12.23.12 - Jaisalmer
Namaste!
So I have been in Jaisalmer for about 10 days. Or maybe more, who knows, time doesn't really exist to me anymore. It's a relatively small desert city in western Rajasthan, in Northwestern India, near the Pakistan border. Not too close, but close enough. I think most tourists travel here, only to stay for a night or two, then take a camel safari into the desert for any number of days, then head back out. But I came here thinking I would spend some time here, as Ricky, Brooke's friend who I traveled the south with in April lives here. I knew he would be busy with work and preparing the Rickshaw Run, http://www.theadventurists.com/the-adventures/rickshaw-run , but thought it would still be nice to be somewhere I wasn't a complete stranger. It has been good, he has been busy but I have met a lot of friends and have been keeping relatively busy.
I decided I might want something to do with my time, so I thought some sort or job would be good. I started working for a camel safari company, answering emails in English, for about an hour a day. Easy enough. But after about a week, I realized I don't like having to be somewhere everyday. I am on holiday, after all. And the Indian way of working is different also. For a job that doesn't seem that time sensitive to me, I was called sometimes later at night for an "important" email, to which I was not willing to rush over to attend. Plus although the owner was a nice guy, I felt that still behind it all there could have been an alterior motive. At the end of the day, it was kinda fun and I can go to the desert whenever I want free of charge.
I've visited a few of the tourist attractions, but mostly been walking around, exploring the city, going to a garden in Bada Bagh about 6 km from the city. I've visited Gadi Sagar Lake, the royal cenotaphs, the empty village Kuldhara....what else? Drank some beer. No camel safari for me yet, but I think I will go out to the sand dunes for New Year's Eve. Which reminds me, Christmas is coming up (which I wouldn't even realize if it weren't for Facebook!)!!!
On one of my first nights at the hotel here, I was sitting on the rooftop when I realized it was 12/12/12 and one of the owners agreed we should have a party later that night! Well to me party means more than 2 people, but whatever. So we had a "mutton party" as they call it here, which I have now come to think of a way to impress a woman. Like "Hey look, I can afford mutton!" It was nice, besides the loads of garlic we put into the recipe, we also put in a few whole garlics which stewed with the meat and later could be eaten by just sucking it out of the shell. It was so awesome! Maybe I have mentioned it before, but I LOVE that I can eat as much garlic as my heart desires and no one will judge me for it. Or even notice. That mixed with the curry, my skin and subsequently my sweat has a distinctively different smell than when I arrived in this fair country. I literally eat it anyway I can, raw, cooked, mashed, whole, I don't care actually. I decided to sleep on the roof that night, which was awesome, although it was a bit cloudy and not many stars were out, it was a great experience. The hotel has a lot of blankets, and warm ones too, as lots of people sleep on the roof, or on the desert. So even though it got pretty cold, I never felt a thing. Good memories for 12/12/12.
The next few days were cloudy and quite cold with the sun never showing it's face. I was pretty excited about the fact that I was able to break out my fluffy down jacket that has been taking up so much space in my luggage that I didn't know if I would ever use. And my hiking boots. One day when the sun finally came back out, I went with Ricky to a farm for lunch. As usual, I had no idea what this would entail but I went with the flow. We took a motorbike to Bada Bagh, about 6 km from the city. In the garden, there is a special spot where different male members of the family go there to cook, sometimes drink and smoke, sometimes play cards. All of the kitchen utensils were missing so we had to resort to cooking behind the village temple. More and more or his family members came and he cooked his specialty, egg curry. We cooked on the fire and someone else made fresh chipatti. It is so great to see how people live and how they cook. I am learning a lot about cooking and I love it. Egg curry is a curry sauce with whole hard boiled eggs. I remember thinking this sounded so weird to me when I first heard about it on my first trip. While it was simmering, I walked to the royal cenotaphs, the cemetery. It is a beautiful place, especially at sunset. Surprisingly there are hardly any tourists there, but I was told that is because they installed rows after rows of wind turbines and it ruined the view. I agree that it changed the landscape and seems odd mixing the antique Indian cemetery structures with modern energy, but who can disagree with green energy?
