Rajasthan Part 8: Jaislmer

Leaving Jodhpur, we raced further into the Thar Desert.  On the Western most corner of Rajasthan lies an oasis, Jaislmer.  Approaching city limits the first thing you see is miles and miles of military compound.  We were roughly 50 kilometers from the Pakistan border.  Rumor has it this area was littered with dozens of tank Battalions and Air Force fighter wings.  Just before reaching the city walls our driver took a hard left and headed South.  Before entering the city, his plan was for us to spend a night in the real desert.  Our destination, the tiny village of Khuri.  I guess expressing our interest once in villages, turned into multiple village excursions.  This time it was for a camel safari.  

Originally we planned to ride camels out into the desert, bringing a camel entourage in order to spend the night sleeping in the dunes.  As we arrived it was obvious sand storms were kicking up in the distance.  So we opted for a short sunset ride about thirty minutes out of town.

Gretchen and I agreed, despite the uniqueness of the experience, camels were one of the most painful methods of travel in our entire life.  I would have rather walked across the broiling, baking, sandy desert then ride that stupid camel.  I actually had scars on my butt for weeks, months afterward.  The saddle is leather as hard as a rock.  The driver actually shares the saddle sitting behind you.  All you have to do is hold on, which is much harder then it sounds.  Through a series of clicks, burps, and commands the driver brings the camel up from a gallop to an all out sprint through shifting sand.  

Despite this serene photograph, Grechen actually got spit on by her camel.  Much like the Disney Aladdin cartoons, they do spit, and they are mean.  My camel seemed like he should have stayed in bed, acting severly sick.  At one point he vomited, then tried to bite me.  Watching them sit down and stand up is actually kind of fun.  First the front of the animal drops suddenly forward as you feel liking being thrown over the handlebars.  Then the rear end flops down.  After which my camel tried to roll over squishing me underneath.  I had to launch myself off in the opposite direction.  Then was to afraid I would be attacked to go back and grab my water bottle.  Luckily an hour later he seemed more relaxed and allowed me to easily mount up for our ride back home.

Yet it was still an amazing experience.  We rode out into the dunes.  Sat and watched the sunset for about an hour, then had an amazing dinner back at camp.  Along the way we stopped near two watering holes.  The first was a pit stop for animals.  My camel shared the trough with cows, dogs, and chickens.  There were even peacocks circling the area.  Then we passed the village watering hole.  It reminded me of images I’ve seen in National Geographic.  Women gathered, filled watering pots, then carried them home stacked upon their head.  Before arriving back at camp the storm really picked up.  Pelting us with sand.  It felt like a thousand needles hitting your face.  The drivers raced the camels into the fenced stables as we quickly dismounted.  The customary 100 rupee tip was handed over to the driver before heading in for a King Fisher.

We stayed at the Krisna Desert Resort.  The manager gave us a choice of the villas above or the thatched cottages below.

Jaislmer, like several other Raj fortresses turned into cities, was built upon the nearest rocky outcropping.  As invaders tended to come in all directions five hundred years ago, palaces served a multitude of purposes and defenses.  Jaislmer was originally an outpost for traders traveling East and West across the sub-continent and eventually up into the Middle East then Europe.  

Just outside the palace entrance, but within the city walls- handprints, evidence of wives committing sati after the death of their beloved king.  This now banished practice was depicted on the walls of nearly every palace we visited by the red handprints.  

Traditionally only higher class were allowed to live in the fortress walls.  Most of the nicest havelis (houses) belonged to the Brahman Caste.  These were decorated with intricate stone carvings and lattice work.  

Today the castle is still made of tightly woven streets around traditional looking housing.  Some curios and trinket shops are open on the ground floors, but it still feels like a living city, as it may have hundreds of years ago.  Outside the city walls it is a bustling 21st century reminder of emerging India.  Tourist shops, large restaurants, night clubs, and amid modern apartments line overcrowded streets.  Despite the hot arid desert climate, cows still wander the city streets.

More Havelis.

