Go, Go, Goa!

Being this far from home, one has a tendency to cleave to one's countrymen. So, when Geoff, one of the ex-pats from Hyderabad put out an invitation to go to Goa for the weekend, quite a troupe was rallied. I spend the last 10 days working from our office in Hyderabad, which put me even closer to Goa, so I decided to go along for the ride.

We flew to Goa on Friday night, headed for the town of Anjuna. From the airport, Anjuna is about an hour's drive outside of town, along the coast. Even the drive itself is beautiful. Stark white churches, remnants of the Portuguese influence in the area, stand out against the dark green of palm trees. The weather and flora are noticeably more tropical - there are plumeria trees, hibiscus bushes, and coconut palms. We arrived in Anjuna just past sunset and headed into town for dinner at the Oasis German bakery and cafe. In the end, there was a crew of about eleven of us for the weekend, with nothing on our agenda but beach, sun, sand, and having a good time.

On Saturday, we rented scooters and headed down to Anjuna beach for the day. The beach is a long strand of sand, cut into crescents by black rocks and wave breaks. At the edge of the sand, one little grass shack after another offers snacks, drinks, or bungalows for weary beach goers. We ambled our way to the end of the beach and parked ourselves in front of the "Happy Hours." Ronnie, Kelsey, Scott, and Geoff quickly joined up with some local kids playing soccer on the beach. Heather let herself be convinced to get a massage on the beach, and me, I sipped my fresh coconut juice and delved into Passage to India.

We stayed on the beach until sunset, enjoying the warm water and sunshine and then headed back to our hotel to get cleaned up. Heather and I walked to Ingo's Saturday Night Market. Getting there was a little scary - the roads are d-a-r-k in Goa. But, we arrived safely and without too many detours. In general, Goa is chock-a-block with Westerners, and Ingo's is a mecca for that crowd. There are food stalls for French, Italian, German, and Indian food, live music and tons of great stuff to buy. Heather had an avocado sandwich that mysteriously didn't have any avocados. I had a thin crust cheese pizza which was fantastic. Mmm mmm good. The price of goods, unfortunately, is also toward the tourist palate - definitely not local rates. However, there was still good stuff to be had and I was just glad that I now know the difference between a good price and a bad one. Heather and I bought some cleverly-designed backpacks from an Australian woman, I got a pair of gold yak-leather flip flops, and three necklaces made of sunset-colored chunky glass beads. Heather bought some fun skirts and a very cool pair of sandals. Replete with shopping satisfaction, we headed back to the hotel to rinse off and steam in our room. A very good day.

On Sunday morning, we were on Heather time and consequently got up early. It was beautiful out, so we headed back to Oasis for a breakfast of cheese omelettes and banana lassi, and then tooled around Anjuna and Mapusa on our scooter. Mad props to Ms. Heather for taking on the driver's role. I decided to stick to back-of-the-scooter driving. Goa traffic is awesome - we came around a bend on the scooter to find ourselves dodging about seven Yaks of varying sizes - Mooove over!

After our scooter tour, we met up with the entire crew back at Anjuna beach as they finished a late breakfast. We staked out a few beach umbrellas and settled down to enjoy our last few hours in Goa. Unlike the previous day, we had lots of company. There were quite a few little girls selling jewelry, offering to do mehndi, and generally wanting to chat with the foreigners. We succumbed to the offer of mehndi. The guys started it, oddly enough, with ethnic arm bands, and a huge dragon. Several of us girls were quick to follow with more traditional floral designs on our hands. The mehndi in Goa is black in color, whereas traditional mehndi is done with the reddish natural henna. Before I leave India, I'd like to try getting proper mehndi, but this was a great way to spend an afternoon on the beach.

Tanned and tired, we piled into a jeep for the ride back to the airport. Heather and Scott headed out to Delhi, and I went back to Hyderabad with the group from there. Goa was great fun - I think it will very shortly be unbearably hot, but we really enjoyed the beach and having a lazy weekend.

Charming Chandigarh

My lovely traveling companion was dying to get out of Delhi, so we headed to Chandigarh for the weekend of March 8th and 9th. We weren't entirely sure what there is to see in Chandigarh, save that the city is based on a Utopian design by a Frenchman named Le Corbusier, and Nek Chand's rock garden came highly recommended by my friend, Jim Blanke.

We caught an early Saturday morning Shatabdi Express train from New Delhi station to Chandigarh, rolling into town at about 11am or so. We didn't know it before we bought train tickets, but there was a big cricket tournament being played that weekend, and so most of the hotels were sold out. We made reservations at a small local hotel, but the locals that we talked to were dubious at best about its quality. So, mission no. 1, upon arrival, was to charm our way into the Taj.

