Celebrating Rakhi in Jodhpur

The tuk tuk arrived to take me to the bus station shortly before sunrise and dropped me off amidst a small crowd of disheveled locals, who kept shooting sideways glances at me as if I didn't belong there. Close to 6am, the alleged departure time of my bus, a grimy white one that resembled the sort you see in photos with excess passengers sitting on the roof pulled up, and the men at the ticket office yelled, "Jodhpur!" I leapt forward and got on. The passenger behind me, a Good Samaritan of sorts, asked to see my ticket, peering at me and then back at the piece of paper. He shook his head.

"Next one." 

I descended and resumed waiting. Six am came and went, so I began to worry. At twenty past I approached the ticket counter, where an older gentleman assured me that it would be there soon. Finally, a Volvo like the chartered buses that used to shuttle us between hotel and stadium when I was a cheerleader arrived. The fruit-seller I'd been standing next to indicated that this was the right one. I took my seat, shivering slightly under the blast of the AC. I could have stayed on the other bus, I suppose, but it would have been a much different experience. 

I called the guest house when I arrived, which dispatched one of the family's sons to pick me up. I was expecting a car or a tuk tuk, but instead he showed up on his motorbike, waving aside my doubt and placing my small rolling suitcase behind him and instructing me to get on. I mean, seeing as families frequently share the same bike with (at least) two people behind the driver and maybe a toddler up in the front near the handlebars, I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised.

As we wove through traffic he turned and explained that it was the day of the Rakhi festival to celebrate brothers and sisters. And one of the main traditions was to fly kites. When I think kites I think of a former babysitter taking my brother and me to Gas Works Park, where we would run down the big hill to get the contraptions up in the air. I was curious about this kite flying business, because in the middle of a major Indian city there is no such space for frolicking.

Just in front of the guest house was a shop selling kites - most not much larger than an iPad and all extremely fragile-looking; the thin paper stretched tight over bamboo frames. He indicated for me to go up to the rooftop terrace, where there were many boys playing very loud music. Where were all the sisters, I wondered.

I was joined shortly after by some other female guests, but overall the atmosphere was like that of an awkward middle school dance. The boys and the girls maintained their distance, except when one of us wanted to try flying a kite, in which case the boys were more than happy to help. (The kites were light enough that to get them airborne all it took was a toss, some wind, and an expertly timed jerk of the string). The music was too loud to talk, yet the afternoon too early and everyone too sober to dance.

But still, despite the aural seizure induced by our music competing with the speakers on the neighboring rooftop, it was quite a lovely sight to see the sky dotted with bits of brightly colored paper.

Picturesque Panoramas in Udaipur

I had a lot of anxiety heading to Udaipur because getting there from Jaipur required taking an overnight train. I'd been fortunate not to have any bad experiences in India, but I'd read online that it wasn't uncommon for single female travelers to be rudely awoken by being groped by a stranger. Not to mention I didn't have a cable/bike lock to prevent my luggage from being taken while I slept. But the train was over an hour late, so after agonizing in the first class waiting room, by the time I boarded I was more than ready to pass out.

I locked my suitcase to the underside of the compartment's fold-out table (the combo lock I brought with me from Paris that's proven too big for most hostel lockers came in handy after all) and curled up in an upper berth bunk facing the wall with one arm looped through the straps of my purse. I slept surprisingly well. When I awoke around 7am and descended from my bunk to look out the window, I saw dense greenery somewhere between a forest and jungle passing by.

From the policemen outside the train station forcing the horde of waiting auto drivers back (literally - one of them was brandishing a cane), I could tell Udaipur was different from the previous cities. It was (marginally) cleaner, more touristy (I hadn't seen this many white people since leaving Istanbul), and the locals were friendlier and less leery.

My guest house was located in a quieter section of the historical center, with panoramic views of the city palace across the lake and monsoon palace perched atop a hill in the distance. Sitting in the rooftop restaurant with a cup of masala tea, I felt relaxed for the first time since arriving in India.

Part of me wished I had more time in the so-called White City but, as my friend in Delhi had said, you can cover pretty much everything in a day. Below, some highlights.

1. City Palace. You can see this massive cream-colored complex looming over the lake, and on the inside it's just as grand as you'd expect it to be - tranquil courtyards, intricate mosaics, amazing views, etc. Inside the main gate you can purchase a separate ticket for the boat ride that leads you to...

