I am so tired.
It is 3 a.m. and I'd
Like to go home now
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
INDIAN MEN
Before leaving this wondrous country I have to make a couple of comments regarding Indian men: they all seem to be fascinated with themselves, their hair and their facial hair. All the guys Peaches and I have encountered during our trip were in some way interesting from a beautician's point of view. Indian men, no matter how rich or poor they are, all seem to be very aware of themselves and their place in society and then there's the hair....In every social strata they take great pride and great care of their hair to the point of seeming really natty and somewhat fastidious. They touch it a lot, smooth it constantly, toss it when it's long, and they also color it, which is kind of weird. Especially when the older men seem to use a type of henna that obviously covers grey but also give their hair a surreal orange tinge, in certain cases faint in other arrestingly bright.
I don't know if it's because, having really black hair in most cases, they start to go grey prematurely, but many use hair coloring and it becomes a little strange especially when it contrasts with the facial hair. Now this is really fascinating: I have never seen, other than in my great grandfather's portrait or those of Kaiser Wilhelm, mustaches like the ones on the Indians: handlebars galore! Many different kinds: from discreet mustaches to totally wild ones and sometimes beards to go with them...and in certan cases a particular style that makes them look like lions with mane and everything.
Women with their long straight down-to-there dark hair are positively boring....but the guys in India seem to be spending a lot more time on themselves regardless of their place in society.
Peaches and I have amused ourselves ogling a couple of lookalikes that were in our hotel in Kovalam: we had Indian Elvis, for example, and a guy who was a dead ringer for Russell Brand...as I said hair and facial hair...what a winning combination!
I don't know if it's because, having really black hair in most cases, they start to go grey prematurely, but many use hair coloring and it becomes a little strange especially when it contrasts with the facial hair. Now this is really fascinating: I have never seen, other than in my great grandfather's portrait or those of Kaiser Wilhelm, mustaches like the ones on the Indians: handlebars galore! Many different kinds: from discreet mustaches to totally wild ones and sometimes beards to go with them...and in certan cases a particular style that makes them look like lions with mane and everything.
Women with their long straight down-to-there dark hair are positively boring....but the guys in India seem to be spending a lot more time on themselves regardless of their place in society.
Peaches and I have amused ourselves ogling a couple of lookalikes that were in our hotel in Kovalam: we had Indian Elvis, for example, and a guy who was a dead ringer for Russell Brand...as I said hair and facial hair...what a winning combination!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Taj Mahal to NYC in 30 Hours...Give or Take a Few
It is incredible to think that, a mere 30 hours after today’s misty morning visit to the amazing Taj Mahal, we will be back in New York!
Our visit did not disappoint. The Taj, built over 22 years beginning in 1631, is worthy of its reputation as the world’s great Monument to Love. The mughal emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a mausoleum for his third and favorite wife, Mumtaz. In fact, the name "Taj Mahal" is a contraction of her full name: Mumtaz Mahal.
The structure, an octagon posed on a square features three onion-shaped domes (typical of Islamic architecture) and a minaret in each of the four corners. The entire building is made of white marble adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid previous and semi-precious stones, inside and out.
Although we didn't even attempt a sunrise visit due to the layers of fog, we lucked out and got a sunny day by the time we arrived at 9:00 a.m. We also thanked our lucky stars and tour operator for scheduling our visit for after the holidays; We were told that there were waits up to four hours just before and after Christmas Day!
Monday, January 4, 2010
I Hate Cows
I knew I hated cows one day when, I was probably nine or ten years old, I was playing hide and seek with other children in a farm near Verona and I jumped from what I thought was a hayloft onto another lower hayloft only to fall through the hay and into a chute that fed directly into the dairy with all the cows. There I was sitting on a pile of hay with cows all around me who were looking none too pleased to see me in the midst of their lunch.
I know cows are usually fairly stupid and placid animals ( if you do not count the bulls in Pamplona), but all these different types we have encountered here in India seem to know exactly that THEY are the ones who are running the country.
They are everywhere and they cross the streets, even the highways, any time they damn please getting traffic to grind to a halt when you’re already trying to avoid the cars who do not seem to know how to keep in their lane or to use an indicator. The cows are the Indian equivalent of New York rats, they are a pest, they forage through garbage, they are everywhere…the only difference is that you can easily run over a rat, while with a cow you get the short end of a stick in an accident.
Any journey in a car in India is significantly made longer and more irritating by the presence of these horned, uncaring, ubiquitous, large moving targets. If the Indians choose not to eat them I move for building large temples devoted to them and therefore keep them in enclosures where people can feed them, worship them, whatever….and don’t even get me started on their large dumps….
Final Stop: Agra
One thing is for sure: After spending nearly an hour in a car to traverse approximately 15 km in Agra, I will never complain about LA traffic again.
Today we drove from Delhi to Agra, site of the Taj Mahal. Although only 200 km away, the drive takes 4-5 hours because of the insane traffic in both cities, as well as the usual lack of real highway and constant previously mentioned road obstacles, mainly cows, goats, pedestrians, rickshaws, et al. The drive would have taken just under three hours, were it not for the standstill we encountered as we approached Agra. Bobo and I were just about ready to pull our hair out.
Thankfully, the traffic had subsided by the time we checked into our hotel and ventured back out to see the Agra Fort, which features incredible views from afar of the fabled Taj Mahal. Unfortunately, a dense fog has set in here in the north of India, wreaking all kinds of havoc and making our photos rather hazy. We're quite sure we won't get a sunrise tomorrow, but we hope to explore the Taj Mahal in all it's glory a little later in the morning (we won't miss the early morning wake-up call) when the fog lifts a bit.
To be continued tomorrow with photos!
