When I went back to pick up my tailor made outfit, it fit perfectly. Don’t know where I am ever going to wear it, except maybe around the house, but I love it. I have never had anything tailor made for me and the whole outfit with pants, top, and matching scarf was about $45.

Deepo, our driver, arrived and we toasted our anniversary with the Indian Whiskey he brought and some snacks Manu made for us, peanut masala, and vegetable pakoras.

Bikaner

We headed out about 9:30 after Manu made us one last Indian breakfast.

The ride to Bikaner was about 175 miles. In the US, it would have taken us under 3 hours. This trip took 6 hours Indian time…the horrible roads were the main problem. I am sure I am going to do a poor job of explaining it….imagine riding down a fairly nice 2 lane road; up ahead, a sign says “Diversion” and that sign is propped on top of a huge pile of dirt in the middle of your lane and there is a stone and dirt path that leads around that huge pile of dirt. And this happens about every 2 miles! Add to that all the cows and sheep in the road, the amazing amount of trucks, and huge number of motorcycles and scooters. I inferred in the Delhi post that the rules of the road don’t exist here but I was wrong. Everyone DOES know which side of the road they are supposed to be on. That’s it!  There is no such thing as passing or no passing zones; you simply honk your horn, telling the person you are going to pass to watch out, then you pull into the other lane, doesn’t matter if there is someone coming at you head on or not. You just go ahead and pass and the other people have to deal with it. And multiply this by everyone on the road. We saw some very close misses today, and a couple of them involved us! Don’t ever let anyone talk you into driving in India; none of us have the hutzpah to do it! We would be dead in minutes! And the even more amazing thing is no one gets upset; someone is in your lane coming straight at you and you have to veer off onto the shoulder to avoid a head on collision and they just do it…no yelling, no finger signs, nothing. I have never seen anything like it. Next time you grab a cab in a big city, go with the India guy cause he knows how to drive!

The photo on the left is a small pick up sized truck loaded, and I do mean LOADED, with grain, probably millet.

We toured Junagarh Fort in the afternoon. This fort was built around the same time as the Jaislamer fort (1530’s) but is so much more decorated and elaborate. It really is an architectural masterpiece.

Then on to the National Center for Camel Research. We saw tons of camels and were amazed at their bodies’ specialties: such as a hard pad on their chest to pad them when they “sit” in the sand. Also, they totally lay down on their sides, which we did not know they did. In one corral, there were probably 40 camels, feeding, and there wasn’t a sound….they are a very quiet animal. We were looking forward to having a camel milk shake but they did not have any so we settled for a bag of pasteurized camel’s milk. It has an earthy taste and it is quite salty; it actually made me thirsty.

Bikaner is an interesting place in that it has some beautiful homes and lots of decorative fences and berms between the lanes planted with trees. But it all looks like it was done 50 years ago and no one has done anything since. It also has some of the cleanest shops I have seen here, then 50 feet down the road is a huge pile of garbage.

Our stay at the Hotel Sagar was good. It reminds me of the British Empire India. Dinner was a mushroom deep dish pizza for Buzz and a spinach and cheese baked casserole for me and they were both quite good.

 

Pushkar

On the way to Pushkar, we pass the Karni Mata (or the Rat Temple). This is where 20,000 rats call home and are worshipped as ancestors. Many Hindus make pilgrimages here. We were just going to look at it from the outside and that is all I did but Buzz went in with Deepoo. The whole big thing is you have to go in barefoot! Buzz said it wasn’t too bad as only some of the rats were awake. He did not go in too far and the excrement on the floors had not had a chance to accumulate because it was early morning. He was a little freaked out when a big cockroach ran into his foot. I drew the line on going in for 3 reasons: 1). I hate rats 2). Because I hate rats, I was afraid I would squeal or shudder or make a face and insult those around me and I did not want to do that and 3). I hate rats.

Deepoo had not been to Pushkar for a number of years so he wasn’t sure how bad the roads would be but they were actually better, overall, than the roads from Jaiselmar to Bikaner. It took us about 6 hours to go about 200 kilometers (125 miles.) We stopped for lunch at the Puskar Garden Holiday Restaurant, a local place and it was delicious. The Kashmiri Dam Aloo and Paneer Butter Masala were excellent. We never know what to order when we had gone to an Indian restaurant in the past….we are starting to get a handle a little bit on what is what, although we have been in Rajistan for the  last week and and they have their own cuisine. Side note: so far Thai food is much spicier than Indian food. One night we went ordered Stromboli (“falded” pizza!) and it was delicious and a “Hello to the King” dessert.

Pushkar is one of the holiest cities in India with over 100 temples, one of the only temples dedicated to Brahmin in India, and a holy lake that some of Ghandi’s ashes were spread in.

