Here Kitty, Kitty...

Last weekend I had the opportunity to tag along with my Irish housemates, James and Tim, and head out to Corbett National Park. Corbett is most famous as a tiger preserve, and according to a recent edition of India Times, has the highest remaining population of Royal Bengal Tigers in India. Given the elusive nature of the striped beastie, I set my sights a little lower and was just looking forward to a weekend outside of the city and the possibility of an elephant safari.

The jumping off point for Corbett is Ramnagar, which is about 250km from Delhi. Although there is an overnight train, we decided to take a car in order to maximize our time in the park. The drive can take anywhere from 5 to 8 hours, depending upon traffic. We were fortunate to get Divendar, the most trustworthy of drivers, to take us there and back. Even so, the drive up was pretty nerve-wracking, once it got dark. Most of the roads are two lanes, with no dividers, and due to the heavy (and slow) truck traffic, there is a lot of passing going on, in both directions. As best as I can tell, whomever flicks their headlights first and takes off, gets the right of way, but I'm sure you can appreciate the potential flaws in this system. Tim had the front seat on the way up and steadfastly refused to take that seat on the way back. Me, I employed the same strategy I use for scary movies - just watched it all through my fingers. I have complete faith in Divendar, so it wasn't too bad and we made it home safe and sound, with nary a scratch on us. Though, I will say that, somewhere along the way, Divendar learned how to say "holy shit," in both American and Irish voicing.

Our adventures continued once we got into Ramnagar. Tim had made reservations at what Lonely Planet called "the best hotel in town." 1) NOT true. 2) Said hotel required all of our passports and visas, and Tim only had a photocopy. Despite a shouting match, the hotel manager wouldn't budge, and we headed down the road to the Hotel Corbett Kingdom, which in addition to being infinitely cleaner, having rooms with two beds, and no large hairy spiders, also would take the reservation with just the passport and visa numbers. Tim was pretty bitter about the whole thing, but I was convinced that we were far better off. After a good night's rest and a leisurely breakfast of aloo parata, chai, and porridge, we headed over to the park office to arrange for a driver to take us into the park. Only certain drivers are authorized to drive in Corbett, so we had sent Divendar back to Delhi. In short order, we finalized arrangements and were heading out in an open jeep. It was so nice to be out of the city on a sunny day, that alone may have made the trip worth it.

Our first night inside the park, we stayed at Gairal camp, right on the banks of the Ramganga river. The accommodations were pretty basic and the bathroom approaching scary, but it was perfectly adequate - it reminded me a little of sixth-grade science camp. We got settled into our room and enjoyed a pot of hot chai, before heading out on our first jeep safari. Over the course of the next few hours we saw spotted deer, barking deer, monkeys, a woodpecker, a jungle fowl, partridges, and a fishing eagle. We even came close to seeing a tiger, waiting with a pack of jeeps at the side of the road in total silence for 20 minutes, before giving up and heading back to camp. Throughout the park, thick underbrush comes right up to the road, so it's difficult to spot tigers. You have to listen for the monkeys and birds giving warning calls, and then wait in the hopes that the tiger will cross the proverbial road. Still hopeful, we tucked into a simple but delicious dinner back at camp, and after a bit of bs and storytelling under the stars, headed to bed early so that we could be up and at em' for a 6am safari.

We started our Sunday morning with steaming cups of chai and a dawn safari. I love being woken up by someone with a pot of hot chai; it really can't be beat, and seems a huge luxury out in the middle of a wilderness. The woods of Corbett are misty in the mornings, and you have the sense that you might find a tiger around just the next bend in the road, but still we had no luck. After several hours touring through the park, we headed back to Gairal for a late breakfast of egg sandwiches, referred to as "toast omelette," and more chai. We packed up our things and headed out for Dhikala camp, which is the hub of activity inside the park. Accommodations here were a big improvement from Gairal - 24 hour power, constant hot water, and clean bathrooms. Our hutment overlooked the grass lands at the edge of the Ramganga reservoir. From the edge of the yard, you have a birds-eye view of the river, and all of the wildlife that come to its banks. We spent a fair bit of time sunning ourselves in the yard and watching the animals come and go on the plain below us. We were able to arrange for an elephant safari that afternoon, so I was pretty excited.