Today we drove from Delhi to Agra, site of the Taj Mahal. Although only 200 km away, the drive takes 4-5 hours because of the insane traffic in both cities, as well as the usual lack of real highway and constant previously mentioned road obstacles, mainly cows, goats, pedestrians, rickshaws, et al. The drive would have taken just under three hours, were it not for the standstill we encountered as we approached Agra. Bobo and I were just about ready to pull our hair out.
Thankfully, the traffic had subsided by the time we checked into our hotel and ventured back out to see the Agra Fort, which features incredible views from afar of the fabled Taj Mahal. Unfortunately, a dense fog has set in here in the north of India, wreaking all kinds of havoc and making our photos rather hazy. We're quite sure we won't get a sunrise tomorrow, but we hope to explore the Taj Mahal in all it's glory a little later in the morning (we won't miss the early morning wake-up call) when the fog lifts a bit.
To be continued tomorrow with photos!
The Power to Stop Time
This morning, we were awakened by a phone call from our hotel front desk informing us that our taxi to the airport had arrived. I had set an alarm for 8:00 a.m. and it had yet to go off, so I was more than slightly confused. The call startled me from a deep sleep, and since the room has massive, light-blocking wooden shutters, you can’t exactly blame me from being a little chronologically disoriented. My confusion was further complicated by the fact that when I looked at my iPhone, it read 3:10 a.m. Curious, indeed. I then looked at my wristwatch for confirmation: it read 2:45 a.m. (I had set it to local time upon arriving in India.)
“What time is it?” Bobo inquired.
“Well, my phone says 3:10 a.m. and my watch says it’s a quarter to three. It definitely feels like we slept more than three hours, though.”
Perplexed, I went to the bathroom--which is partially outdoors--because I had to pee and also to see if it was light out.
“Well, it’s definitely not three in the morning,” I confirmed upon my return.
“Call the front desk and ask what time it is!” Bobo directed, a slight hint of panic in her voice. We had a flight to catch, after all.
Upon confirming that it was, in fact, 8:45 a.m. and that our taxi was, in fact, waiting for us, we shifted into fifth, got dressed, brushed our teeth, zipped up our luggage and moved out at top speed. I still have no idea why my iPhone--which sets time based on GPS--would somehow reset itself to another time zone while I slept. My wristwatch stopping made even less sense; As soon as I stood up I realized it was working just fine. Just as I was beginning to formulate theories in my head about my X-Men-like mutant abilities to bend time, I realized that perhaps I had been just a wee bit disoriented when looking at my wrist, and perhaps I had misread it, and perhaps it did actually say 8:45 and not 2:45. Damn you, early morning dyslexia.
Of course, the ability to bend time would only really come in handy if one were very good at controlling it. If it just caused you to oversleep and miss your flight, it would be no fun at all. Nonetheless, I think it makes perfect sense to come up with a good superhero name for myself at this point in time.
“What time is it?” Bobo inquired.
“Well, my phone says 3:10 a.m. and my watch says it’s a quarter to three. It definitely feels like we slept more than three hours, though.”
Perplexed, I went to the bathroom--which is partially outdoors--because I had to pee and also to see if it was light out.
“Well, it’s definitely not three in the morning,” I confirmed upon my return.
“Call the front desk and ask what time it is!” Bobo directed, a slight hint of panic in her voice. We had a flight to catch, after all.
Upon confirming that it was, in fact, 8:45 a.m. and that our taxi was, in fact, waiting for us, we shifted into fifth, got dressed, brushed our teeth, zipped up our luggage and moved out at top speed. I still have no idea why my iPhone--which sets time based on GPS--would somehow reset itself to another time zone while I slept. My wristwatch stopping made even less sense; As soon as I stood up I realized it was working just fine. Just as I was beginning to formulate theories in my head about my X-Men-like mutant abilities to bend time, I realized that perhaps I had been just a wee bit disoriented when looking at my wrist, and perhaps I had misread it, and perhaps it did actually say 8:45 and not 2:45. Damn you, early morning dyslexia.
Of course, the ability to bend time would only really come in handy if one were very good at controlling it. If it just caused you to oversleep and miss your flight, it would be no fun at all. Nonetheless, I think it makes perfect sense to come up with a good superhero name for myself at this point in time.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Om, Shanti Shanti
Five days in Kerala is the perfect amount of time to get back into yoga, which I practiced three to five times a week in New York over the summer. I have yet to find a place in LA that I really like, so my yogic habits have lapsed a bit, but I'm always happy to see that it's just like riding a bicycle. After a day or two, I was doing headstands once again (see the photographic evidence.)
Yoga Nazi, a tiny sprite of a woman named Divya, is fond of saying things like, "Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeeeetely...Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeetely...Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeetley. Now stop breathing." It's really hard not to laugh sometimes.
I also happen to love the little ditty she sings for us at the end of class. It goes something like this:
"I relaaaaaaax my toes. I relaaaaaaax my heels. I relaaaaaax my calf muscles...ankles...thigh muscles. I relaaaaaax my buttock muscles...hip region...pelvic area. I relaaaaaax my kidneys....liver (except when she says it, it sounds like "lih-where.") I can't quite do it justice with the written word, since you can't hear my bad impression of her accent, but you get the picture.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Food, Glorious Food
For those of you who were loyal Peaches readers during the first incarnation of this blog, you have probably realized a notable absence in this version thus far: full and detailed descriptions of each and every meal eaten.
If it is not already obvious, I am a proud foodie. Certainly there are a handful of things I will probably never eat (brains come to mind, no pun intended) but there are only three things I've tried that I actually dislike the flavor of: papaya (tastes of vomit), beets (taste like dirt), and ketchup (just disgusting.) I'm proud to report that in addition to recently retrying ketchup, (yup, still hate it) during this trip I tackled both my papaya and my beet phobias. I had a piece of papaya a few days ago at breakfast, and while it remains my least favorite tropical fruit, I will admit that it is tolerable. Last week at Devi Garh, Bobo (also not a fan of the beet root) and I drank carrot-beet juice, and actually enjoyed it.