2. Jag Mandir. One of two main islands on Lake Pichola. The other, the white Taj Lake Palace designed to look as though it merely floats on the surface of the water, has been completely converted into a luxury hotel (30,000 rupees per night, I'm told), and is therefore off limits to non-guests. Jag Mandir, on the other hand, has a fancy restaurant, lovely garden, and what used to be a temple.

3. Bagore ki Haveli Museum. I got seriously creeped out being one of only a few visitors present on the afternoon I went. Case in point: a room full of nothing but Rajasthani puppets in all their mute, inanimate glory and a gallery of different types of turbans displayed on rows upon rows of model heads. The building used to be a palace, so I admired the architecture and design more than any particular exhibit.

4. Monsoon Palace. The royals constructed this palace atop a hill overlooking the city to escape from the uncomfortable monsoon season climate. Nowadays the surrounding area has been repurposed as a nature preserve and the palace itself reduced to mere viewpoint - albeit a pretty spectacular one. Vestiges of its grandeur remain in the facade but, as one tourist warned me as she descended the stairs from the upper level, "Don't touch the walls - they're disgusting!" True enough, there were many odd stains and a lingering stench. Blood or shit? Animal or human? To be honest, these are questions I've often asked myself since arriving in India. Regardless, this was one of my favorite places in the city. Many monkeys make their home in the hills, and are fun to watch scampering about the grounds. And if you stand near the edge of the sunset terrace, you can hear the melodic horns of trucks and buses reverberating up the hills as they make their way through the valley roads.

5. Lake Pichola. There are various points where you can go down to the water (just near the museum is a popular spot) but, as in Morocco, I only ever saw boys and men stripping down to go for a dip in the water. While they swam and splashed around, women did laundry the old-fashioned way nearby - wetting the clothes in the lake water, then beating the cloth with a wooden paddle. I handed my dirty laundry over for same-day service, and couldn't help but wonder if that was how it was washed. I didn't really care though if that was the case, since when I got it back the clothes smelled much better than when I first gave them over.

The rest of the photos to be uploaded soon to Flickr! 

Cooking in...Rajasthan

Despite the diversity and richness of Indian cuisine, I've been playing it disappointingly safe when it comes to what to eat. My itinerary was so tightly packed that any kind of food poisoning or GI issue would effectively mean missing out on an entire city (or having an awfully uncomfortable bus/train ride). However, this didn't mean I couldn't learn a thing or two in the kitchen. 

In Udaipur, I took a private cooking class from the matriarch of an Indian family while her eldest son translated. No recipes - just me scribbling notes. It felt a lot like being back in cooking school. 

Masala Tea

(serves 1)

- 1/2 C water

- 1 t assam tea

- 1 t masala tea

- sugar to taste

Heat all ingredients, bringing to a boil. Add milk if desired. Strain into tea cup. Serve.

Spiced Potatoes

- 4 small potatoes, boiled, peeled and diced

- 2 small onions, sliced

Heat 2 T peanut oil in a pan on med-high heat. Add a pinch of cumin seeds and hing (asafoetida). Then add the onions and sautee for 1-2 minutes. 

Next, add the potatoes with a generous pinch of salt and about 1/4 t ground turmeric. Stir.

Finally, add 1/4 t red chili powder, 1/2 t ground coriander and a dash of garam masala.

Dal

- 1 small onion, minced

- 1 C lentils, rinsed

- 2-3 cloves of garlic, crushed

Heat 2 T of peanut oil on med-high heat in a pot. Add a dash of hing, half a cinnamon stick, 2 cloves, 5 pepper corns and the onion. Stir and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add the garlic.

Next, prepare the spices in a small bowl: 1/4 t each salt, red chili powder, ground turmeric and garam masala and 1 t ground coriander. Add a little water to form a paste, then add to the pot.

At this point add tomatoes if desired, and cook for 1-2 minutes. Add the lentils and water (1 C lentils : 4 C water). Cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes (if you don't have a pressure cooker use more water and cook longer).

Pullav

- 1 C basmati rice

- 1 medium potato, peeled and diced

- 1 small onion, diced

- 1 C peas

- Whole spices: 1/2 bay leaf, 1 star anise, 1 cardamom pod, 1 T anise seeds, 2 cloves, 5 pepper corns, 1/2 cinnamon stick

- Ground spices: 1/2 t garam masala, 1 t salt, dash of water

Heat 3 T peanut oil in a pot. Add the whole spices, followed by the onion. Stir.

Next add the potatoes and peas and the ground spices. Stir and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add the rice and water (1 C rice : 2 C water). Cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes. (Again, if you're not using a pressure cooker, use 3 C of water and cook for longer).