But what can I say except…. Pushkar is a dump. It is filthy and dusty and disgusting in general. The Brahmin temple requires your shoes to be taken off, which is the standard here and Thailand, but then you have to make a donation to get them back. They said, “you have to pay for your shoes.” And I wanted to say, “I already paid for them when I bought them!” So we gave them 10 rupees which is about $.15. Then I was not allowed to bring in my camera. I had to put it in a locker and then I had to pay to get it out. Another 10 rupees. Then they give you flowers that you honor Ganesha with in the temple and then float the rest in the lake. So we walked a really long way through a million vendors to the lake. They take your flowers and put them on a tray and add red powder, rice, sugar, and a string to it (each has a meaning but I don’t remember now) and then they separated Buzz and I and a “priest” sat down with each of us and blessed us and talked to us about karma and life and had us repeat a bunch of stuff after him. I purposely messed up a bunch of the words and tried not to laugh when I thought of all the ridiculous things he could be asking me to repeat (at the end of the day, all the priests getting together and comparing what they got the stupid foreigners to say: I am an idiot, my country sucks, I am ugly, etc.) He then starts talking about donations and makes a suggestion of $50 US and then asks how much I plan on donating. Buzz said “nothing” and I said “I don’t know. I just want to go float my flowers with my husband” (who was already doing his) and I left. The whole way back up the stairs there are donation boxes and one of the kids that had helped us came back to us and was asking why we were not donating anything. We were supposed to “buy” our shoes back again and we said no way and took them and left.  Man, what a racket!

We tried to go to another temple which is at the top of a large hill but the cable car transport was down for 2 days for maintenance and it was too far to walk. We then went to the other side of the lake and people and sunset watched.

On the way into town I had seen some mechanical presses running and found out that they were pressing sugar cane for a drink. So we went and found one of the vendors and watched him press our sugar cane. They mix it with lemon and salt to cut the sweet just a bit. It was brown; I really expected it to be clear or white. So we both took just a few sips hoping we wouldn’t regret it (no ill effects reported). It was delicious! And it is several hours later and so far, so good.

Buzz had wanted to meet some woodworkers while on this trip and the second chance came in Pushkar. We passed a shop with wooden chairs all over the sidewalk with several people working on them as well as other pieces. So we pulled over and Buzz took his phone which had pictures of several of his projects up to show them. They all gathered around and communicated the best they could. They seemed more interested in what they could see of his shop, and Buzz was interested in theirs as well. It was not a long “conversation”, but it was fun for all.

The hotel we are staying in is pretty old and wrecked but it seems clean. Well, what do you want for $15! It seems the whole town is filled with Israeli tourists and they have the reputation of being loud. We slept ok because our AC was so noisy it blocked out the rest of the party noises but Deepoo who slept in the drivers area, did not sleep. Pushkar, being a Muslim town, supposedly allows no alcohol but we were offered beer twice just walking down the street and you will never convince me that the guy we saw at breakfast was not hungover and maybe still drunk!

Looking forward to getting out of Pushkar but the drive to Delhi is something like 8 hours….yuck.

The beggars we have encountered everywhere we have gone are never ending: women, children, all begging for food or money. If we gave something to everyone who asked, we would be stuck here totally broke. They even come up to your car window when you are stuck in traffic and knock on the window repeatedly, saying please, food….you really have to become very hard….or you will be a sobbing mess. We have inquired and been told the name of 2 charities that are well know and reputable in India that help these people. We plan on donating when we get back to the states: Save Our Souls and Cry. We invite you to join us if you so choose.

Sensory Overload

The only amazing site we saw on the ride from Pushkar to Delhi was a woman as a passenger on a scooter, sitting side saddle in a sari, breastfeeding an infant at about 50 miles per hour!

Deepoo had invited us to his home for dinner before we joined the Gate 1 Tour. On our way to his home, the AC in the car broke and it was cooler with the windows down….during rush hour. The noise, the smells, the dangers: you could not hang your hand or elbow out the window because it would get clipped off…seriously. To say his home is humble is an understatement. It is a cement block building and he rents the second and third floor from his Uncle. There are 2 bedrooms, one for Deepoo and his wife, Nelu (and which also doubles as the refrigerator’s home and the only TV) and a bedroom for their 2 children, their son Love, aged 13 and daughter Ghia, aged 10, and Deepoo’s mother who moved in when her husband died. I did not get a look at the 4 foot square kitchen but I am sure they simply had hot plates, no stove or oven. The bathroom is very dark and is only a pit toilet and a shower head coming out of the wall. There is a dining table wedged in between the bathroom and bedroom with a tablecloth made from some kind of packaging from Kirkland Coffee. Deepoo’s mother made us raita, aloo (roasted potatoes) paneer masala (a “fried” cheese) and poori ( a puffy type bread) and rice pudding. It was all very delicious and not spicy because Deepoo does not like spicy food. After dinner we went up to the rooftop to cool off and saw much of the neighborhood doing the same thing. It’s funny, in the US, we would all have patio furniture up on the roof but no one had even a chair up there. Many people haul up mattresses and blankets and sleep on their roof patio when it is really hot. Deepoo did not have air conditioning but had a large swamp cooler that took up half the small dining area. Then Deepoo showed us his wedding album and his children’s baby albums. Deepoo’s younger brother came over to greet us and to talk to us about how Deepoo had performed as a driver. We were Deepoo’s first customer since he started driving on his own; he had worked for tourist companies for 20 years before this. Deepoo’s brother is better educated and speaks almost perfect English and he is helping Deepoo get set up. Here is a picture of them in the master bedroom (Ghia was not feeling well and is laying down behind her grandmother.)

To say that we were honored to have gone to his house and shared a meal with his family is just not giving this event enough significance. We were so happy to be there and to see how “real” Indians live. We were so honored he brought us to his home. If we had showed him pictures of our house, he would have never understood that in American we are not considered rich and our house was not considered grand. But sitting in his home, Buzz and I felt so guilty for all the luxuries we take for granted everyday.

Then Deepoo drove us to our 5 star hotel to join the tour. And I have to admit, to step out of the craziness and noise of Delhi was a gift. We relished the quiet of our room to relieve some of the sensory overload we experienced today.