Anyway, onto much more exciting details of delightful Indian delicacies. The variety of food is, as one might expect in a country so large, incredible. Delicious lamb stews and kebabs in the north, aromatic coconut curry prawns in the beaches of the south, and tender, flavorful veggies just about everywhere. The food map of India very much resembles the geographic map of India; Food in the northwest of the country tastes more like Middle Eastern fare, whereas the spicier stews and sauces that flavor foods in the south resemble dishes I sampled in countries like Thailand and Cambodia.
In fact, it was while backpacking Southeast Asia that one of my travel companions, Fritz Ravine, bestowed upon me the epithet of "lady in the street, freak at the buffet." I. Love. Buffets. And last night's New Years' Eve gala here at the Leela Kovalam was a buffet to end all buffets.
A good buffet is like a culinary version of those choose-your-own-adventure books I used to read as a kid. If you start out with sushi, you might move onto BBQ lobster; If you begin with homemade pita chips, hummous and giant capers, you have a nice segue into veggie kebabs. You never really know exactly where the buffet will take you, and each trip up to the table is like a new chapter in an ongoing quest for satiation.
This buffet had it all: from calamari to cucumber salad, pasta to palak paneer. There were entire sections of this buffet that we did not even have the time to explore, much less the stomachs large enough to sample. Dessert stretched the entire middle section of tables, and featured triple chocolate mousse cake, pistachio napoleons, tropical fruit mini-tarts, yule logs of all colors and flavors, and a make-your-own-sundae station.
The delicious feast, coupled with entertainment that included fire-eaters, a Bollywood dance troupe, a bellydancer, and a live DJ, made for a fantastic New Year's Eve on the beach under the stars.
If it is not already obvious, I am a proud foodie. Certainly there are a handful of things I will probably never eat (brains come to mind, no pun intended) but there are only three things I've tried that I actually dislike the flavor of: papaya (tastes of vomit), beets (taste like dirt), and ketchup (just disgusting.) I'm proud to report that in addition to recently retrying ketchup, (yup, still hate it) during this trip I tackled both my papaya and my beet phobias. I had a piece of papaya a few days ago at breakfast, and while it remains my least favorite tropical fruit, I will admit that it is tolerable. Last week at Devi Garh, Bobo (also not a fan of the beet root) and I drank carrot-beet juice, and actually enjoyed it.
Anyway, onto much more exciting details of delightful Indian delicacies. The variety of food is, as one might expect in a country so large, incredible. Delicious lamb stews and kebabs in the north, aromatic coconut curry prawns in the beaches of the south, and tender, flavorful veggies just about everywhere. The food map of India very much resembles the geographic map of India; Food in the northwest of the country tastes more like Middle Eastern fare, whereas the spicier stews and sauces that flavor foods in the south resemble dishes I sampled in countries like Thailand and Cambodia.
In fact, it was while backpacking Southeast Asia that one of my travel companions, Fritz Ravine, bestowed upon me the epithet of "lady in the street, freak at the buffet." I. Love. Buffets. And last night's New Years' Eve gala here at the Leela Kovalam was a buffet to end all buffets.
A good buffet is like a culinary version of those choose-your-own-adventure books I used to read as a kid. If you start out with sushi, you might move onto BBQ lobster; If you begin with homemade pita chips, hummous and giant capers, you have a nice segue into veggie kebabs. You never really know exactly where the buffet will take you, and each trip up to the table is like a new chapter in an ongoing quest for satiation.
This buffet had it all: from calamari to cucumber salad, pasta to palak paneer. There were entire sections of this buffet that we did not even have the time to explore, much less the stomachs large enough to sample. Dessert stretched the entire middle section of tables, and featured triple chocolate mousse cake, pistachio napoleons, tropical fruit mini-tarts, yule logs of all colors and flavors, and a make-your-own-sundae station.
The delicious feast, coupled with entertainment that included fire-eaters, a Bollywood dance troupe, a bellydancer, and a live DJ, made for a fantastic New Year's Eve on the beach under the stars.
AYURVEDIC BLISS
It's official, I feel like some kind of food! After arriving at The Leela in Kovalam ( Kerala) Peaches and I decided that these four days were going to be dedicated to improve our sleep deprived selves...so we booked yoga sessions and ayurvedic treatments at the Center in the hotel which is supposed to be the best in the region.
The yoga is great except for the fact that we do it around sunset time and therefore we have to cover ourselves in mosquito repellent in order not to be eaten alive. The instructor is a little limber South Indian thing who chants and orders us around in positions that make me feel like a pretzel! Peaches, who is a little yoga maven, knows the actual Indian names of the positions the yoga Nazi calls out, I basically fake it, keep and eye on Peaches and copy.
The ayurvedic treatments are great except they make me feel like food: yesterday I was basted like a turkey in different types of oil that, at one time, were literaly, liberally, dripped on me from my forehead on. I did sleep like a baby though, with no dreams, which the ayurvedic doctor says it's good, on top of declaring that I was made of air and water ( I have no idea if that's good or bad).
The next treatment was a "powder massage" where I was massaged head to toe in something that looked and smelled like the barbecue meat rub from Costco. Properly tenderized I was again rubbed in oil and then given something that looked like pesto in a beautiful brass jar to scrub myself in the shower. Needless to say my hair needed about three shampoos to go back to its usual non-oily state.
I am eagerly awaiting the next two days to see what comes next:Bobo alla Catalana? Aglio, olio e peperoncino? Baked, fried? Who knows......
The yoga is great except for the fact that we do it around sunset time and therefore we have to cover ourselves in mosquito repellent in order not to be eaten alive. The instructor is a little limber South Indian thing who chants and orders us around in positions that make me feel like a pretzel! Peaches, who is a little yoga maven, knows the actual Indian names of the positions the yoga Nazi calls out, I basically fake it, keep and eye on Peaches and copy.
