Ruins, extreme poverty, town after town deserted by the inhabitants, to look for work in the city. Cows, starving, decimated cows, and dogs everywhere. When we saw people, they glared at us with a hatred I would never imagine could possibly exsist.
From Newark, we flew to Brussels, then on to Mombai (formerly Bombay). Massive disorganization, little available to eat/drink, and soldiers carrying machine guns, everywhere. We waited hours for our connecting flight to Udaipur. By this time we were so tired and dirty, we were actually attracting flies.
Finally, the flight to Udaipur. We flew Jet Airways throughout the trip, very hospitable and the best food we ate the entire week and a half. The airport in Udaipur was very modern and very empty. We were staying at the Taj Hari Mahal in Jodhpur, the best place we could find, so we figured transfers would be no big deal. Unfortunately, that added up to 258 km, or roughly 160 miles. On dirt roads . The trip took 5 hours. Everywhere we turned we were met with looks of hatred and disgust.
Our driver insisted on stopping now and again for tea. This was rather nerve racking, as the people looked as though they would kill us without hesitation. We approached a table; there were bugs crawling everywhere. Greg asked what kind of insects they were, and I answered 'cockroaches'. Sarah's face froze. Inside was building the longest, loudest scream ever heard, Realizing that that scream would be disasterous (we were sooo carefuly srutinized), I laughed and said,'some kind of desert beatle. They believed me.
Our final destination was Johdpur in Rajasthan. This is in the northern part of the country, at the very edge of the dessert. While the rest of the country was experiencing monsoons, Rajastan was dry. Dry and hot.
; >
After 5 long hours on dirt roads, roads with camels and monkeys and goats and caravans and cows, we arrived at the Taj Hari Mahal. Before the car was permitted through the gates, security staff checked it for bombs. Yes, bombs. Remember that terrorist attack back in Thanksgiving in Mumbai? That occurred at the sister hotels of the Taj. Every day, newspapers spoke of tensions with Pakistan, and of terrorist threats. The hotel staff (hi Monica) took excellent care of us. We wanted very much to cross over to Pakistan (because fundementally, the whole family is mentally ill...), but frankly hotel staff wouldn't let us. Monica set us up with a cab driver who stayed with us all week. He referred to himself as 'Our Mother in India', and he cared for us greatly. Our love to you, Mother Of India! While in Rajastan, we got ripped off on some clothing that we were essentially never going to use again. Tom, believe it or not, tried to go jogging....then he spotted the dogs.
We saw walls everywhere. Miles and miles (kilometer)of walls. When Tom asked our driver why they were there, the driver replied, "to keep people out." We did not understand.
India is a land where men rule. Not as extreme as the Islamic Nations, women are still expected to cover up. Almost all women wore brighly colored saris and had their heads covered. This was true whether the women were shopping or plowing fields. Occasionally a woman walked by in a burka. Civilization after civilization was mounted on itself, narrow streets, fat rats, carts with horses and motor cycles that thought nothing of running one down. The best mangos I've ever had. Cows everywhere. Rubble and new development. People sleeping on the streets. Packs of ferral dogs. And a wierd sense of propriaty and position which was immutable.
All in all, it was the best trip and the worst trip I've ever been on.
Ninety percent of our pictures were lost due to a hard drive crash. Most pictures were taken from a moving vehicle so as not to incite the hostility of the local populations.
JackieRodzinski
MotherSanity
copyright TheInquiringEye 2009