So we thought we would do a crazy 2.5 day blitz through the area. We took a REALLY early morning train out of Mumbai to Aurangabad, our base for exploring Ellora...that evening. BUT OOPS, I screwed up, missing that Ellora was closed that day (a Tuesday!) and Ajanta closed the next. So we could only visit Ellora---Shilo wasnt too impressed with my planning at that point! Especially as it was basically added 2 day train journey. But we did enjoy the "mini Taj" in Aurangabad, built by the son that imprisoned his father for spending too much money building the real Taj, and then took over his reign! And we saw Ellora the next day.......awe inspiring cave carved temples. The built from top down a huge Hindu temple, carving out the stone and working slowly down. The site encompasses several centuries and has Jain, Buddha and Hindu caves. One of the silly Indian rules forbids the tripod to be used here, so we were very creative and got an excellent shot of the Buddha grand temple, used for chanting. The caretaker sung a beautifully haunting song for us to demonstrate the amazing acoustics.

We attempted to bus to our train departure town, supposedly a 3 hour journey away. But our bus got a flat. Several more buses arrived and picked passengers up....but I was exhausted and not ready to squeeze into an already too full bus with my giant backpack and stand for another few hours. SO, we waited. Not too bad, only 1.5 hours later and we were on the road. We arrived late, and as the lonely planet has an annoying habit of NOT including maps of small transit towns, we wandered around for a bit trying to get our orientation before miraculously stumbling into our desired hotel. We still needed to eat. We got back and the lovely-but-a-little-to-lovely hotelier wanted to explain to us: how to use an Indian toilet, turn the television on, tell us that there is complimentary morning tea, and where the windows (that looked into the hallway) were; all the while exclaiming "so sorry to disturb you" but wouldn't leave the room!!!! Finally we collapsed into bed.

We started the 24 hour train ride to Udaipur the next am. The first leg of our journey was in a sleeper car PACKED with Pilgrims heading to Mt Abu, a spiritual site in Rajasthan. For some reason it seemed our booth was about 3 people too many....with as much luggage. I was squeezed into the corner, with 3 people to my left, the window to my right and my knees to my chin as my legs were upon their bags (which, ickily were absolutely CRAWLING with little cockroaches---I was constantly flicking, pulling and shaking the little buggers off of me). We reached Ahmedabad, our train changing spot, just as I was reaching claustrophobia freak out limit. I have never experience such crazy traffic as in Ahmedabad. The horns were madly deafening. It took me, literally, ten minutes to cross the street. And by crossing the street, I mean dodging between oncoming traffic as it NEVER ceased. We ate and then toiled away a few hours in the train station. I felt so grimy, I even showered in the luckily clean but definitely risky public pay showers in the station. I was looking forward to lying down for the night train into Udaipur. BUT NO SUCH LUCK!

We had the joy of sharing a train car with 20 or so college men. They poked at Shilo 1/2 hr after we started rolling, requesting that we move to an entirely separate car as they didn't want to disturb us with their antics. We were exhausted and already tucked in with ear plugs, night masks and luggage locked away. I told the fellow that if they were quiet by midnight there would be no disturbing, and that we weren't up and moving---to which he replied "But mam, we are a college group" As if this should explain it all, and it does in India where the men are coddled and excused of all disrespectful, disruptive and juvenile behaviour. Until 0130 (when I got a conductor involved) and starting up again at 0500 they yelled, screamed, and ran up a down the car turning lights on and off....generally behaving like PRE-adolescent males left alone for the first time trying to be as BAD as possible. We were ragged after 24 hrs of weary travel upon arrival in Udaipur. But what a haven Udaipur turned out to be.

Magically enchanting. We stayed at a 250 year old Haveli, our room adorned with arched entrances, old en cloves for oil lamps and a luxurious window bed. We spent a good many hours soaking it up. Udaipur has amazing palaces, of which any who has seen Octopussy will recognize. It is extremely touristic, but Shilo and I spent most of our days wondering through the different neighbourhoods taking in the trades, shops, and wonderful homes.

Jodpur next, the supposed BLUE CITY. On arrival it didn't seem so blue at all, but a bustling industrial busy-traffic city. After getting some rest and food we warmed up to it more, and thus far it has been our favorite in Rajasthan. There is a blue section, the old Brahmin (Hindu priest caste) section but it can only be seen from the fort and is again magical when explored by foot. Shilo has some amazing shots---many of the portraits he posted were from Jodphur.

