Udaipur Day 4

Listening to: Welcome to Jamrock by Damien Marley

We had our first sketchy experience today. We toured the palace, and the plan was to then take a boat ride on the lake, stopping at the Kings private Islas where he holds parties. While waiting for the boat, we explored the palace gardens a bit, stumbling across an old temple that was mostly underground. The temple was very small. We went down te stairs to check it out and inside was a man on his cellphone. When he got off it he told us to sit down. We did... There was only room for 2 more people to sit, so very small. Te man told us he was the priest. He didn't speak English very well so we jut kept smiling and nodding our heads when he was talking to us. As he was talking I thought how its weird that this priest is in Indian clothing, but nothing about him showed that he was a priest. He had gold and jeweled rings on, an he had been on his cellphone when we entered, which didn't seem very holy to me. Then he asked us if we had "gents" ie: husbands, boyfriends, etc. Thats when the warning sirens went off... What sort of holy man is interested in knowing about our love lives? We said yes, they were waiting for us at the boat dock. He kept pressing on about our "gents" and kept telling us we didn't have them. That's when I said okay, we have to go. So we stood up to leave and he kept telling us no, 5 more minutes. We both were like absolutely not and headed for the exit. That's when the real priest showed up, dressed in holy clothing and headdress. The man got up and left with us... Obviously because he had been busted. As we walked away he made weird kissing noises and grazed Ajdas behind. Not cool! We booked it back to the dock and that was the last we saw of him. Everyone we have met in India has been so kind and gracious, I guess it was only a matter of time until we ran into a bad apple

The day before we had met the man who owned the little store in our hotel. He told us he could make us a custom and traditional Indian outfit for 1200 rupees. After looking around other places we thought that was very reasonable! Ada got two outfits made, and I had 1 outfit made, with an extra top.

Later that day out driver told us that if we want to see traditional Rajisthan dancing he would take us to the guest house where he is staying because a local wedding was happening and girls would be performing. Of course we wanted to go! It is wedding season in India and all we have been hearing every night is the boom of bass in the distance and see skies full of fireworks, we were dying to get inside. So we put on our new Indian outfits and got excited!

We had a Tallboy of Kingfisher in the back seats on the way. We got there and immediately wished we had drank two. As we had experienced before, we drew quite a bit of attention. We pulled up and a crew of 15 year old boys, who were clearly the cool-kids, swarmed our car and excitedly talked to our driver in Hindi our driver ensured us it was ok that we attend and that his friends are their friends. We awkwardly walked over to the wedding tent, which was a colorful tent set up off the side of the street. A big fuss was made for us, Ajda immediately got asked to dance. They pulled up chairs and we sat at the back of the tent...Everyone else (mostly women) were seated on the floor. Little girls danced at the front of the tent in gorgeous little outfits. We were trying to focus on them, while everyone else focused on us. The crowd had all turned around to stare. Poor little dancing girls! My stomach was in knots. It's hard to judge Indian people's stares; are they curious? Repulsed? Amused? Happy? A young couple came over and handed Ajda their infant, and snapped a few dozen photos. Then the wedding photographer joined in. Ajdas suitor kept asking her to dance. We were there for about ten minutes when I'm pretty sure out driver was told we have to leave. I can't be sure because he insisted, even after we left, that it was no problem that we went and that everyone was happy to see us and that it was an honor for them. I still am confused as to why it would be an honor for us to attend their wedding for ten minutes.... It was us that felt honored!

We went to bed and I happily slept ALMOST an entire night. Looking forward to the night I finally sleep all the way through.

Ps. He photo of the shrine is the God of cigarettes and booze. Who would have thought?

