Most recently, we spent the day with my sister and her fiancé in their no-man’s land neighborhood nestled between Leslieville, Little India, Riverdale and Riverside … four East-side hoods that have become vastly more trendy since we left here six years ago. It appears that a commodities boom and low interest rates have made Toronto a much wealthier place than it used to be, and as the West End of the city has begun to price out the hipsters, they’ve moved eastward.

We took a lovely walk through Riverside, and a Flatwhite, under-stated brunch and interiour decor shopping experience later, I realized that I was experiencing a deja vu … of our old stomping grounds in Brooklyn. Not that I’m complaining … I enjoy homemade coffee cuffs, curated art exhibits, surprising homemade chocolate flavours, gourmet hot dogs and bamboo tee-shirts as much as the next (white, upper middle class) guy – I suppose I just wasn’t expecting it here in Toronto. Who knew! But it’s a great thing, Carroll Gardens is my favourite neighbourhood in the world (and I’ve made some inroads into the Western world … so this isn’t as vacuous as it sounds), so I’m pleased to see some clones popping up here in the T-Dot (yes … I agree, it is the Worst Nickname Ever).

Now to a more forward looking topic. It’s always been important to me to come up with New Year’s resolutions, and for what it’s worth, I’m really good at forging new ones every year. Achieving them … well, my record is more dubious. So this year I thought I’d celebrate my return to blogging by making my resolutions a bit more public. I hope that this will result in a more respectable success rate. So, here they are:

1. Be a great wife and mom

2. Get back in shape. Run the Vancouver 1/2 Marathon in May, and exercise regularly.

3. Get creative. Re-ignite my music collection, start blogging again, build a robot with Linds, begin cooking (this should also be included under item #1!) and work on my business idea (more to come on this).

C’est tout. Arguably #3 is actually #3,4,5,6 and 7, so I think this is plenty to concentrate on for now!

Happy New Year!

Cave Dwelling

Panorama of the Surrounding Area

More Cave Dwellings – you could actually hike up to these and walk around inside. Sadly Cappadocia, contrary to popular belief, was not the filming location for the original Star Wars. It was actually shot in Tunisia.

One of the highlights of our time in Cappadocia was a balloon ride. You rise before the sun, have breakfast with a bunch of strangers – then they take you to the launching place, where you actually watch the myriad balloons being inflated:

Then taking off:

The baskets are actually quite full (I had illusions of a romantic sunrise ride with just the two of us .. not so much); there are about 20 people per small basket – we were sharing our cozy compartment with a Japanese man and a Brazilian couple. The ride itself was about an hour long, and was navigated by an exceptionally skilled operator. More than once, I was convinced that we were going to slam into rock faces, or get tangled in the trees, but he handily navigated us out of harm’s way each time. The views were augmented, not impeded, by the many other balloons taking their daily sunrise voyage (you are lucky to spot one balloon in the sky for the remainder of the day – it appears to be a one shot deal). We have hundreds of photos of the ride, here is a sampling:

At the end, after deftly dodging power lines and skillfully landing on a truck bed, we were given glasses of Turkish sparkling wine, and certificates of accomplishment – I’m really not sure what it is that we accomplished, other than shelling out some cash, getting up at 5:30 a.m. on vacation and not vomiting on the innocent citizens of Goreme below, nonetheless it was certainly a proud day for Wendy Fravis and Lindsat Wat.

We had a number of other memorable excursions in Cappadocia. One was a trip to Derinkuyu underground city, about 40km from Goreme. There are actually hundreds of underground cities in the area, likely created during Hittite times, but used until approximately the 14th century by various groups escaping various other groups plundering Central Anatolia at any given time (the Christians hid from the Romans, the Phrygians from the Assyrians, etc.). This particular city was complete with eight levels, a church, a stable (on the 1st floor), very steep vertical staircases, and temporary burying places. It is unlikely that people lived in these cities permanently, but it is thought that hundreds of people would live there for months at a time.

Another interesting trip was to Uchisar Castle, the highest point in Cappadocia. You can hike to the top for amazing views of Fairy Chimneys and the Pigeon Valley.

The castle itself, carved from rock, with the town below (it’s really pretty incredible)

View from the top of the castle

The Pigeon Valley, where we spent an afternoon hiking

Fairy Chimneys

The Pigeon Valley is so-named for the hundreds of dovecotes (like these ones, the tiny holes in the rock), where pigeons (not doves) would nest, and villagers would go in once or twice a year to collect eggs and dung. Progress is good.

Trails aren’t marked in Cappadoccia, so we spent a long time wandering around the valley, confronted with a number of very steep cliff faces from time to time. It was a fine example of international competition, as together with an Australian women, a French family and an American couple, we managed to find the trail.

Finally, we spent some time in the Ihlara Valley – where we went on a beautiful walk by the stream, enjoying the autumn colours (which we particularly appreciated after being in places where autumn doesn’t really exist), and to Selime, which contained one of the most impressive rock churches that we’d seen thus far.

The Selime Cathedral from the outside

The Selime Cathedral from the inside

We’ve been in Turkey for about ten days, but I feel like we’ve just scratched the surface. We’ll need to return one day. Now we’re off to Berlin, where we’re going to spend a month before heading home to Canada via London for the holidays. The frenetically paced portion of our journey is drawing to a close, but I look forward to sharing some stories and pictures from Europe, as well as some over-arching thoughts about our trip.

Turkish Lanterns

Thirdly, the dynamism of the Turkish people themselves makes the city alive and exciting. It’s a city where you can visit any number of sleek lounges to enjoy a $20 cocktail (Istanbul is not cheap) with fashionable locals, or visit the excellent Modern Art Museum, showcasing a great exhibit by the designer Hussein Chayalan. On the other hand, many of the women wear headscarves and conservative clothing, there are fisherman along the length of the central Galata bridge, and it would not be out of the ordinary to observe a devout Muslim, dressed in traditional clothing, praying on the street.

An Olafur Elaiansson light at the Istanbul Museum of Modern Art.

Women waiting for the bus

We also visited a couple of the remarkable historic sights in Istanbul (of which there were really too many to count, let alone visit). After our time in Uzbekistan and India, where we spent much of our time checking out important historical buildings (largely religious), we decided to limit our traditional sight seeing to a few places. First, we visited the Basilica Cisterns, the largest of a number of underground cisterns in Istanbul. The cisterns, which are 500m below ground level, feature 336 marble columns. They might also look familiar because they were featured in the 1963 James Bond film ‘From Russia with Love’.

We also visited the spectacular Hagia Sofia. I’m not sure that these pictures will do justice to the absolute scale and grandeur of this famous monument (another WHS). The Hagia Sofia was originally an Orthodox Patriarchal Basilica during the Byzantine era, then was converted to a Mosque in the fifteenth century, and finally secularized in the 1930′s and converted to a museum. What makes the building so interesting is that they have excavated the original Christian frescoes, which now co-exist with the traditional Islamic carvings and art. It’s breathtaking.

We have been endlessly entertained by tourists posing for photos along this trip – glamour shots!