I return and once the food is ready, we all sit down inside a building nearby, although I do not know it's purpose, and in a communal plate we all sit down and eat with our hands. Of course it's not the first time, and by this point I am almost a pro. Such great food, with real flavors and real people. There is nothing like a home cooked meal prepared on an open fire.
One day I went to Gadi Sagar, a smallish man made lake outside the fort. Either the lake itself, or the gate to enter the lake (not sure which) was built by a famous prostitute. The kings wanted to tear it down because it was a disgrace that a prostitute built it, so she put a Krishna temple inside the gate. The kings couldn't tear it down because in Hindu religion they can't destroy a temple. So it still stands today. It is a good place to relax. After visiting the lake, I went to the cenotaphs again When I returned to the hotel, I realized that I had left my camera somewhere, not sure where exactly. It was my smaller camera, that is old and isn't worth a lot. It had a memory card in it, but not with that many pictures. It was my fault, so it was hard to be too mad. Within a few minutes a guy from a shop called Ricky to say someone sold him a camera and there was a picture of him on it. So it was found! He said he paid 1200 Rupees for it, and I didn't expect him to lose that money so I agreed to pay him that amount to get it back. It would cost a lot more than that (about $24) to replace it. He went to the shop and although this guy was his "friend," once he arrived he told him he actually wanted almost double that amount 2200 Rupees. Not exactly sure what ensued after this, but angry, Ricky called his Tourist Protection Police friends to resolve the matter. The cops demanded he return the camera because it was stolen goods and that a tourist girl was complaining of it being stolen. Of course the shop owner knew the 3 guys who sold him the camera, and the truth came out that he had only paid 500 Rupees and was trying to rip everyone off. The agreement was I had to buy the cops some whiskey (not my agreement actually, as I was at the hotel). So only 500 Rupees later, I have my camera, the police have some whiskey, the shop owner is out of money. Sounds like corruption at it's finest to me. The funniest part is that the next night the cops threw us a "party" thanking me for the whiskey. So they bought rum and their wives brought over a feast complete with dal, bhindi (okra), rice chipatti and flour chapatti, egg curry, and something else I am forgetting. It's funny how this system works.
One of my first days in Jaisalmer I decided I wanted to have some Indian dresses made. Ricky showed me a shop where I could pick out the fabrics and they would take me to a tailor. I'm not finding exactly what I want in this area of India, but I pick out a few different ones that I like. I tell the shop I will have one made, and if I like it I will make the rest. I ask prices, and I am told he cannot discuss prices with me, that he will work it out with Ricky later. I insist that I cannot make any decisions without knowing how much something costs, and he finally decides to tell me. The pries seem high for the fabrics that aren't of great quality. But I figure I can at least get one made. After going to the tailor and getting measured, I'm told to pick it up in a few days. When I do, I realize that it really doesn't fit. It's too big, the shoulder seams are in the wrong place and it hangs horribly. I send it back to the tailor and have her take in the sides and the shoulders. When I pick it up a few days later, I am not totally pleased, but decide it is better than nothing and maybe it will fit better after it is washed once or twice. It's an interesting suit and I am told I look like a hippy. Which is fine. But funny. I had also taken in some dresses to have them refitted, as again they are very ill-fitting dresses that I had made in Jaipur. About a week later, nothing has been done and confusion is running rampant. There are too many people involved and this, I realize, is the way of India. I go to the tailor, I go to the dress shop. I get sent away, nothing is done. I am told different things everyday and I wonder how anything in India ever gets done. Seriously!