Chapati

- 250 g flour (I would use a mix of all-purpose and whole wheat)

- 1 t salt

- water

Combine the flour and salt in a bowl. Gradually add water and mix with your hands until it forms a tough dough. Knead, and drizzle with a little oil.

Pinch off a small piece of dough and roll it into a ball. Coat with flour. Roll out into a circle about 1/2 cm thick. Cook on a hot griddle, flipping periodically to make sure it's evenly cooked on both sides. 

Potato Parantha

Prepare dough for chapati. For the filling, mash a boiled and peeled potato with a dash of ground cumin and chili powder. Roll out a piece of dough as above, then brush with oil and place a spoonful of potato in the center. Crimp the edges inward like a dumpling, then press flat and coat with flour. Roll out again, carefully so the filling doesn't spill out. Cook as above.

Sweet Parantha

Roll out a piece of chapati dough. Brush with melted butter, then sprinkle with sugar. Seal and roll out as above, then cook.

Adventures with First World Technology

Buying a SIM Card

Always bring your passport when shopping for a SIM card in a foreign country. In most places this will be enough, but not so in India. Ever since terrorist attacks coordinated by unregistered SIMs, the government has really cracked down on purchases. For visitors this means providing details of accommodation and confirmation that you are indeed a guest. My Airbnb hosts weren't home when I arrived in Delhi so that was out. I figured I could get one later, but that was before I knew how hard it was to get around the city - even when you know your exact destination. Luckily I saw an opportunity an Agra - the son of the owner of the guesthouse who had been not so subtly trying to hit on me. *

So I asked and, of course, he knew a guy who could take care of it. Not one of the carrier boutiques, but a somewhat dodgy electronics store buried in the main bazar. The proprietor, a portly middle-aged man whom all he customers called "Uncle," informed me that he had a SIM card that was already activated.

Side note: if you Google "buying a SIM card in India," you'll find that after procuring the actual card, getting it activated can be just as much of a pain in the ass. For the lucky few, activation will occur within mere hours of purchasing; for others it can take days. A post on one travel forum warned against third party vendors, like Uncle's shop, because you never knew if the SIM card came off of a dead body. I wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, but I was desperate. So I said yes.

Uncle didn't have the right size SIM card cutter (Apple obnoxiously introduced the nanosim with the release of the iPhone 5), so one of his poor minions spent a good twenty minutes cutting it down to size with an exacto knife. 

In the meantime, I took in my surroundings. Passersby were staring at the owner's son and me (I can't decide whether I get more or less attention if I'm with a local versus by myself), just as they had when we rode in on his motorbike. The guy had the disposition and personality such that I'm sure he relished the attention.

Finally the SIM card was ready. I inserted it into the phone, half-expecting it not to work. But it did, thankfully, and I haven't had any contact from the local authorities so I guess it's legitimate.

Uncle urged me to destroy it once I leave India, as it's (allegedly) activated under his name and he worries that otherwise it may fall into the wrong hands. Instead, I think I'll keep it as a souvenir.

The Limits of Google Translate

On my last day in Jaipur, I was sitting in the cool darkness of Birla Mandir temple when my driver asked where I wanted to go next. 

"You know, I really need to go to a pharmacy," I said, gesturing at my bug bite-ridden arms. 

"Okay," he replied, saying that he knew a place near a main hospital where there were many such shops.

We hopped in the tuk tuk and a few minutes later he pulled over in front of a row of stalls, much like the food vendors you might see at an outdoor music festival only these were all pharmacies. There weren't many other customers around, so as I approached I could sense all the salespeople trying to establish eye contact and beckon me over.

I made my way towards one at random, only to find that none of the employees really spoke English. I asked for insect repellent. Confusion ensued. (I had this same problem in Istanbul when I was trying to find a product to clean my ear piercings with).

The most senior person on staff looked me in the eye and shook his head, as if to say, "No, I'm not going to deal with you foreigner."

So I went to the next stall over, and tried a different tactic. Pulling out my phone, I opened Google Translate, selected Hindi and typed in "insect repellent." The phone made its way around to all the staff, who each scrutinized the text without seeming to understand. Maybe the Hindi function is still in beta. 

Finally, after a lot of gesticulating, I got my point across and walked away with some mosquito-repelling cream. Not the bug spray I was hoping for, but under the circumstances I'll take what I can get.  

