Volume 6

Rajashtan

No description of our Rajasthan adventures would be complete without first introducing Susan. Many of you already know her as a friend from the states, who is also traveling abroad in India. As arranged months earlier, we met Susan in Jaipur shortly after Christmas and she was with us throughout the following adventures. Like all cast members in our low-budget real-life production, Susan played many roles. Her characters ranged from mischievous instigator to voice of reason. Often she was married to the wonderful (though imaginary) Jean-Luc, occasionally she played the single flirt. She was a great addition to our cast and hopefully she will be back in future episodes.

We rang in the New Year with camel bells in the Thar Desert. Our sand-dune bash included about 20 tourists, an almost equal number of local guides/cooks/crashers, a couple dozen camels and one belly-dancing eunich (sp?). It was a fun (and definitely different) way to start the year, but thankfully not indicative of the remainder of our seven-day camel safari. Come morning, twelve of us (4 tourists, 3 guides and 5 camels) broke from the crowd and went in search of more peaceful sand, and found it. We usually only rode for 3 to 4 hours a day (with a break for lunch), but always wound up in a nice sand dune in time for another routinely amazing sunset. We slept under the stars and were served hot Chai in our sleeping bags at sunrise. Our guides were all great, but our leader, Pusah, was one of those rare people one is truly lucky to share time with. Pusah belongs in the desert and thrives at the campfire. He cooked some of the best meals we have eaten in India then serenaded us with beautiful desert songs.

We celebrated the last night of our safari (and my birthday-eve) in Pusah's village home. We ate (freshly slaughtered goat curry) and drank (beer and "desert wine") in traditional village manner, men in the main room, women in the kitchen. Oddly this didn't seem wrong or unjust, just the way it was. Their home lacked the conveniences of a western one (running water, toilet) but also absent was the stress. There was no problem when Pusah's wife returned from work (building a road, undoubtedly the hard way) to learn that her husband had brought home four smelly tourists. How would that go over in your house?

By the time we got back to our fort-top guesthouse, we had truly become one-in-smell with our camels. That first hot shower of the New Year will long be remembered as one the highlights of my birthday. Once cleaned and rested, it took Carrie & Susan a few days to methodically visited every shop in Jaisalmer (many more than once). Then, we move on to Pushkar.

I will always remember Pushkar as the capital of incongruity in a country that specializes in it. This beautiful desert town surrounds a religiously sacred, man-made lake. Alcohol and even eggs are strictly forbidden, but bhang (a marijuana-based narcotic) drinks and snacks were on the menu in most restaurants. The generally quiet setting was frequently interrupted by marching bands leading wedding processions (it might well have been just one band, knowing at most two tunes, for hire by the hour). Each morning as the locals woke for their 4:00 AM prayers, badly distorted Hindi music blared from an otherwise empty temple across the lake.

By pure luck, we arrived on kite-day eve. Suffice it to say that all of my previous kite day (Jan 14) celebrations paled in comparison. All day long, hundreds of brightly colored kites soared and dipped from the rooftops. These were not the user-friendly aerodynamic kites familiar from the states, but simple (cheap) paper kites that required skill to fly and were replaced (not mourned or retrieved) when lost in on of the quickly decorated trees. Thinking back on it inspired me to write this poem:

Of course we joined in the festivities (that's how we learned how difficult the kites were to fly). With expert assistance, Susan's kite flew long enough to become a tree ornament. The other two kites (though slightly battered from trying) became room decorations for the remainder of our stay.

We let ourselves settle down a little in Pusckar, finding great rooms with views of the Lake. I hate to say we established a routine, but how else does one describe guided meditation (8-9am), freshly squeezed pineapple/orange juice delivered (9am sharp), yoga class (9-10:30am), mid-day unscheduled, sunset at the point (with local drummers), then dinner and bed. My mind and body were both appreciative for the benefits of our Swami-led meditation and yoga. But, with all this healthy living and rest, it was only a matter of time before medical problems arose. I was first.

Dr. #3 was referred from a list of "Western Doctors". He was trained in Dehli and required no stool analysis (just a fee) to prescribe Cipro. Apparently we were the only people concerned with this aggressive approach. He told us we "think too much". I did end up taking some of our Cipro, but we "thought" enough of #3 not to call him the next day when Susan came down with a very high fever and severe nausea. Dr. #4 took a blood sample (which ruled out malaria) & prescribed, of course, Cipro (among other drugs for her fever). It was hard to leave Pushkar and even harder to part ways with Susan, but it was time to move on. As we left, Susan was ready to resume yoga and was planning her our departure. As far as my own health, I was happy when everything became "solid".