The ayurvedic treatments are great except they make me feel like food: yesterday I was basted like a turkey in different types of oil that, at one time, were literaly, liberally, dripped on me from my forehead on. I did sleep like a baby though, with no dreams, which the ayurvedic doctor says it's good, on top of declaring that I was made of air and water ( I have no idea if that's good or bad).
The next treatment was a "powder massage" where I was massaged head to toe in something that looked and smelled like the barbecue meat rub from Costco. Properly tenderized I was again rubbed in oil and then given something that looked like pesto in a beautiful brass jar to scrub myself in the shower. Needless to say my hair needed about three shampoos to go back to its usual non-oily state.
I am eagerly awaiting the next two days to see what comes next:Bobo alla Catalana? Aglio, olio e peperoncino? Baked, fried? Who knows......
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
MONSOON WEDDING
After pampering ourselves, getting our hair done and enlisting the help of a hotel desk clerk in order to make sure that our saris were not going to unravel on the dance floor, we were ready for Rushmi and Vikram's wedding. It is hard work to try and keep up with these Indian women!
The ceremony started and almost immediately it started raining. It quickly turned into a real monsoon and we had to take cover in the pavilions in the gardens, Now that would have been enough to turn any bride into a "bridezilla",but Indians are cool and Rushmi basically turned around at dinner and said: "You were all talking about a monsoon wedding and here it is, we got it for you!" What a sport!
Our saris badly need to go to the cleaners now, but we danced until really late and drank sweet concoctions of guava juice and vodka while ogling the amazing combination of all the outfits and the incredible jewellery. Another thing we learned is that in India you cannot possibly be over the top so you can just pile it on: the clothes, the jewellery, the make-up...
The next day we slept until noon and then had a fabulous brunch at the Oberoi followed by shopping for kurtas and bangles in the commercial district of Bangalore and at the Garuda Mall which is now officially one of our favorite places in town. They even have an espresso bar called : Barista that makes excellent coffees of any kind. The people at the mall were looking at us with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, like they could not quite figure out what were we doing there ( there are not too many tourists in Bangalore), but to us it was just a mall with Katy Perry blaring from the speakers and girls in skinny jeans....
The ceremony started and almost immediately it started raining. It quickly turned into a real monsoon and we had to take cover in the pavilions in the gardens, Now that would have been enough to turn any bride into a "bridezilla",but Indians are cool and Rushmi basically turned around at dinner and said: "You were all talking about a monsoon wedding and here it is, we got it for you!" What a sport!
Our saris badly need to go to the cleaners now, but we danced until really late and drank sweet concoctions of guava juice and vodka while ogling the amazing combination of all the outfits and the incredible jewellery. Another thing we learned is that in India you cannot possibly be over the top so you can just pile it on: the clothes, the jewellery, the make-up...
The next day we slept until noon and then had a fabulous brunch at the Oberoi followed by shopping for kurtas and bangles in the commercial district of Bangalore and at the Garuda Mall which is now officially one of our favorite places in town. They even have an espresso bar called : Barista that makes excellent coffees of any kind. The people at the mall were looking at us with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, like they could not quite figure out what were we doing there ( there are not too many tourists in Bangalore), but to us it was just a mall with Katy Perry blaring from the speakers and girls in skinny jeans....
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monsoon Wedding
Despite the fact that it is most definitely no longer the rainy season here in India, a light drizzle enveloped us as we drove up to the Tamarind Tree, an antique sculpture garden that served as the magical setting for Rushmi and Vikram's wedding. That light drizzle turned into an open faucet by the time the bride was walking down the aisle, and most of the wedding guests were forced to take shelter under a canopied area of banquet tables.
Thankfully for Rushmi, despite what Alanis Morissette defines as the ultimate irony, rain on one's wedding day is supposedly a good omen in Hinduism and in India [as it is in Italy, where the saying goes: sposa bagnata, sposa fortunata.]
By far the best part of the night was the bride's side versus groom's side dance-off. I am proud to report that Rushmi's side won overwhelmingly among all attendees and the DJ, after having to put together a last-minute dance number. Turns out the boys were not just calling our bluff: They actually DID choreograph a Bollywood-style dance routine to "Jai Ho!" from Slumdog Millionaire. We. Were. In. Shock. Thankfully, we are all clever girls who think quickly on our feet (literally) and someone had the brilliant idea to simply do the electric slide. Another girl requested it, and as the person there who had by far attended the most bar-mitzvahs, I was nominated to lead everyone in the notorious slide.
Of course, this being India and all, within moments "Electric Feel" by MGMT was blasting through the speakers. Curses. In any case, we persisted and persevered, and eventually the DJs declared us the obvious winners (I think it helped that we had the bride on our side.) I told Karina that there is way that I will ever be caught in this predicament again, and thus she should start choreographing a dance for my wedding immediately.Another highlight for sure was dancing and singing along to "Empire State of Mind" as the closing song, around 2:30 a.m. There we all were in Bangalore, having flown in from cities as far-flung as New York, LA, Seattle, Tel Aviv, Shangai, even Addis Ababa, breaking it down to Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes, singing our hearts out to the City That Never Sleeps (um, paging Tom Friedman...)
All in all, despite the rain and the lack of a white horse, it was a beautiful wedding that I am sure all those fortunate enough to have attended will remember fondly for years to come. Congratulations, Rushmi and Vikram!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Mehndi Mania
Yesterday afternoon, we arrived in Bangalore and headed straight to Shiro Lounge for Rushmi's mehndi ceremony. In true Rushmi fashion, the Indian pre-wedding tradition was performed at an Asian-fusion bar/lounge with hard-core rap playing in the background. (Her brother: "Thank god my grandparents can't understand these lyrics.")
