We moved onwards from Udaipur to Jodhpur. Jodhpur is a mid sized city, and houses a magnificent fort. It is known as the ‘blue city’, as many of the houses, particularly in a certain enclave below the fort, were (surprise!) painted blue by the Brahmins – here is a view from the fort.

The fort itself is magnificent – here is a view from below.

En route to said fort, we were bombarded with scores of kids who wanted their pictures taken – it’s a common theme throughout Asia and Linds and I have puzzled over why people want their photos taken so badly. We decided that beyond the obvious (it’s a novelty for a lot of people who don’t have cameras of their own), it also validates them. People weren’t as used to tourists in Mandu and Aurangabad, but Rahjastan is (relatively) touristy, and the kids have become accustomed to asking for ‘school pens’, photos and rupees. They also have a giggling tendency to recite ‘Hello, how are you, what is your name, I am fine’, in a singsong voice whenever you pass. Actually, it’s not just the kids, the grown men do it too, which is somewhat disturbing. We are a constant source of amusement to Indians young and old.

This guy had some attitude – loved it (by the way, when he asked us for the photo, he was smiling, proceeded to put on this surly pose for the picture, then went back to smiling)

We spent some time wandering the streets of Jodhpur – this is easier said than done in India, where you spend a disproportionate amount of time dissuading the touts (‘You want rickshaw?’, ‘no’, ‘market, fort, sightseeing!’, ‘no!’, ‘fair price!’, ‘no!!’, etc… etc.. ), dodging motorcycles and the aforementioned rickshaws, and avoiding the plentiful cows and cow dung on the streets. We both love to explore cities by foot, but if you want to maintain your sanity here, you’re better off taking rickshaws, who handily navigate the busy streets for you. The irony is that I actually observe and take more details in when I’m in a rickshaw or car than on foot – you have to be vigilant to avoid stepping in something or being hit, never mind avoiding the numerous salesmen.

Here are some scenes from beautiful Jodhpur:

The fort itself, called Mehrangargh, is definitely the most impressive I’ve seen (India keeps one-upping itself). If there was any doubt in my mind that it was a great feat of architectural and physical genius, it was obliterated while listening to what had to be the most self-aggrandizing audio tour in existence. Everything was ‘bold’, ‘beyond comprehension’, ‘exquisitely adorned’, and ‘beyond my wildest dreams’. While it was also informative, by the end I had an overwhelming urge to wretch. As an aside, In a similar vein, I happened upon the news coverage of the Commonwealth Games a couple of nights ago. As many people will have heard, India is hosting this year’s games, and there were some early challenges with bridges collapsing, muddy dog tracks on the athletes village beds, workers defecating in the streets of the village, etc.., etc… The games are an important opportunity for India to demonstrate it’s emergence as a world player in the 21st century, so the negative global coverage of their ill-preparedness was humiliating and created a sizable outcry here. In true Indian style though, they managed to pull it together at the last moment, and the opening ceremonies went off without a hitch. What you might not know, however, that they were also the greatest feat in entertainment that the world has ever seen. The local news would have us believe so:

We didn’t manage to capture the ‘Delhi Bests Beijing’ headline – that was another good one. Indians exhibit an interesting balance of confidence (we’ve read a number of op ed pieces talking about how ‘we don’t need America anymore, India is on the rise and will be the next super power’), and a need for external validation. Anyway – back to the fort. The carvings were absolutely spectacular:

Sadly, many of these carvings are in place so that the women of the time would not have to show themselves when they observed the scenes in the courtyard or hall. While Rahjastan was never actually captured by the Mughals, their influence on Rahjastani culture was significant and one of their legacies was purda – the tradition of women covering themselves from man’s watchful gaze. There are still many women, particularly in the North, who practice purda and though you’ll see some shorter skirts and tank tops in the larger cities, generally women are dressed extremely conservatively, with loose, flowing, ankle length saris. As a result, I’ve basically worn the same ankle length black skirt every day to blend in (better). Speaking of Indian women, I met some new friends at the fort – a group of elderly ladies, who grabbed me and insisted upon a picture.

They kept touching my face and holding my hands, which was a little weird, but they were very sweet, and I love their colourful outfits.

The next day, when we arrived in Jaisalmer, a fort town on the edge of the Thar desert, I met some other new friends:

They played cricket with Lindsay, who did well considering he, like every other North American I know, has never played before …

Just as Jodhpur is the ‘blue city’, Jaisalmer is known as the ‘golden city’ for it’s sandstone buildings – and it is filled with twisting alleyways and beautiful havelis. It rises up from the desert and is contained within the walls of a giant fort. It, like Udaipur, is the India of dreams (this sentiment was re-iterated in another fort audio tour, which incredibly, was even more over the top than the first):

Note the cow (they are everywhere in Jaisalmer), and the open sewers. The city was originally designed and built to support very little water, and with the advent of tap water and tourism, it’s infrastructure can no longer handle the volume of water that flows through its sewage ‘system’. As a result, the old town is actually slowly sinking, despite the great efforts of a number of organizations to halt this and preserve this walled city. In practical terms, it also means you need to watch where you’re walking and that flip flops aren’t the greatest shoe choice.

