Bangalore Traffic

In front of us we saw this; a truck loaded down with plastic

I spy with my little eye...a woman in a saree running across at least 6 lanes of traffic and ...a cow!

What's Bangalore without the never-ending road construction

The chaos of Bangalore traffic is enough to cause stress induced headaches. I don't leave the neighborhood much these days unless absolutely necessary.    It seems to have gotten worse in the last year since we've lived here.

I heard recently that Bangalore has the worst traffic in all of India.  This includes the big cities of Mumbai and Delhi and Kolkata.  The commutes are so long it would make commuters from Atlanta, Georgia cry.  This morning I was on my way into the city.  It was an hour drive to take the kids to their last day of Globetrippers kids camp.  We were almost there when we witnessed an accident. 

A guy driving an old motorcycle in an old helmet was up a couple of car lengths ahead of us. Traffic  was merging into a three point round about intersection when suddenly a large truck merges in between us and hits the motorcyclists.  He never even slowed down. Just a sudden brake light indicated what I knew was going to happen.  Like it was in slow motion I saw the bike, then saw the truck merge in too quickly.  I mentally calculated the consequences of the truck's speed to flow of traffic and... BAM!  There went the rider, flying off to the left side of the road and his bike nearly gets buried under the carriage of the truck.  It wasn't high impact or fast so that is the only reason the man got up and retrieved his bike.  He seemed a bit stunned but amazingly unharmed. 

Four passengers, but at least dad has a helmet

They have helmet laws for drivers but not for passengers.  There are plenty of speed bumps to keep the flow of traffic slow.  It could've been much worse.  But what was hard for me to swallow was that no one stopped.  The driver of the truck did pull over to check for damage. The stunned victim was in such a hurry to get up and move his bike out of traffic. No one else got out to assist him. My driver wouldn't stop. Cars barely slowed as they maneuvered around the mere inconvenience.  Everyone is in a push, shove, and hurry-up mentality.  I can't imagine if this happened in my little hometown of Huntersville.  This would've backed-up traffic for at least a couple of hours.

Three is a fairly common occupancy

Kid upfront, dad with helmet

This is just one of so many incidents that I've either seen or heard of.  Even last week the kids saw a man get taken away in an ambulance after being run over by a tuk tuk (rickshaw).  There were abrasions across his chest, revealed as he was haphazardly lifted into an ambulance.  The poor man was taking his chances running across the road.  It totally reminds me of the ancient video game of
Frogger.  Remember that one?  Just insert floating garbage instead of logs and turtles.

Jodhpur: 2nd time 'round

On the last leg of the trip we decided to focus on shopping and since we were returning back through Jodhpur the streets all felt familiar, we had scoped things out the first few days and now we could narrow down our search.

The shopping is extensive but we had to watch out for the tourist traps where drivers and guides are given commission for bringing tourists in. I've been told by the shop keepers that the drivers are sometimes given up to 40% of your purchase price and they are unionized so the shop keepers generally stick to a pricing gouge to compensate.  This can ruin your experience in India if you are not prepared for the sales tactics.

There were a few shops that refused to do this commission and gave us fair prices. We found out about them through the Internet then told our driver the addresses. Of course our driver came up with excuses why he couldn't take us to these shops. In the end, we eventually found our way there. These shops were smaller but had good quality items.  We had to look around for good deals.

We found a really unique item in a back corner of one of the shops but thought the price was too high at 1000 rupees (just over $20)  so we tried to negotiate, but he said they were fixed prices and he let us walk away.

We didn't need to haggle over a couple hundred rupees.  We really wanted it and deciding that it was worth it we went back the next day.  But this time there was a different guy there and he told us a different price with a 100 % mark up! My husband was clearly agitated, "But I thought everything here was a fixed price and yesterday it was 1000 and now it's 2000?"   He told us the other guy was not informed and gave us the wrong price. Well, we decided that now it wasn't worth it and walked away, he still didn't try to stop us.  And I still want that piece. Anyone heading to Rajasthan soon? I'll tell you where to go...

Another shopping annoyance was the experience we had in one of the textiles shops called the Maharani Art store. Our driver insisted on taking us to this place.  As we drove through Jodhpur we passed several nice looking shops with interesting antiques out front. "Ooo, I want to stop there," I would say. But he kept driving on until we got to the shop of his choosing.

As we parked I was immediately irritated. The shop wasn't as nice as the others we had passed, but regardless of my suspicions we decided we could just take a peek at what they had. We were immediately ushered into a huge basement that had shelves of junk (if you asked my opinion). The dust was awful and we started sneezing.

Everyone who knows me well knows that I am pretty open with my feelings.  My irritation was becoming obvious. The merchants started following me telling me that they design home goods for Pier One and Hermes, Donna Karan, Versache, bla blah blah. I finally said, "I really don't care about brand names.  It doesn't impress me."  

 "O.k. no problem. How about we show you some fine bed covers". 

So they escorted us into a "private room" covered floor to ceiling with textiles. Then told us again about these one of a kind blankets they make for various famous designers.  They pulled out a photo album to show me that Richard Gere and Sting were there and bought hundreds of pashmina shawls, (again blah, blah, blah).  I told them that these pictures don't prove they were here, but I was distracted for a few minutes anyway, staring at the faces of Richard and Sting. 