Jaisalmer, the giant sandcastle desert town, 100km from the Pakistan border. Way too tout heavy for Shilo and I, we weren't sure if this was because it was end of season and the touts were becoming desperate or just the long tourist history. So we headed out to Khuri for our camel safari....just as it was really starting to heat up. On the day of our safari, 42 C. We drank a total of 14 litres of water that day, and each only peed 6 times. After only 1 short day of riding Shilo feared for his future fertility. Camels are freaky animals...and riding is not so comfy! But to be able to ride out to the sand dunes, eat a fire-cooked desert supper and spend the night under the stars was amazing....

So overall loving Rajasthan, after being awed by Udaipur's palaces, Jodphur's fort and Jaisalmer's sandcastle we, by far, most enjoyed the strolls through the old neighbourhoods.


The mini Taj

The Hindu temple at Ellora, cut from the top down into a cliff-side...if you enlarge the photo you can see some people along the left side to give you some perspective and detail.

The Buddha chanting hall.

Me and Buddha, we're close :-)

Ellora.

Udiapur's Palace, Tripola gate entrance.

An inner courtyard displaying typical archways...all marble.

Lake palace, Udiapur.

Our window bed.

Our romantic room, Udaipur.

Temple in Udaipur, lit up Vegas style at night.

Hotty husband set against the palace and turbaned waiters.

Rajasthani women performing traditional "happy celebration" dance.

That's 10 clay pots she's got on her head...she stamped on broken glass like that! This dance is to exhibit a women's grace and balance of daily chores (water collection).

Jodphur's fort courtyard.

A gaurd poking out of the amazing lattice work of the Jodphur fort.

An exquisite room in the Jodphur fort palace.

Jodphur fort, as seen from the gardens.

FINALLY, the blue city.

We were lured into this antique shop, and spent close to a hour wondering it's many floors. This box is made from Camel bone. GORGEOUS!

Jaisalmer.

A Khuri home.

SHILO JONES.

Shilo doing some "women's work" and getting laughed at, as he brought up an empty jug!

Me scared shitless as the camel stood!

Sand dunes outside of Khuri.

Shilo scared shitless as his camel stands.

aw.

an aside

I think I am getting India-burn out. My tolerance for the misogyny has reach ultimate lows. I have zero patience on the jam packed buses. I am sick of eating Indian food, especially shitty & overpriced Indian food here in Rajasthan. I don't want to bargain. I don't want to visit your shop, buy your water, or eat in your restaurant, so PLEASE stop shouting at me as I walk down the street. I hate the horns... I don't want to have the "hello, what is your country, what is your name, what is your hobby, what is your job" conversation with 1000 people in one day. I wish everyone would stop staring, just for 10 minutes. Before I left India, I was of the naive belief that what I wear would influence the behaviour of the men....but now I see my error...That is like suggesting that a rape victim was to blame for her "revealing clothing". I wear baggy clothes and long shirts and skirts and I am constantly stared at...and in Rajasthan "accidentally" bumped and brushed upon.

BUT, I do have a few heartening stories to share. The other evening as we were buying water, I felt a startling and precise ass grope. I jumped around and smacked the man on the back and yelled at him "DON'T"....the vendor raced around his goods, asked me what happened and within seconds him, his father, and three men from the surrounding area had stopped the man and were yelling and smacking him something good upside the head!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had to yell for them to stop. They made him come and apologize to me. Although the rapid escalation to group violence scared me, I was thankful for their response....Finally, someone (a local) has spoken up and said "NO, this is not ok!" Yes, despite the millions of bad apples in India, there are some decent men here.

And then we were blessed to meet another. Then next morning, we headed out to a small town of 1400 people to do a camel safari away from the notorious tourist trade of Jaisalmer. As we tried to board the bus, a wild eyed whispy haired small French man pulled Shilo aside, seriously discouraging us from going to Khuri. "They are all theives!" He had a horrendous time there. After the previous evening Shilo and I were both still a little on edge and we had an apprehensive bus ride. Steeling ourselves for nasty touts and some serious bargaining, we told ourselves if it was really nasty, we could always take the evening bus back to Jaisalmer. NOTHING OF THE SORT. Helpful, kind and quiet is how I would describe our landing in Khuri. We walked into our chosen guesthouse and found the owner to be just as the Lonely Planet described, a gentle man. He and his family were completely gracious and welcoming. He talked with us for several hours about the culture and current issues of Rajasthan. His prices were fair. The homecooked food was TO DIE FOR, and lovely to eat a truly traditional meal. The camel safari he arranged was perfect. Honest and fun drivers with good camels. His home was an oasis for the travel weary couple that we are!

ahhh, if it could only always be like that :-)

People

As I stumble along trying to learn how to take a decent photo, I'm finding shoot-on-the-fly street photography -especially portraits of people- to be the most challenging. For close-up portraits I always ask first, and I don't take photos of women in India without their explicit permission. I'm averaging around one passable photo for every 50 or so I take. Thank god for digital; if I were shooting film we'd be broke and flying home already! The image above is two generations of Rajasthani women: one very keen on the camera, the other not so much.