We enjoyed catching up with friends, meeting Rushmi and Vikram's families, and sitting to have our hands adorned with gorgeous henna designs. The artists use a little packet of henna that looks like a decorative cake frosting applicator. The henna goes on like puff paint, and as it dries it forms a dark brown crust that molts off, leaving the dyed pattern behind on your skin. Depending on how long you leave it on, (and how long you resist the temptation to pick at the crust--it's like a scab!) the color can range from an orangey tone to a deep red rust color.
We enjoyed catching up with friends, meeting Rushmi and Vikram's families, and sitting to have our hands adorned with gorgeous henna designs. The artists use a little packet of henna that looks like a decorative cake frosting applicator. The henna goes on like puff paint, and as it dries it forms a dark brown crust that molts off, leaving the dyed pattern behind on your skin. Depending on how long you leave it on, (and how long you resist the temptation to pick at the crust--it's like a scab!) the color can range from an orangey tone to a deep red rust color.
Pink Is the Navy Blue of India
Ok I did see a snake today…it was a cobra in a basket at the Amber Palace in Jaipur. I tried to stay as far as possible from it while Peaches was happily taking pictures of it. Altogether a non-event….
We shopped for teas and spices today while yesterday Peaches found the sari for the wedding in Bangalore that she needed, it’s peacock blue and very beautiful. I, on the other hand, decided to go for a kurta tunic with pants in pink with beads and little mirrors, I know it sounds hideous and gaudy, but I swear it isn’t and it is one of those things that will be great to wear in the summers and in Jamaica. One cannot come to India and not buy something pink!
Jaipur is the Pink City, beautiful and interesting. It has an ancient capital, Amber, with a fort that you reach on an elephant and the maharajah’s palace in the old city with also great history and wonderful architecture. I got to ride an elephant for the first time in my life, not a particularly comfortable ride, but certainly a fun one!
At our hotel we made friends with a lovely Southern American couple from Atlanta, Michael and Bo-peep, yes, you read correctly, her name, or at least the one she goes by, really is Bo-peep! They are absolutely adorable in a very Southern, charming sort of way, they have been everywhere and they obviously love to live well and have fun. We exchanged addresses and emails and promised to see each other again ,which is something I definitely see happening.
Tomorrow I hope it will be the last of our really early morning rises, we need to get to Bangalore in time for the Mehendi ceremony, so we’ll try and sleep some on the 3 hour flight and maybe catch up later but I still think a 6.00 am flight is totally uncivilized!
Friday, December 25, 2009
Rushmi & Vikram's Wedding is in Two Days!
The countdown begins. Tomorrow we wake at the ungodly hour of 4:00 a.m. to make our early morning flight to Bangalore. Rushmi’s mehendi ceremony will take place tomorrow afternoon; The wedding is the following afternoon, and a reception will take place on the 28th. I have been looking forward to this wedding for so long that I can hardly believe we are almost there!
Sightseeing today in Jaipur was another walking tour of fantastic fortresses and palaces, courtyards and arches, carvings and frescos. The variety in construction materials, architectural style and decorative technique across Rajasthan is quite incredible. One palace is more beautiful than the next, and each and every one seems special in its own way and unique for some reason. The mirrored and carved ceilings at the Amber Fort today were absolutely breathtaking.
Also, I got to ride an elephant for the third time in my life, and that's always a fun thing to do, albeit not exactly the most comfortable way to travel. I love how they paint the elephants faces and trunks. The attention to detail and the appreciation of aesthetics in India is really quite incredible. Every inch of every rickshaw or freight truck or even camel is decorated or adorned.
Not gonna lie, I’m a little bummed to be leaving our “luxury tent” here in Jaipur, but seeing as this trip just keeps getting better and better, and the wedding events begin tomorrow, I am sure we still have lots more to look forward to.
See you in Bangalore!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
LIVE LIKE OCTOPUSSY
You have not experience service until you come to India. Everything that you have had before pales in comparison, I thought I had an excellent level of service in Jamaica, but it's nothing compared to this...I mean someone who follows you all the time in a hotel just to make sure you do not trip on the steps, that kind of care!
It is almost a week since we've been in India and I am happy to report that our bowels have not at all rebelled in any way, the food seems to absolutely agree with our stomachs and certainly with our palate. The variety of dishes is unbelievable and one more delicious than the other, whether meat or vegetarian. This morning, at breakfast, I was even talked into trying some concoction of carrot and beet juice and everyone who knows me knows my complete and utter aversion to beets! At this point everything is so freaking perfect that Peaches and I are tempted to try and live dangerously: brush our teeth with tap water...try a salad ( actually this we already did because in Ranthambore we had probably the best fresh arugula I've ever had)...eat from a street vendor....leave home our Purell,.. touch an Untouchable...something like that!
Tonight we had dinner, and what a dinner... at the Lake Palace in the middle of Lake Pichola in Udaipur, the setting for James Bond's "Octopussy",,,remember when he gets into the fake crocodile in his tux and he crosses the lake to go and surprise Maud Adams in her secluded palace...well it certainly exceeded expectations, both the dinner and the visit to Octopussy's lair, unbelievably beautiful and they make you feel treated like a Maharani!
I have not mentioned that we are staying in another palace: Devi Garh, somewhat of a fortress perched on a hill and one of the most exquisite hotels I have ever been to ( shades of Castello del Nero!). One thing that Devi Garh does not lack is marble, this area is full of it and they make good use of it in the palaces. Our bed is actually a big slab of Carrara -white marble with a mattress on it!
Udaipur, the white city...with all this whilte marble, easy to understand.