We also visited the Topkapi Palace, the most famous palace in Istanbul, built during the 15th century for the Sultan of the Ottoman empire. It is composed of four complexes and hundreds of rooms, although not all of them are accessible. Another WHS, it is quite beautiful, especially the harem (although after paying steep entrance fee to the palace, upon entering the site they make you pay extra for the harem, which seems sneaky). We particularly liked the tiles in the harem, which were quite varied and intricate, as well as the stained glass and mother of pearl inlaid throughout the palace.

The (understated!) Baghdad Palace

Inlaid Mother of Pearl adorned many of the doors

The harem roof

After a long time in crowded, chaotic cities with no sidewalks, it was great to be in a slightly less crowded, somewhat less chaotic city with enough sidewalks that you didn’t fear for your life every time you took a step into the street. As such, we spent a lot of time in Istanbul walking around the different neighbourhoods and experiencing the day to day life of the city. We’d both read Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul (I highly recommend it) before arriving in Turkey, and his memoir/tribute to his childhood home was great fodder for explorations, particularly on the Asian side. Here are some shots of the city – I’ve tried to include a variety from both the European and Asian side, and reveal the juxtaposition of Old vs. New and East vs. West that make Istanbul so interesting.

Wooden houses are still sprinkled around the city

Turkish flags are everywhere in Istanbul – these ones are along the an old aqueduct

Fishmongers

A delivery man bringing clothes to a local shop

A typical alley in Galata

Outdoor cafes are very popular – even as the temperature dropped to 5 degrees celcius

A flim (or commercial) shoot outside our hotel

The view from the Galata bridge to the old city

Dilapidated wooden buildings

The first thing that you notice when you arrive at the Tashkent airport is that unlike conventional airports, which play host to a number of different airlines, there was only one airline represented at Tashkent International. That’s right – if you want to fly in or out of Uzbekistan, you’re flying Uzbekistan Airways. The second thing you’ll notice is that operations management is not a priority in an autocracy, where everything, from the banks to the airports, are run by a government that is democratic in name only (the president is so popular, that he somehow consistently manages to win 88% of the vote in each election!). We’d arrived from Delhi in tandem with about six other flights from around Asia and Europe, and waited about an hour for our bags to eventually make their way onto one of the two unmarked baggage carousels.

We were picked up by our driver, Serik (while we don’t generally travel with organized tours, they are close to a necessity in Uzbekistan), and transported to the center of Tashkent … to the Hotel Uzbekistan. In this case, a picture really is worth a thousand words:

Interestingly, the world Tae Kwon Doe championships were taking place in Tashkent while we were there, and we checked in at the same time as the team from the Democratic Republic of the Congo .. who knew! Also worth noting was the hotel brothel on the 16h floor. Hotel Uzbekistan truly had it all!

Hotel Uzbekistan is part of a the almost-modern looking downtown core of Tashkent, designed by the Soviets in an effort to create a contemporary Europeanized city. The buildings are large and striking, like this Congressional Hall, previously a popular park until it was torn down last year to commemorate some anniversary or another.

We changed some money – which was easier said than done. Uzbekistan doesn’t have ATMs. So instead of withdrawing local currency, you visit a bank branch, where after a sit down meeting with a bank employee, some paperwork and a mere 4% commission, you have the pleasure of withdrawing American dollars on your credit card. Then you are free to convert your dollars to S’un, at the official government rate (1:1,600), or the real (black market) rate (1:2,250). There’s been some inflation in Uzbekistan. The lowest denomination is 1,000, which means that you are constantly walking around with a huge wad of bills in your pocket. I felt like a gangster.

Tashkent is not a mainstay on the tourist circuit, but it has a couple of interesting monuments and a visit to the local market was a good introduction to local cuisine. Uzbekistan is known for the variety of spices it grows, and also produces a yellow carrot, which they use in their national dish, the pilav. Weddings are very important in Uzbekistan, and they’re important to me too, since my sister Sharon is getting married, and I’ve set out on a quest to find her an international wedding dress of style! Traditional wedding garments are sold in most markets – frilly dresses for the brides, colourful tunics for the guests and gold embroidered dark cloaks for the men

Women grating the yellow carrots for sale

Colourful wedding attire

Sharon – your dress is top left

And this is for the men (Paul ..)

We also visited the beautiful Khast Imom Complex, one of a few historical monuments remaining in Tashkent (it was razed by the Soviets, and then hit by a strong earthquake in 1996). This is the Friday mosque at the complex:

We also visited the local crafts museum, where I was introduced to a number of interesting concepts. The first was a popular national game, Kupkari. Here’s a description from tourism.uz:

The national sport Kupkari (in some areas of Uzbekistan, namely in Ferghana valley, it is called uloq ) is a team game in which the two mounted teams attempt to deliver a headless and legless goat’s or ram’s carcass weighing 30 – 40kg over the opposition’s goal line. A line of horsemen flies off at the sign of the judge. One of them outrides the others and at full speed picks up the carcass of a goat from the ground. That fraction of a second is enough for the other riders to catch up with him and try to take away his trophy. This game called ulak or kupkari in Uzbek, means “the game of many people”. In Russian the game is also called “flaying the goat”.

Apparently after the game is finished, it is customary for the teams to eat goats together – a gesture of camaraderie. Another interesting rural tradition is the use of mini bed-tents for infants. Since rural housewives work hard during the day and don’t always have relatives or friends to care for their infants, they lie the babies down in these wooden bed tents for the duration of the day. They even carve a hole in the floor of the tent so the babies can relieve themselves. Since the floors are too hard for the babies heads, their heads flatten in the back (apparently you are able to notice this on grown Uzbek men). While this tradition has dwindled, it does still exist in some parts of the country.

The third concept an interpretation of the Muslim hijab. The Uzbeks of yesteryear had their own unique and rather extreme interpretation, the paranja. The paranja has only ceremonial sleeves (the woman’s hands are contained within the garment), and their facial area is covered with a horsehair veil. The woman is completely hidden from view. Here I am, modeling a much-too-short version of the paranja.

The next day we set out to Samarkand with our driver Serik. We spent a lot of time in car with Serik, an animated 60-something Kazakh with a great sense of humor (he called vodka factories ‘Russian mosques’) and from what we could tell from our sign language interactions, a fascinating life. He was part of the Soviet Army, fought in Afghanistan and spent some time on the (then) Soviet-Iranian border in the 70′s, poised to defend the USSR in the event of a possible American attack. He was also a great source of random information – i.e. that our hotel owner in Samarkand was actually the local mob boss (said hotelier ended up taking a liking to us and repeatedly attempted to make us drink vodka shots with him).