I quickly got bored and left my dear husband alone, trapped, patiently listening to their shenanigans.

It wasn't until I stepped out of the "room" that I realized what kind of operation they were running. There were multiple private rooms.   I watched as a bus load of tourists were escorted down into the basement.  They were being lulled in with the same bait. Curtains were being closed behind them so they could get the "one of a kind" story.

Suddenly the vampire stories I had recently read came to mind.  Remember the scene where the innocent tourists in Italy enter the castle and realize too late that they've entered the vampires' lair?  That's how I felt.  We were innocent tourists being baited and drawn into the lair so they could "feast" on our wallets.

We had enough and left with dust in our nose and a nasty taste in our mouth. 

I got the full picture of what we were dealing with the last day.  Our driver took us to lunch at a place called "On the Rocks".  Great place, good food, and it had some shops near by that I could walk to while we waited for our bill.  I was looking for a gift and wandered into a jewelry store.  As soon as I stepped foot in there I immediately realized I couldn't afford a thing in the store.  The shop keepers quickly assured me that I could find something to buy and the glint of gold was alluring, so I stayed a while. 

I found this amazing necklace. It was a one of a kind piece for sure.  The price was too steep but I was shocked when they gave me the discounted price.  They explained to me that because the drivers are unionized they demand a payout every time they bring in a customer, even if you don't buy anything.  Since I walked in without a driver they can take a big chunk right off the top and still leave room for negotiations.

Now the driver's insistence on taking us to his favorite shop made sense.  The bus load of tourists probably meant a higher payout for that driver.  What a racket! 

In the end we bought nothing significant, just more shawls.  But the kids were so patient through the shopping experience.  We allowed them to a treat of their choice. They picked out magnifying glasses and a leather coin pouch. I thought these were great choices.  Good job, kids!

Jaisalmer: camel trek

 (by Steve)
One of the things on my bucket list for India was to take Owen on an overnight camel safari in the desert. India offers some pretty amazing experiences for a 9 year old, but nothing seems to compare to the opportunity of riding a camel out into the desert and sleeping under the stars. It has all the elements of a great adventure: an unknown and untamed landscape which can only be conquered by the bravest of men (or those who pay for a safari package), independence and isolation (ignore the fact we got full cell phone coverage the entire time), exotic animals (camels are exotic, right?), and exotic animal sounds (farting, belching, groaning, farting, etc). What 9 year old wouldn’t love it!?

During my previous time in India many years ago, I had experienced an overnight camel safari and knew that the novelty of riding a camel quickly wears off and all that remains is the horribly uncomfortable lurching and bouncing. I realized that Owen would not be interested in the typical 4-6 hour ride on the first day of the safari tours, so I asked our hotel to organize a custom package of maybe 1-2 hours ride out, camp out overnight, and return in the morning. Given that we were staying at a 5-star hotel it seems reasonable that the first reaction was disbelief. “You want to SLEEP in the desert?! Sir, this is not a good idea! Perhaps, I can arrange for a tent to follow you?” While I was intrigued to know how they could get a tent to follow me, I remained committed to our plan of sleeping in the desert, in the open air, under the stars. After talking the hotel staff down from the ledge, they finally agreed to organize a trip – but they insisted on preparing some food that we could carry along (instead of eating what the guide would prepare) and providing some blankets to keep warm (instead of using the riding blankets on the camels). These impositions seemed to dampen the spirit of adventure, but truth be told it didn’t take a lot of convincing. Suffering from “fast motion” (the amusing India term for diarrhea) wasn’t a part of the adventure criteria.

The morning of the safari Owen and I ate breakfast with the family, collected our hotel packs of food and bedding, piled in the car and headed out for open desert.  Within 20 minutes we reached the rendezvous point for our guide in what can only be described as the camel parking lot. Every tour provider seems to start from the same location, each with a small collection of 2-8 camels and a couple of guides waiting for their group. 

As our car came to a stop, we were surrounded by anxious guides who were ready to start their safari. It took a while to figure out which one was ours, especially since very few of them spoke English in such a rural area. Finally, we found each other, and began unloading our packs from the van as the other guides watched and smirked as if to silently, but condescendingly, laugh at our hotel bedding for the desert. 

Camel is loaded down with all the comforts of a five star hotel

With the help of our guide, we strapped our gear on the camels lying in the sand and climbed on top. In broken English our guide offered simple instructions, “Lean back. Camel stand”, then he made a clicking sound to encourage the animals to rise up.  He wasn't kidding when he said "lean back"!  Have you’ve ever watched a camel stand up?  It starts will all four legs tucked underneath and then fully extends its rear legs while the front legs remain folded on the ground. This puts you in the very uncomfortable position of nearly tumbling head-first over the camel unless you lean so far back that you are essentially standing in the saddle.  Then the camel awkwardly attempts to fully stand by extending its front legs, but usually stumbles a few steps.  This means the rider must quickly return to a regular sitting position while also bouncing around as the animal gets its footing. This short exercise is foreshadowing of the journey ahead. 

 We begin the trek with our guide walking in front and the camels in a line, following his lead. 