I walk around the fort, which is different than other forts I have visited, in that it is more of a tiny city within a city instead of a place where only royalty lived. There are hotels, shops, restaurants, temples and houses. It has quaint extremely narrow streets lined with colorful textiles and souvenirs. I contemplated staying inside the fort, and I did for a few nights. But one thing that tourists are warned about is the negative effect of tourism on the fort. It does not have the infrastructure to support it and apparently it is sinking. A good place to visit though, for sure.
I visited Patwon Ki Haveli, a beautiful old Haveli outside of the the fort. Amazing architecture and great view of the fort.
A few days ago I thought it would be a good idea to rent a scooter for the afternoon. I know how to drive one at home, so why not. I was still a little nervous to drive inside the city, with so many cows, dogs and people to dodge, not to mention the terrible roads with potholes and dips and turns everywhere. Just go slowly slowly, dhire dhire. I drove out to Kuldhara, the empty village. The history behind this is that many years ago there was a king who was "crazy about girls." One day he visited the village and found a young girl whom he decided he would marry the next day. Not being able to protest against the king, this village and the surrounding 82 villages decided to pack up everything they could and vanish the next morning because they would not let the marriage take place. To this day no one knows where they went. What is left is ruins. What a great story of such an amazing community, with such loyalty that they would leave everything to stand up for something they believe in.
The next day I went with Khan, Ricky's brother, to the village to meet his family. Their mother had fallen ill recently, and although the doctor instructed her to rest, she was back to work in no time, selling vegetables in the market in the town. She earns around 200 Rupees per day, and everyday that money goes towards buying treats for her grand kids. Biscuits, chocolate, sweets mostly. So cute. We can't speak the same language, but we great each other and smile. I met some other family members, and walked through the gardens with the children. They run and laugh and throw things at each other. They pick some marigolds for my hair, some carrots and berries for me to eat. In the sister's home, I am fed dal and chipatti, the local staples. I am uncomfortable here actually, as the woman stare and laugh at me and talk about me. This happens everywhere I go in India, but it seems different this time, and I can't tell that it's with curiosity and good intentions. I feel like they are snickering at me, and I want to leave. I know that I am the foreigner in a foreign place not being able to speak their language. I take the responsibility for not being able to communicate but I still can't help but feel out of place. Khan doesn't speak much English either, so the afternoon is mostly filled with staring, giggles and silence. Time with the kids feels the same. They want me to give them a school pen or chocolate, or anything for that matter, but I am unable to provide. By 6:00 I am ready to go home, but I realize we have no vehicle, no cell phone service......and I feel trapped. Not really, because I know it will all work out. But I hate the feeling of relying on someone else. I suppose I better get used to it in India.
I had met another American, Martha, a few days back at my hotel, Pol Haveli. I hate to admit it, but I despise running into other Americans when I am in another country. In general, I feel like I am always apologizing for them, in my head at least. Embarrassed by their disregard for others and their ignorance. Not that people from other countries don't have the same sort of behavior sometimes, but I feel somehow responsible for it when it is another American. So I generally avoid this for this reason, and another reason is that I did not travel thousands of miles away from home to hang out with someone I could have hung out with at home. But I enjoy Martha's company and the night we met we mutually agreed it was nice to have another female around to disperse the male attention and even be able to ignore it at times. So we went to the farm again and a French couple tagged along. This time we were able to cook in the garden, on an open fire. We picked the vegetables ourselves: peppers, eggplants, coriander, tomatoes. One of his relatives came around and made rota, which is like chipatti in a ball, cooked buried in embers and dirt, kind of like a natural oven. It was so good! We lazed around while the food was cooking. Someone brought henna from the village and I practiced henna on Martha and Aura which turned out alright. We helped prepare the vegetables and then again all ate with our hands on a communal plate in a garden. It was a wonderful evening! We acted silly, some people danced, some sang. So bizarre and so amazing.
I think that pretty much brings us up-to-date, although I know there are things I have forgotten and hopefully I will remember them someday.