Evening lights brought cooler temperatures.  We found some high ground on the castle ramparts to enjoy the a chilly breeze while taking in the sights and sounds of Jaislmer.

Rajasthan Part 7: Jodhpur

As we left the densely vegetated hills around Ranakpur, the landscape quickly changed.  The terrain began flattening out, with only a few glimpses of odd knolls across the desert.  The flora became more of a barren scrub, and patchy at that.  The road meandering through the mountains had once again leveled off, allowing for high speed escapades on the open freeway.  Our Tata raced across the Eastern fringe of the Thar Desert- we were headed for Jodhpur.  

Jodhpur is dubbed the “Blue City”.  I will tell you why later.   The first place we stopped was the infamous Sardar Market.  A chaotic mess of people squeezed into a very orderly grid like cluster of shops within the main bazaar.  In the center is a very distinct British era clock tower, another sign of India’s diverse history.  As instructed by our guide and driver, we were to shop for one thing here- spice.  So we walked from one outlet to the next exploring the spice.  We bought several blends which each maker insisted was the best in Jodhpur.  More then anything I was people watching.  After the initial shock wore off arriving in Delhi, I rather enjoyed being jumbled in such a mess of life, color, sights and sounds.  People coming in every direction.  It was sensation overload to the maximum.  There was no place to stop and watch, you had to keep moving.  The slightest hesitation would draw the attention from a variety of unwanted characters.  I think this was the hardest for Gretchen.  Reflecting upon past training, I kept my "head on a swivel”.  Constantly looking, thinking, moving onward, and occasionally pausing for a quick snapshot.  She really wanted to stop.  Look.  Touch.  And see items laid out for sale.  Doing so usually resulted in a barrage of salesmenship and the usual onslaught of questioning.

A technique I developed was to have a counter question for their question.  Sometimes this lead to interesting discussion, and sometimes it led to communication barriers. You could always tell when locals had a very scripted line of questioning, (the only English they knew) and diverting from such questioning resulted in shut down.  Other times I would respond to a question with a nod, pretending I didn’t speak English.

The picture above has a funny story.  I was briefly disoriented by the color of the blue spice, and form of the brown cube shaped “brownie”.  So I paused, looked for a second, and was instantly quizzed as to what I thought it was.  Before I could respond Gretchen answered for me- laundry soap.  I didn’t find it odd that it was soap; but found it odder it was sitting upon the same table as spices and food.

Today he decided to wear his marching band outfit.  And he wanted his picture taken.  Later we saw the rest of the band- but I don’t ever remember seeing instruments.

Like everywhere else in India the narrow side streets were a racetrack of traffic.  Luckily within most of the markets in Jodhpur cars were not allow.  Motor scooters were the only motorized vehicles allowed.

Now, the blue buildings.  Originally painting your house blue served two purposes.  The first being it identified you as part of the Brahman high caste.  But it also served as a preservative and natural bug repellant.  Today its more for style then social recognition.

The mighty fortress ramparts of Jodhpur rise sharply above the city.  The Meherangarh Fort is perched on sandstone cliffs right above the markets.  From the towers and balconies of the fortress the Maharaja could look upon his city and kingdom.

One of the innermost chambers of the palace.  

More blue buildings in the blue city.

The palace was one of the nicer tours we took.  Price of admission actually came with a free walking audio tour.  The visit concluded in this courtyard, after returning your headset, we sat and listend to the Raj musician play.

Just on the outskirts of town we visited the Jaswant Thanda, tomb of one of the most successful rulers of Jodhpur from 1878-1895.  He was known for bringing law to a somewhat lawless bandit ridden country side, while also accomplishing projects like crop irrigation.  The tomb, unlike some, was exquisitely cared for.  It was a very photogenic place.  These are just sampling of a few images I captured here.

Jodhpur was a really nice stop.  We spent three days and two nights here.  During which time we also visited the Umaid Bhawan Palace, one of those most recent palaces to be built in India.  It was completed in 1944 as a huge endeavor for a suffering economy with a high unemployment rate.  Taking 16 years and costing 9.5 million rupees it was a modern palace with traditional architecture.  Unfortunately cameras were not allowed within the complex, and most of it was closed to the public due to housing for the current Maharaja.  Yes, the Maharaja family dynasty is still going on in most Rajahastani cities.