*On my first night there he offered me a couple beers, which I gladly accepted, although it quickly became evident that he intended to use the alcohol as a pretext to make a move on me. Nothing happened (he grossly underestimated my tolerance; a byproduct of attending an American university is the ability to down beer like it's water), but still I figured he owed me for his untoward advances.

Jaipur: Forts, Palaces, Astronomy and Monkeys in the Pink City

I may not necessarily agree with it, but I've learned that hiring a driver for the day - be it autorickshaw or air-conditioned sedan - makes for a much more hassle-free sightseeing experience. Freelance drivers lurk outside all of the main tourist haunts, and because we all know how terrible I am at saying no, it's a relief to be able to make a beeline from the exit to the waiting tuk tuk. Yeah, he'll probably still suggest that you check out some shops that he knows (at least the one I've been using for the last two days was honest and told me upfront that if I bought anything from the textile factory he would receive a gift for his mother), but it's worth it to know that you'll get to the right destination in a relatively timely fashion. 

Jaipur is located at the base of the rolling green Aravalli Hills, where the three forts from the imperial age overlook the city. Parts of it bask in luscious, sumptuous glory, like the old city palace that inspired the moniker "Pink City," but squint and you'll see evidence of underdevelopment that tarnish otherwise postcard-perfect pictures. My driver took me through a lot of backstreets to avoid the perpetually congested main roads and, again, it was both eye-opening and nose-burning. The piles of trash "recycled" on the spot by roaming pigs and cows; the squalid living conditions. As an American, with our 99% vs. 1% issues, I shouldn't be harping on socioeconomic disparity, but the income gap I've seen in India is beyond astronomical. Urban poverty is something I've thought about a lot on this trip, since in so many places I've been to it's very much in your face. More to come on that later.

For now, enjoy some of the sites Jaipur has to offer. 

City Palace 

A walled complex with some beautiful old buildings, a couple of which have been converted into museums - one for textiles and another for weapons. 

Hawa Mahal 

The Wind Palace. My driver requested that I not linger too long here because there isn't a parking lot and a traffic cop monitors vehicles that try to linger, but I was marooned during a sudden onslaught of rain. 

Jantar Mantar 

Easily one of my favorite places. It's basically like a sculpture garden where each "installation" is an ancient astronomical device measuring everything from time to angles between objects in the sky. More information here. 

Am(b)er Palace 

A beautiful old fortress sitting midway up a hill above Maota Lake. I went on India's Independence Day so it was super crowded. 

 Galta Ji

The so-called monkey temple because on top of the hill reside some thousands of monkeys. A kid followed me up the path, saying he would "protect" me from the animals (not necessary because they are accustomed to human presence). I made the mistake of wearing sandals; the road is covered in all kinds of fecal matter plus it had just rained. 

Nahargarh Fort 

This fort sits atop the hill and has panoramic views of Jaipur. To get there you have to go up, up, up a windy one-lane road that the drivers manage, with lots of honking, to make function in both directions. Though there are ramparts, its function was more of a residence - the various apartments still have wonderfully preserved wall paintings.

Jagarh Fort 

Not far from Nahargarh Fort, Jagarh Fort is more an actual fortress where you might come across old cannons. You can pretty much walk all the way around atop the ramparts with lovely views on all sides.

Gatore ki Chhatriyan

A spontaneous visit, thanks to my driver who noticed that I love to take photos. I don't think many people know about the temple because it was almost empty. 

Jal Mahal 

Udaipur (my next stop) is the city known for lake palaces, but this one in Jaipur is still nice to admire. 

Birla Mandir 

Beautiful white marble Hindu temple. Upon going inside, I learned that Hidus have something very similar to that wafer Catholics eat (sorry, I'm not religious so that's the best explanation I can do).

Albert Hall Museum 

There are nice exhibits inside, but for me the building itself was the main attraction. 

Lots more of Jaipur on Flickr! 

Mixed Messages

 "It's okay, I just want to help you."

"You can trust me!" 

How many times have I heard claims like these immediately followed by something exceedingly dodgy? Like when I arrived at the New Delhi train station and an official-looking guy took one glance at my ticket and told me that my train was delayed by nine hours - but - I could book a new ticket at the tourist office just around the corner. Right. Because a problem with the train isn't something I can resolve, you know, at the train station? I don't think so, asshole.

It's not my intent to unfairly generalize about the people of India and Morocco, because I'm sure that there are plenty of kind and generous individuals (and I have met a few), but as a tourist the sad truth is that a lot of the people you encounter are just... Let me put it this way: I don't consider myself a violent person but in the last few weeks I've fantasized a lot about punching people in the face.  