Chandigarh is a planned community and was laid out on a grid, so they actually have traffic lights and a semblance of order on the streets. Thus, our autorickshaw ride into town from the station was less hair-raising than usual. We had the driver drop us across the street from the Taj, so as not to mess up our entrance into the hallowed halls. Upon inquiring about a room, we were informed that there were none. However, once we clarified that our spot on the waitlist was for 1 room, not two, oh and yes we work for Google, oh and yes there's a hotel full of cricket players that might not be opposed to two women checking in....and suddenly we found ourselves with a very nice room, and semi-VIP status. Let's just say that Megan loves living the Taj style in India, for reasons that will become manifest throughout this short history.

Well-settled and well-heeled, we headed into town for lunch. The lunch special was simple, but good, and we had nothing less than a wait staff of 10 serving just Heather and I. After lunch, we wandered through downtown Chandigarh a bit and did some shopping. Heather had forgotten her sunglasses, so we bought some very stylin' RayBans as back-ups --- tres chic. Chandigarh's street are almost eerily quiet, if you're used to India's usual, only slightly controlled chaos. It really wierded me out, I have to say. I've adopted the herd mentality enough to feel slightly bereft when I'm not hemmed in by bodies - this is probably pure survival instinct, but still, it's weird to notice the change in oneself. We were done with downtown Chandigarh pretty quickly and decided to head out to Nek Chand's famous rock garden.

The rock garden is a found-art-lover's paradise. Nek Chand was a public works employee who began collecting found objects and recycled building materials. With these, he built a labyrinthine garden, full of sculptures, mosaics, and water features. The closest thing I've ever seen to this is Parc Guell in Barcelona, but even that doesn't quite capture it. Nek Chand's work doesn't have the bold colors or polish of Gaudi's work, but it does have a very lovable, lived-in quality. When we were there, tons of Indian families were wandering through the maze of paths, tunnels, and buildings. Around each corner, something different surprises you. There are beautiful waterfalls and whimsical statues. Of course, being India, nothing is in perfect condition, but still it's quite a lot of fun. We wended our way through the various sections until we reached a center concourse that was filled with carnival games and music. There was a long arcade, hung with adult-sized swings, and a white camel providing gamboling rides through the courtyard. We availed ourselves of both. And can I just say - riding a camel is great! It's awkward, more than a little uncomfortable, slightly smelly, and just a whole hell of a lot of fun. For 80 INR, we trotted in a lazy loop, with one guy leading the camel and another one chasing us with my camera. We were giggling hard throughout, as we thumped along on the camel's back. It was one of those moments where we were just like, "screw it - we're going to be a spectacle anyway, so why not make it worth everyone's while to stare?" I should pause to note here that the single-most photographed object in the rock garden that day was Heather. She was stopped no less than 6 times for various enthusiastic Indians to take pictures with her. This is not the first time that it's happened, but it was certainly the most it's happened in any one place. I was thankful for being not-so-blond, and maybe not as cute, because I didn't get bugged in the slightest, and other than hanging around to make sure Heather didn't get molested, was able to truly enjoy the rock garden independently.

Hot, tired, and our sightseeing obligations met for the day, we decided to head back to the Taj to go for a swim in their lovely pool and get cleaned up for dinner. However, Heather decided that she hadn't had enough adventure for the day and elected to round out our Indian transportation portfolio with a bicycle rickshaw ride, her argument being that if you're going to ride in India's flimsiest form of transportation, Chandigarh, with at least some traffic rules being obeyed, is the place to do it. Oh yeah. The poor guy taking us weighed less than Heather, I think, but he was up to the task and in little or no time, we found ourselves back at the Taj. Not sure I'll repeat that experience, but it was fun and a pretty peaceful way to coast through Chandigarh.

We ended our day with a swim in the Taj's lovely pool. Luckily, I had the foresight (and the faith) to remind Heather to bring her swimsuit, so when the opportunity presented itself, we were ready. After a short swim, we got cleaned up and had a very nice dinner at the hotel's Indian restaurant. Murgh Malai is mmm, mmm, good. Our intention was to progress to a couple of drinks at the hotel bar, but we ended up being too pooped to pop, and headed to bed rather early.

On Sunday, we weighed our options - had we missed something eventful in Chandigarh? Did we have a moral responsibility to get out and sightsee some more? In the end, the draw of a nice cold pool and a complimentary bottle of wine won the day. We checked out of our room, set up shop poolside and had the place to ourselves. The day was going pretty well, with a chilled sauvignon blanc from Sula Vineyards to compliment our naan and tandoori chicken, a nice breeze and a wide open pool. But it was about to get so much better....

The cricket players came down for their workout, mid-afternoon. We were very shortly introduced to the majority of the Ahmedabad Rockets and a smattering of the Chandigarh Lions. Both teams are part of the recently-inaugurated Indian Cricket League (ICL), a professional cricket league that's drawing players from all over the world. It was great fun and they were all quite nice, and mostly serious about their workout, though not immune to some flirtatious networking, which was good. Who knows, maybe we'll get to see a match sometime? Heather and I were enjoying ourselves so much that we stayed a leeetle bit too long at the pool and nearly missed our train back to Delhi. We literally stepped off of the platform right as the train began to move, and tucked into our seats just in time. Whew! Our trip to Chandigarh was short and sweet, but oh so much fun.

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