Mother and daughter in the desert village of Khuri, far Western Rajasthan. They are coating the courtyard in a water/cow dung mixture. Keeps the dust down.

Whass'up Gramps! Jodhpur, Rajasthan.

Rajasthani woman. As they have for centuries, the peoples of Rajasthan for the most part still choose to spend their disposable income on jewellry rather than TV's and fridges. Jewellry is more easily pawned for cash to see the family through tough economic times...

This little guy has a big responsibility: hold down the large, young, poorly trained camel by tugging on the spike that runs through it's nose, as the beast is loaded with water.

A family two seconds before posing for the camera. Jodhpur, Rajasthan.

Woman, Rajasthan.

This Rajasthani man is selling bangles. Women wear bunches of them up their arms: some are purely decorative, some have tribal associations, some are worn to show a woman is married.

Water in the desert state of Rajasthan is kept cool in hand-made clay pots like these; the clay gives it a wonderful, earthy flavour.

A family gathers water from the communal well. Early morning, Rajasthan.

These women in the winding Brahmin lanes of Udiapur in Rajasthan literally grabbed me over for a photo.

The train is one of the few places In India you may be fortunate enough to enjoy a few moments to yourself...unless there's a stupid gora leaning over you taking photos.

On the other hand, the train can be a travelling madhouse. This is a view down the aisle of a 2nd Class Sleeper train; for around ten Canadian dollars you can travel 1000km. Out of sight to the left are the 'cabins', which seat six-seven facing each other. At night the lights go off (hopefully), the bunks come down , and everyone sleeps soundly. Except for: the abused train rattling and groaning; screaming-puking babies; burping and farting men; obnoxious, spoiled, delayed-adolescence twenty-something Indian males; sand and dust storms that rip through smothering everyone; venders calling incessantly; travelling minstrels wailing; beggars moaning and tugging, etc.

People spill from a slowing train somewhere in the blistering Northern Deccan region.

This soldier was on the train heading West, to be stationed at the India/Pakistan border. We spent twelve rattly, suffocating hours crammed next to him in the 40 degree heat. He spoke little English, but was one of the kindest, most generous people we've met. As we departed, he gave me a small, shimmering peacock feather (India's national bird) to use as a bookmark. It was a strange, delicate gesture, completely incongrous with his uniform and profession.

Street kids ham it up for the gora and his fancy tripod/camera, Mumbai.

Hmmm...don't I look fine with this fake label hanging in my face.

Children on a Mumbai street, working.

Street sleeper, Mumbai. Taking photos such as these is not easy (and raise a bunch of ethical issues), but I find they say as much (if not more) about India than any photo of the Taj Mahal.

Woman, Mumbai.

The Bleeding

"The blood of the villages is the cement by which the edifice of the cities is built." - Gandhi

Sure, Anglicized Gandhi also suffered the classic Western affliction of pastoral romanticism. The vagaries of the Industrial Revolution re-made village life in our collective consciousness: the farmer and his labour of land became a repository for shared dreams of the simple, the peaceful, the pure. Hot hours spent folded over a furrow (but outdoors! in the fresh air!) must have seemed a fine alternative to the burning white cauldrons of a metal factory for those drawn to emerging industrial centers.

As in so many things, India lives the old conflicts and contradictions between urban and rural well past where they shatter. Indian cities hold the global glitz of modern consumer capitalism, are are thus spectacular beacons drawing the scratching-hungry and poor forward, to promise and reward and lavish. The cities contain the late-night gamble of India as a modern state, for the villages and pre-industrial country fiefdoms could never have dreamed a nation as absurdly unlikely as India.