Despite the fact that both our camels were female, mine was named “John” and Owen’s was named “Michael Jackson.” Owen’s camel was younger and always last in our caravan, providing Owen with the opportunity to fully experience the sights and sounds of a camel’s rear. I couldn’t help but laugh every time I heard Owen yell “Watch out Michael Jackson!” as John dropped turds on the path.

Owen and Michael Jackson

I tried to prepare Owen ahead of time for the reality of how uncomfortable a camel ride can be - the swaying, jerking, and lunging quickly starts to get uncomfortable, and within 15 minutes (and every 5 minutes thereafter) Owen would announce that “this looks like a good place to stop.” To be fair, the ride for Owen was even more difficult since his legs were not long enough to reach the makeshift rope stirrups on the camel saddle. I felt bad for him, but he eventually figured out an ingenious method for riding more comfortably – he turned backwards to lay on his belly and used his feet to brace against the horn of the saddle. In this position he was able to create a bed using the many blankets layered on the camel and minimize the impact of the constant sway-jerk-lunge motion.

 

He figured out a more comfortable way to ride a camel

We rode for about an hour, and while the temperature was not overly hot, the strong sun was definitely a burden.  We stopped for a quick water break and let Owen run around in the sand, mounted back up and continued for another hour before stopping to make camp for the night.

One spot is as good as any so we unloaded the gear and sat down for dinner, which consisted of sweet corn soup from a thermos (one of Owen’s favorite foods in India), roasted vegetable kabobs, pita and hummus. The food was delicious but the china and silverware included in the hotel pack seemed a bit pretentious for a desert safari. I tried to hide these from the guide and avoid more (justifiable) condescending smirks.

Dinner time for the guide and camels

While Owen burned through some energy after dinner, the guide and I arranged our bed on the sand. At first the guide started to make the bed on an incline of the dune, but I asked him to move to a flat surface. 

Our campsite and bedding

The hotel provided a woven wool carpet to use a base and we spread that out on the sand.  Over the carpet we arranged 2 bed sheets and a duvet filled with a down comforter, along with 2 pillows. The white sheets and duvet created a stark contrast against the endless sea of sand, and even looked somewhat inviting. 

Once our bed was set, the guide moved on to make his bed and tend to the camels. I noticed that he purposefully created his bed on an incline and wondered if maybe he knew something I didn’t.

In hindsight, I believe he used the incline as a way to minimize the hardness of sleeping on sand. By laying at a slight incline some of your body weight can be transferred to your feet, instead of having all your weight resting on your back or shoulders. When you first lie down your body weight causes you to slowly slide, but the sand naturally creates a small shelf to provide a footing and prevents you from sliding further. Of course, I didn’t figure this out until the next morning with a stiff and aching body to reinforce my poor decision.

After dinner, Owen was at full speed and used the remaining daylight to run and fall and roll through the desert dunes.   He loved every moment as he rolled down the dunes, escaped from imaginary monsters bursting through the sand, and generally made sure that every nook and cranny in his body and clothes was filled with fine grains of sand. 

 

Owen ensured that lots of sand returned home in his clothes

look out for desert monsters that hide under the dunes

As the sun went down, so did the temperature and it became clear that the evening would be chilly. Unfortunately, the sunset was not amazing (nothing like the awesome scenes we experienced in the Maldives) but as the stars began to appear, Owen finally returned and we crawled up a tall dune to sit and watch the stars. It was a great moment, lying head-to-head with my son in the sand of the Thar desert, watching the stars and talking about whatever came to mind. We eventually pulled out my cell phone and called the hotel to say goodnight to the rest of the Hunter family.  Having full cell coverage in the middle of the desert really kills the sense of adventure, even more than the hotel's duvet and silverware!

To be honest, I was a bit nervous about going to sleep because large black beetles, like scarabs, appeared from under the sand around sunset.   At first, it was just one or two. . .but then it was more and more until everywhere you looked you could see them scurrying about. The guide helped to reinforce their harmless nature by picking one up and allowing it to roam freely over his arms and neck. Owen never seemed to mind the beetles and he chased after them as part of his desert romp. At one point I saw him lying in the sand with a few beetles crawling on his shirt as he yelled out the 9-year old sound effects for dramatic and imaginary death. If he didn’t get the creeps, then I guess I couldn’t show any fear.  For some reason they never crawled on the bed all night. I can assume this because as they scuttled around through the night their six-legged movement left a trail in the fine sand, something that looked similar to a bicycle tread. The tread marks stopped about 6-8 inches from our bed, which left the sand surrounding our bed in pristine condition. I suppose its possible they jumped, but I like to believe they left us alone.

We eventually turned in and snuggled under the covers of our bed, now almost glowing as the white sheets reflected the moonlight. The night was cold. We slept under the duvet in our clothes and snuggled together. As long as skin was under the blanket, it was fine - even a bit too warm – but any skin exposed to the air and the slight breeze, was freezing! It became a cycle of putting your whole head under the covers until it was too hot, and then putting your head out to cool down, and then back under again, etc., etc.  Combined with the hard surface and the occasional wake up blast from a camel belch or fart, it made for a terrible night of sleep. Both of us tossed and turned all night but it didn’t matter – we still loved every minute of it.