Udaipur Day 3

Listening to: Marta's Song by Deep Forest

Udaipur is known as India's Venice. Our item is situated on a lake and the view is breath taking. I feel overwhelmed with happiness as I sit here, breathing in floral air and watching slow boats make ripples along the lake. We stepped off the plane and I immediately loved Udaipur. It is such a drastic change from Mumbai. The air quality is a million times better, the scenery is beautiful, the architecture stunning yet simple, and it feels like India... Or what I hoped India to be. Our room is modest, which I love, ad has the most breathtaking view. Everything here is perfection... I don't even mind the noise pollution coming from the busy two lane street beside us. We have a balcony that overlooks a gorgeous restaurant that is attached to our hotel, and the lake. I sat outside and meditated for 25 minutes before writing in my journal and felt so at peace.
Perhaps the facial I had beforehand helped. Ajda and I both booked one, I went first. The "spa" was a simple room with a sink and a massage bed. I layed down and an Indian girl who was around my age proceeded to give me an amazing facial. No gimmicks, just scrubs, soothing masks, and constant massaging and release through pressure points. The massage cost 350rupees, or $5. I tipped her $2. It was a full 40 minutes long and included my shoulders and neck as well. My skin is so soft and I feel so refreshed... It was just was I needed after 4 days of constant travel, jet lag, and overall insanity.
Prices here are a quarter of what they were in Mumbai. Our dinner tonight will be at the hotels beautiful waterfront restaurant an shouldn't cost us more than $20.

Tomorrow we have a full day of sightseeing that I am looking forward to.

but as for now here I am, feeling as I am.

My soul is smiling :)

Mumbai Day 2

Listening to: I Want You by Odesza

We were picked up at 9am in front of our hotel, and introduced to our tour guide, Aida. We drove around and saw lots of buildings and courthouses and train stations etc all by the British, but in all honesty they look like the buildings that you find everywhere in London and old British Colonies. I was hoping to see architecture with a more traditional Indian influence.

Next we saw Muhat Gandhi's home where he spent a few of his years. That was really great! They had his letter to Hitler framed, as well as many original photographs, and a library with some of the books that had inspired him. But my favorite part was upstairs where his room was. It was set up behind plexi glass, and consisted of a small makeshift mattress, a wooden desk, and small night table with The Bible, The Koran, and The Torah on its shelf, all in the floor so he could hang out in his iconic crossed-legged position. My favorite part of his room was a little figurine on his desk of the three monkeys doing the "see, speak, and hear no evil" pose. It was the only item that was functionless- or decorative- in the room. Something about it reminded me of a little carved wooden Buddha I have that has traveled from my various homes with me throughout the years. It used to be my moms when she was my age. It's a figurine and is technically functionless, but it's really quite the opposite. It's function for me is just emotional rather than physical. I felt some sort if connection with Gandhi in that moment when I realized we both cherished a silly little wooden figurine, a figurine that in some way feeds us mentally. I also learned that Muhat is not Gandhi's first name, but a sort of nickname that was given to him mid-life meaning "Great Soul." I thought his nickname very appropriate for him as even today, he teaches us how to be better people. If this is not truly a sign of a Great Soul, I'm not sure what is!

Then we both started to get lightheaded. The home wasn't air conditioned, and it was crowded with all sorts of people. I even heard a tattoo covered Scandinavian man, who was blonde and about 6'9 and jacked, mutter "hail Hitler" under his breath near Gandhi's letter. That was just a bit bizarre. We donated a couple £ each and asked if we could get lunch in hopes that some food would rejuvenate us.

Our tour guide took us to a local restaurant. We walked in the first first thig I thought was "uh oh." I'm one of those people who is overly cautious with what I put into my body whilst traveling in countries with undrinkable water and questionable refrigeration. Ajda is a bit more daring. We walk in and are seate by a man in a suit in a little booth in a room with low ceilings that reminded me of a cave. This made me feel even worse, as claustrophobia and feeling light headed don't go we'll together. I ordered a coke and felt a million times better after the sugar was in my system. On the floor near te entrance there was a basket of dead crabs, not on ice or anything, basking in the sun. That's when I decided I was going to eat vegetarian, despite our tour guide raving about the fish curry. We ordered a yellow lentil curry, a mild spice (which was plenty of spice for me) curry with blocks of cheese curd in it, and a chicken masala curry. Oh, and my favorite- garlic naan. I didn't eat the chicken, but the other two curries were delicious. Once again the lentils were my favorite. They were much healthier than the buttery black lentils we had the night before. Our tour guide instructed us to eat with our hands. I was thankful that we had sanitized them in the car just moments before. It's so awesome eating curry with your hands, I love it. Really eating any food with your hands makes it better, doesn't it? It's a much more intimate experience. Our guide had mastered the motion of ripping a piece of naan, dipping it into the shallow pool of curry on the plate, scooping it up, and effortlessly popping it into her mouth, all without looking like nothing less than a lady. I on the other hand am not so lady-like. Curry ended up all over my plate, the table, my napkin on my lap, my hands, and my chin. It is an art to be mastered, and I am determined to work on it while in this country.
When Ajda said that she would like to add some green chillis to her curry, our personal staff of 2 increased to 5. They stood and talked amongst themselves in disbelief as this foreign white girl downed spoonfuls of green peppers and curry. She was very much a source of amusement and it was a bit awkward to have 5 men standing around discussing your eating habits to say the least.
We finished up, treated our tour guide, and left.