We stayed at a very contemporary hotel on the outskirts of town.  At which this was the only place I was ever refused something.  Despite immaculate hospitality almost every where we went- at this hotel restaurant I was rejected from ordering spicy food.  As I pointed to the menu requesting a local Rajasthani dish, the waiter casually responded “no”.  I said, "how about this one", pointing to another local dish.  The waiter once again said “no”, but not no in the way its not available.  I could tell by the tone of his voice he meant no, not for you.  So I spoke up and asked, after which he proceeded to tell me I was a weak natured intolerant American whose stomach and digestive system could not handle a traditional Rajasthani dish.  If I weren’t so flabbergasted I probably would have been insulted.  Instead I snickered and picked something else.  

Rajasthan Part 6: Ranakpur

At some point in the first few days after leaving Agra, our driver began talking about traveling into the countryside.  KP spoke English well enough to carry on modest conversations driving between cities.  I know he understood we were teachers.  I don’t think he understood where we taught.  I know he didn’t truly comprehend what Alaska was like.  We tried to put things in perspective.  Describing temperatures in Celsius.  Explaining our lack of running water in the village, intermittent electricity, and absence from the road system.  Not being able to drive to our home really blew his mind.  

It was around this discussion he asked to take us to Ranakpur.  With little persuading we said that sounded great, add it to our agenda.  So I began flipping through my guide book, trying to see what I could find out about this next destination.  It was certainly off the beaten path- there was the second most sacred Jain temple there,  only a few accommodations were available, and it took up less than 1/2 a page in my rough guide.

Upon reaching the periphery of the “country side”, the road immediately began twisting and turning.  It felt as if we had driven back in time at least 50 years, maybe more.  Power poles disappeared.  Each home seemed to be sitting upon plantation style farmland.  The rows of crops were polka dotted with brightly colored sari’s.  Even the construction of homes changed to mud style walls with thatched roofs.  

With the change of atmosphere came a change of attitude.  Our driver suddenly made an unexpected stop at a roadside stand.  Gretchen and I both curiously watched him get out, stretch, and walk over to a vender.  I noticed several banners for King Fisher, and began to grin.  It was time for “road sodas”.  I knew KP was a man after my own heart; he would fit in well with my Alaskan ski bum backcountry friends.  While Gretchen waited in the Tata, KP and I consumed one King Fisher each at the stand.  I just stood there sipping as he carried on some lengthy conversation with the salesman.  Occasionally smiling, nodding, looking around- and drinking my beer.  Just as I emptied my 22oz King Fisher, KP pulled out his wallet and bought three more.  He could see my eyes widen, with a smirk on my face. “Your still thirsty?  For the road” he said, handing me two.  We borrowed my new friends bottle opener and headed for the vehicle.  The good news is one King Fisher is about the same as one Coors Light, or the equivalent of a slightly fermented cup of mostly water.  The bad news, KP had bought the strong edition.  About twice the alcohol by volume, with ten times the flavor, my personal favorite.  Lacking the punch I’m used to from my favorite IPA, it was still delicious at ten o’clock in the morning.  

The next 60 minutes included but was not limited to- a blaring stereo on repeat, roadside dancing, numerous accounts of littering, two pit stops, weaving through narrow canyons, and an explanation of international friendship.

The countryside around Ranakpur really was different from elsewhere we had been.  Like the photograph above, people were truly living a basic agrarian lifestyle.  Children were walking around cloth less, or with merely a diaper wrapped around their waist.  None of the homes seemed to have electricity or running water.  Everyone was outside performing chores essential for survival.   

