'It's like some futuristic city where money is no option'

This is Tim's comment as we are cruising through the most amazing, sleek skyscrapers...past gigantic malls...and flying along with traffic at speeds we haven't seen in quite some time! And it is true. It is amazing the results you get when money is not an issue. Artificial islands in the shape of palms and the globe, underwater hotels, a ski resort in the desert. It is as if each new project tries to outdo the others for the least likely thing you would find in a place whose climate shouldn't support a small civilization, let alone a huge city! We strolled through chic malls with sparkling marble floors, stood in disbelief peering at the folks skiing while it was 90 outside, marveled at the creative architecture of the never-ending buildings, and wondered about the future of the buildings still in construction (with cranes a ubiquitous site across the horizon). Then there was the 'old town' full of markets (gold, spices, silk, etc, etc) bringing traders from all around the world. A city that was nothing more than palm frond huts in the desert, subsisting off of fishing and pearl diving as recently as the early 60s...is now the quintessential shopping destination. It is a lush, green conglomeration of luxury resorts, hotels, and malls with no sign of the desert in the city. Just add money, water, and lots of imported workers...and it is amazing what you can accomplish.

Little India

We took a brief hiatus from our India travels to visit Dubai and the UAE. We took advantage of cheap air tickets to satisfy our curiousities about this city that we have actually been hearing about since we arrived in India. Upwards of 60% of the guestworkers in the UAE are Indian (there are also many Bangladeshi, Sri Lankans, Pakistanis, etc). Supposedly only 10% of the population are native Emiratis. And as soon as we arrived, we recognized signs of India everywhere. A Hindu temple was lined with small shops selling flowers and other offerings. The marketplaces had sari and silk shops scattered about. Indian restaurants and food stands were a dime a dozen in the old town. On Friday, the Muslim holy day, and thus the weekend...all the guestworkers were hanging out in central locations in town. You could tell the groups were segregated by state, all speaking in their local language. Groups of young men all coming to Dubai to make higher wages to send back home to their families. Of course, the economy is taking its toll in Dubai also and many guestworkers are losing their jobs and heading back home. It was a strange experience to arrive in a place a world apart from India, yet with so much Indian influence everywhere we went.

The golden city

The magnificent golden city of Jaisalmer, set amidst the vastness of the great Thar desert, was the last stop on our whirlwind tour of Rajasthan. The fort and palace are perched on a hill like a giant sand castle, with its creamy sandstone walls melting into the landscape. Within the fort walls, we discovered narrow sandstone lanes more congested with four legged traffic than two legged. Cows and dogs sauntered lazily in the afternoon heat, oblivious of the tourists, souvenir shops, and particularly shop keepers. We watched the sun set on the fort, setting it ablaze in a brilliant gold before the sun dropped into the desert horizon, and the fort nestled in with the sandstone buildings of the city that today swells beyond its former walled boundary.

Happy Holi!!

We had been hearing tales of the Holi (festival of colors) celebrations from other travelers. We found ourselves in Udaipur when we got our chance to ‘play Holi’. Amidst dancing, music, fireworks and a gigantic bonfire…we started the celebration. Little did we know that the real excitement would be found the following day…

We were told the main attraction would take place at a circle surrounded by tall hotels with rooftop restaurants. So, as the circle filled with people, we were perched on the rooftop several stories above watching the dancing and festivities. Men, dressed in saris and fully adorned in jewelry, did sensuous dances. Dances drug on and Tim and I were ready to give up on the festivities. A huge tower was built for a bonfire earlier in the afternoon, and our curiosity kept Tim and I there. Finally, a string of firecrackers (nearly 40 feet long!) was laid out encircling the tower. The power was cut just before it was lit and with explosive energy the firecrackers marched the fire towards the tower of hay and wood. As soon as it reached the tower and the flame began to catch, boys rushed in and spread the flame around the base of the tower. Within moments the fire was raging and embedded firecrackers continued to explode from within the tower. The circle was packed with people that shirked from the blaze as the giant tower of fire continued to grow. As the fire died back, boxes of fireworks were attacked and strings of firecrackers and colorful fountains carried on the excitement. Music blared from speakers and young men were leaping around and dancing in the street, while the women huddled on the temple steps and observed the action from their seats. The street felt like a war zone with explosions and debris everywhere as we ventured down to get a closer look.

The next morning, we decided to venture out to see the continued celebrations. It is a playful festival, in which everyone douses each other with colored powders. We darted across the street to arm ourselves with our own bag of powder…and were ready to celebrate! Within moments we were greeted with ‘Happy Holi!’ and got our first smear of powder and a hearty hug. So, we returned the favor and strolled the streets dousing and getting doused by packs of young men covered head to toe in pinks, yellows, greens, and reds. Only their white eyes and teeth stood clean against the rainbow of colors scattered across their faces. It was a riot to be part of the colorful festivities....for a while!

A step back in time

We left Agra and ventured out into Rajasthan, home of the many Rajput warrior clans and thus their legacy of palaces and forts. In the harsh scrub brush landscape of Rajasthan, the beautiful forts and palaces carry you back in time. They transport you with fairytale stories of the kings and civilizations that dominated this land centuries earlier. The rambling ‘old town’ sections of the cities give a glimpse of the chaotic marketplaces set in narrow cobblestone lanes below magnificent buildings fallen into varying states of disrepair. Brilliant turbans and saris bring color and life to the monotone landscape. Color infused cities (Jaipur is the pink city, Jodhpur…blue, Jaisalmer…golden) also defy the landscape with their painted buildings that define the ‘old town’ areas. It is a romantic state that brings the tourists in by busloads to ramble through the old forts and marvel at the history frozen in time here.