As we set out on to the highway, two things became quite obvious – the divide between urban and rural development, and the corruption. As it pertains to the latter, Uzbekistan is particularly notorious, and ranks 174 out of 180 on Transparency International’s measure of perceived corruption. While we were impressed by the standard of living in Tashkent (it’s a clean, relatively modern city with good infrastructure, cafes and shops), the countryside is full of mud huts, donkey led trailers and endless cotton fields filled with children and older women picking cotton. In fact, while it is technically illegal, children are regularly pulled out of school for the cotton harvest – a practice that has led to the ban of Uzbek cotton in many Western countries (they still have sizable contracts with Iran, Russia and China). There are also military checkpoints every 30 km or so. Nothing appears to happen at said checkpoints, just a bunch of very bored looking officials who arbitrarily stop cars. With over one million men enlisted in the military and police out of a population of 27 million, there are a lot of bored officials. There are also some propaganda posters dotting the landscape – similar to what Linds and I saw in Cuba many years ago.

Samarkand is Uzbekistan’s second largest city, and was an important city along the silk route. During the 14th century, it was the capital of Timur (Tamerlane), and his mausoleum is located there. It is humbling to visit a city like Samarkand. It is one of the oldest cities in the world, founded in 700 BC, and was ruled by the Persians, the Arabs, and a variety of different Turkic groups before being completely destroyed by the Mongols under Genghis Khan in the 13th century. In the 14th century, Tamerlane decided to make Samarkand the capital of his considerable empire, and it flourished under his reign. In the 15th century, the great astronomer Ulugh Beg built his observatory there – LInds and I were duly impressed by the level of scientific progress made in this region (though the observatory was destroyed by religious fanatics, and after Ulugh, scientific discovery faltered). The city was conquered by a number of other dynasties over the following 500 years, and then finally by force by the Russians in 1868. Generally, we learned that the history of Uzbekistan (and Central Asia in general) is bloody, tumultuous and complex, so I’ll keep my historical summary of Samarkand superficial!

The first site that we visited was the impressive Shaki Zinda complex, a necropolis filled with ornate mausoleums. The mosaics (many of which have been restored) were totally spectacular, as was the woodwork.

An example of the woodwork. There are no forests in Uzbekistan, so wood carving is not widespread and reserved for special sites. Plaster carvings are very common, and there are also examples of papier mache.

Next, we visited Registan Square – the heart of Samarkand, and the location of the city’s executions (which included tossing women into a bag of vicious cats … ouch!). A mosque stands in the center, with madrases on either side – it is truly majestic.

Lindsay made some new friends. They were selling wolf tooth necklaces.

Next we headed to Bukhara, another major center of the region’s Tajik people, along with Samarkand. Due to the dynamic history and ever-changing borders of Central Asia, the population of Uzbekistan is surprisingly diverse. While the official state numbers state that the population is divided as follows: Uzbeks – 80%, Russians – 5.5%, Tajiks – 5%, Kazakhs – 3%, Karakalpaks – 2.5% and Tatars – 1.5%, Western scholars estimate that the Tajik population is actually 20-30% of the population. In addition, Uzbekistan has a small Armenian community (one of our guides was Armenian), as well as a Korean population, forcibly relocated to the region by Stalin in the 1930s. In fact, while the Korean-Uzbeks have now been here for a few generations, you can still purchase kimchi and other Korean delicacies in the markets. There used to be a fairly large Jewish community as well (and in fact we stayed in the Jewish quarter in Bukhara), but with the collapse of the USSR, many of them left for the US or Israel. There are only about 5,000 Jews remaining in Uzbekistan.

Bukhara is another ancient city – people have inhabited the region for about 5,000 years, and the city has existed for about 2,500 years. It lacks the imposing, huge structures of Samarkand, but the old city is completely charming and filled with history. Here are some views of the city:

Kalon Mosque

Sitorai Mosque

One of the three major trading domes (centers of commerce built at intersections of important roads). Caravans traveling along the Silk Road would sell their wares at these domes.

Kalon Mosque

An ornate roof at the Summer Palace, just outside of the city
  

The Kalon Mosque

A local peacock. They actually wander the streets here, which is pretty incredible for a Western tourist like me!

Our next and final stop was Kiva, which entailed a seven hour drive through the Kyzyl Kum desert – a vast stretch of nothingness that seems to go on forever.

We made one stop, at the edge of the Amu Darya river – you can see Turkmenistan on the other side of the river. At various points on our journey, the road was marked with distance signs for cities in Afghanistan, Tajikistan, even Iran and Pakistan – it was pretty surreal.

Khiva is a walled medieval city consisting of two parts – the outer city, which used to have eleven gates, and the inner city, encircled by a 10 meter high wall. The inner city is incredibly picturesque.

Davosa Gate

A cemetery by the gate. Many traditions of Zoroastrianism, the regions original religion still remain, including a belief in the evil eye, and the practice of entombing the dead above ground (although thankfully, they didn’t leave the bodies out to be eaten before entombing the bones).

A wedding on the main street

A family praying in a mosque before the son’s ceremonial circumcision

An unfinished minaret

We elected not to take a ride on this Soviet era ferris wheel

Finally, the interior of our hotel. It was originally a madrasa, then converted to a prison during the Soviet reign. Today it’s a heritage hotel.

Our time in Uzbekistan flew by – it is a such an interesting country, with kind, polite people and gorgeous historical cities (Samarkand, Bukhara and Khiva are all World Heritage cities). It is also a very easy place to travel if you’re a tourist. It is so safe and friendly that it’s easy to forget that the country struggles with some major issues, namely corruption and restrictions on free speech. Despite all this, I would highly recommend a visit.

A scene from the Palace

The Hamman (Turkish Baths)

Along the Highway, close to the hotel

The next day was spent at Keoladeo Ghana National Park. Interestingly, it appeared that they had recently jacked up the entrance fees (since they hadn’t actually changed the prices on the printed brochures, we assumed that it was a rush job for the Commonwealth Games, but I think that they might be disappointed by the number of tourists that make their way from Delhi to Bharatpur). We rented bikes for the day and explored the park, which actually contained a very impressive number of birds, including peacocks, painted storks (below – these were incredible) and cormorants. Not to be excluded from any rural or urban location in India, there were also a respectable number of cows.

There isn’t that much to do in Baratpur, so the following day we took a day trip to Deeg to visit the Suraj Mahl palace, considered one of India’s most beautiful palaces. Deeg was built in the mid 1800′s as a summer palace for the rulers of Bharatpur, and As we were reminded throughout our time there, the palace contains over 200 fountains (sadly, said fountains were not working while we were there). Nonetheless, the palace was quite impressive, with some of the original 19th century furniture still preserved in the palace and some of the most entertaining monkeys I’ve ever seen – they could even do somersaults!

The main palace building

Women washing along the palace steps – there are generally no washing machines here; instead the women go to the rivers and lakes to do the washing, beating the clothes against the cement steps to dry them.

