india, continued.

greetings from pokhara, nepal!

we've just finished 16 days of trekking the annapurna circuit. to sum it up briefly (so that I can finish blogging about india): the scenery was like new zealand on crack, nepali people are incredibly friendly and welcoming, crossing a pass at 5410 meters (17,768 feet) is just the thing to make you feel and walk like you're two hundred years old, and eating nepali food for days on end will give you a happily regular bowel-movement schedule, as well as a new appreciation for the wide assortment of tasty cuisines available in larger cities such as pokhara.

back to india.

delaney and I had had enough of varanasi by the end of our four days there. delaney had been sick almost the entire time, and the heat and filth was debilitating. we said goodbye to kumiko and her husband and took off for the train station.

next stop: udaipur, in the state of rajasthan ('land of kings'). udaipur is widely known is the most romantic city in india. anyone who has seen the james bond movie octopussy has seen udaipur -- the palace in the middle of the lake was indeed a maharaja's royal residence. it is now one of india's best hotels, the lake palace hotel. we couldn't quite afford to stay there, but we were excited to be headed to beautiful udaipur anyway.

on the night train there, we shared a first-class (the other classes were sold out) cabin with two indians named mr. gurinder and mr. singh. gurinder was a twenty-something, fresh-faced young man with glasses and a shy smile. singh was a turbaned sikh in his late thirties. they were traveling on business to rajasthan and were friendly and helpful. they suggested that, if we had time, we take in rajasthan's only hill station, mt. abu. hill stations in india are cities at higher elevations (usually in the foothills of the himalayas) that are much cooler during the hot summer months than the rest of the subcontinent. they were used by maharajas and the british government alike as summer residences or getaways, and the hill station of shimla actually served as the alternate summer location for the indian capital in the 1800s. the most famous of these hill stations is probably darjeeling, located in the region where darjeeling tea is grown for export around the world.

we arrived in udaipur at around 7:00 am, when it was still relatively cool, said goodbye to our cabinmates, and stepped out of the train station to brace ourselves for the onslaught of the autorickshaw hordes.


the way to get around in major cities is by autorickshaw. an autorickshaw is a motorized, covered three-wheeled contraption that can fit a driver in the front and anywhere from one to about a dozen (if they are slightly-built indians) passengers scattered around the rest of the vehicle. they're everywhere in delhi. quick, able to weave through traffic, equipped with the ubiquitous and useful horn (no one uses turn signals or side mirrors, it seems -- just horns). you simply stand on a corner or sidewalk for about 1.3 seconds and flag down the first autorickshaw you see. then it's a matter of negotiating the fare. they are equipped with electronic meters, but most of the time these seem to be out of order. so you name your destination and haggle away. a ride across delhi usually cost us 80 - 100 rupees, which is about $1.50 to $2.00. caroline has advised us to always flag down a moving autorickshaw instead of one that is languishing near the side of the road, usually in a group of other autorickshaws. the ones in groups always have something to prove to their buddies, it seems, and will name much higher prices than those you flag down individually.

outside the udaipur train station, there was the usual army of drivers aggressively hawking their services. one particularly energetic man came up to us and strode alongside. we had been through this routine before and were frankly quite tired of it. it goes something like this:

driver: Sir? You need ride?
delaney: (purposefully striding) No, thanks. We're good.
driver: I give you best price. Where you go?
delaney: No, thank you.
driver: Anywhere you need to go. You need guide for Udaipur?
delaney: Thanks, but we're fine.
driver: I take you to Monsoon Palace. Okay? Only five hundred rupees.
delaney: (silence, still walking)

the man kept up a patter. he would not be dissuaded, it seemed. somewhere in his spiel we caught the words 'thirty rupees.' this was about how much we were planning to spend to take an autorickshaw to the area of udaipur where we wanted to look for a hotel, so we stopped and actually talked to him.

on the ride into the city, it turned out that our driver's name was anwar and had a wonderful sense of humor. the first thing he did was to take us to an early-morning chai stand and treat us to two cups of steaming-hot, spicy-milky chai. I am never one to turn down a cup of chai, so this was a good move on his part. we chatted about his business as an autorickshaw driver and tour guide. he seemed to have a good handle on what constitutes good customer service, and he also had a great (and not pushy at all) suggestion for a place to stay. how much do you want to spend? he asked. about 800 to 1000 per night, we answered. okay, he said. I know of good place. I take you there, you see if you like. if not, I take you somewhere else, no charge. see? it is there, next to the lake, on the hill.

we could indeed see the hotel in question. it was a neatly painted yellow-and-white building, set on a small hill overlooking the lake. we buzzed up to the front door and went inside. the owner, an affable man in his forties, immediately urged us to put our packs down and had an attendant bring us two cups of steaming-hot chai. again, the gesture was not lost on Cindy the Chai Addict.



the moment he showed us the room, I was sold. immaculately appointed, with marble floors and a fully-tiled cheery yellow bathroom (with FLUSH TOILET!), gorgeous brocaded curtains, ornately carved furniture and rajasthani handicrafted puppets on the wall.