 

 

When the sun began to rise, we crawled out of bed and enjoyed a simple breakfast of hard boiled eggs and juice. As I went to start packing up our bed I noticed that Owen’s side of the sheet appeared to be under the sand. Puzzled, I finally realized that all the sand he had collected from his dune rolling had slowly filtered out from the cracks overnight and pooled in the bed. Owen enjoyed one last frolic in the dunes and we saddled up to head home.

The ride back seemed to be longer than the ride in – maybe because I was already sore from the day before and the rough night of sleep. Our guide rode the camel back instead of walking out front.  He allowed the camels to run occasionally. A walking camel is a rough ride, but a running camel is miserable! At one point during a run, I turned around to see how Owen was holding up. He was in his backwards belly position, but flopping up and down on the blankets with each awkward stride.

We finally reached the rendezvous point, paid our guide, loaded up the van and Owen said goodbye to Michael Jackson. In true form, MJ let out a final toot and our desert adventure was complete.

On the way to Jaisalmer

We headed to Jaisalmer to relive an adventure Steve had when he came here back in his early twenties.  It's always been his desire to take our nine year old son, Owen, on a camel trek and spend the night under the desert stars. So the big day was finally approaching, one he's been looking forward to for months.

But first we have to get there.  It's a four hour drive between towns and if you stop for lunch with kids, count on five.  On the way there is nothing to see but wide open desert and scraggly shrubbery.   It was a super monotonous drive so I opened my book to read a chapter.  Occasionally I would look up from my book to see a lone goat herder or a solitary home made of sandstone and a thatched roof. Where does the thatch come from?  It's a hard life for anyone who homesteads out here. I've heard the wells have to go almost three hundred feet down for any sign of water. I'm amazed that someone can actually scratch out a living or would dare to live out here.


random sandstone hut along the road

We did have a little excitement along the way.  We passed a large truck flipped upside down. It had just happened minutes before we passed and other cars had stopped to help. No one looked hurt so our driver kept going.  How did that happen on such a boring stretch of road?  The kids talked about the scene for a while.

Occasionally we had a hard break or hard weave to the left or right to avoid hitting a meandering sheep or goat.  There were a couple times I thought the animal was a gonner the way our driver would slam on his breaks and be just inches from hitting it. I'd shake my head as the sheep would pass by completely oblivious to his perilous decision.  It wouldn't be India if there wasn't a herd of goats, sheep, or occasional cow competing for space on the road.   I thought about the dramatic scene with the truck.  Perhaps this is what happened to cause him to flip. Maybe he just fell asleep.

Out of nowhere there is sign of life; about half way between Jodphur and Jaisalmer is a type of flea market with booths lined up all along the side of the road.  We didn't stop but some tour buses did and we watched gaggles of tourists file out with cameras around their necks ready to capture on film the primative type of commerce.  This is a place where many of the villagers trade, buy and sell goods ranging from brooms and steel pots to camels.  Camels were standing like a parking lot at one end of the market ready to be sold or traded in for a newer model,  100,000 rupees for a new one, which is over two thousand U.S. dollars.  This must take villagers years to save up for. 

In another dramatic scene, we passed a dead cow lying in the sand, rib bones exposed, bloated with the sun, being pulled and tugged by a wild dog enjoying the meal of a lifetime.  It was a harsh reminder to us how tough the desert life can be.  We may be tourists who sit comfortably in our airconditioned car and sip on cool bottled water, but this is real life and someone's livelihood just turned to dog food.

*****

Rajasthan, Land of Kingdoms

Destination: Jodhpur

I loved Jodhpur.  Easy to get to, just a short 1 hour flight from Delhi and it's located right in the middle of the state of Rajasthan, on the edge of the Thar desert (bordering Pakistan).  I was really excited about seeing this region of India because it is so vastly different than the agricultural, tropical end of south India that I've grown so accustomed to. 

The first thing that struck me was how nice the weather was. Here it is at the end of February and in Bangalore it's HOT, like mid 90s (34 c). Summer is in full swing and there are a few more months of this before monsoon hits, so I was dreading the heat in Rajasthan.

We were told by friends that Rajasthan is too hot by March; The best time to go is October through February. So squeezing in a trip at the last week of February, we crossed our fingers hoping the heat would be at least tolerable. Maybe it was a bit of good luck, but I suppose because it is a desert climate the heat was dry, the sky was bright blue, and the shade was cool and refreshing.

Located in central Rajasthan, Jodhpur is a popular tourist destination with its many Jain temples, palaces, forts, and great shopping. Tourist were everywhere, so for the first time in a long time I didn't feel like I stood out, like I do in southern India. We felt very safe walking around even though we had our kids with us.  And because we came with three grade school children we decided to take a leisurely pace and focus on just two things...visiting the fort and shopping!

The city spreads out like a blue quilt beneath the ominous presence of the Mehrangarh Fort.  The beautiful shade of blue is painted on many of the walls which has given Jodhpur the nickname "Blue City".  Aside from the aesthetic beauty this supplies in contrast to the desert, this also had a practical purpose of being an insect repellent and kept their homes cooler.

The fort stands guard over the city.

impressive height with impenetrable walls

A nice view of the "Blue City" from the fort walls

 City sprawls beneath the fort walls where canons stand guard 

I soaked in all the scenery and saw many differences from south India.  The men and women are taller than south India.  There is more color in their clothing, or maybe it stands out more against the monochromatic colors of the beige desert and the sandstone buildings.  The buildings are way more interesting with their intricately carved window screens and archways.