An example of some of the inlaid marble

A maze, designed to capture rainwater (water is very scarce in this part of India)

The following day, we headed to Fatepur Sikri, a Unesco World Heritage town (yep, that’s right – another one!). Fatehpur Sikri is usually a day trip for tourists in Agra (about 40 km away), but we decided to stay the night, and were therefore treated to some of the most doting hospitality I have ever seen as a result (one of the waiters forgot to bring us a bottle of water, and apologized so many times that eventually we had to firmly tell him to please stop). It is also home to some of the most aggressive touts in India (which is not an easy feat). We took a tuk tuk from Bharatpur to Fatehpur Sikri, and some touts on the side of the road convinced our driver to drop us off at a tourist complex that was about a kilometer too soon. Unfortunately we didn’t notice (it was the Goverdhand vs. Gulistan Tourist complex), and when we left the tuk tuk, we were promptly swarmed by about ten boys offering postcards, guides, food, etc.., and would not leave us alone. Touts aside, we were blown away by the Jama Masid mosque, whose Victory Gate was built to commemorate one of Akbar’s military victories and was a dazzling 54 meters tall:

The inside was almost as resplendent, with intricate carvings, and a stunning white marble tomb inside the courtyard. We also visited the nearby palace; Fatehpur Sikri was previously the capital before it was moved to Agra due to lack of water, and Akbar built a palace for each of his three wives, a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim wife. The palaces reflect the styles of each of the three religions, and the effect is dazzling.

The Rumi Sultana

The royal stables

Admiring the view

The following day we proceeded on to Agra – its an hour long bus ride there, and Lindsay got to enjoy a new friend sitting beside him, his arm behind LIndsay, knees towards him reading along with him on his iPhone. Unsurprisingly for a country of 1.2 billion, there is no concept of personal space here, but even after five weeks, neither of us ever really got used to it. Another highlight of the bus ride was that about 5 km before the bus depot, a rickshaw rider boarded the bus and motioned for us (the only two non-Indians on the bus) to get off, telling us it was our stop. It was nowhere near our stop, and our guidebook had warned us of this scam – I continue to find it amazing (and offensive), that the bus driver and ticket collector were in on this and that moreover, no one in the entire bus told us that it was a ruse. As I’ve mentioned before, and as we’ve discussed with many other travelers, India can be a difficult country to travel through – you need to be on your toes all the time. After a 15 minute pause for a ‘VIP moment’ (an army truck driving down the street closed down traffic near the Taj for 1/2 an hour), we arrived at our hotel, which was about a kilometer away from the Taj Mahal.

The next day, we arose at about 5:30 to see the Taj. We were always going to get up early, since its a nice, relatively peaceful time to enjoy the Taj, but it turns out that we would have been up any way, since we woke up to public speakers blaring Hindu pop music. This isn’t uncommon in India, and in keeping with the personal space theme, no one really seems bothered by this Hindu interpretation of the Muslim call to prayer.

Our alarm clock

The Taj Mahal is really incredible – it is truly everything that it’s cracked up to be and then some.

My favourite vantage points were from about 200 meters away (the first two photos), and then up close, where you can see some of the intricate carving in the marble. The light at dawn was perfect.

That evening, both of us were slammed with a rather horrible bout of food poisoning, care of the hotel’s Vegetable Thali (set vegetarian meal). Despite India’s notoriety on the health front, we’d been faring quite well, so this was an unfortunate surprise. The next day, through our groggy haze, the drive to Delhi was a fascinating one. During our time here, we’ve spent time in a number of medium and large sized cities across India, and have been quite surprised at the rudimentary level of infrastructure and commerce. Cities of 3 million have few malls and skyscrapers, and outside of the best neighbourhoods, dwellings are basic. India’s economy is growing at roughly 8% a year, millions of young people are graduating from technical and managerial schools – so we have consistently wondered – where does this dynamic growth and sophisticated commerce take place? It appears that the answer to that is Delhi, a (relatively) sparkling metropolis filled with modern buildings, shops, hotels and transportation. It literally feels like a completely different country from what we’d seen, and it’s a shame that we were completely incapacitated and couldn’t explore it more fully (it also would have been fun to cheer on Canada at the Commonwealth Games, which were taking place close to where we were staying). Instead of exploring, we checked into our hotel, ate dinner at the hotel restaurant (a franchise of Eggspectation in Montreal – so strange!) and went to bed. In the morning we headed to the airport to catch our flight to Uzbekistan.

We’ve spent more time in India than any other country on our trip – it’s a fascinating country, and while it’s very difficult to travel around, the sites can certainly be worth the hassle. At the beginning of our guidebook, they allude to the fact that you will either ‘love it or loathe it, and most people seesaw between the two’. This was certainly the case for me. Prior to this, Japan was the most foreign place that I’ve had the opportunity to visit, but despite having so many Indian friends and acquaintances back home, I found India much more foreign. This was exhilarating at times, but also left me feeling impatient and frustrated. I’m not sure yet if I’ll look back on this five weeks fondly, but it was certainly one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had.

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!

We decided to splurge a bit and stay at a heritage hotel on Lake Pichola – we were not disappointed. You’ll recall our hotel room from the previous night (‘hotel’ might be a stretch … I’ll just call it ‘lodging’):

It was quite the contrast with Jagat Niwas Palace, which looked like this:

With a window seat in our room:

That looked out on to the lake, with this view:

The picture directly above is the Lake Palace Hotel, which is located on it’s own island on the lake, and was featured in the James Bond movie Octopussy. Today it’s a very expensive luxury hotel (I know this, because when Linds tried to call the Lake Palace in Mt. Abu, our next destination, he was erroneously connected to this Lake Palace – when they began quoting him the rates, his eyes started bugging out of his head. He soon figured out that he had the wrong hotel). Udaipur’s Lake Palace hotel has butlers that are apparently descended from the original palace staff, if that’s your thing. If you can’t afford the Lake Palace, you can visit one of the many restaurants around town that show Octopussy on a constant loop (the waitstaff must go insane).

We spent a few days exploring Udaipur. Like many of the cities we’ve visited, it’s full of twisting colourful alleyways (and cows and touts and honking motorbikes). It’s completely charming. Here are a few scenes from the city:

A cow, at his designated feeding station (note the prime real estate dedicated to this important activity)

An elderly lady wearing a colourful sari.

Bagore-ki Haveli. Many of the old havelis (mansions) have been converted into shops, hotels and museums. Some, like this one, have been restored, others are crumbling, but somehow remain beautiful.

Old doors.

A typical (lively!) street scene through another gorgeous doorway.

We also paid a visit to the City Palace, the largest palace in Rajasthan (and unlike for instance, ‘the largest palace in Canada’, this is actually saying something). The palace is massive (5 acres), and was added on to by 22 different Maharajas over the course of five centuries, resulting in a slightly disjointed effect. It also drove Lindsay totally insane because we were asked for our tickets that same number of times over the course of an hour. There is no doubt that the Indian quest for full employment is going strong here – particularly in terms of ornamental government positions. As an aside, my favourite totally unnecessary government job so far is the guy who takes your money at the toll booth, and passes it to the guy in the toll booth, then passes back your receipt back from the toll booth man. Why does he exist? Can’t the toll booth guy do it? Is it really that difficult? I’ve given up trying to understand.