The mahout took us down the bank of the river and out into the grasslands. We saw a bunch more deer, a kingfisher, a black crane, and some huge colorful birds that I couldn't identify. Still no tigers. The grass and weeds were literally 'as high as an elephant's eye' and you quickly realize that you are trespassing on the tigers' good graces. We moseyed along at the elephants' rambling pace through wallows that clearly contained the remains of a tigers' recent kills. Fresh tiger paw prints, or pug marks, were scattered along the river banks. All auspicious signs, but still no tigers. Back at camp, we had another good dinner and headed to bed early again to be up at 6am. This time, our morning jeep safari took us out into the grasslands around Dhikala, where the tigers hunt. Our guide from Dhikala seemed to have a much better sense of where to go and how to approach the safari. We spent a fair bit of time at the edge of the forest, peering through the mists to catch the tigers as they left the forest to hunt the deer that abound in the grasslands. We were oh so patient, but still no luck. You kind-of have to enjoy it for the rest of the experience. The tigers may or may not join the party, but the mornings are beautiful in Corbett. The sun rises orange through the mist, and the woods are filled with birds. We saw more peacocks and deer, and tons of tiger tracks. Toward the end of the safari, we got really lucky and caught a glimpse of a 'tusker' along side the road. These male elephants are supposedly fairly rare in the park - our guide claimed that there are only 25 total in Corbett. Somehow, our guide managed to perfectly position our jeep and get rid of two other jeeps while we waited for the elephant to come out of the brush. He complied by wandering across the road and hanging out for a bit. Again, you realize that you remain in the park on the animals' good graces. The elephant easily outweighed the jeep with all of us in it, and there was a moment where he clearly seemed to be saying 'are you messin' with me?' Luckily, he decided that the snacks alongside the road were more interesting than us tourists, and busied himself with munching, rather than charging.

Back at Dhikala, we had a hearty breakfast of masala omelette, fresh chapati, poha, and chai, and proceeded to enjoy the sunshine in the yard for a couple of hours before we had to checkout. There was still some hope that we'd see a tiger on the way out of the park. The drive from Dhikala to Ramnagar takes over two hours. Along the way, Mahmud, our driver, did his best, but still no tigers. We were oh so close. . . One of the supply truck drivers on his way into Dhikala stopped and told Mahmud that he'd just seen a pair of tigers at one of the river crossings just ahead of us. We hurried up to get there and camped out for a while, but weren't able to spot the tigers ourselves. Darn it - so close. I will have to go back again and see if I have better luck. With or without tigers, it was a good experience and really nice to have a weekend away from it all - no cell phones, no TV, electronics of any kind. And, because I was silly and left my book at home, lots of contemplative time. We met Divendar in Ramnagar and he lead-footed us back to Delhi. The drive was far less scary in the daytime, but even still there were some close calls. Because we drove through the countryside around Ramnagar in the dark, I didn't really get a chance to appreciate it until the drive home on Monday. For the first 50kms or so back to Delhi, we drove through fields and fields of mustard; the waves of golden flowers made me fell like I was back at home. It is so strange to be halfway around the world and find the same flowers and plants that we have at home. It makes for a beautiful drive. As we approached Delhi, we blew a tire. Divendar did a great job of changing the flat quickly, but even so, we attracted a crowd. At first it was three or four kids, and it very quickly became a bunch of 20 or more people, 'helping,' chattering, and offering advice. The traffic into Delhi was horrible, so we were later than we'd hoped getting back, but even with that, it was good to be home.

Corbett - Feb

Princess for a Day, Delhi-Style

So, today was the type of day that little girls dream about. I'm not sure, save preparing for a wedding, that two women of any age could have more fun. Really, my whole weekend has been this way. Please forgive me if I sound tremendously spoiled...