Being on display is something we must get used to I guess. We next went to The Gateway to India, I large gateway built to welcome Kings on their visits to Bombay. I was so excited when I saw it, because even though it was built under British rule, the architecture was very Indian. There were scalloped windows and intricate cutouts in the massive monument's stone. To enter the courtyard we had to go through metal detectors and have our bags searched, similar to our hotel, and when getting closer to the gateway, we saw that it was fenced off so you couldn't go around it or even near it. That's when I learned that while we have been here, it's been the 4 year anniversary of the biggest terrorist attack Mumbai has ever seen. I must admit I felt extremely ignorant when our tour guide told us about the attacks- I don't remember hearing anything about them. She spoke to us as if it were 911 and assumed we knew all the details. I felt too embarrassed to ask anything more than where the attacks took place. That's when I learned that basically EVERY place we went to in Mumbai was where people were killed at the terrorists hands. Our hotel, the Indian gateway, and two places we were to visit later on. Suddenly all the high security made sense. I felt, honestly, a bit freaked out and taken aback. I would be lying if I didn't say I thought only of the safety of myself and not the tragedy of what occurred.
Then, a women asked us in various hand motions if we could take a photo with her. At first we were confused.... But then our tour guide told us that most the people visiting te monument are also tourists from other parts of India, and that having a photo with two white girls is a sort of exciting experience and story to show their friends back home. The couple was very sweet and we obliged. Perhaps that was a mistake, because suddenly we were swarmed. First thought- hold on tight to y purse! One after another people (mostly men) came to get a photo with us. The monument wasn't even in the background at this point. They started off really timid and respectful, and very quickly got pushy and a little too friendly. Suddenly they push Ajda out of te photo and all start posing with me... Damn this pink hair! After they started getting grabby I decided I had had enough and said NO MORE and scaddadled out of there. My heart was racing a bit. Looking back that evening I realized that none of them had any misintent. They had never seen anyone like me and were just super excited. However, I wasn't all over being the center of attention- being pulled and pushed around and having my personal space invaded by so many people without any care or concern for ME. I felt as if I weren't human- but merely, at the risk of sounding arrogant, a trophy. It reminds of of a story Julia told me about her time in Africa, saying how tourists drive to the slums, lock their doors, and take photos of the people as if they were in a zoo, without their permission or regard to how they feel.
Then again, what was I expecting? I'm a western woman with pink hair.

My guess is that the attention will only increase as we travel to smaller cities. Mumbai is India's most heavily populated city with 12.5 million people coexisting. Its also one of the most toured. If people here are curious enough to watch us eat and take photos with us.. I can only imagine how people in slightly more off-te -grid places will be. As long as they are gentle and kind, ill humor them.

After a quick stop in some fancy store ($2000 Pashminas!) and a market where another attack occurred, we wet to a view point on the sea. I heard te driver and her talking quietly before we hopped out of the car. There, our tour guide told us, was where our sweet little driver had dropped off two tourists 4 years ago. When he heard gunfire he turned back to make sure they were ok, only to find they had been targeted. He helped them into his car and rushed them to the hospitals, where they later died. Wow. That's when I stopped thinking and worrying about my own safety (an attack would be out of my hands) and started to realize how this must have effected these people. Our driver is the cutest little man, and so kind hearted. He was kept for questioning for 5 days straight by the police due to his involvement with the tourists who died. I felt freaked out going to these places? How must he have felt dropping us off? He had two people literally bleeding out in his car and did everything he could to help save them, and was then questioned for days while imprisoned. He's probably forced to relive that memory every time he drops tourists off.