It is almost a week since we've been in India and I am happy to report that our bowels have not at all rebelled in any way, the food seems to absolutely agree with our stomachs and certainly with our palate. The variety of dishes is unbelievable and one more delicious than the other, whether meat or vegetarian. This morning, at breakfast, I was even talked into trying some concoction of carrot and beet juice and everyone who knows me knows my complete and utter aversion to beets! At this point everything is so freaking perfect that Peaches and I are tempted to try and live dangerously: brush our teeth with tap water...try a salad ( actually this we already did because in Ranthambore we had probably the best fresh arugula I've ever had)...eat from a street vendor....leave home our Purell,.. touch an Untouchable...something like that!
Tonight we had dinner, and what a dinner... at the Lake Palace in the middle of Lake Pichola in Udaipur, the setting for James Bond's "Octopussy",,,remember when he gets into the fake crocodile in his tux and he crosses the lake to go and surprise Maud Adams in her secluded palace...well it certainly exceeded expectations, both the dinner and the visit to Octopussy's lair, unbelievably beautiful and they make you feel treated like a Maharani!
I have not mentioned that we are staying in another palace: Devi Garh, somewhat of a fortress perched on a hill and one of the most exquisite hotels I have ever been to ( shades of Castello del Nero!). One thing that Devi Garh does not lack is marble, this area is full of it and they make good use of it in the palaces. Our bed is actually a big slab of Carrara -white marble with a mattress on it!
Udaipur, the white city...with all this whilte marble, easy to understand.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
DO NOT Make Eye Contact With the Squirrels!
"Feeeeeeeeeeed me!"Apparently, Rajasthan is home to the most gregarious squirrels I have ever met, and I have met some pretty gregarious squirrels in my day. (Those surrounding the Capitol in Washington, DC come to mind; In fact, one bit one of my interns once. I immediately sent her to the Senate Nurse out of fear she would contract rabies, but it turns out that squirrels can't carry rabies--You learn something new every day.)
As we enjoyed a leisurely lunch at Maharani Bagh in Ranakpur, we were practically assaulted by about a dozen squirrels in search of a snack. Not only are they completely unafraid of humans, but if you make eve contact with them, they will come right up to you and beg for food. They are utterly shameless. Seriously, my dog doesn't even do that! One basically jumped into Bobo's purse and had to be shooed away; Another climbed on my back as I attempted to photograph its brethren. (Again, I'm really glad they don't transmit rabies. I hope they are also incapable of transmitting leptospirosis.)
"You must be joking! Double-Oh-Seven on an island populated exclusively by women?! We won't see him until dawn!"
I'd like to be / In the middle of a man-made lake / in the Octopussy Garden, late at night
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Me Tarzan, You Jain
En route to Udaipur from Jodphur, we stopped at Ranakpur Jain Temple, one of the most spectacular Jain worship houses in all of India, and probably one of the most beautiful temples I have ever seen, period.
The temple features over 1,000 intricately carved marble columns, and no two are alike.
Construction began on the temple over 600 years ago, and at that time, the seed for this tree was planted, and the temple constructed around it.
Followers of Jainism, a dharmic religion with roots in India, believe in a path of non-violence for all living creatures. India is currently home to approximately 5 million followers of the religion.
The temple features over 1,000 intricately carved marble columns, and no two are alike.
Construction began on the temple over 600 years ago, and at that time, the seed for this tree was planted, and the temple constructed around it.
Followers of Jainism, a dharmic religion with roots in India, believe in a path of non-violence for all living creatures. India is currently home to approximately 5 million followers of the religion.
I'M IN TEXTILE PARADISE
Jodhpur is a rose-colored and periwinkle blue dream. The houses, the fort, the Maharajah's Palace... very beautiful and when seen from the great height of the hill, peaceful and majestic. Of course in the bowels of the market is another story, and it reminds me a lot of the market in Jerusalem, particularly in the smells of spices and other stuff. Like for example the copious amount of manure that animals, and here over all the cows, leave on the streets. It was quite hilarious seeing a man really "step in it" because he was pushing a cart and could not see the poop and wanting to let out a colorful Hindi curse, but restrain himself from doing it because, after all, it was holy cow poop!
In the heart of the market there is a shop that looks very nondescript from the street but inside it's six floors of textile paradise. The most amazing fabrics are here on sale at a fraction of what one would find in Europe or the States. Cashmere throws, silk bedspreads, fabrics in all kind of jewel colors...amazing! After what seemed no time Peaches and I looked at our watches and we had spent two hours in the shop aided by a great owner who even spoke some Italian because he does business with all the biggest designers and his trusty assistant, a good looking young guy who seemed to derive great pleasure in draping himself in fabrics and scarves to show them to us. He actually showed us a great new way ro tie our cashmere scarf to our necks.
We left slightly shellshocked and dazzled after having singlehandedly revived Jodhpur's economy for the next quarter!
Now when we get back to NYC and our package arrives we will really celebrate Christmas!
In the heart of the market there is a shop that looks very nondescript from the street but inside it's six floors of textile paradise. The most amazing fabrics are here on sale at a fraction of what one would find in Europe or the States. Cashmere throws, silk bedspreads, fabrics in all kind of jewel colors...amazing! After what seemed no time Peaches and I looked at our watches and we had spent two hours in the shop aided by a great owner who even spoke some Italian because he does business with all the biggest designers and his trusty assistant, a good looking young guy who seemed to derive great pleasure in draping himself in fabrics and scarves to show them to us. He actually showed us a great new way ro tie our cashmere scarf to our necks.
We left slightly shellshocked and dazzled after having singlehandedly revived Jodhpur's economy for the next quarter!
Now when we get back to NYC and our package arrives we will really celebrate Christmas!
Forts and Palaces and Open Sewers, Oh My!
If you're never had the pleasure of a casual stroll beside an open sewer, I can assure you it is an experience. Quite the contrast to the grandeur we saw visiting the palaces, fortresses and palaces of the maharajahs, but then again India really is a land of contradiction, if not complete and utter oxymoron.