Basking in the beauty of the Taj Mahal

Throughout our journey, curious Indians have asked if we have visited the Taj Mahal, the crowned glory of India. My answer had become almost canned, ‘we will visit it in a few months…’ So it was quite a surreal experience to finally explore this beautiful monument. It is such a familiar structure that I have seen in so many photos over the years, but I was completely engrossed standing in front of the massive white marble dome and watching it transform as the sun sank lower in the sky. The simplicity of the design, brilliant white marble with beautifully inlayed stones in floral designs, consumed me even more. I never would have imagined visiting the Taj would be such a moving experience. The crowds were constantly moving around the grounds, brilliant saris fluttering in the wind, cameras snapping incessantly…failing to capture the brilliance of the monument. A massive mausoleum built in the 17th century for the ruler Shah Jahan’s favorite wife (who interestingly died giving birth to her 14th child at the age of 40!). Shah Jahan was overthrown by his son and spent the remainder of his life in Agra fort, another of his constructions. He remained in a jail cell which overlooked his beautiful memorial to his late wife. Even amidst all the crowds and chaos around the monument, the Taj Mahal eminates a peacefulness throughout its grounds and is truly magical to experience.

Who can you trust in Delhi?

After so many stories from other travelers of being taken for the proverbial ride by the many touts working the streets of Delhi…Tim and I were a little wary as we arrived in the capital city. This is particularly hard just a few weeks after our stay in Bangladesh where we actually ended up going to several people’s homes and it was so easy to be trusting of people. As we stepped out of the New Delhi train station in the early morning hours, we quickly had a million rickshaw wallahs eagerly welcoming us to their city and they all seemed to have just the right hotel for us. So I defaulted to Tim’s approach (ignoring anyone and everyone that even utters a word to you) and the rickshaw drivers quickly lost interest as we appeared to be more of a challenge than they were ready for at that hour of the day. I would like to think that we are a little more savvy after several months in the south of India, and can negotiate the touts a bit better than Delhi was our first introduction to the country.

View from the rooftop

We arrived in Varanasi late in the evening and spent a while navigating the labyrinthine alleyways of ‘Old Town’ to find the hotel of which we had received great reviews. We quickly learned the huge hotel was full…but we could stay in the dormitory. Preferring to be in a shared space than wandering the busy alleyways, we quickly agreed to the dorm. The fellow encouraged us to take a look first. My heart was racing and I was gasping for breath by the time we reached the eighth floor. Expecting to find a room full of bunkbeds, we strolled out onto the roof…and there was no sign of anyone staying in the ‘dorm’. They pulled out two army cots for us, and we spent two beautiful nights under a tin roof in the open breeze of Varanasi. (We did also have a cage around us to keep out the marauding monkeys who proved to be the kings of the rooftops…and kindly served as our wakeup call the first morning as a troup of them scampered across the tin roof just above our heads.) In the mornings, we watched women washing clothes on the rooftops and the brilliant laundry flying in the wind against the tan and gray buildings. In the afternoons, boys played modified games of cricket and flew kites from the flat rooftops…a world away from the activity going on by the riverside and the dark, hectic alleyways several stories below. The sun rose and set over the hazy skyline with the wide green-blue river defining the city, and it felt as if we had the best view in the city.

Flocking to the Holy Ganges

Pilgrims and tourists alike flock to Varanasi. At this holy site on the Ganges River, people bathe to wash their sins away and come to die here as cremation here relieves you of the cycle of reincarnation and your soul goes directly to heaven. But then there are also more than a million inhabitants of Varanasi that use the river as a communal washing machine and bath tub for their daily activities. Walking along the long string of ghats (concrete steps leading down to the river), one can encounter bathers, clothes washing, cremations, water buffalo washing, tooth brushing, etc all in the same holy water the ashes and sometimes whole bodies are dumped into. Towers of wood of every size and many types (different wood carried different significance and cost) are constantly pulled from to build new pyres for the never ending funeral processions marching bodies down the narrow alleyways to one of the main cremation ghats. A spiritual process turned tourist spectacle, as foreigners curiously take in the traditional rituals...and touts and guides offer boat rides and roof tops for better views at a pretty price. It is humbling to sit and watch the ancient tradition, but I found the concentration of tourists (ourselves included, of course) to be disconcerting as we all sat around and watched the cremation take place before our eyes...several pyres burning every time we passed the ghat. The constant frenzy of activity around the ghats, taking place day in and day out is fascinating though.

Caught in the clouds

Darjeeling is the quintessential Indian hill station perched on the steep Himalayan foothills. Hindu chants are carried on the same breeze that send the colorful Tibetan prayer flags fluttering. We arrived before the high season hit, and thus found the beautiful tea country to be enshrouded in clouds that swirled and played around the hills...but never revealed the snowcapped peaks that lay just beyond their cover. The cold that first delighted us, got down in our bones and chilled us to the core. Our wardrobe was a bit lacking for the high winds and cool temperatures of Darjeeling...and the several blankets on our beds still failed to warm us. So, we drank lots of the famed regional tea, ate delicious Tibetan soups, and outfitted ourselves with hats and scarves to fight off the cold. Unfortunately, we also had a stomach bug catch up with us and Tim and I spent the majority of our time in the charming town fighting over the frigid toilet (that inevitably brought a small scream everytime you sat on the ice cold seat!) We will have to return to Darjeeling in the summer months to really experience the beautiful town that is a world apart from the India we have seen so far.