Unique stone carvings adorned the windows throughout the palace – I counted at least 50 different patterns

A view from the palace

Colourful carvings

The royal disco room

These special statues were throughout the palace, and gave visitors a glimpse of life back in the day of the Maharaja. Here he is with his horse – yes, it really is a horse … don’t fooled by it’s clever elephant disguise!

After a few wonderful days in Udaipur, we headed West to Mt. Abu by bus. The bus ride was notable for a couple of reasons. First, as we approached a tunnel carved into the rock on the highway, the passengers leaned out the window to take photos and started screaming and whooping in the darkness once we’d entered. They had never been in a tunnel before! Secondly, there had been rock slides alongside the highway, and the rocks that were blasted to build the highway had crumbled down onto the road. The thing is – no one had bothered to move the rocks. They were just sitting on the road (i.e. blocking a full lane of a four lane highway). They were actually there so long that grass and plants were growing on them. The traffic simply drove around the twenty or so piles that we passed. It was slightly unsettling.

But then, India is full of random experiences and encounters. Once you learn to embrace them, it’s endlessly fascinating and entertaining. We arrived in Mt. Abu, a ‘hill station’ that was used by the British to escape the heat, and is now full of Gujarati tourists doing the same. Lindsay was off trying to find our hotel and I was watching our bags near Nakki Lake, in the busy center of the town. A group of tourists approached and asked if they could take their photo with me – 15 min. later, I had posed for photos with every single member of this large extended Indian family – Lindsay simply watched and laughed – we’ve been asked for photos before, but in this case, I felt like I was part of a major photo shoot. My mouth hurt from smiling so much and I had a newfound appreciation for fashion models.

Lindsay took a picture of me getting my picture taken

It’s not just me that get asked to be in photos. Our second night in Mt. Abu, we walked up to sunset point, a popular place to view the sunset (surprise). It was also a popular place for people to watch us – we sat on a ledge to enjoy the view and eventually there was a cluster of about twenty Indian boys that settled behind us just staring at us. Eventually one of the younger boys asked Linds what his caste was (the boys will always talk to Lindsay, the girls to me – it is quite traditional here). Rather than explaining that we don’t have the caste system in Canada, Linds replied ‘Watt’. Satisfied that he met the criteria, the boy asked Linds for his picture because ‘you are so long, and I am so short’. That got people laughing and we had a good bonding moment on the hill with our new teenage friends. Incidentally, we were on the secluded part of the hill, surrounded by only 50 or 60 others. This was the scene a little further downl:

The Indians we’ve met have a great sense of community, and seemingly do everything in large groups of family and friends. As with much of Asia, personal space is a luxury that most people don’t have, and don’t seem to desire either. The local boys even bathed together in the river in Udaipur.

The sunset itself wasn’t especially awesome that night, but the people watching en route was good. Take, for instance, this upstanding gentleman, being pushed up the hill by women and children.

Well done sir!

We also encountered this fine cow. Lindsay has continually made fun of me because I steer clear (no pun intended) of the giant cows that roam the streets – I think they’re kind of intimidating. But this one actually charged at me – I knew that my fear wasn’t totally irrational!

My nemesis.

Another random incident – we were walking to breakfast when a local policeman stopped us, introduced himself and asked where we were from. This wasn’t unusual – tens of people introduce themselves to us in a day (generally right before they try to sell us something (‘what is your country?’ .. ‘please come in to my store’ …). What was unusual was that he asked us for our phone number, and when we replied that we don’t have one, he insisted that we take his, and call him when we returned to Canada. We were trying to picture this scenario at home – a cop walks up to a random Indian tourist, gives him his phone number and asks the tourist to call him when he’s home in India … it just wouldn’t fly.

There isn’t much to do in Mt. Abu, but it’s a pretty town, and the only place where I’ve seen palm trees in the mountains. We had really travelled there to see the Dilwara Jain Temples, incredible carved marble temples built in the 10th century. They represent an important pilgrimage for followers of Jainism, and are completely spectacular. Unfortunately you can’t take photos in the temples themselves (an enterprising Western couple had stationed themselves inside and were sketching them, but we didn’t have the patience or skill). Instead, we bought postcards, and photographed them for your viewing pleasure. The carved marble was unlike anything I’ve seen before, and included everything from Gods and Goddesses, elephants and flowers, to complete, intricately detailed war scenes.

On our final day in Mt. Abu, we hiked up to Toad Rock, which actually looked like a turtle. Here is the view from the top:

On the way down the hill, we met this guy, who gave us holy water and mints and asked us to photograph him. So we did.

As I said, no shortage of random encounters.

Versus this:

We arrived in Aurangabad and found a room at the local government operated tourist hotel. In each of the places we’ve visited, the state government owns and operates a network of hotels and restaurants at popular tourist destinations – they tend to be clean and well maintained, if a little lacking in character. In many cases, the government operated restaurant is the sole restaurant on site at a particular tourist destination – this monopoly apparently allows them to afford niceties such dishes emblazoned with the government insignia. Aurangabad itself is a relatively modern, rapidly growing industrial city. It is really a taking off place for the nearby Ellora and Ajanta caves – ancient Buddhist, Jain and Hindu caves carved into the side of imposing cliffs, dating back to the 2nd century AD. Like so many of the amazing sites we’ve seen, they are both UNESCO World Heritage sites.

On the first day, we took a tuk tuk 30 km to the Ellora Caves. There are 32 caves in total, along a 2 km escarpment. The majority are Buddhist (12) and Hindu (14), and there are also six Jain caves. The Buddhist caves are the oldest, built in the 7th and the 8th centuries, the Hindu caves were built between the 7th and 9th centuries, and the Jain caves were built during Ellora’s final stage, in the 9th century. Ellora was built along an important trading route, and it was this revenue that allowed for 500 years of escavation at the site. Interestingly, the construction of Ellora corresponded to the decline of Buddhism and the simultaneous emergence of Hindu as the major religion of India, but it’s thought that the various religions co-existed peacefully through many centuries. When you wander through the caves, you can see how the artistic styles of one religion have influenced the other (i.e. in the later Buddhist caves, it is obvious that they are imitating the more grandiose Hindu architecture).

A view of the caves – carved into the side of a cliff

One of the Buddhist caves

The carvings are intricate and detailed, though some of them are unfinished – I particularly liked the lotus leaves on the ceiling

Rows of Buddhas line the walls, with columns throughout the caves.

The Buddhist caves, which we explored first, were serene, peaceful and undoubtedly impressive, but the Hindu caves, more warlike and animated, were jaw-droppingly unbelievable. The Kailasanatha temple, in particular, was one of the most impressive structures I’ve ever seen. Sculptors chiseled through 85,000 cubic meters of rock, beginning at the top and working their way down, to create this unbelievable 81m by 47m temple. The temple was commissioned by the Rashtrakuta king Krishna in the 8th century, and is designed to depict Mount Kailasa, the sacred abode of Lord Shiva. I hope that these pictures can do some justice to this incredible structure. Incidentally, I was surprised that more people outside of India haven’t visited (we were two of about 5 foreign tourists).