Today we enjoyed the cultural sights of Jodphur, particularly the Mehrangarh (maharajah's fort) and the Jaswant Thada crematorium. The fort is a spectacular pink sandstone structure with room upon room and exhibit upon exhibit, in addition to gorgeous views of Jodphur.
One of my favorite moments of the day was stepping out of my shoes and stepping into the temple area of the Mehrangarh, because for a minute or two, Bobo and I were the only people around. In a country of over a billion, I have discovered that is it next to impossible to find yourself un-surrounded by dozens of people most anywhere you go. Thus far, that is what has struck me the most about India: the sheer number of people.
After a leisurely lunch, we enjoyed a walk through the bazaar and marketplace of the Old City, where we spent hours looking at some of the amazing textiles that serve as the backbone of the local economy. Jodphur is the nexus between many European fashion houses and local mills and craftsmen. I have never seen so many gorgeous pashminas, cashmere blankets, and applique, filigree, or embroidered textiles.
After we realized we had spent a good part of two hours looking at fabrics, we scampered back to the hotel to freshen up for dinner at the maharajah's palace. Partially made into a luxurious hotel/resort, the beautiful structure is still the home of the current Former Maharajah* and his family, albeit they are confined to only one wing of the massive palace. Imagine if the Queen of England were stuck in one area of Buckingham Palace and the rest opened up as a hotel. Sort of a strange concept in theory and yet, in practice it seems to work just fine. Bobo has already decided to try to marry me off to the Prince of Jodphur, the next Former Maharajah.* I think she is still disappointed that my semester abroad in the UK did not result in my becoming some kind of minor European royalty at the very least, future Princess of Wales/Queen of England at best.
I'm really glad we came to Jodphur. It seems as though many tourists skip it in favor of the Delhi/Agra/Jaipur/Udaipur circuit, but I've found it to be beautiful and interesting, and I can't wait to compare it to the other cities of Rajasthan over the next four days.
More tomorrow from Udaipur, "The Venice of India" . . .
*In 1972, Indira Gandhi amended India's constitution to essentially strip the maharajahs of their titles. Gone were their lands and tax exemptions. Fascinatingly, they officially must be referred to as "Former Maharajahs," so that's actually what it says on their business cards. As a result, they have had to find ways to (gasp!) actually support themselves and the way of life to which they have grown accustomed over the last few centuries. One method: open up your palace to tourism. Voila!
Today we enjoyed the cultural sights of Jodphur, particularly the Mehrangarh (maharajah's fort) and the Jaswant Thada crematorium. The fort is a spectacular pink sandstone structure with room upon room and exhibit upon exhibit, in addition to gorgeous views of Jodphur.
One of my favorite moments of the day was stepping out of my shoes and stepping into the temple area of the Mehrangarh, because for a minute or two, Bobo and I were the only people around. In a country of over a billion, I have discovered that is it next to impossible to find yourself un-surrounded by dozens of people most anywhere you go. Thus far, that is what has struck me the most about India: the sheer number of people.
After a leisurely lunch, we enjoyed a walk through the bazaar and marketplace of the Old City, where we spent hours looking at some of the amazing textiles that serve as the backbone of the local economy. Jodphur is the nexus between many European fashion houses and local mills and craftsmen. I have never seen so many gorgeous pashminas, cashmere blankets, and applique, filigree, or embroidered textiles.
After we realized we had spent a good part of two hours looking at fabrics, we scampered back to the hotel to freshen up for dinner at the maharajah's palace. Partially made into a luxurious hotel/resort, the beautiful structure is still the home of the current Former Maharajah* and his family, albeit they are confined to only one wing of the massive palace. Imagine if the Queen of England were stuck in one area of Buckingham Palace and the rest opened up as a hotel. Sort of a strange concept in theory and yet, in practice it seems to work just fine. Bobo has already decided to try to marry me off to the Prince of Jodphur, the next Former Maharajah.* I think she is still disappointed that my semester abroad in the UK did not result in my becoming some kind of minor European royalty at the very least, future Princess of Wales/Queen of England at best.
I'm really glad we came to Jodphur. It seems as though many tourists skip it in favor of the Delhi/Agra/Jaipur/Udaipur circuit, but I've found it to be beautiful and interesting, and I can't wait to compare it to the other cities of Rajasthan over the next four days.
More tomorrow from Udaipur, "The Venice of India" . . .
*In 1972, Indira Gandhi amended India's constitution to essentially strip the maharajahs of their titles. Gone were their lands and tax exemptions. Fascinatingly, they officially must be referred to as "Former Maharajahs," so that's actually what it says on their business cards. As a result, they have had to find ways to (gasp!) actually support themselves and the way of life to which they have grown accustomed over the last few centuries. One method: open up your palace to tourism. Voila!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Long, Long, Long Road to Jodphur
The morning started with our last game drive at Ranthambore, no tigers this time, but we saw wild boar, antelopes, deer and tons of monkeys. The lack of tiger sighting was also due to the fact that people were allowed to enter the reserve on foot (actually they were all barefoot) for the fourth day after the new moon for the festival of Ganesh. Lots of Indians scampering around the park are not conducive to tigers’ outings.
After leaving, alas not without saying goodbye to our lovely tent, we boarded our minivan, very comfortable, but it was going to be our prison for the next nine hours….
We found out that the Indian style of driving is similar to the one in Naples, basically honk your horn at anything that moves: honk at men, women and children, honk at cows, honk at the ubiquitous not so wild pigs, honk at motorcycles, honk at cows, honk at trucks, honk at cars and, did I mention, honk at cows?
The villages we passed before passing Jaipur where your typical run of the mill, Sunday in any village: the men all out sitting around in bars, the women hardly anywhere to be seen. One interesting thing is though that the Indians refuse to live their lives unadorned , from the fronts of their trucks to the butts of their camels everything is painted, tasseled, bedazzled and even the poorest women in the smallest villages wear the most amazing saris with the most beautiful colors and with nose piercings, bangles on their arms, and beaded, painted, mirrored fabrics.
