Time flies, and goes slow. Two weeks ago we came and left Rajisthan under the cover of darkness, and already we are sunburnt and sandy on the shores of the Arabian Sea. Where did it go?
Under the cover of darkness, we came: the train pulled into the station well before dawn in Jodhpur. We stepped out and into the foggy mayhem of street lights and taxi drivers and chai wallas and groggy travelers, and disappeared into the city-- which was quiet and still asleep, for the most part. In big Indian cities, it's easy to get lost; guesthouses and restaurants often paint their names with arrows on the corners of buildings and in twisting alleyways, so you don't get discouraged and give up. So, we followed signs in a dark and winding maze, finally arrived, and banged on the door until an old man let us in and showed us a room. We collapsed into bed and were moments away from sleep when, out of the darkness, the morning prayers of ten thousand people rose to the sky. Astounded, we crept out of bed and up to the rooftop and saw the whole city sprawled out beneath a massive red stone fort, and the sun making its hazy ascent over all of it. Jodhpur is called the 'blue city', because members of the Brahmin caste paint all their houses varying shades of blue. So, through the fog: a holy chorus of ghost voices warbling from mosques and distant loudspeakers, an eery echo; a sea of blue rooftops, the mountainous Mehrangarh Fort ("impenetrable to this day!") and the blood red sun creeping up and setting it all on fire... It was a pretty special moment to be awake, we thought.
What else did we do in Rajasthan? We visited Jaipur ("the pink city"-- not so nice) and Jaisalmer, which was an ancient city built in an around (another) ancient fort. Like a page out of Lawrence of Arabia-- cobblestones, camels, men in turbans, women wearing big gold chains all over their faces and wrists and ankles.. We spent a night sleeping under the stars in the Thar Desert-- an Indian treat for sure. While our camels wandered off to find greener grass, we slid up and down the dunes and followed the trails of one hundred different desert creatures trekking across the sand. At night, our guides cooked dinner over a fire and we took turns drinking and singing songs from our respective countries. The Frenchmen with us did a poor job, and we did okay with a little Johnny Cash (traditional American music?) but the Rajasthani boys definitely nailed it with their enchanted folksongs about two cursed lovers along the India/Pakistan border, about a shepherd searching for an idyllic pasture to graze his sheep..all in all it was a magic night in the desert, and not one we will soon forget.
So, under the cover of darkness, we left: in the middle of the night, from another filthy train station, with our bags packed and no reserved tickets. The Indian railway system, computerized only ten years ago, has evolved to suit the traveling needs of 1.3 billion people-- efficient, but tough to get a last minute seat. It was a 30 hour ride to Goa, and the next train didn't leave for another week, so it was a toss up between "don't go" and "just get on the train". Easy! I have a T-shirt that says "Sab Kuch Milega" which is Hindi for "everything is possible" and I wear it for extra luck in times like these. We alternated between sleeping in a then-empty berth, sitting with nice Indian families (and sharing their delectable Indian snacks) and eventually bribing the ticket collector to get a sleeping bunk. Everything is possible! Especially in India.
7:56AM
Agonda, Goa, India
Under the cover of darkness, we came: the train pulled into the station well before dawn in Jodhpur. We stepped out and into the foggy mayhem of street lights and taxi drivers and chai wallas and groggy travelers, and disappeared into the city-- which was quiet and still asleep, for the most part. In big Indian cities, it's easy to get lost; guesthouses and restaurants often paint their names with arrows on the corners of buildings and in twisting alleyways, so you don't get discouraged and give up. So, we followed signs in a dark and winding maze, finally arrived, and banged on the door until an old man let us in and showed us a room. We collapsed into bed and were moments away from sleep when, out of the darkness, the morning prayers of ten thousand people rose to the sky. Astounded, we crept out of bed and up to the rooftop and saw the whole city sprawled out beneath a massive red stone fort, and the sun making its hazy ascent over all of it. Jodhpur is called the 'blue city', because members of the Brahmin caste paint all their houses varying shades of blue. So, through the fog: a holy chorus of ghost voices warbling from mosques and distant loudspeakers, an eery echo; a sea of blue rooftops, the mountainous Mehrangarh Fort ("impenetrable to this day!") and the blood red sun creeping up and setting it all on fire... It was a pretty special moment to be awake, we thought.
What else did we do in Rajasthan? We visited Jaipur ("the pink city"-- not so nice) and Jaisalmer, which was an ancient city built in an around (another) ancient fort. Like a page out of Lawrence of Arabia-- cobblestones, camels, men in turbans, women wearing big gold chains all over their faces and wrists and ankles.. We spent a night sleeping under the stars in the Thar Desert-- an Indian treat for sure. While our camels wandered off to find greener grass, we slid up and down the dunes and followed the trails of one hundred different desert creatures trekking across the sand. At night, our guides cooked dinner over a fire and we took turns drinking and singing songs from our respective countries. The Frenchmen with us did a poor job, and we did okay with a little Johnny Cash (traditional American music?) but the Rajasthani boys definitely nailed it with their enchanted folksongs about two cursed lovers along the India/Pakistan border, about a shepherd searching for an idyllic pasture to graze his sheep..all in all it was a magic night in the desert, and not one we will soon forget.
So, under the cover of darkness, we left: in the middle of the night, from another filthy train station, with our bags packed and no reserved tickets. The Indian railway system, computerized only ten years ago, has evolved to suit the traveling needs of 1.3 billion people-- efficient, but tough to get a last minute seat. It was a 30 hour ride to Goa, and the next train didn't leave for another week, so it was a toss up between "don't go" and "just get on the train". Easy! I have a T-shirt that says "Sab Kuch Milega" which is Hindi for "everything is possible" and I wear it for extra luck in times like these. We alternated between sleeping in a then-empty berth, sitting with nice Indian families (and sharing their delectable Indian snacks) and eventually bribing the ticket collector to get a sleeping bunk. Everything is possible! Especially in India.
7:56AM
Agonda, Goa, India
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