On day two we hit the fort which is the highlight of this city and the most well done museum I've been to in India. Clean, well-maintained, decent food on site, and an impressive collection of costumes, paintings, furniture, and weapons.

Outside the many palatial rooms

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

The last of the fort entrances is cleverly placed at a sharp 90 degree angle so the war elephants couldn't get up to ramming speed - notice the spikes halfway up the door right at elephant head height.

Circled marks indicate where the enemy canons hit but nothing ever penetrated the walls

One of the many palaquins used to carry around the royal women

This is a close up look at the beautiful sword handle, handcrafted and so detailed (notice the lion heads on either side) 

The swords were beautiful but it's hard to see from the pictures

One interesting side note for all the history buffs who may be reading this...  Rajasthan stayed independent, being made up of princely states until it joined the Republic of India in 1949.  Construction on this fort started in 1459 by Rao Jodha, one of 24 sons, who became the fifteenth ruler of the Rathore dynasty. He decided to move his fort to the cliffs where it now stands 400 feet above the city.  There was a small problem with this location, however.  A hermit who occupied this hill refused to give up without a fight and put a curse on the land.  To appease the gods and cleanse the land from the curse, the prince buried a man alive in the foundation.  In exchange for his life the man was promised that his family would be taken care of by the Rathores, the royal family. His descendants still live on the land given to them by King Jodha.

Giving up his life was considered a very honorable thing to do and a monument has been placed on the very spot where he was buried alive.  Sacrificing one's life was not an uncommon practice in Rajasthan.  Nearby on the fort walls are single palm prints of the royal wives who were widowed when their husband died in battle (I counted 15). The body of the husband would be placed on top of a funeral pyre for a cremation ceremony, as is typical for Hindu religion, but then the queens would silently burn alive with him, ensuring everlasting communion.
  

Touring forts is usually not my thing, but how is that not interesting?  We did a guided audio tour and even the kids were partially entertained. I'm so glad we did the audio tour.  It was well worth the extra cost because it was so informative and interesting.  Time flew, which was good since it took much of the day to see all that the museum had to offer.

Kids standing at one of the massive fort doors 

We hired an auto rickshaw driver for the day to drive us to the fort, wait, then return us to our hotel.  About 400 rupees (just under $10).  Our hotel, Taj Vivante, advised us to do this since there would be no auto rickshaws at the fort to make the return trip.  In hindsight, finding a rickshaw back to the hotel would not have been a problem.  As we left the fort to find our rickshaw we were swarmed by other drivers hoping to get a fare.  We informed them that we have a driver waiting, to which they responded confidently "But I am here only!"   

Steve and Owen hopping out of the rickshaw

The hotel we stayed at was lovely and had comfortable rooms.  There were a few downsides that applied to every place we stayed;  first, the food was good but restaurants at the hotels didn't open for dinner until 7 which was too late for the kids.  So instead, we ordered off the snack menu for dinner (less spicy options anyway); second, the pools were frigid, way too cold, even for the kids.  Imagine a glacial mountain lake, that cold!  Every hotel we stayed at had icy cold pools which was unfortunate since we were counting on that for hours of entertainment for the kids; third, there were hundreds of annoying pigeons, picture a scene from a famous Alfred Hitchcock movie.  The cooing was actually eerie as they peered down at us from window eaves and roof overhangs.  They flew in swarms and landed pool side for a drink of water.  Someone actually had the job of shooing away the pigeons with a big flag, and for some reason this was strangely entertaining. 

However, if that isn't your idea of entertainment then there is live music with a dancer, a puppet show, and a magic show every night which happened to be exactly the same at every hotel we went to; go four hours drive north to Jaisalmer and the hotel there had the same magic show and only slight variations on the puppet show. 

I loved the Rajasthani music and the dancing that the hotels provided every night.

Rajasthan is known for it's handicrafts, such as block print textiles, glass bangles (These don't transport well. Mine broke in the suitcase- doh!), hand embroidered shoes and leather bags, wool rugs, and carved furniture.

We had time to shop when we came back through Jodphur at the tail end of our trip so we just did window shopping and price comparisons, saving the big purchases for later. 

Day three was another travel day- a four hour car trip further north to Jaisalmer to accomplish the main objective.

Stay tuned...

On our way to Rajasthan

The kids slept in their clothes, got up to eat a quick breakfast and clambered into the waiting car.  We were still 15 minutes delayed leaving but I was proud of how responsible the kids were. As we pulled out of the neighborhood I anxiously glanced at the clock, 5:56 a.m.  I did some quick calculations and realized with trepidation that we were cutting ourselves short by a few minutes.  We left with exactly one hour to spare until check in time.  The government regulations require you to check-in no later than 45 minutes before your flight, no exceptions.  Our driver drove our Toyota minivan like 007 in a James Bond movie.  Thankfully there was no traffic.  His driving matched my anxiety.  I felt like we skidded to a stop at the airport and I rushed the kids out, grabbed our suitcases, and threw a quick glance and a “thanks, Raj” at our driver as we made a mad dash for the airport doors. Three kids ran behind me, I assumed, as I looked back once just to be sure.  Yep, all there.