Patwa-Ki Haveli

Patwa-Ki Haveli

The sunset from the roof of the Patwa-Ki Haveli

The two carvings above are from a Jain temple in the center of the city. Unlike the temple in Mt. Abu, pictures were allowed – these temples were not as spectacular, but it’s all relative – the intricate carvings were very impressive. Jains only make up about 3% of the population in India, but are an affluent and influential group – they are also deeply spiritual, and many Jains had made the pilgrimage to both Mt. Abu and Jaisalmer.

We took a trip to the Thar desert for a camel ride. You travel about 40 km by jeep to the edge of the desert, and there, you’re joined by a camel driver and his apprentice (in this case his 10 year old nephew – India has a disturbing astonishing number of child labourers, close to 60 million by some estimates).

En route, we visited some cenotaphs, just sitting in the middle of the desert as so many marvelous Indian ruins do. As we drove past the security gate, the security guard jumped into our jeep, and accompanied us to the cenotaphs. He followed us wherever we went and started rhyming off details about the structures, infusing his (not so informative) tour with details of his family life .. ‘my girlfriend will dump me if I don’t get her a ring’, ‘my father died and now I’m supporting my whole family’, ‘I never see my family and friends because I live here all by myself rather than my village’, etc.. When we’d finished walking around, he looked at us expectantly for our ‘gift’. This is very typical here, and takes some getting used to. Typically you’ll enter into a tourist site, and within about a minute, someone will approach you and simply start rhyming off facts – when you protest that you don’t want a guide, they’ll reply ‘I’m not a guide’, and proceed. If you’re not careful, you have someone following you for hours, to whom you are meant to feel obligated to pay when you part ways. We’ve had to get used to the fact that not only do we stick out like sore thumbs due to our height, attire, and skin colour, but we are also viewed as walking ATMs. Since the average per capita income of a Canadian is roughly 40x that of an Indian (I’m quoting numbers from memory, so this might be slightly off), this isn’t completely surprising, but requires quite a bit of patience and understanding. It can be exhausting to travel here, when you feel like everyone is colluding to extract as much value as they possibly can out of you at every turn.

We escaped this particular ‘guide’, and drove further into the desert – there were brightly adorned camels lining the side of the road:

We reached our camels, Lucky and Babluji. Lindsay got Lucky. Here I am on Babluji.

We rode our camels for about half an hour before arriving at the desert, where we took a break (camel riding isn’t the most comfortable) and walk around the hot sand. I’ve never been to the desert before, so it was a lot of fun.

Linds and I with our camels in the desert (and yes Dad, I’m aware that they’re actually dromedaries

A great photo of LIndsay in the midst of the desert

The rolling sand dunes

Incidentally, at this point we were within about 60 km of the Pakistani border – we were told that once you get within 10 km of the border, the Indian army will turn you away. Tensions are high, and its usually best to steer clear of the conflict in casual conversation. Another fun fact, the Thar desert is also where India tests their nuclear weapons (nowhere near where we were).

After about 2 hours of camel riding, we arrived at our camp for the night – we had dinner with our (legitimate!) guide and then slept under the stars, which was magical. It was fascinating chatting with our guide. He is from a village outside of Jaisalmer, and talked to us about everything from his marriage (he had to pay about $4,000 in a dowry, a huge sum for the average Indian, and one that he is still paying off), to politics. We told him that we’d lived in America, and he responded by asking us if it was safe. Confused, we asked him what he meant, and he responded by alluding to the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. We soon realized that he thought that those wars were being fought in America as well as the the Middle East, believing that America bordered both these countries, similar to India and Pakistan. India’s educational system is very strong, but the reality is that many people simply don’t have access to it. So for every articulate, well-read, and worldly Indian (like our friends from school and work), there are many others who are not afforded an education. About 50% of women and 25% of men in India are illiterate – massive numbers for a population of 1.2 billion.

The next day, we set off for Jaipur. Jaipur was named for Jai, just as Udaipur is named for Udai, Jodhpur is named for Jodh, and Jaisalmer is named for Jaisal – megalomanic leaders were not lacking in those days. It is a the largest city in Rahjastan, with about 3 million people. In keeping with our colour themed tradition, Jaipur is known as the ‘pink city’. The effect is not quite as striking in Jaipur, due to the sprawl, traffic, and general chaos, but there are still pockets of pink in the gated old town.

There is a beautiful city palace, but Jaipur itself is not as romantic or interesting as the other Rahjastani cities we’d had the opportunity to visit. There is, however, a gorgeous fort in nearby Amber (pronounced: Amer), which usurped Jodhpur and Jaisalmer as my fort of choice. The gates of Amber fort extended into the surrounding mountains – the effect was like the great wall of China.

The carvings and painted decoration were equally spectacular:

And we got to see the largest cannon on wheels in the world (we later learned that it had never actually been used – this was not mentioned on the sign).

Some teenagers asked us for a picture on the roof of the palace building. I quite like this shot.

On our way home, we tried to take some photos that might capture the effect of riding in a rickshaw through the city:

Chaos!