On Saturday, Heather still had guests in town, so we each did our own thing for most of the day. This was actually the first time that I ventured into Delhi without someone else with me. The day started on the right foot because I was able to negotiate using my favorite driver, Divendar; he usually drives James, and James was in Darjeeling. We set off at the civilized hour of 11am to do some shopping. I was on the hunt for some 'traditional' clothes to wear to a wedding that I may be going to in Kathmandu in two weeks. I started off at Santushti, a very posh shopping village in the Diplomatic Enclave in Delhi. I didn't find much in the way of wedding options - I'm chubbier than I should be now anyway, and to boot, most Indian outfits have very small sleeves and tight necklines. Of course, it's not like me to head home empty handed, and I did find several kurtas that I liked a lot. The bad side of shopping at Santushti is that all of the prices are fixed, and fixed at wealthy foreigner rates. The upside is that they have some beautiful things.

After poking around in the shops for an hour or two, I headed for The Garden Restaurant at Lodhi Gardens. I had a great meal outside in the garden, on my own, private, canopied divan. The restaurant is pricey for Delhi standards, but I'm sure we'll be back. It's a lovely setting, with red lanterns hanging from huge trees, and lovely shaded tables. They have a very nice continental menu, also, which is a refreshing change every once in a while. On Lonely Planet's recommendation, I had the Lamb Moroccan, which was excellent, along with a salad and a nice glass of red wine. I was planning on stopping there, but then the waitress brought the dessert tray. Now, I need to take a moment here to explain that I have not been suffering food-wise. I am really liking Indian food in its tremendous variety, and save one bout of food poisoning, the local diet and I have been getting along quite well. That said, I had a moment on Saturday that was reminiscent of Day 25+ on Survivor, when they show the semi-starved contestants mugs of beer, a pizza, or a hamburger and give them the chance to earn the food as a reward.... There, on the dessert tray in all of their chocolaty goodness, were brownies. "Do you have cold milk?" I asked. The waitress gave me a look that indicated that I was clearly crazy, but said that, yes, they did have cold milk. And so, I couldn't resist. Just when I don't think I'm homesick, I am undone. Cold milk and warm brownies a la mode....it tasted like home to me and it was worth every calorie. I rounded out my afternoon by meeting up with Heather in Khan Market and helping her pick out some lovely duds by a local Indian designer. We then headed home. Divendar took such good care of us - I love that man. We were practicing Hindi in the car, using the flash cards that I had made, and he got SO excited. Hindi, when delivered by a native speaker, sounds a lot like a verbal waterfall. It's very lyrical and beautiful, but somewhat overwhelming. Needless to say, all three of us were giggling most of the way home. Divendar was so tickled, he even called one of his friends so that she could listen to us stumble through what little Hindi we know over the phone. We sailed into Essel and were treated to a 'light' Indian dinner cooked by our very own Abdul. Sometimes simple is best... paneer, aloo gobhi (potatoes and cauliflower), chapati, and salad --- the keys to Heather and Megan's hearts.

Sunday morning, we rallied around 10:30 with brunch and a visit to the main Sikh temple in Delhi as our primary objectives. Since we were fairly early for brunch, we decided to stop off in a sari shop that one of Heather's friends recommended to us. From this point on, my day was a lot like the shopping montage in Pretty Woman - for those of you who know me well, you'll know this was pure bliss. Heather and I spent a solid two hours sipping chai and being swathed in some of the most beautiful silk fabric you have ever seen. Teal and peacock, sterling silver, crimson and petal pink - there was something for everyone. I think the sari guys (yes, it's all men in the shops) thought we were a bit nuts because we eschewed the spangled chiffon and georgette numbers that are so popular in northern India, and insisted on seeing the woven silk saris that are more typical of southern India. Heather selected a sari that is silvery grey with gold embroidery, like sunshine peeking around storm clouds. It sets off her blond hair perfectly. Heather claims she's never going to wear her sari at home, but she supposes it's worth it for the use we'll get out of it here. I think she's nuts. Fabric that beautiful on a lovely woman is never going to go out of style - no matter what. For myself, I picked out two saris and a salwar kameez. I know, I know...too decadent...but one was too gorgeous be passed up, one was too good a deal to turn down, and the salwar kameez is just more practical to wear, not to mention being done in my two most favorite colors. So, that's my justification and I'm sticking to it.

