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.