we checked in and spent the next few days wandering around udaipur, sometimes assisted by the able anwar as rickshaw-driver-and-guide, having leisurely meals on the rooftop, and browsing the local markets.

rajasthan has but one hill station: mount abu. it's a getaway for indian families looking to escape the desert heat, four hours away from udaipur and perched high up on a ridge. we decided to spend our last two nights in rajasthan there.

we booked a bus ride to mt. abu through the front desk and showed up at 8:30 the next morning. we had been told that the bus would be air-conditioned. I envisioned comfy upholstered seats, frequent chai breaks, perhaps some soothing indian music piped in as we sped along in air-conditioned comfort.

it was not to be. our bus was a rickety contraption with stained seats and broken windows...and no promised air-conditioning. we set off on what turned out to be the hottest bus ride I have ever taken. six hours, not four, and by the time we reached the green oasis of mt. abu I was a little puddle of sweat and dust and misery.

as we staggered off the bus and collected our backpacks from the roof of the bus, we were approached by a young indian man named charles. we may have been in an extremely susceptible state, but something about his non-invasive, professional manner and his excellent command of english made us listen to what he had to say. his family lived in a small house near the lake, he said, and had two rooms for rent. it was called lake view cottages. we could walk there if we wished and take a look. if it wasn't what we were looking for, no problem.


we walked there. it was exactly what we were looking for. no problem indeed. the cottage was painted lavender, set back from the road in a flower garden full of marigolds, and the room faced the lake. for 200 rupees -- about $5 -- a night.

once we had hydrated and bathed and gotten ourselves back into a somewhat normal human state, we explored mt. abu. charles very trustingly lent us his motorcycle to ride up to the famous dilwara temples up the road, one of the holiest sites for jains. we were not disappointed. there is no way to accurately or fully describe the astounding detail that went into these temples, which are literally encrusted with marble flowers, gods, animals, geometric designs, and scenes from religious literature that are so thin and delicate in some places that light shines through the stone.

as we were wandering open-mouthed among the intricately carved marble temples, someone said hello to delaney. we turned around. it was gurinder and singh, the guys from the night train to udaipur, who had suggested that we visit mt. abu in the first place. they were extremely pleased to see that we had taken them up on their suggestion.

jains, like sikhs, are an ancient offshoot from the hindu religion. you can read more about the differences in their beliefs here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jain
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sikhism


delaney's tummy still wasn't 100% normal, so while he recuperated in the fan-cooled room I decided to go out and find myself some lunch. I stopped in at a busy lunch establishment at the main intersection and ordered a gujarat thali. thalis are all-you-can-eat meals at set prices. they come on a stainless steel dish divided up into smaller compartments, each section containing a different curry, pickle or accompaniment. as you plow your way through this assortment, a restaurant employee will come by and top you off. more rice? more papadum? more curry? more pickle? more chapati? oh dear god.


determined not to reprise our horrific bus experience, we hired a private car and driver for the five-hour drive to jodhpur, the mystical 'blue city' and our departure point by train back to delhi. we had a few hours to kill in jodhpur before the train, so our driver dropped us off at the mehrengarh fort, a lovingly maintained work of architectural and military expertise in the middle of the rajasthan desert. from the ramparts we looked out on the hundreds of houses painted a cool sky blue -- a color once reserved for the upper castes, but now widely used as a house color as it is thought to be an effective mosquito repellent.

our final stop in india: the hill station of shimla in the himalayan foothills. the journey from delhi included a ride on the famous 'toy train,' a small-gauge locomotive that winds its way from kalka up into the cool evergreen hills for which shimla is rightfully famous. we were at 7,000 feet and feeling fine.



shimla was delightful, cool and relaxed. a nice indian couple on the train, shilkmar and prem, suggested that we check out the hotel they were staying in and see if it was to our liking. and it was. no westerners about, great room service, clean and spacious room (with the Discovery Channel on TV) and close to The Mall, which is the wide promenade full of shops and restaurants that people throng in order to eat ice cream, take photos of each other in front of Christ Church (the second-oldest church in india), and people-watch to their heart's content.

back to delhi for our flight to nepal. I had had a low-grade, short-lived fever and sore, swollen joints while in shimla, and all the literature says that if you've been in an area where malaria is endemic, see a doctor at the FIRST sign of a fever. so we decided to get tested, just to have peace of mind for our trip to nepal.

caroline recommended a hospital called Max Healthcare. we took an autorickshaw to their facility and from the moment we walked in the door, we knew we were in good hands. after no more than a five-minute wait, the extremely efficient, professional and well-spoken receptionist fed our information into the computer and directed us to dr. mishra's office on the fourth floor. dr. mishra turned out to be a small, dapper indian man with a tidy mustache and a very comforting manner. no, he said, he didn't think we had malaria, but if we wished he would order the blood tests for us anyway. results would be ready after 7:00 pm. that same day. incredible.

and so it was as dr. mishra had predicted. no malaria. we were off to nepal the next day, plasmodium-free.

next posting: nepal and the annapurna circuit. and I left my USB cable for my camera in kathmandu, so hopefully photos then too.

doxycycline love,
cindy