The first sari I bought is an iridescent, petal pink with gold embroidery. It is a lightweight, gauzy silk that will be perfect for warm weather. Each sari comes as a length of embroidered fabric, with the end-most piece intended to be made into a blouse that is worn underneath the remainder of the fabric. We discovered in trying on multitudes of options, that a sari with some patterning throughout is more interesting. The ends of the saris, which drape over your shoulder, are the most intricately embroidered. The second sari is a deep turquoise blue with a magenta border and gold embroidery. There are golden floral swirls embroidered on the blue field and a thick gold border that runs through the magenta. It is gorgeous. I'm sure that I don't carry it off as well as an Indian would, or someone more svelte, but it is so beautiful that I just decided to treat myself. Everyone deserves to feel like a princess, now and again, and you can be sure that any time I drape that sari, I am going to feel like a million bucks.

After the big sari decisions were made, we headed upstairs to see the salwar kameez. Heather picked out a princess-seamed ecru and gold ensemble. Mine is teal, antique gold, and crimson. The tailor came and measured us to fit the salwar kameez pieces, and to sew the blouse and petticoat which go under the saris. My pink sari will have a sweetheart neckline on the blouse; the turquoise and magenta number will have a magenta blouse with a simple rounded neck. After a hefty deposit, exchange of business cards and much goodwill, we were on our way - blissed out on shopping and ready for brunch.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but Heather and I are on a best-of-Delhi Sunday brunch tour. We've tried the Shangri-La (which was beautiful but is also where we got sick), the Oberoi (which was so good, Heather went two weekends in a row), and now we decided to try the Imperial. All of the brunches that we've tried have been fantastic, and easily rival the best brunches I've had in the US. The Shangri-La was notable for its free-pour Veuve Clicquot; the Oberoi for its free-pour Moet and frangipan tart; but the Imperial was the best yet. We rolled up a gravel drive and were greeted by a turbaned door man. Gorgeous flower arrangements punctuated each arch and doorway, and the moment we entered the lobby, we were awash in the lilting scent of jasmine. At the restaurant, 1911, we were ushered to our table on the patio by a fleet of perfectly solicitous staff. Today was a beautiful day in Delhi - 70 degrees with sunshine and a light breeze; it really could not have been more perfect. Crab salad, seared ahi, caprese salad, prosciutto, steamed scallops, and salmon-wrapped artichokes started us off. They were followed by paneer tikka, tandoori prawns, tandoori naan, and tandoori chicken, in all it's glory. Tandoori naan is bread cooked on the inside walls of a clay oven; we watched the chef deftly hook the bread before it fell into the coals and tuck it into a white-linen-lined basket for our immediate, buttery enjoyment. At just this point in our gourmet sojourn, Heather discovered the seared-to-order foie gras, subsequent to which, I discovered that Indian mango chutney is God's gift to foie gras. Last, but definitely not least, dessert - miniature éclairs topped with dark chocolate and gold leaf, creme brulee served perfectly in an eggshell, lovely chocolate truffles, strawberry tartlets, and hazelnut millefeuille, and for Heather, lots of stinky cheese. I must not, must not, become used to this, because it will end very abruptly, come October.

We hung around the lobby of the Imperial, smelling the jasmine for as long as we could, and then got picked up by our driver, Amit, and headed for the Sikh temple, Gurdwara Bangla Sahib. Bangla Sahib is like a smaller version of the Golden Temple complex. It is not so scrupulously maintained, but it is also clearly seeing heavy use as a daily place of worship. I find Sikh temples to be very welcoming and peaceful, even when crowded. The routine here is similar to in Amritsar - remove your shoes, wash your feet, cover your head, take a promenade around the sacred pool, sit in the temple and enjoy the chanting. I imagine that the experience will not be as calming when summer sun is making the white marble glaringly hot, but in February it is very pleasant. I am so thankful for how welcoming the Sikhs are; we are extended the same courtesy as any other visitor, more in some cases, even though we stick out like a sore thumb. Heather was a little frustrated that we're still getting the 'what country are you from?' bit, but I don't ever really expect to blend in completely. I am appreciative of being made welcome and at peace with not quite fitting in.