En route back to Aurangabad, we visited the formidible fort of Daulatabad, which is not only the most impressive fort I’ve seen (sorry Fort Henry!), but possesses one of the most interesting histories of any site we’ve visited. It was originally known as Deogiri, and was captured in the late 13th century by Muslim invaders from Delhi. It was annexed by Muhammad bin Tughluq in the early 14th century, who, in what has to be one of the most dramatic, baffling and stupid moves in Indian history, decided to make Daulatabad the capital and forced Delhi’s entire population to move 1,127km to their new home. Thousands of people starved and died of disease along the way, and when it was clear that the move was an utter failure (surprise!), the court moved back to Delhi. We climbed to the top of the fort – the most memorable part was the ‘dark passage’, which is completely unlit, slippery, wet and full of bats. I slipped and stepped in a puddle that I’m convinced was bat urine, but eventually we made it to the top.

A view of the fort

The fort’s walls and the city below

The following day, we headed for Ajanta. The Ajanta caves are actually older than Ellora (they were slowly abandoned as Ellora gained prominence), and heavily visited by Indian tourists (resulting in immediate stardom for Lindsay and I, who got to pose in about 20 solicited photographs, and probably 20 more unsolicited). Ajanta was a 100 km journey, so that meant a 2.5 hour journey on the baffling local bus system. Again, some very helpful Indians helped us navigate our way there and back. Along the way, we saw a number of oxen carts – the farmers paint the cows horns, and sometimes their bodies as well.

Like Ellora, the Ajanta caves are carved into an escarpment, overlooking a river gorge. These 30 Buddhist caves were left abandoned when Ellora rose in prominence and eventually the jungle grew over the caves, concealing their existence. They were forgotten until 1819, when John Smith, a Brit hunting tigers (as Brits did at the time), discovered the top of the facade of Cave 10 (there are 30 caves in total). While Ajanta lacks the overwhelming majesty of Ellora – the overall effect of the caves along the gorge is really striking, and the carvings are magnificent. In addition, excellent examples of early Buddhist painting are well preserved, showcasing stages of Buddhas life.

The next day we hired a driver to visit Mandu, a charming city on the top of a mountain in neighbouring Madhya Pradesh. Mandu is referred to as ‘one of India’s most romantic and picturesque cities’ by one of our guidebooks (we have two – you need guidance here), and despite this, it doesn’t seem to be part of the regular tourist circuit. We figured out why after 10 hours on highways that looked like this:

Once you get going on the highways, they are actually quite fast – but there are enough tolls, cars going the wrong way, sheep, cows, oxen carts, train tracks and construction workers to ensure that you don’t really make an unreasonable amount of progress. On the plus side, you do get to drive through many small towns and meet kids like this one:

.. taste delectable sweets from stands like these:

And check out ads like this (I hope that one day I’ll be able to create a slogan that is half as awesome as this one)

We finally arrived in Mandu. Sadly, we didn’t realize that while the international community hasn’t discovered Mandu’s charms yet, the Indian community certainly has – we drove from hotel to hotel, and everything was booked. Everything, that is, except for one room at a temple complex for Hindu pilgrims in the center of town. This was to be our home for the night and it looked like this:

Sadly this is quite a flattering picture.

It was late, so we took a walk around town – along the way, we encountered some precocious young Indian kids who wanted their picture taken, and an impromptu Hindu festival:

We realized when we arrived at Mandu that it was more remote than we had originally thought, and that without a driver, we were going to have a hard time making our way to Rajastan, the next leg of our journey. So in the interest of sanity, we decided to keep our driver and continue on to Udaipur the following day. This gave us precisely two hours, between the hours of 7 and 9 a.m., to explore Mandu. Luckily, it was a beautiful time of day – the light was perfect, and there were very few tourists, so we got the sites to ourselves.

The view from Mandu

Rumpati’s pavillion

Baz Bahadur’s palace: Baz Bahadur was the last sultan of Malwa, defeated in a battle by the Mughals in 1561 (after this, Mandu fell into decline)

Hindol Mahal

Hindol Mahal

Champa Baodi

We grabbed our bags (at least this was a success) and took a cab to the pre-booked hotel that Lindsay had carefully selected – the glamorous ‘Highway Inn’. At this point, it was about 2 a.m. (3:30 a.m. in Bangkok – the time change in India is an awkward 1/2 hour increment). We had a flight the next morning at 10:30 a.m., so it made sense to stay somewhere out near the airport. Sadly, the Highway Inn wasn’t all it was cracked up to be on Travelocity (namely, clean). My friend Amy had warned me that if you’re staying a certain caliber of hotel while traveling, it was advisable to check the bed before settling in for the night. I’d been doing this for two months, and had become accustomed to feeling paranoid for naught, but this time I was greeted with a few little bugs on my pillow. We were exhausted, so just slept on top of the covers and hoped for the best. In the morning, I awoke to a strong chemical smell coming through the air conditioner and a man down the hall yelling in an alarming fashion. Convinced that we were under attack via gas fumes, I jumped out of bed, preparing to evacuate the hotel, but it turned out that the smell was just diesel fumes coming through the air conditioner, and the man was just randomly yelling (as one does at 6 a.m.).

After that refreshing night’s sleep, we checked out at reception at 8:30, and asked the hotel clerk to get us a cab for the 20 min. journey to the airport. There were a lot of men, and a whirlwind of discussion, then finally, a man dressed in what appeared to be a khaki army uniform ran out to the road to hail us a cab. About 15 min. later, he still hadn’t come back. At this point, our hotel clerk was in the midst of a heated discussion on the phone, pausing only to ask us what time our flight was scheduled to depart. We responded, and he went back to his phone call. The uniformed man returned, sans cab, and was encircled by the other random men who made a lot of wild hand gestures. It wasn’t entirely clear who all these men (there must have been ten of them in all) were. They came and went – perhaps some of them were there to visit the Hindu temple adjacent to the hotel lobby, full of devout early morning worshippers. Lindsay and I asked the hotel clerk what was going on, and he informed us that the taxi drivers had decided to strike earlier that morning, so there were no cabs. Then, in a sudden burst of inspiration, he had a long talk with a random man waiting in the reception area, and eventually it was decided that we would ride in this man’s car to the training course he was attending (he was a merchant marine from Gujarat), then the driver would take us to the airport where we would make our flight – ‘no problem!’. We didn’t have much of a choice, so off we went. It’s monsoon season in Mumbai, and it began pouring rain outside, just as we left. We wove through major highways with gleaming buildings, side streets with cows grazing in garbage, and past major Bollywood studios. It took an hour to the driver to find the training center, and at this point, it was very clear that we were not going to make our flight. Discouraged, we finally arrived at the Mumbai domestic airport at 10:15. We were prepared for a heated argument with the ticket agents – we didn’t want to pay for a new flight because of an unexpected taxi strike – but they didn’t blink an eye. They charged us a minimal fee and we were on our way to Kochi. It was pretty clear that our experience was not exceptional.