We finally arrived in Jodhpur in time for a late dinner and our hotel called Raas is absolutely amazing….more to come.
After leaving, alas not without saying goodbye to our lovely tent, we boarded our minivan, very comfortable, but it was going to be our prison for the next nine hours….
We found out that the Indian style of driving is similar to the one in Naples, basically honk your horn at anything that moves: honk at men, women and children, honk at cows, honk at the ubiquitous not so wild pigs, honk at motorcycles, honk at cows, honk at trucks, honk at cars and, did I mention, honk at cows?
The villages we passed before passing Jaipur where your typical run of the mill, Sunday in any village: the men all out sitting around in bars, the women hardly anywhere to be seen. One interesting thing is though that the Indians refuse to live their lives unadorned , from the fronts of their trucks to the butts of their camels everything is painted, tasseled, bedazzled and even the poorest women in the smallest villages wear the most amazing saris with the most beautiful colors and with nose piercings, bangles on their arms, and beaded, painted, mirrored fabrics.
We finally arrived in Jodhpur in time for a late dinner and our hotel called Raas is absolutely amazing….more to come.
Highlights On the Road to Jodphur
1. Mustard fields as far as the eye can see. Seriously, they must grow the entire world's supply of mustard in Rajasthan. It's bright, practically neon yellow for miles and miles.
2. A camel parked by a gas pump. Two guys were filling up a large gas can resting on a cart being pulled by the camel, but it still appeared as though they were gassing up their camel and it looked amazing. Wish I had been able to snag a photo in time.
3. Wild dogs, eating at a cow carcass. Yummy.
4. "Ramakrishna Women's Teachers' College." [NB: The surname of my friend getting married.]
5. Goats on the highway. On an actual toll road, six lanes across, honest to god highway. And Bobo wonders how it could possible take ten hours to drive 550 km...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tiger Beat
Yes we did see our tiger at Ranthambore and it was a mighty sight! After a long wait, apparently tigers like to show around 4.30 pm for tea, a beautiful specimen of the family of the Lake appeared. She was no more than 20/30 yards from us in the open jeep so it was awesome and a little weird. Apparently we were making Split’s acquaintance, a young female whose mother’s, the original tiger of the Lake, is now at the ripe old age of 16 after having laid at least five litters of cubs. Unfortunately we were told that poachers still manage to enter the reserve and sometimes they kill the tigers to sell them to the Chinese (damn the Chinese they really are evil!) who use all of them from the teeth to the nails, to the fur to their organs used for their medicine.
In any case the tigers are managing to repopulate and now there are between 35 and 40 and more cubs will be born soon. Our Split almost let us watch kill a deer, in reality she truly was not interested in us but she was fixated on four deer very close by. As soon as the deer though became aware of her presence (apparently they have poor eyesight and they need to smell the tiger) they made a really strange sound, they warning call and at that point our tiger, spotted, looked really pissed off and walked way growling. I suggested we tossed a baby ,who in another nearby jeep had started waling and disturbing the whole awesome moment, to the tiger to compensate for the escaped deer. It was an Indian baby, there are so many anyway…..
In any case the tigers are managing to repopulate and now there are between 35 and 40 and more cubs will be born soon. Our Split almost let us watch kill a deer, in reality she truly was not interested in us but she was fixated on four deer very close by. As soon as the deer though became aware of her presence (apparently they have poor eyesight and they need to smell the tiger) they made a really strange sound, they warning call and at that point our tiger, spotted, looked really pissed off and walked way growling. I suggested we tossed a baby ,who in another nearby jeep had started waling and disturbing the whole awesome moment, to the tiger to compensate for the escaped deer. It was an Indian baby, there are so many anyway…..
What Do Tigers Dream of When They Take Their Little Tiger Snooze?
Mauling zebras? Halle Berry in the Catwoman suit? We were one step closer to answering this question today. Yep, that's right. We. Saw. A. #%$@ing. TIGER!!
And it was GORGEOUS. Seriously, one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. We nearly saw it make a kill, too, but then the herd of deer noticed it, sounded alarm call, and the tiger sulked off growling. WE COULD HEAR IT GROWL! I'm telling you, it was awesome. It was probably only about 50 feet away from us.
Tigers are extremely rare in the wild, bordering on extinct. It is thought that there are fewer than 3,200 left on earth. Supposedly, India is probably the best place to see them, and from what I understand Ranthambore National Park is one of the best places in India. That being said, there are only approximately 30 tigers that roam the area of the park open to tourists (approximately 125 square kilometers) and tigers are nocturnal, solitary, territorial animals, so each tiger will command its own area and rarely leave it. Thus, seeing a tiger today was far from a sure bet.
Furthermore, there were late, post-monsoon season rains in this part of India, which means the grass, trees, and brush are thicker and greener than is normal for this time of year, which makes it difficult to see the cats when they are lounging around during the day, as they tend to do. I still can hardly believe we got as good a view as we did! Jusuf was correct: seeing a tiger is an almost emotional experience. Maybe it's just an instinctive adrenaline high one gets from being so close to such a giant predator, but it was seriously so cool.
You can find more information on tiger conservation here.
*Oh, also, we saw monkeys, crocodiles, peacocks, deer, antelope and other things I would have tried to make sound reeeeeally cool in the absence of seeing a tiger, but now that we saw one, who really cares about the other dudes? :)
Let me introduce myself......
I will be posting blogs with my travel companion Peaches Park and I guess you know how this "porn name" stuff works so that is the reason for something as unsavoury as " Bobo Lomellina".
It has to do with my first pet, a rabbit, and a street in Milan...so go figure!
It has to do with my first pet, a rabbit, and a street in Milan...so go figure!
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