Surfeit with happiness, good food and peace, we rolled out for Gurgaon. Heather and I are the sole occupants of the guest house this weekend, so dinner was made to order. Biryani, butter chicken, chapati and salad. The perfect end to the perfect day.

Best Day Ever

The Decaying Grandeur of Lovely Jaipur

Heather has a plan. We're going to Jaipur to do re-con and get the lay of the land...oh, and to shop.

We took off from Gurgaon after work on Friday and caught a bus to Jaipur. We actually got on the bus in Gurgaon, which was super convenient, but a little scary. Apparently, there is an alcohol shop just next to the bus stop, so the normal 'let's stare at the white girls' routine was a little more pronounced than normal. However, we were blessed in that Heba and Pallavi, one of the girls from the office, were also headed to Jaipur, so we looked out for one another and had a local to help negotiate all of the details. The bus ride to Jaipur takes 5 hours, but is pretty comfortable; the bus is similar to a charter bus in the US, if a little dirtier. We mostly listened to music, watched episodes of Weeds on Heather's iPod, and snoozed our way into town at about 1am. Once we were in Jaipur, Heather and I headed to our hotel, the Umaid Bahwan. It looks pretty nice from the website, but was mostly just ok. But, for one night, or really just one morning, I wasn't complaining too much. Probably the funniest part is that we had these elaborate canopied beds that turned out to be a thin pad on wood slats,which was about 3-4 inches too short for yours truly. Luckily, I perfected sleeping on the bias a long time ago, so it was all good.

Saturday morning, we slept in a bit and then grabbed continental breakfast at the rooftop restaurant of our hotel. It was a beautiful day in Jaipur. Blue skies, warm sunshine and a nice breeze. I am to the point now where I marvel at truly blue skies. Gurgaon is a city of perpetual murk - I'm not sure if it's dust, exhaust, smoke, or just a lovely amalgam of the three, but it almost never lets up. Mostly, I kid myself that it's cool, downy tufts of Aptos fog, but I really know better so, the bright blue skies of Rajasthan were a joy to wake up to.

We grabbed an autorickshaw piloted by the valiant Manzoor and headed into town. I have to give this man an international shout out. When he initiated negotiations for taking us into town, Heather told him that we didn't want to pay more than 20 Rs. Manzoor, prince among men, immediately informed us that it shouldn't cost more than 10 Rs., and proceeded to ferry us into town for the same. At first, we were sure that we'd just bought a ticket around the block, and thank God he had the grace to only rip us off for 10 Rs. vs. the 20 that we offered, but no. . . it was a 'fur piece' as they say, a good 10 minute ride into town, which Manzoor embellished with color commentary on the local sights and what we should visit on our holiday in Jaipur. We have his card, and we'll be back, and may Manzoor have the best of fortunes until we meet again. He deserves it.

We began our day at City Palace, where the king of Jaipur still lives. The guards here are the biggest hams on 7 continents, and turning a good profit on it too. For two chicks who are morally opposed to paying for photos, we sure ended up with a lot of them. One gentleman insisted he didn't want a tip, but was a 'collector' of coins - I presented him with a Maine quarter and was rewarded with many photo ops. Cheesy, but fun. The textiles museum in City Palace has some beautiful things; it's not very big, but the exhibit is memorable; the colors and all of the hand embroidery are phenomenal, even after centuries.

After City Palace, Miss Pallavi and Miss Heba picked us up with the family driver and whisked us off to see Amer Palace and Jaigarh Fort. High in the hills above the new and old cities of Jaipur, these buildings are aging gracefully, especially given the centuries of almost perpetual use. I don't know how to describe it, but I loved this eagle's nest, perched high above the hubbub of the modern city. There is something clean and windswept in the air here, and yet it seems like history is lingering in the dust motes and sunbeams. It is easy to see how it once must have been, how these Rajasthani kings must have surveyed the horizon, masters of their domain, and large households of women and retainers lived out their lives almost entirely enclosed within these lush gardens and intricately decorated walls.