 So many people.  There were lines everywhere.  Just to step into the building you have to present your itinerary and i.d. to the guards at the door.  Then we rushed to the check-in desk.   We underestimated how long the lines to check-in would be and my heart sank as I looked at the clock on the wall and the number of people ahead of us.  Tears welled in my eyes when I realized we wouldn’t make our flight.   Dragging three young kids that early to the airport was hard enough, but now I had to accept the fact that all that effort and rushing was useless.  My son looked up at me and asked anxiously “are we gonna catch our flight, mom?” “I don’t think so”, as I fought hard to keep tears from spilling.  Our long day of flying was going to be even longer and my husband would be in Jodhpur waiting.  Who knew if we’d even get on the next flight?  Then to my utter disbelief, I heard, “LAST CALL FOR DELHI!  ANYONE FLYING TO DELHI?”  Oh, Oh, YES!  He lifted the ropes and let us through.  My daughter looked up triumphantly at me and announced that “it’s because I prayed mom!  God answered my prayers.”  Then in utter relief, the kind that only a mom travelling alone with three kids would understand, the tears started to roll down my cheeks.  Big fat crocodiles tears.

We had a 2 ½ hour flight to Delhi, 4 hour delay, then a one hour flight to Jodhpur.   We made it and how wonderful it was to see that handsome face waiting for us at the other side of the glass doors.  My husband hugged me after almost a week apart.

Rajasthan

We're off to Rajasthan tomorrow which is the one place I wanted to visit even more than the famous Taj Mahal.  Once you've lived in India for a while you realize that the Taj is probably better in the photos and the romantic images you have in your mind will never compare to the real thing; Kind of like watching a football game for so many years on television then you finally go to a real game, then disappointed because you can't figure out where the ball is, there's no instant replay, and you had no idea the players would be so hard to see.  So I've come to the conclusion that a nine day tour in the desert seeing palaces and sand dunes is far better than a short, disappointing trip to a monument that will never look as amazing as the photos.  That all being said, we are off early tomorrow morning, myself with the three kids, catching a flight to Delhi, then after a four hour delay, it takes us to our first stop in Rajasthan- Jodhpur.  If all goes as planned Steve should be meeting us there from Mumbai.  I'll keep you posted. 

Go Ahead, Taste the Honey

In my earliest post  (see Honey, Honey) I mentioned that I asked a friend what she would like me to bring back from India.  Her response surprised me when she said she would just like me to taste the honey.  She said that honey carries a unique flavor, it carries the taste of the land. So I used this as a metaphor for enjoying life in India.  I promised her that I would taste the "honey" of India.  I realize now that I needed to put conditions on that...

Let me explain,  I've been back from holiday in the U.S. for only a couple of weeks and the contrasts have been emphasized in my mind, kind of like seeing things with fresh eyes.  I got used to the way things were done here and nothing surprised me anymore after 9 months in India.   There's nothing like stepping away for a few weeks to renew one's perspective. The way we do things back West is very different from the way things are done here in the East.  There have been many times when I have said, "that would never pass in the U.S.", or "that is definitely not OSHA approved" and "that certainly has not been approved by the FDA".   

But then I have to remember that the world's second largest population has survived and thrived for centuries doing things their way.  By comparison I live in a sterile environment back in the U.S.  We sanitize and boil and wash everything. Now there are more allergies and super strains of bacteria than ever before.  Perhaps there's a connection?



Sure people get sick out here, and when they do it's pretty serious, but they have strong immune systems and they've gotten used to the bacterias here that would put me in the hospital.  I  am very careful where we eat and what we eat, but when I go out I don't think about the condition of the kitchen, the food handlers, or whether or not they've washed the food properly.  You just can't think about those things if you want to enjoy a meal out here.  Soap is a rare commodity in public bathrooms, heck, you're lucky if you get toilet paper.


The way India has been doing things is sometimes centuries old traditions that have been passed on from generation to generation. Today was one of those days when I was reminded of a centuries old practice of retrieving wild honey. I marveled at the haphazard way they handled the nest, and the way the honey was collected.  I shook my head and said "they've been doing it like this for centuries,  before they knew about soap or boiling, or bacteria".

After lunch I went for a walk in the warm sun and just down the street I noticed small billows of smoke coming from the grass.  Leading from there was a long ladder made of bamboo reaching into the height of one of the palm trees that lines the avenue.  Way up in the tippy-top was a young man....what was he doing?  I moved in for a closer look and grabbed the camera.

There was a young man up in the tree. I was curious so I stuck around to watch.

Guy is climbing down and the ladder is inside the rickshaw to give them added height.

A guy just pulled off a chunk of the fresh honeycomb.  The bees are the black blobs that you see all over it.

All these guys are waiting around for their portion of the loot.

Amazingly, these guys were not stung once as they pulled the honeycomb off the tree in huge chunks. Maybe they are the stingless type. They placed the combs in the buckets to let the honey seep out. Bees were swarming them and swirling around by the hundreds.

The honey was scooped by hand into water bottles.

I was amazed at how it was done.  More people gathered around from a safe distance to watch the retrieval process.  An Indian neighbor of mine was not amazed or impressed, she said this was normal.  She told me that they will sell it at the market, but it's a tricky business since occasionally they will have sugar syrup on the bottom of the bucket to get more money in the trade.