So I have been in Jaisalmer for about 10 days. Or maybe more, who knows, time doesn't really exist to me anymore. It's a relatively small desert city in western Rajasthan, in Northwestern India, near the Pakistan border. Not too close, but close enough. I think most tourists travel here, only to stay for a night or two, then take a camel safari into the desert for any number of days, then head back out. But I came here thinking I would spend some time here, as Ricky, Brooke's friend who I traveled the south with in April lives here. I knew he would be busy with work and preparing the Rickshaw Run, http://www.theadventurists.com/the-adventures/rickshaw-run , but thought it would still be nice to be somewhere I wasn't a complete stranger. It has been good, he has been busy but I have met a lot of friends and have been keeping relatively busy.
I decided I might want something to do with my time, so I thought some sort or job would be good. I started working for a camel safari company, answering emails in English, for about an hour a day. Easy enough. But after about a week, I realized I don't like having to be somewhere everyday. I am on holiday, after all. And the Indian way of working is different also. For a job that doesn't seem that time sensitive to me, I was called sometimes later at night for an "important" email, to which I was not willing to rush over to attend. Plus although the owner was a nice guy, I felt that still behind it all there could have been an alterior motive. At the end of the day, it was kinda fun and I can go to the desert whenever I want free of charge.
I've visited a few of the tourist attractions, but mostly been walking around, exploring the city, going to a garden in Bada Bagh about 6 km from the city. I've visited Gadi Sagar Lake, the royal cenotaphs, the empty village Kuldhara....what else? Drank some beer. No camel safari for me yet, but I think I will go out to the sand dunes for New Year's Eve. Which reminds me, Christmas is coming up (which I wouldn't even realize if it weren't for Facebook!)!!!
On one of my first nights at the hotel here, I was sitting on the rooftop when I realized it was 12/12/12 and one of the owners agreed we should have a party later that night! Well to me party means more than 2 people, but whatever. So we had a "mutton party" as they call it here, which I have now come to think of a way to impress a woman. Like "Hey look, I can afford mutton!" It was nice, besides the loads of garlic we put into the recipe, we also put in a few whole garlics which stewed with the meat and later could be eaten by just sucking it out of the shell. It was so awesome! Maybe I have mentioned it before, but I LOVE that I can eat as much garlic as my heart desires and no one will judge me for it. Or even notice. That mixed with the curry, my skin and subsequently my sweat has a distinctively different smell than when I arrived in this fair country. I literally eat it anyway I can, raw, cooked, mashed, whole, I don't care actually. I decided to sleep on the roof that night, which was awesome, although it was a bit cloudy and not many stars were out, it was a great experience. The hotel has a lot of blankets, and warm ones too, as lots of people sleep on the roof, or on the desert. So even though it got pretty cold, I never felt a thing. Good memories for 12/12/12.
Jaisalmer Fort view at sunset from the hotel roof
The next few days were cloudy and quite cold with the sun never showing it's face. I was pretty excited about the fact that I was able to break out my fluffy down jacket that has been taking up so much space in my luggage that I didn't know if I would ever use. And my hiking boots. One day when the sun finally came back out, I went with Ricky to a farm for lunch. As usual, I had no idea what this would entail but I went with the flow. We took a motorbike to Bada Bagh, about 6 km from the city. In the garden, there is a special spot where different male members of the family go there to cook, sometimes drink and smoke, sometimes play cards. All of the kitchen utensils were missing so we had to resort to cooking behind the village temple. More and more or his family members came and he cooked his specialty, egg curry. We cooked on the fire and someone else made fresh chipatti. It is so great to see how people live and how they cook. I am learning a lot about cooking and I love it. Egg curry is a curry sauce with whole hard boiled eggs. I remember thinking this sounded so weird to me when I first heard about it on my first trip. While it was simmering, I walked to the royal cenotaphs, the cemetery. It is a beautiful place, especially at sunset. Surprisingly there are hardly any tourists there, but I was told that is because they installed rows after rows of wind turbines and it ruined the view. I agree that it changed the landscape and seems odd mixing the antique Indian cemetery structures with modern energy, but who can disagree with green energy?