Traffic in Jaipur is the best I've seen so far. The car, human, motorcycle and rickshaw flood is broken by camels and elephants. After visiting Amer, we dodged these fellow travelers and headed back into town for a late lunch at Niro's. Even though they were mostly closed to get ready for dinner, they let us in and took good care of us - Heather's favorite palak paneer was in its best bright-green form, and we complimented it with lal maans, which is a traditional Rajasthani dish. We topped it off with lassi for dessert. Across the street from Niro's is Lassiwalla, which is renowned in Jaipur for having the best lassi in town. I made the mistake of not getting one and just having a sip of Heather's; it was amazing. They pour the lassi into an unfired clay cup - the original biodegradable to-go cup - and it's a race to see who can suck up the lassi the fastest, you or the clay cup. Rest assured that when and if I return to Jaipur, I will be making a beeline for Lassiwalla. Mmm mmm good.

Replete with sightseeing, Indian food, and lassi, we are prepared to power-shop. Now mind you, it's probably 6pm and we have to catch a 7:30pm bus. And the traffic is horrid. And yet, we shop. We drive back across town to some shops that Pallavi thinks will be good and commence with a speed round. Believe it or not, I'm still in the cultural groove and not really feeling the shopping, but Heather and Heba both negotiate some deals. We are entranced enough that we didn't quite allow enough time to get back to the bus station and are very soon madly whizzing around Jaipur trying to find the last bus stop in town so that we can catch the bus before it actually leaves town for Delhi. Thanks to fantastic navigational skills on the part of Pallavi, which included calling in favors from several friends and getting directions from her grandmother, we are safely delivered to the bus stop with time to spare. Heather and I pack into the bus, leaving Pallavi and Heba to enjoy the balance of their weekend without managerial interference, and hunker down for the 5-hour return trip to Delhi. Despite the departure stress, it was 24+ hours well spent. If I go back, I think I'll do Jaipur at a more reasonable pace, but I would definitely like to go back - it's too beautiful not to.

Jaipur - Feb

Adventures in Old Delhi

This last weekend was a close-to-home weekend. The Essel Posse was split to the four winds, with James lounging in luxury at the number one hotel in the world (The Oberoi, Udaipur), Scott and Heba on a tiger safari (they saw two), and me, Tim and Heather in Delhi. On Saturday, Heather and I decided to tackle a couple of things on our to-do lists: 1) Go shopping with Kapil, our house manager and 2) check out the sights in Old Delhi. This made for quite the interesting day - really, almost more adventure than a girl needs to have, but still a lot of fun....

Part One: Marketing in Gurgaon

So, since our spoiled selves usually travel by cab, we assumed our house staff did the same. Decidedly not. When we asked to go marketing with Kapil, it involved walking out to the corner and hailing a public autorickshaw. The price is right - 5 Rs. vs. 50 Rs. - but the experience, well it's priceless. Let's just say that the direct impact the air here has on your respiratory system is evident as soon as you blow your nose. And, rattling (or should I say careening?) along with 10 other people in a three-wheeled cart with canvas sides is something that can't quite be described to the uninitiated.

The market our guys shop at is not that different from the mercados you see in Mexico, but if I'm being honest, I think it's a bit dirtier. Also, because all manners of transport share the same path, foot, motorcycle, rickshaws, cars, carts, etc., it's quite congested. We went to the produce section and searched for sweet potatoes which Heather promises to cook. We also went to a dry-goods store and bought some almonds and walnuts to snack on. Kapil took us inside one of the shops and bought us Indian sweets: milk cake and a few different types of what I think were burfi - candies made from ground nutmeats, sugar, and reduced milk. All very sweet, but with my love of marzipan, right up my alley. Heather and I were also super proud of ourselves for learning to cross the streets without getting killed (think 2+ 'lanes' each way). Probably the most difficult part of the trip, other than the total chaos of the streets, was watching the tiny kids begging in the market. This wasn't the first place we'd seen people begging, but somehow people here seemed to be in even more dire straits and a lot of the kids appeared to be alone. In order to keep their coins from being stolen, several of the kids had peed in their buckets. You want to help, but it's hard to know how to have a positive impact. We've been told that giving money is a bad idea because most of the kids won't be allowed to keep it, and as soon as you give anything away, you get swarmed. There's a volunteer group at work that Heather and I are both getting involved in, so hopefully that's a step in the right direction.