Here's another example. I wound up at a handicrafts emporium in Delhi after a tuk tuk driver told me that the market I originally wanted to go to was closed (I checked later; it wasn't), and purchased a silk scarf for about 1000 rupees (~$20). The driver clearly earned commission (the salespeople took note of who brought in which customer; there is something disgustingly admirable about such an abject lack of subtlety) but I guess I didn't spend enough because after a little argument he let me off in a random part of central Delhi. Hardly my idea of a fun afternoon.

A few days later when I got to Agra, the owner of the guesthouse assured me that, in his family-run place, I would be safe from people trying to get at my money. Well for one thing, during checkout my tab from the restaurant was slapped with a 15% tax that was not advertised anywhere on the menu. Not to mention that hours before I left for the Taj Mahal, he warned me to stay away from the vendors near the monument, and in the same breath offered to show me his "friend's" textiles store and his "uncle's" jewelry shop. Face. Palm. Morocco was the same; if you took what people said literally, then everyone was somehow related and/or best friends - a social network of gigantic proportions tied together by money. 

But I digress. The reason I brought Agra up is that, at the textiles shop (which I consented to visit because really there is nothing to do there except see the monuments), I was presented with silk scarves ranging in price from 250-400 rupees. Recalling that awful experience in Delhi, I thought, well, shit - either the saleslady at the emporium was a real hustler (probable) or the scarves I was now fingering in Agra weren't actually silk (possible). How am I supposed to know what real silk looks and feels like? It's definitely not something I tend to shop for at home.

Next we went to the jewelry store, because jewels are a specialty of Agra. (But are they really??) As per usual, the salesman blathered on about quality this, good investment that. I was only half-listening, though, because as I gazed at all the sparkling rings and pendants, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was lying about everything.

It reminded me of when we learned about connoisseurship in art history class. The way my TA broke it down is that, although it does take a certain level of expertise, connoisseurship - in practice - relies more on a sort of gut feeling. 

Take wine, for example. There is a lot of evidence to suggest that wine tasting is bullshit, but even the scientific studies tend to point to one thing - that it all depends on how the subjects are primed. Tourists like me, who come from places where no one actually makes anything for themselves anymore because we outsource the labor to other countries that we then visit for vacation, are like sitting ducks. Tell me a story about how your family has been in the industry for generations, still making things the traditional way, and I'll believe it. Or, rather, that's how I was until the leather flats I had purchased in Fez fell apart after several wears. Call it naïveté or a general faith and trust in humanity, but whatever it is has long since gone.  

Nowadays I take everything with skepticism, which is harsh because I know that there are great things to be found. But getting to them through all the white noise generated by the people trying to sell you products and services at every turn is exhausting, and I'm over it. I've been wrong before about who I can trust, so now I choose to trust no one.

And to the next driver to give me a ride: I will pay you extra not to take me shopping. 

On the Tourist Circuit in Agra

The Taj Mahal opens at dawn, which is to say that is probably the best time to go. Because when I arrived around 7am it was already fairly crowded. Sure you had to wait a bit at the most scenic points and dodge tourists with your camera, but it truly does live up to wonders-of-the-world status.  

Afterward I returned to the guesthouse for breakfast before the driver came and whisked me off to the rest of Agra's main sites: 

- The so-called mini Taj Mahal (tomb of the grandfather of Mumtaz Mahal, for whom the famous one was built) 

- Mehtab Bagh, a lovely garden located across the river from the Taj

- Agra Fort, an impressive walled complex featuring numerous palaces. 

I have to say, though, that being stuck in traffic going to and from all these places was just as fascinating as seeing the sites themselves.  

In Delhi I had been warned that Agra is a bit of a dump (during the actual conversation I think the person used more colorful language to describe it)  dotted with these magnificent monuments. It's true.

Cruising around you'll see makeshift houses as rickety as something the first little pig built that got destroyed by the Big Bad Wolf; vagrants with obvious wasting diseases; skeletons of buildings that are either collapsing or were abandoned midway through construction; and cows - small herds making their way down main avenues as rickshaws, motorbikes and cars swerve to avoid them. It's a case study in problems with tourism. Because amidst all this poverty you also have 5-star hotels with tall iron gates and armed guards.  

Obviously rupees are pouring into the area thanks to all the visitors, but on the street you can see just how many people aren't reaping any of the economic benefits. The foreigners just come to kick back in air-conditioned suites and cars, blinders on with their eyes fixed straight ahead on the pretty monuments, oblivious to the real Agra around them.