One of the guys scooped honey by the hand fulls into used water bottles, the golden liquid money spilled over his hands back into the bucket.  They proudly pushed a water bottle half full of honey in my direction and offered to sell me some of the raw, wild, sweet, gooey-goodness.  I had to kindly decline.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to taste the honey of India, but on ONE condition - it must be in a sterilized jar, with a label, on a shelf, in a western market. Alright, FOUR conditions.

The Wild White Visit

This time of year always has me reflecting on things I'm grateful for...too numerous to list here, but always at the top of my list is family and friends.  I'm especially feeling grateful to our friends, Angela and Jeff, who flew out here to spend two weeks with us and lugged a whole suitcase full of yummy goods from the U.S.  Seriously, like full of peanut butter cups, licorice, fruit leather, and wine.  It was the heaviest bag they brought with them.  We feel so loved!

I'm welcoming my girlfriend to India wearing the tradtional shalwar kameez

I couldn't wait to show our friends what life has been like for us the last eight months.  Early November they flew into Bangalore around 2 a.m. so we took it easy on them the first twelve hours they were here.  After that, all bets were off and we showed no mercy.  We took them into the blaring, busy, bustling streets of Bangalore.  

Commercial Street - notice the Mc Donalds and KFC

On the first day we took them down to a must-see shopping district of Bangalore called Commercial Street.  It was full of activity and smells to keep them awake for the rest of the day.  Its never dull on Commercial Street - there is a dedicated police station, its where Keely was run over by a car, Owen puked from the smell.  Why not take your friends to such a wonderful place?

Jeff and I are browsing through dusty shelves of nick-nacks.

 We have our favorite little shops, like the amazing tailor with the tiny assistant (best tailor in town if you asked anyone on the street), and the shop that looks like you've stepped into some old lady's attic.


 Jeff took advantage of the tailor and put in an order for some custom made shirts and pants.  Meanwhile, Angela and I found a shop full of glistening bangles and watched in amazement as the sales man expertly put together a beautiful pattern of bangles in about 15 seconds and convinced us that he had custom designed an original work of wearable art.  Of course we bought them.

We made our way through the winding streets until about three hours later we were famished.  We wanted to be careful about exposing them to new foods so we had to pick our restaurant wisely. We decided on the Taj West End Hotel; this is great place for visitors.  A shop keeper assured us that the hotel was close enough that we could take a rickshaw for about 40 rupees (less than a dollar).  So the four of us crammed into the back of a rickshaw - its really more like a riding lawn mower with a back seat designed to fit two passengers side by side. I wish we could've taken a picture but we didn't have room to even move our elbows.  It was the perfect "Welcome to India" experience for our friends:  they got an up close-and-personal experience of Bangalore's rush hour chaos, a few close calls with death, exhaust fumes in our faces, and plenty of laughs.  As we pulled up to the hotel gate 15 minutes later we peeled ourselves out of the backseat to the amusement of the hotel attendants. 

Taj West End is an amazing place, even if you aren't staying there.  They have beautiful gardens for a  leisurely walk or a relaxing escape from the noise and chaos of the city.  They also have great Indian and Vietnamese restaurants.  Blue Ginger is located on the side gardens of the hotel with amazing Vietnamese food and an ambiance to match.  This is where we took Angela and Jeff for their first dinner in India.

The next morning we wanted to show Angela and Jeff the other side of Bangalore, so in stark contrast to the Taj West End hotel we started early and ventured off to a Bangalore slum area to visit the ANU business unite.  

Jeff and Ang entering the slum community

This is an organization which empowers young mothers to support their community by making handbags out of recycled cement sacks and tetra packs (juice boxes). The products are a big hit with the expat community and they are cleverly recycling their trash and giving the women pride in their handicraft, so it's great fun to support this group. 

This hand bag is made from cement sack and
yarn is weaved through to make a pattern.

These are some various items available to buy.

This woman is weaving tetra juice boxes into a bag. 
It's later sent to a tailor for lining and handles.

That afternoon we ate at another one of our favorite places, Bar-B-Que Nation .  This is a cross between a Japanese steakhouse where they cook the meal at your table and a Brazilian steak house where workers wander about serving endless portions of meat until you cry uncle or fall into a food coma.  The Nation also offers vegetables (including Cajun Potatoes - spicy, deep fried morsels of amazing).

Steve is stuffed and turned down the flag that indicates "Have Mercy!"

The next day (Sunday) we followed up the meat coma with an all you can eat brunch at our Palm Meadows club.  Most of the upscale hotels offer Sunday Brunch at 12:30, so it's really lunch buffet served with a side of live entertainment offering all the hits (some which should be forgotten) from the past three decades.  We usually spend a few hours each Sunday lounging around the pool to work off the meal. 

Ang and I relaxing by the pool.

Maledives...

The highlight of their visit was when we took a break from all the mayhem and jumped on a short flight to the Maledives. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and we had to take advantage of being this close to some of the most amazing atolls and diving in the world.  Angela gave this short interview about the trip on this blogspot  http://www.travelandphotographytoday.com/.   It's a great summary of our stay at the Constance Moofushi resort. 