Part Two: Lal Quila (The Red Fort)

After restorative grilled cheese sandwiches back at Essel Towers, Heather and I headed out to Old Delhi to see The Red Fort. I guess the hour we spent in the government office in Gurgaon worked, because we were able to buy Indian tickets with our residence permits. Aside from the fees we saved, the best part about this was getting "but these are Indian tickets..." at each gate we went through. Heather was so emboldened by this success that she told one of the cheeky boys who asked us where we were from that she is native to Gurgaon. Needless to say, they didn't quite believe us, but I'm convinced that with a little Hindi under our belts, we'll be leaving them guessing soon enough.

Lal Quila was the seat of Mughal power in Delhi during the reign of Shah Jahan. Although it's fairly run down now, due to neglect and the impacts of British occupation, you can still see many of the original pavilions that housed the royal court. The buildings are just beautiful and designed to impress visitors. You can imagine what they must have looked like, hung with velvet canopies and strewn with silk and wool rugs. There was a canal that ran through the royal apartments, from the Shah's private rooms to the hammam where the court ladies bathed. According to history, the water was scented with attar of roses - I can only imagine what it must have been like to live there. Within the walls of the fort, there is also a shopping gallery that was maintained for the ladies of the court, Chatta Chowk. 'When in Rome...,' so of course Heather and I went shopping! Heather bought a stunning tourquoise and red stone Tibetan collar, and I bought a filigree necklace carved from bone. I have to give my companion mad props - she is becoming quite the negotiator, though we're still getting taken by Indian standards. Guess we'll have to practice more.

After thoroughly exploring Lal Quila, we headed into Old Delhi to see what we could see. The shopping outside the fort, on Chadni Chowk, is supposed to be good, but the chaos and congestion on the streets was a bit much after a long day. We headed for Karim's, a famous local tandoori restaurant. On the way to dinner, we stumbled across a shoe store which carried curly-toed Punjabi slippers. Heather negotiated a pair for herself down to 'half price' and, miracle of miracles, they happened to have a pair that fit me too - pretty nifty. We celebrated Heather's negotiating success over tandoori chicken, palak paneer, butter chicken, and a pile of naan. So good, and all yours for 542 rupees. After sightseeing, shopping and stuffing ourselves, we were tuckered out, so we called Dhanjay and headed back to Gurgaon.

Lal Quila

Beating Retreat . . . On A Camel?

On Monday, we were fortunate enough to get "VIP" passes to Beating Retreat, which is one of the closing ceremonies for Republic Day in India. The bands for each of the three branches of the military service, Army, Navy, and Air Force, get together and put on a show, each one trying to out-do the others. The ceremony was quite the spectacle, though rather thinly attended, which surprised us. Apparently George Clooney was in the crowd and in the cheap seats, like us, but we didn't see him...quel dommage. I was sure that he was in Delhi just to celebrate my birthday, but perhaps not....

The Indian military did a bang-up job on the great band-off. There were three full brass marching bands and a huge group of bagpipers, complete with plaid uniforms. From a distance, it looked much like something you would see in the states, however, touches of the exotic definitely shone through - the camels lining the ramparts of the government buildings, leopard skins thrown over the shoulder of the drum corps, and regional costumes integrated with the marching band uniforms. On the whole, very impressive. I think my favorite part was when all three bands lined up together and played. Halfway through the tune, the conductor lowered the volume of the marching bands, and directed someone playing a carillon from the twin campaniles of the Indian government buildings. Just beautiful. It reminded me a lot of the Stanford Hymn, and I found myself humming "from the foothills to the Bay. . . ," as we left the performance. The finale was pretty good too - they lit up all of the government buildings as Heather said, "like Tivoli gardens." I said, "or like the Disneyland Electrical Parade," at which point she informed me that Disneyland's light show is based on Tivoli Gardens. "Ooohhhh. . . ."