There were blue skies
when I arrived in Delhi this morning, lit with the golden light of an early
morning, and filled with a cool crisp air that must have been swept in from a
forgotten winter. But, that’s not the blue and gold I’m thinking of, because Rajasthan
has brought me both - in abundance. And with it came a missing peace of India, I
didn’t even know I was searching for.
A 17-hour train journey brought Lauren and I to Jaisalmer, where we would reunite with our VC crew for a bit of exploring and Pesach celebrations. Hopping off the train with our Jaipur counterparts, it was immediately evident that something different was in the air. For one, it was about 105 degrees. And we were in the middle of the desert. Spring has arrived and Delhi’s pushing 100 most days, but Jaiselmer seemed hotter. It was also calm; calm and quite, two words that some days I have to fight tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of from my vantage point in the nations capital.
With a bit of force, we managed to fend off the crowd of
auto drivers and guesthouse promoters that descended the second we exited the
station, and made our way to our lodgings on the outskirts of town. There were
naps and showers and food and, once the 6 that would arrive that day were
assembled, we found our way to Jaislamer fort, the old city, the heart of it
all, and a brilliant relic of a time when the city was a key feature of the
Silk Road trading route.
Now, I know I am not in Arabia. And I know that the stereotypes burned into my brain by countless rounds of Disney VHS replay action have probably done irreconcilable harm to my perception skillz. But, all that being said, I couldn’t help but think about hopping around those sweet rooftops from Aladdin (all while outsmarting angry shop owners, wooing a prince, and high-five-ing my spunky monkey friend... obvi) when gazing out over the golden rooftops of the business, guest houses, homes and temples crammed like a puzzle within the fort walls. The crew took some quality “snaps” (If I here “One snap! One snap!” from one more man between the ages of 13-45, I might just snap myself…and really, no one wants to see that happen) over looking the city, and wound our way through a series of small roads and staircases until we found ourselves at a roof top restaurant. The western fare was seriously salty (should have known better…) but the view was killer, the moon was bright, and the lassis were sweet. Life was good.
The next day was spent wandering the city, indulging in some of the most pleasant shopping any of us had done in India, and checking out the royal palace. One of my favorite parts about the city was the beautiful architectural details and ornamentation the covered both the ancient haveli’s and what seemed like average windows and door frames. You know I’m a sucker for a good stone carving…
The afternoon was spent rounding up some pesach shiz and,
unfortunately, assessing the health of our 7th companion who had
fallen ill en route from Udaipur. Not that many of us could provide much
advice she didn’t know herself, homegirl is the medical professional among us,
but being the future (or present) Jewish parents that we are, we each tried to do a
little something to help the situation. I for one tried to force-feed her a
banana.
The evening brought us again to a rooftop within the fort
walls, primed to celebrate the first night of Pesach. For only the third time
in my life, I was missing Seder with the fam and, as always, was a little
bummed. While nothing can replace the space an Albun/Rap/Singer Seder fills in
my heart, I will go on the record and say this is the best fill-in I’ve had to
date. We had organized a rooftop to ourselves earlier in the day, scrounged up
some KFP noms and the best Seder plate we could come up with, and even
convinced a lovely 20-year-old Norwegian to join the festivities. Our resident
momma, Miki, lead us through a killer Seder, and her husband Marty rapped the
entire story of Passover (may have to bring this one home with me). There was a
rocking round of dayenu, which lead a woman on the next roof to assume it was
someone’s birthday and enthusiastically join in the clapping, 3 Israelis M&M had met at an Internet
café eventually joined the party, and Chad
Gad Ya, albeit in English, even made an appearance. By the end of the
night, my belly hurt from laughing. And again, life was good.
It hard to say what could live up to a good Chad Gad Ya on the roof tops, but I’d say we did our best. After a morning exploring the elaborate Jain temples (I literally know nothing about Jainism, but they looked sort of like Thai Wats carved out of sandstone) and a check-in with our sick companion, we found ourselves crammed in the back of a jeep, bumping along a desert road, singing Bob Marley with an English couple, and heading straight for Pakistan (we didn’t make it all the way there…promise). We stopped for tea with the family of our guide, Marty hugged it out with some of his goats, and Alisa played Frisbee with the kids, before stopping at a village further out, and transferring our tushies to a small heard of camels. One of the guides also tied Alisa’s and my scarves into turbans. Casual.
We rode said camels for about an hour and a half, which was
just enough to get us to small grouping of dunes. There was chai and relaxation
for the crew, and a bit free roaming for the camels, followed by candles, miraculously cold
drinks, dinner, and water-barrel-drum-backed Rajasthani singing as the moon
rose in a star filled sky. An added bonus of it being low season (remember, it
was 105 degrees) was that our group, along with a small crew of fantastic
guides were the only ones in sight. Eventually mattresses and blankets were
grouped atop one of the dunes and, after a quick giggle fest at our end of the
camp, the quite night consumed us. Did I mention life was good?
Not pausing to wash the sand out of our hair, the next day the crew,
which now included our recovered companion, caught an AC Jeep (assah!) headed East for the Blue City.
And blue it was. Jodhpur, perhaps my favorite city in
India thus far, was alive and vibrant, and even crowded, without feeling
threatening. And, with 50% of the buildings stained a brilliant blue, the visual
effect was simply stunning.
Originally this auspicious privilege was afforded only to Brahmins (the
highest caste) but has since been expanded to all those in the city interested
in the supposed temperature regulation and insect repelling effect of the
color. As I said the exterior decor, combined with what many call the most
impressive fort in India, and a fantastic guesthouse location, made for a
pretty killer view.
Jodhpur brought with it two days of serious “marketing” a few hours in Mehrangarh (truly the most impressive fort we’ve seen, and the most organized, informative, and pleasant fort/palace/museum experience to date) and a few hours on the rooftop gazing out at the blue jigsaw puzzle expanding in all directions. It also brought the unexpected culmination of the 18-day women’s festival Gangaur (what up ladies!!) in which the women parade and dance through the streets, and half dress in Rajasthani drag and hit the men with sticks. The latter is supposed to ensure the man will marry within the next year. In a country where it is not so easy being a woman (foreign or otherwise) it was amazing to see so many women celebrating together seemingly without a care what the men thought. Each of us was pulled into the street to participate in the revelry at one point or another, an older woman smeared my hand with henna without explanation, and a man flat out insisted we each take one of the kulfi treats that he was passing out children participating in the festivities. Little did we know we were in for two evenings of full on Indian-Hindu-festival madness.
Thanks for the ride Jodhpur. You, my friend, most certainly did not disappoint.
3 more weeks in India,
See you on the other side,
Emily