We arrived in Kochi (or Cochin, it’s British name), and booked a taxi to the ferry dock from the tourist desk at the airport. After our horrible experience in Mumbai, we were ready for a new beginning – and looking forward to relaxing in Fort Kochi, what appeared to be a charming (if somewhat touristy) district on the island close by. But it was not to be .. at least quite yet. We arrived at the ferry dock, the taxi drove away, and we were promptly informed by some smug local men hanging out at the pier that the ferries weren’t running. Mystified that neither the tourist desk, nor our taxi driver had thought to inform us of this rather pertinent fact, we trudged to another nearby tourist office, where the industrious government worker woke from his slumber to inform us that it was a holiday – we would need to stay in mainland Ernakalum, as there was no way to get to Fort Cochin. Interestingly, he had also given us a map that clearly depicted a bridge to Fort Kochi, so we knew this was not the case and decided to walk instead. About 2 km. along the dusty road, sweaty and exhausted, we decided that walking might not, in fact, be the greatest idea. Luckily, the one enterprising taxi driver still operating that day picked us up on the way. It was only when we checked into our guesthouse that we were informed that it was not a holiday at all – it was the same strike that we had encountered earlier that morning in Mumbai – in fact, the entire country of India had just decided to go on strike.

So that was our first 12 hours in India. It got better …

Kochi, a cosmopolitan city of 1.3 million, is actually a series of islands and peninsulas centered around an active harbour, showcasing an interesting blend of Portuguese, Dutch and English architecture (each of these countries ruled Kerala at one point in time). It is a charming, cosmopolitan town and the centre of India’s substantial spice trade.

The main square in Fort Kochi

Many Indian tourists visit Fort Kochi, especially on an impromptu national strike day! Here are a few of them on the pier at Fort Kochi.

We went on a ‘tour’ of the Chinese Fishing Piers. For only 20 rupees, we got our picture taken and made some new friends.

The women in Kochi all wore colourful outfits

We took a walk through the charming neighbourhood of Mattancherry, en route to ‘Jew Town’ (more on that shortly). We happened to walk through the spice district, and were about to observe the merchants and suppliers trading with one another, which was fascinating (and totally mystifying and chaotic!).

Here is a scene from the street – these men were selling rice, not spices, but you get the idea!

Some of the delectable smelling spices for sale

There are animals everywhere in India, even on the major national highways – here are some local goats.

A scene from the street. This man is wearing traditional Southern Indian skirt in the informal style (hanging at the knee), which is easier for walking. If he approaches friends or acquaintances, he will let down the skirt so it’s ankle length, as a gesture of respect. We were taught that Hindu and Christian men tend to wear the skirt tied on the right, while Muslims tie their skirts on the left.

The streets of ‘Jew Town’. The country’s oldest synagogue (not that there is a ton of competition) is at the end of the cul de sac. Jewish people arrived in India in the 1st century AD, and migrated to Kochi in the 1500s driven by persecution by the Portuguese. Here, they settled on land given by the raja, and built a synagogue. Today there are only about a dozen Jewish families remaining in Kochi (the rest have migrated to Israel).

There is a much more sizable Christian population, particularly in Kerala, which is dotted with many different churches. Interestingly, in order to attract the local population, the church has adapted some facets of popular Indian culture, and in particular Hindu traditions such as displaying flags outside churches. In turn, there are many Hindus who follow Christian traditions – some even celebrate Christmas! We paid a visit to St. Francis Church, which was established in the early 1500s by the Portuguese and is one of the oldest churches in India. Like many of the buildings in Kochi, it was subsequently taken over by the Dutch, then the British, and is now affiliated with the Church of India. It has had many important visitors, including Queen Elizabeth II (in 1997) and the Pope. There are a number of (totally illegible) gravestones in the church, including an epitaph to Vasco du Gama, who was buried here for 14 years, until his body was returned to his native Portugal.

St. Francis Church at dusk

The symbol for the Dutch East Indies company, above a gate in Fort Kochi

A view from the Fort Kochi harbour (it’s actually a power plant, so it looks better blurry!)

After a couple of relaxing days in Fort Kochi and its environs, we organized a trip to Alappuzha, a little further south, where we would embark on a backwaters cruise. There are hundreds of kilometers of waterways that run just inland and parallel to the Arabian sea, where there are whole communities that live on the water, and rely on it for fishing, washing, and transportation. The kids even take a school boat, instead of a bus! We arranged an overnight cruise. Essentially, you are onboard a small houseboat for about 24 hours – you tour the backwaters at a slow, leisurely pace, and all your food is prepared for you aboard the boat – it was pretty amazing.

A man punting in the backwaters.

Our houseboat, equipped with a front veranda area, a bedroom and washroom, and a kitchen in the back. That’s our driver at the helm. Some of the boats, however, were more like McBoats – they had three or four bedrooms, numerous air conditioning units hanging off the back, satellite televisions, bars, you name it. Apparently Westerners like small, low key boats, but many of the Indians who take the tours come with their families and friends, and enjoy the larger boats.

A woman washing clothes in the river

The Communist Party is in power in Kerala at the moment – although our boat driver did tell us that the ruling party changes every five years.

Interestingly, the largest, most ostentatious house that we saw on our 8 hour ride was that of the local Communist government official. Hmmmm.

To sleep and eat, we parked on the side of the river – here is a scene of the rice fields that run alongside the waterways.

We met some of the locals on a walk before dinner.

Our candlelit dinner. Our host and boat captain were amazing cooks, and we ate like kings – the food just kept coming and coming and was truly delicious.

Sunset.

Rain on the river the next morning

The following day, we headed to Munnar, a beautiful town set in the middle of the Western Ghats (hills), at an altitude of about 6,000 ft. Munnar was established by the British in the late 19th century as a summer resort for the government of South India. It is surrounded by tea plantations, about 59,000 acres in total, largely operated by the ubiquitous Tata. Unfortunately it was quite cloudy and rainy when we were there, so the views weren’t as spectacular as they could have been (but still quite nice).

The views of the plantations are spectacular, but when you stop to observe the workers, you realize that beneath the romantic veneer, it’s grueling hard work picking tea in the hot sun!

The impeded, but undisputedly beautiful view.

After our quick visit to Munnar, we headed to Periyar National Park, a bit further East. It is worth mentioning that we had hired a driver to take us to Alappuzha, Munnar and Thekkady (Periyar), rather than taking the local buses, which make a lot of stops and are generally un-airconditioned, crowded and prone to breaking down. That being said, even with a driver, we under-estimated how long it takes to travel in parts of India. While there are some very fast four lane highways, most of the roads are two lanes, and you are jostling with huge trucks, buses, and even cows to get where you want to go. We averaged about 30 km/hr, which meant that we spent a lot of our time in our stripped down Tata, staring out the window. One nice thing about having a driver (other than the obvious benefits) was that we got to make impromptu stops on the side of the road, like the stop we made at a local spice market. Here are a few of the spices that we got to pick, smell and sample in their raw form.

Pepper (actually white pepper, not green pepper)

Tumeric

Curry leaves (these smelt particularly delicious!)