We got back to the hotel and felt exhausted. We had a beer at the outdoor bar and watched the Indian sun set over the Arabian Sea. A very beautiful and breathtaking moment (my photo does no justice).

I had a bath and a broth soup in the room and passed out. Today I woke up again at 5 30am and have been writing for an hour and a bit. We fly to Udaipur this morning so I must get ready.

Until next time!

Mumbai Hotel View

Compared to the photo of our hotel room view in the last post, which was taken in the early evening, here is how heavy the smog is at 7:30am, the same view.

Mumbai, Day 1

Listening to: Sæglopur (Enigma Remix) by Sigur Ross

Our flight was packed. As in stuffed. Bags and limbs alike pooled into the aisles. There were lots of screaming babies, and overweight people who spilled out of their respectively assigned seating. In economy, each row had 10 seats, and there were at least 50 rows. I have to admit to thinking about how heavy our plane must be, and saying a little prayer. I mean over 500 passengers and at least 800 suitcases? I wasn't sure the plane was going to lift-off. A different experience than my previous flight to say the least.

I was at the back of the bus in the middle row. Luckily the man beside me was a little Asian man who kept to himself and didn't get up once the entire flight! So I was able to settle in and stay settled. I fell asleep the second I put my eyemask on and earplugs in. Ajda on the other hand was at the front of the aircraft's economy section, giving her a ton of legroom. However, she was seated next to one of those people who needed a seat and a half, resulting in little-to-no sleep.

9 hours and 1 curry later, we are finally landed in Mumbai! "YES!" We thought. Oh, how wrong we were. Getting through immigration, claiming our baggage, and going through customs only took us a mere TWO HOURS. But finally we were through. Exiting the building was another challenge in itself. There were military officials blowing whistles into ears, people pushing, and a strange sense of franticness- all just to get out of the door and into the outside world (which was equally as frantic!) luckily our driver was easy to find and he helped us meander through the thousands of people, many of whom had decided to have their lunches on picnic blankets in the middle of the walkway, parking lot, and various other places. I'm talking a full picnic lunch, with men in white garb sat around in a circle on a blanket while their fully covered female relatives served them various dishes. Very bizarre sight to see... Not quite the European Picnic I'm accustomed to.

Visiting India when I was 11, I vividly remember a few experiences, one being exiting the airport in New Delhi and taking my first few steps on Indian soil. The same things I remember from 13 years ago still applied. The smell of hot, burning garbage and piss permeated the air. The pollution made it impossible to see more than a kilometer or two into the distance. The rich and the poor coexist in streets covered in garbage and littered with stray dogs. People set up food stands, makeshift homes, and relieve themselves wherever they please. India is a sensory shock.
In a span of 15 minutes during our drive to our hotel, we passed the largest slums in Asia where Slumdog Millionaire was largely filmed. The next thing we know, we are in the richest neighborhood of Mumbai, living next to The Brad Pitt of Bollywood (people crowd outside his apartments hoping for a glimpse).

We are staying at the Taj Lands End. As far as the Taj hotels go, this one is fairly new and more business-like. To get on the hotel property, they check under the hood, in the trunk, and underneath our car for bombs. When we pull up to the front we are greeted by a valet in traditional and beautiful Indian attire. Then, we are approached by a very serious man in a security uniform who takes all our bags and puts them through an x-ray machine and ushers us through a metal detector. We are finally in the lobby.

We are greeted by staff who have clearly been selected, trained, and polished to work in an upscale hospitality environment. We are blessed by a woman who looks like she was ripped out of a Vogue photo shoot, and immediately given a free upgrade. Once we give them our passports, we are escorted to our room where, "the rest of the formalities can be completed in comfort."

Our room is beautiful. This definitely isn't backpacking. I'm writing this from the King Sized bed we share. Ill include photos.

Our view, though not very impressive compared to other cityscapes of the world, is the best Mumbai has to offer. Though fairly smog ridden, we overlook the sea, and the bridge that connects this part of the city to the Eastern part, and the few buildings that are visible trough the smog over there.