 

Diving in the Maledives was like snorkeling inside a huge aquarium.  

India has a strange visa rule which prohibits visitors from reentering India for sixty days from the date of your last departure.  There is a caveat that allows you to reenter if you establish up front that you intend to use India as a base for tourism and present your itinerary to the immigration officer when you first arrive in India.  The application of this rule, like most things in India, is dependent on the immigration officer you get when you arrive.  Jeff and Ang followed the process, provided all the right documentation, and hoped for a smooth experience.  When we hit India immigration after a short four day adventure out of the country Angela and Jeff were held up for a couple of hours at the airport and they were permitted to re-enter but also required to visit the Foreigners Regional Registration Office (FRRO) the next day to receive additional paperwork prior to leaving the country on their flight to the U.S.  We have endured the FRRO a number of times as part of our employment visa processing:  imagine the DMV...now imagine the DMV in hell...now imagine people at the DMV in hell happy because they are not at the FRRO.  Jeff and Ang had only 2 days before their flight home to the U.S. and they would need to spend an entire day in purgatory to be permitted to leave the country.  Welcome to India... 

THE FRRO...
We got a good night's sleep and showed up at the FRRO the next morning soon after it opened.  Unfortunately, we weren't early enough as the place was already packed with confused, and increasingly irritated foreigners desperately trying to navigate the FRRO process.  We got in line and received our number: 126 - with 13 showing on the "now serving" display.  We sat for a while but decided to head out for an early lunch rather than wait around.  We jumped in the car, enjoyed an awesome lunch at Tandoor, and arrived back with only a few to spare before our number was called. You would think that having a number system would make the process civilized, but this number simply gives you permission to enter the ring and fight for service.  The process involves 5 stages:

1. Complete the paper work
2. Stand in line for the "Scrutiny Desk" to review your paper work and approve you to move to stage 3.  The folks who staff the Scrutiny Desk must be ex-insurance claim processors because they pretty much deny everyone for at least 1-2 rounds.  In our case, we needed to attach passport photos, make a bunch of copies, and provide a proof of residence.  The passport photos were understandable (although not indicated as required on the paperwork) but proof of residence seemed illogical given they were here on a 2 week tourist visa?  Thankfully, Steve brought along his previous FRRO documentation and we were able to use his info for that requirement (after an extended back-and-forth with the "Duty Manager" -- the Chief of Scrutiny).  We headed out of the FRRO to find a place to get a passport photo and copies.  We walked a couple of blocks, past a wall with a large spray painted message "Do Not Pass Urine Here" (bummer...), and found the India equivalent of a tiny Mailboxes Etc where we could get all our stuff done, including the photos. 
3. Stand in line again for the Scrutiny Desk.  By using the word "line" it may seem like a civilized and orderly process.  Unfortunately, in India there is no concept of a line.  In order to receive attention everyone struggles to establish position and waves their paperwork in the face of the scrutiny officer on the other side of the desk, hoping against hope to be noticed.  The worker appears oblivious to the mayhem as he/she examines a set of documents, lifts them back in the air for a hand in the crowd to reclaim, then casually selects one of the waving sheets of paper from the next lucky winner.  As an individual, this process seems daunting - but as a group of 3 we decided to use our collective mass to our advantage.  We muscled our way closer to the front and established a 3-point barrier in the crowd, preventing others from entering our space and ensured a clutter free moment of attention from the officer.  After the second round of scrutiny we were allowed to pass...
4. Up the stairs and into the final stage - final like when you say "just 15 more minutes" after your kids ask "are we there yet?"  Once upstairs you stand in line again for yet another round of scrutiny.  Any issues with this round and you need to visit the dreaded corner office, home of the FRRO Grand Poobah.  During this round of scrutiny the person behind the desk flipped back and forth through our stack of papers at an alarming speed (how is he not covered in paper cuts?) pausing suddenly to scribble notes on a cover sheet.  As expected, we were sent to the principal's office where the FRRO wizard was required to approve whatever notes Furious Fingers had made.
5. Reach the processing station.  After sufficient scrutiny, were were assigned a station number.  This number corresponds to a table on the other side of the room where a person sits to finish the registration process.  We waited in line again (chairs this time!) and handed over our paperwork.  The woman indicated that we could pick up our completed registration at 5pm later that day, so we decided to take advantage of the lull, jumped in the car and zipped down to Commerical Street for Jeff and Ang to take in some last minute shopping. 
6. Drink Heavily.  This is the required activity following any FRRO experience.  We took Jeff and Ang to another fun restaurant where we could laugh about the day as we enjoyed some awesome food and plenty of below average (Indian) wine ;)  

Their days of adventure ended at the Leela Palace Hotel .  The last morning we had a delicious breakfast and did last minute shopping.  This hotel is another one of our favorite spots, probably top of the list of favorites.  The gardens, the decor, the food, the shopping - it's all there!

Rugs, pashmina shawls, carvings, and beautiful clothing fill the shops to nearly overflowing. Emerald and sapphire necklaces are displayed on the open shelves of nearly every shop trying to lure you in with their seductive sparkles... it worked on us. I think we spent over an hour trying on all the bling.

At the end of the day, as the clock struck twelve, we said our good-byes and sent them on their way.  The time they were here flew by.  What fun and what an adventure!