Cardamom

Periyar Tiger Reserve is actually on the sight of a man made lake. In the late 19th century, a dam was constructed across the Periyar River at Thekkady, and Periyar Lake emerged, creating a new ecosystem condusive to many creatures, including tigers, lion-tailed macaque, bison, and sloth bears. As the name suggests, Periyar is also home to a number of tigers, but these nocturnal, elusive animals are rarely spotted. Periyar was named a wildlife sanctuary in 1935 and expanded to 777 sq km. Through our hotel manager, we arranged a day of bamboo rafting and a day of hiking on the reserve.

Our Bamboo Rafting excursion didn’t start out too well. We entered the park, which was swarming with local tourists. We headed towards the docks, where the ranger had told us our tour would commence, when we encountered a German couple who told us that they were also taking the tour, and that they were told to meet at the main office. When we entered the office, there was a line up of about 40 people waiting for camera permits or boat tour tickets, and one very slow-moving official. The line didn’t budge in about 1/2 an hour, so waiting was clearly not the best option. As a compromise between our (mis?)information and the German’s (mis?)information, we waited outside the office, with an eye on the boat dock in case our raft actually departed. After about 45 min., an official in a blue camouflaged outfit called us to the office, where we proceeded to spend about 45 min. dutifully filling out various forms and waiting for an issue involving the Germans to be resolved (they had given their park ticket, required for the tour, to their driver so that he could leave the park during the day. Despite the fact that they had clearly paid for their ticket, as you can’t enter the park otherwise, there was a lot of contraversy involving a lot of officials of various rank, until finally they agreed to pay the cost of their park tickets (again!) as a deposit, until they got their tickets back from their driver at the end of the day. India, I’ve learned, is full of such rituals, and you just have to learn to accept them patiently). Finally, when the important issue was settled, we headed to the lake. We crossed quickly, hiked for about an hour, then arrived at our bamboo rafts. They were fairly rudimentary (in fact, about half the raft was completely submerged in water, so we got pretty wet), but the views were pretty spectular – the lake was still and silent, and there were tons of colourful birds perched on top of the petrified trees that make the park so distinctive.

A typical view of the lake

A bird’s silhouette

We stopped for tea after a couple of hours – interestingly, the lunch spot was protected by a 12 ft deep trench to keep the elephants out!

We were trekking with six other tourists, plus a couple of oarsmen, a guide, and an armed guard (yes, really). There were some difficulties along the way. One of our fellow hikers, who we subsequently labeled ‘the Buffoon’, was convinced that he was a far higher caliber physical specimen than the rest of us, and demanded to know if we were fit enough to rise to the challenge of the ‘real jungle’. Eventually, after he understood that we could, in fact walk at 3 km an hour (the pace of the hike), we proceeded through the jungle, where the Buffoon would plough ahead of the guide, clearly the only person equipped to lead, talking loudly and scaring away all the animals. Interestingly, when the guide told us that there might be a possibility of seeing an animal, the buffoon would then make a big show of shushing the rest of us. He took the cake when he started talking on his cell phone on what was supposed to be a tranquil raft ride. HIs son, Buffoon Jr., soon followed suit by playing music on his cell phone. His friends were clearly a little embarrassed.

The Buffoon on his cell phone.

After about six hours of hiking and rafting, we were beginning to get discouraged that we hadn’t seen any animals, other than a few birds. We even started playing around with the camera – I was practicing my wildlife photography with Lindsay’s help, when suddenly one of our guides pointed across the plain, as captured below.

He had spotted four elephants in the nearby hills! It was amazing to see elephants in the wild, especially when they spotted us and trumpeted a warning. Unfortunately they were too far away to capture with the camera, but we ended up seeing another family of elephants a little while later. Here they are …

We also saw a huge group of wild boar, and some bison. The boar are pictured below:

What began as a bit of an irritating day turned into a fantastic wildlife spotting trip. The next day, we returned to the park for a full day hike. We met at a hut outside the park’s entrance – while it was difficult to find, it certainly wasn’t the confusing chaos of the day before, which was promising. There were five of us (LInds, myself, a Dutch guy and a Swedish/German couple), and we began our day by putting on leech socks (stockings that you wear under your shoes, but over your socks), and then getting powdered with tobacco, to protect ourselves from the leeches.

We were a little skeptical, having spent some time in the Borneo jungle without leech socks and doing just fine. But while Borneo is indisputably leech infested, the Indian jungle proved to be RIDDEN with leeches, particularly because we were there just after monsoon season. You couldn’t walk 10 feet without getting covered in them. The leech socks helped us ignore them and enjoy the hike, which was beautiful. The terrain was quite different from what we’d seen the day before, as we spent most of our time in the hills and the jungle, rather than the plains and lakes we’d explored the day before.

A view of the Western Ghats and Lake Periyar

Our fearless guard – on high alert.

At one point, there was a guar (bison) directly in our path. This presented a bit of an issue, as apparently when bison feel threatened, they charge and are actually quite dangerous. Instead of facing the bison head on, however, our intrepid guard instead led us through the nearby swamp, where we proceeded to bushwhack to safety. It was very wet.

We saw lots of small creatures along the way, including this frog, camouflaged as a leaf.

There are actually tribespeople that live in the park – this woman was carrying what had to be a very heavy piece of bamboo on her head.

Nadu

There are also monkeys everywhere in Periyar. I love the look on this guys face … ‘What did I do to deserve this!?!’

The next day, we crossed the border from Kerala to Tamil Nadu (which literally entailed a five minute walk from one side of town to another), and with some help from the locals, managed to find and board the local bus to Madurai. After four days with a chauffeured driver, we thought we’d save some cash by taking the bus. At less than $1.00 for a 150 km (5 hour) journey, I’d say we managed to do so! The ride wasn’t too bad, and we got to experience village life in Tamil Nadu along the way – it was interesting to see how the attire differed from Kerala to Tamil Nadu – many of the women had large, ornate nose and ear rings, which felt pretty exotic.

One of the biggest challenges when you visit India is narrowing down the seemingly infinite things to do and see, and figuring out how long to spend enjoying each attraction. We got advice from many friends (including many Indian friends) on what to explore on our trip, and came away with a list of about 30 ‘must sees’. We’ve tried to narrow it down, and in order to get the most out of our time here, there are a couple of places that we’re visiting very quickly, simply to enjoy one remarkable site. Madurai was one of those – we travelled there for one express purpose, to see the Sree Meenakshi Amman temple complex – considered one of the most beautiful in India. We’d seen a scaled down version of one of these brightly coloured temples, typical of South India, when we were in Bangkok, and decided that we definitely had to find a way to visit one while we were in India. The temple didn’t disappoint – and is really best described with images:

A view of one of the gopurams (there are 12 in total) , depicting gods, demons, and warriors in incredible colour. The tallest is 52 meters tall!

A closer look at the incredible detail.

The main entrance, lit up at night.

Inside the temple complex – the air is filled with aromatic incense and oils, haunting music and the hundreds of Hindus who come to pay homage.

The temple elephant.