Birds in the garden
The garden
The well used to water the garden, pulled by a cow
Lucky cooking on a fire
Eating a hot pepper!
Cenotaphs at sunset
I return and once the food is ready, we all sit down inside a building nearby, although I do not know it's purpose, and in a communal plate we all sit down and eat with our hands. Of course it's not the first time, and by this point I am almost a pro. Such great food, with real flavors and real people. There is nothing like a home cooked meal prepared on an open fire.
One day I went to Gadi Sagar, a smallish man made lake outside the fort. Either the lake itself, or the gate to enter the lake (not sure which) was built by a famous prostitute. The kings wanted to tear it down because it was a disgrace that a prostitute built it, so she put a Krishna temple inside the gate. The kings couldn't tear it down because in Hindu religion they can't destroy a temple. So it still stands today. It is a good place to relax. After visiting the lake, I went to the cenotaphs again When I returned to the hotel, I realized that I had left my camera somewhere, not sure where exactly. It was my smaller camera, that is old and isn't worth a lot. It had a memory card in it, but not with that many pictures. It was my fault, so it was hard to be too mad. Within a few minutes a guy from a shop called Ricky to say someone sold him a camera and there was a picture of him on it. So it was found! He said he paid 1200 Rupees for it, and I didn't expect him to lose that money so I agreed to pay him that amount to get it back. It would cost a lot more than that (about $24) to replace it. He went to the shop and although this guy was his "friend," once he arrived he told him he actually wanted almost double that amount 2200 Rupees. Not exactly sure what ensued after this, but angry, Ricky called his Tourist Protection Police friends to resolve the matter. The cops demanded he return the camera because it was stolen goods and that a tourist girl was complaining of it being stolen. Of course the shop owner knew the 3 guys who sold him the camera, and the truth came out that he had only paid 500 Rupees and was trying to rip everyone off. The agreement was I had to buy the cops some whiskey (not my agreement actually, as I was at the hotel). So only 500 Rupees later, I have my camera, the police have some whiskey, the shop owner is out of money. Sounds like corruption at it's finest to me. The funniest part is that the next night the cops threw us a "party" thanking me for the whiskey. So they bought rum and their wives brought over a feast complete with dal, bhindi (okra), rice chipatti and flour chapatti, egg curry, and something else I am forgetting. It's funny how this system works.
One of my first days in Jaisalmer I decided I wanted to have some Indian dresses made. Ricky showed me a shop where I could pick out the fabrics and they would take me to a tailor. I'm not finding exactly what I want in this area of India, but I pick out a few different ones that I like. I tell the shop I will have one made, and if I like it I will make the rest. I ask prices, and I am told he cannot discuss prices with me, that he will work it out with Ricky later. I insist that I cannot make any decisions without knowing how much something costs, and he finally decides to tell me. The pries seem high for the fabrics that aren't of great quality. But I figure I can at least get one made. After going to the tailor and getting measured, I'm told to pick it up in a few days. When I do, I realize that it really doesn't fit. It's too big, the shoulder seams are in the wrong place and it hangs horribly. I send it back to the tailor and have her take in the sides and the shoulders. When I pick it up a few days later, I am not totally pleased, but decide it is better than nothing and maybe it will fit better after it is washed once or twice. It's an interesting suit and I am told I look like a hippy. Which is fine. But funny. I had also taken in some dresses to have them refitted, as again they are very ill-fitting dresses that I had made in Jaipur. About a week later, nothing has been done and confusion is running rampant. There are too many people involved and this, I realize, is the way of India. I go to the tailor, I go to the dress shop. I get sent away, nothing is done. I am told different things everyday and I wonder how anything in India ever gets done. Seriously!