Yet Indian cities also, finally and unmistakably, uncloak the lie that Western lifestyles and development are without cost. A part of any Indian city, even any large town, is a visible manifestation of suffering. You first know you are approaching a city because the land suffers. For hundreds of kilometeres the sun will vomit a watery-yellow light through burning haze. Black scars ragged across barren fields, worried by centuries of plough; colour a luxury the land cannot afford. Concrete becomes the unvaried paint of the landscape: concrete and rusted wire fences enclose nothing but sunbleached dust and shit; concrete canals dry with rubble and stinking death, or, worse, trickling with toxic slag and ill children; concrete block tenements, exposed rebar and flaking paint squalor. Shacks accumulate around any fixed point: a wall, an ancient axed Banyan: corrugated steel, bamboo, nail-studded wood, rotting burlap sack scavenged or stolen and everything thrown together, hastily, before another can claim this space. Piles of filth as large as vehicles, all virulent and teaming. The smashed and forgotten economic projects that may have destroyed a family: an abandoned tanker-truck here, a bloated and dead cow there, an investment lost, we have nothing, we are finished.

So, as the lie of the city crawls in and settles: the Bleeding.

why i loved Mumbai

People seem really surprised that we enjoyed Mumbai so much. But it's pretty simple. Compared to Southern India, Mumbai had clean & wide streets, hidden sewers, garbage collection, beautiful colonial architecture, residents who are used to foreigners (way less stares for me), and McDonald's (4 months of eating basically the same Indian food will make anyone miss MickyD's). Even the street kids and dogs were fatter and cleaner than down south! We were able to chill out in coffee shops, go to the movie theater, visit museums and art galleries. I had wine for the first time in 4 months. I was finally able to find a shop that had the facilities for me to TRY a bra on, at the United Colors of Benetton store, LOL! Basically, we landed in a big city (biggest in the world if you are counting urban core/city proper population), that had food, culture, modern facilities and relatively clean air (thanks to the ocean breeze that blew the pollution inland to the suburbs).

I could have spent a full 10 days exploring the city neighbourhoods. We spent a morning wandering through, Kotachiwadi, the old Christian neighbourhood with winding warren like lane ways. It was incredible. The beautiful two-story wooden homes, mixed in with the concrete block communist style apartments, vendors galore, curious and welcoming residents. The neighbourhood we were staying in, the FORT, was full of old colonial mansions. Huge, beautiful old buildings in varying states of repair. Some had been converted into apartments, many now used for schools, and for some reason a large amount were now Indian and International bank headquarters. The hood had a mix of old and new. We could easily access cheap traditional Indian eateries or visit the fancy mid-range bar for some drinks in the evening. Shilo had a culinary delight---but I will let him tell you about it....I could barely watch him eat it, my stomach was churning, I rare event! Chowpatty beach was just as I expected...full of Indian families and groups of young people in the early evening. A fair was set up, think of our travelling fairs---how wretched and dodgy they are, and multiple this by 1000. It's only saving grace was the rides were a 1/10 of the size, they had to be...it was MAN powered! For the kiddie rides, just one carnie would grab the bars and whip on it, sending the kids flying......faces ranging from sheer terror, nausea and exhilaration. But the mini ferris wheel took 4 guys standing on it, stomping on one bar while simultaneously grabbing the overhead bar and hauling downwards. The riders would almost tip out of their seats.

Mumbai was incredibly expensive. We could still find deals, but the modern restaurants, bars, and shops were priced equivalent if not more than at home. Our budget double from the South. But we weren't being too frugal either...We shared a beer at the "place to be seen at" in Mumbai, a posh open air rooftop hotel lounge. White leather chairs and sofas around glass coffee tables, swift, curt service and prices to match, but the view was great and we got to eat all the potatoe chips we wanted! An apartment in the downtown core of Mumbai is more expensive than in Manhattan. YUP, you heard me. There are some ultra rich folks living amongst the slum dwellers. Over 50% of Mumbai's population lives in slums...so its not all shits and giggles, but we sure enjoyed ourselves!


Our hood!

Our hotel...we thought it was closed for renos at first!

Me talking with one of the locals, he is explaining what the residents are drying in the sun and what they use them for. The ladies called me in and showed me how they cook this certain type of lentils.

Quaint Kotachiwadi home.

Kotachiwadi.

Garbage collection, Indian style.

The cinema we went to, art deco galore!

The freaky ferris wheel. In this shot, they are loading the seats so there are only two guys standing near the middle to turn the thing.

Chowpatty beach at sunset, the lumps in the sand are garbage---don't get to excited, this is STILL India, folks. The sea water here is literally TOXIC. No swimming or even toe dipping for us, but it didn't stop the locals!