Our first request was for a nature hike.  The cottage keeper insisted we take a guide.  So we walked across the street and into the wilds.  It was obvious the monsoons had not hit this part of Rajasthan yet.  Most of the lakes were ponds.  All of the creeks and streams were empty.  We crossed a concrete dam  35 feet above a dry bed below.  Our guide explained that once monsoons arrived, water wouldn’t be quite as scarce.  Its amazing to learn how thrivent and dependent this land is off these seasonal rains.  For thousands and thousands of years they have learned how to save and irrigate for survival.  It made me briefly reminisce upon people living along the mighty Euphrates in Iraq.  A land much more desolate than almost anywhere else on Earth, but sustainable with this life blood of water.  Whether by yearly storm or by snowmelt thousands of miles away- water is the necessity for life.  It comes in many shapes and sizes.  It comes in many forms both from the sky and by land- but is still essential for growth.  The one common thread across the planet is civilization must have water to survive.    

The weather was fairly arid.  It was hot, but we were obviously just on the edge of the desert.  

Flocks of sheep herded through the streets.  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, domesticated animals did as they pleased.  And undomesticated animals still did as they pleased.

The highlight of the excursion was visiting the Jain temple.  Nestled deep in the Aravalli are several temples.  The landscape to me was similar to parts of West Virginia.  Deep, steep, densly vegitated terrain.  Lush hillsides spanning out in all directions.  The temple complex was kept very nicely.  These monkeys were playing in large banyan style trees.

The Jain faith makes up less than 1% of India and has been around for over 2500 years.  It borrows some beliefs and similar rituals to Hinduism, but is focused around absolute non-violence.  The practice of ahimsa pertaining to all living souls.  They are commonly seen wearing cloth masks as not to inhale any living creature intentionally, or unintentionally.  They refuse to travel by motorized vehicle, for fear it might harm a living creature.

The temples in Ranakpur were some of the most cared for we saw in India.  Exquisitely carved marble covered in adornments.  The inner chambers of the temple extremely clean.  Several Jain monks dressed in orange moved throughout the open space.  Visiting with people.  Sharing prayers or peace offerings.

Ornate pillars and spires constructed in a very symmetrical fashion.  All depicted various gods and goddesses.

As most temples, all shoes must be removed.  Specific to Jain temples, we were searched before entering as not to bring any animal made products inside.  All leather belts must be removed.  Men and women have to wear garments fully covering legs and upper body.  We actually saw a couple get turned away because the man was wearing shorts and the woman a tank-top.

The above picture is the main large temple.  Around the main temple were several smaller temples, each with similar carvings and style.

Despite being hard to get to, I highly recommend visiting Ranakpur.  It was a nice break from hustling cities.  I believe there is a bus from Udaipur that will drop you at the main temple bus stop.  After two days and one night in Ranakpur we were ready to move on.  I could see spending several days to relax, but after that India continued to call me.  Our hotel fit in with the rustic motif of the area.  We spent the night counting lizards crawling on the walls and seating in our air cooled room.

Rajasthan Part 5: Udaipur Dance

Our first evening in Udaipur, we discovered a traditional Raj dancing show.  The show was held within the Bagore-Ki-Haveli Museum, right across the alley from our hotel.  Gretchen had seen the show briefly advertised as something with puppets.  It was much more.

At over an hour long, the show featured various acts.  Dancing with fire pots.  Dancing with water pots. Dancing with cymbals.  Wonderful music.  And lots of bright vibrant colors in every costume.

I had as much fun photographing each act in the dimly lit haveli, as Gretchen had watching.

Three musicians were playing two different drums, and an accordion like instrument.

This women had several miniature cymbals attached to various portions of her body.  Using finger cymbals tied to a string she swung and ricocheted them in rhythmic fashion.

One of the drummers was also a puppeteer.  In traditional Raj style, the puppeteer is plainly visible to the audience while distracting them with mesmerizing puppet routines.  The puppets were as elegantly dressed as the women.

For the grand finale, how many water pots can she stack on her head? 

Just when you thought she was topped out, more pots were added.  I can’t imagine the weight of these pots, even empty.  With the pots she swiftly danced around the room.

This was probably one of the most entertaining shows we saw in India.