We had an AMAZING but expensive (by our budget-standards) Indian dinner, after a Kingfisher in the hotel lobby's bar. My favorite dish was a traditional Northern Punjabi dish of lentils. One of our waiters (yes, one of) told us that they had been cooked over a small flame for two days, while the additions of butter, cream, and spices slowly simmered with them. I could have eaten 8 garlic naan dipped in a vat of that stuff. But I wasn't very hungry from all the traveling so I jut sort of nibbled.

One thing I love about the Indians who work in hospitality, such as our driver, te hotel staff, and the waiters, is their attention to detail and their elegance. They speak in a way that puts you at ease and calms you. They strive for perfection and take great pride in what they do. It's really an art, and it's not lost on me.

I fell asleep by 10pm and have been up since 5:40am writing. Today we are meeting our driver at 9am for a full day of sightseeing including museums, and view points. It's now 7:30am and I'm going to eat an orange and have some tea before leaving. More to come when I can next post!

London

Listening to: Sunny (Mercury Edit) by Marvin Gaye

I'm so frustrated with blogger! After painfully typing out a long first post, it mysteriously deleted all of t when I added photos at the end. So here is my second try.

Firstly- please excuse any grammatical e errors that you may find in this entry, or any other entry in the future. Those of you with an iPhone know that sometimes autocorrect has a mind of its own, And after typing a few paragraphs on an iPhone your thumbs start getting a bit lazy, resulting in strange sentence structures and misplaced words.

Also, I've realized that updating this blog maybe be a bit more challenging than I initially expected- Using an iPhone, having Internet randomly, etc. So I've decided that this blog will probably be more photo heavy than I planned. At least this way ill have my travels documented, even I I don't have the time or resources to write a long entry.

First stop London for a 9 hour layover. My flight to London was great. I had a whole row to myself, and the plane was quiet and empty with no turbulence other than a teenage Irish couple having a lovers spat up and down the aisle of the plane.

I arrived in London feeling fairly rested, but still a bit groggy. I took the Hethrow Express to Padington Station and was greeted by two familiar faces, Charlie man and Tal. It was so great to see them after having traveled for 13 hours already. We went to the Prince Alfred pub in Maida Vale where Talia had made a reservation.

The pub itself is super unique and one my my favorite I've been to in London! It's a medium sized pub with a restaurant attached. It dates back a couple hundred years when pubs used to be sectioned off to divide patrons by gender and class. We had a whole section reserved for us, complete with posters of James Dean (how did they know that he's my old school cool crush?!) with "Curtis" written on it.

The first to join us were Ajda and Camilla! Then KJ and TJ, followed by the Watfkrss. It's funny because I had people ask me if I was nervous to travel with a friend who I haven't spent much time with in the last few years since leaving Rome. But that's the thing about great friends- no matter how much time you've spent apart, it never feels forced or phony.

After a pint of Fosters, a Ginger Beer, and a meat pie, I was spent and pretty out of t. It felt like I was sort of in a dream world. So I got my last cuddles in with my little man and got a private car to pick us up. For those who are curious, it was a lot cheaper to split a private car from Maida Vale to Hethrow than it would have been to both take the Hethrow Express. The car ride took an hour and was set at a flat rate of £26. From Paddington the fast train takes 15minutes And costs £18 per person.. Adding in the time it would take to get to paddington, buy tickets, etc... I think taking the car was the best call.

Saying our goodbyes was bittersweet, as goodbyes often are.

We arrived at Terminal 4, which I would later learn was a foreshadowing of what was to come. The first thing I noticed was we were two of a small handful of Caucasian women in a terminal STUFFED with people. It seems terminal 4 is dedicated to the more "exotic" (if you will) flights. Most of the airlines belonged, and were headed to, various Middle Eastern and African countries. After over an hour of insanity Ajda was finally checked in and we were through security with only 15 minutes to spare before boarding.

Boarding began with, "Final call for Jet Airways flight to Mumbai." This was another example of fine foreshadowing by Terminal 4.

More to come in next entry.

Itinerary

I've created a page where you can view our itinerary. Check it out above, or simply click here!