I walk around the fort, which is different than other forts I have visited, in that it is more of a tiny city within a city instead of a place where only royalty lived. There are hotels, shops, restaurants, temples and houses. It has quaint extremely narrow streets lined with colorful textiles and souvenirs. I contemplated staying inside the fort, and I did for a few nights. But one thing that tourists are warned about is the negative effect of tourism on the fort. It does not have the infrastructure to support it and apparently it is sinking. A good place to visit though, for sure.
I visited Patwon Ki Haveli, a beautiful old Haveli outside of the the fort. Amazing architecture and great view of the fort.
A few days ago I thought it would be a good idea to rent a scooter for the afternoon. I know how to drive one at home, so why not. I was still a little nervous to drive inside the city, with so many cows, dogs and people to dodge, not to mention the terrible roads with potholes and dips and turns everywhere. Just go slowly slowly, dhire dhire. I drove out to Kuldhara, the empty village. The history behind this is that many years ago there was a king who was "crazy about girls." One day he visited the village and found a young girl whom he decided he would marry the next day. Not being able to protest against the king, this village and the surrounding 82 villages decided to pack up everything they could and vanish the next morning because they would not let the marriage take place. To this day no one knows where they went. What is left is ruins. What a great story of such an amazing community, with such loyalty that they would leave everything to stand up for something they believe in.
The next day I went with Khan, Ricky's brother, to the village to meet his family. Their mother had fallen ill recently, and although the doctor instructed her to rest, she was back to work in no time, selling vegetables in the market in the town. She earns around 200 Rupees per day, and everyday that money goes towards buying treats for her grand kids. Biscuits, chocolate, sweets mostly. So cute. We can't speak the same language, but we great each other and smile. I met some other family members, and walked through the gardens with the children. They run and laugh and throw things at each other. They pick some marigolds for my hair, some carrots and berries for me to eat. In the sister's home, I am fed dal and chipatti, the local staples. I am uncomfortable here actually, as the woman stare and laugh at me and talk about me. This happens everywhere I go in India, but it seems different this time, and I can't tell that it's with curiosity and good intentions. I feel like they are snickering at me, and I want to leave. I know that I am the foreigner in a foreign place not being able to speak their language. I take the responsibility for not being able to communicate but I still can't help but feel out of place. Khan doesn't speak much English either, so the afternoon is mostly filled with staring, giggles and silence. Time with the kids feels the same. They want me to give them a school pen or chocolate, or anything for that matter, but I am unable to provide. By 6:00 I am ready to go home, but I realize we have no vehicle, no cell phone service......and I feel trapped. Not really, because I know it will all work out. But I hate the feeling of relying on someone else. I suppose I better get used to it in India.
I had met another American, Martha, a few days back at my hotel, Pol Haveli. I hate to admit it, but I despise running into other Americans when I am in another country. In general, I feel like I am always apologizing for them, in my head at least. Embarrassed by their disregard for others and their ignorance. Not that people from other countries don't have the same sort of behavior sometimes, but I feel somehow responsible for it when it is another American. So I generally avoid this for this reason, and another reason is that I did not travel thousands of miles away from home to hang out with someone I could have hung out with at home. But I enjoy Martha's company and the night we met we mutually agreed it was nice to have another female around to disperse the male attention and even be able to ignore it at times. So we went to the farm again and a French couple tagged along. This time we were able to cook in the garden, on an open fire. We picked the vegetables ourselves: peppers, eggplants, coriander, tomatoes. One of his relatives came around and made rota, which is like chipatti in a ball, cooked buried in embers and dirt, kind of like a natural oven. It was so good! We lazed around while the food was cooking. Someone brought henna from the village and I practiced henna on Martha and Aura which turned out alright. We helped prepare the vegetables and then again all ate with our hands on a communal plate in a garden. It was a wonderful evening! We acted silly, some people danced, some sang. So bizarre and so amazing.
I think that pretty much brings us up-to-date, although I know there are things I have forgotten and hopefully I will remember them someday.
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