Tree huggers and the scenario D.A.R.E didn’t prepare me for.

The Original Tree Huggers and Drugs

To say I am just going with the flow here is a bit of an understatement. I haven’t the faintest idea, one day to the next, where we are going or really what we will see. But thus far the Indian-travel company’s recommendations have been spot on and while most all my first impressions have been bad ones (I realize that sounds bad but this is a given when traveling here I think) maybe over time my initial reaction will lessen, and I’ll learn, as everything here has surprised me and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. 

We left Juhpur for a small village called Chandelao Garth. “Why are we going there?”, I was asked repeatedly. “I don’t know.” was my only response. I couldn’t even find anything on the internet besides the old (like 300 years old) hotel we are staying in. The village of 1800 people, and about as many animals, is tiny. Dirt roads snake through open stone buildings. There are no glass windows anywhere. Even our hotel is shutters to open air. The hotel is (I believe) old horse stables and an old mansion that have been converted, maybe 100 years ago, into a hidden gem of a hotel. Our rooms, from what I can discern were the main part of the main home, include a formal living room complete with antique small stuffed tiger and another larger tiger (maybe his mom?) mounted on the wall. Every furnishing feels like it’s at least 100 years old. Arriving we all had the same thought, we’re going to be here for 2 nights, what on Earth are we going to do?... because we’d all realized internet was spotty at best. After a brief (again stunned first impression) we opted to take a tour led by one of the hotel staff, a friendly short man in a turban, around the village. If we thought we were celebrities in the cities we are down right royalty here. All the children and young people run to come practice the extent of their English to say “hi” and “what is your name?”  Everyone beckoned the guide to bring us over to see their house or say hi. Where everyone in the city wants us to take a picture on their phone, here everyone wants you to take a picture of them. It feels genuine. No one is begging they just seem happy and curious. You cannot walk around without smiling simply for the joy these people seem to have in just seeing you. Soon we have literally a following of children behind us, their eyes fixed (normally on our kids). We stopped at a shop that sells basically local sweets. Todd gets a sampling of lots of treats, we with our western palates pick the most tolerable and then offer to pass the rest out to the crowd that’s formed, soon another child with a bag of candy is passing out his. We’ve seen the same bike go by with about 5 different kids on it, taking turns with the drive-by biking. 

The  guide then takes us to what will surely be the girl’s 

highlight of India, a pen with about 50 baby goats jumping around, it’s like pure joy. The local kids seem excited by the girl’s shrieks of delight and take turns snatching up the playful goats to hand to the girls to hold (meanwhile I’m thinking about the cards you fill out at airports asking if you’ve handled livestock) but there was no stopping them it was just too much. They would have slept there had we not forced them to move on. More pictures, waves, and “hi’s” and we found ourselves back at our hotel. We all were touched by the experience. I think one thing that struck me was that while these people don’t have much in the way of material possessions they take extreme pride in what they do. Their homes are neat and clean, all their belongings including cow dung (which they use as fire wood) are piled neatly, and they seem so happy and open, we were not treated as strangers but rather as guests. 

We didn’t sleep great as there was an Indian bachelor party also here and so while I didn’t mind the music the walls are thin and they were up all night talking, laughing, and drinking. Todd and I decided we’d let the kids run around as loud as they wanted first thing in the morning to pay them back. 

The next day we took a tour of the area. Honestly we couldn’t understand the hotel when they told us what we 
were going to do or really the guide. But we went to see the Bishnoi people. It’s a group that has 29 rules. Mainly they are devout conservationists and vegetarians. A few decades ago the maharaja sent troops to gather wood for a palace
. The Bishnoi people hugged the trees to protect 
them and were beheaded, about 300 of them. News of that event - which I believe has to be where the term tree hugger comes from, got around. 

They are farmers and have an interesting ritual of welcoming visitors with an opium ceremony. We were invited into the 

courtyard of what appears to be an elder man’s home. A couple other elders are there dressed all in white (a sign of the Bishnoi men, women wear red head scarves and have large gold medallions in their noses) and our guide, in broken English, explains how to make a turban which has another name here. He takes 9 yards of lacy white fabric and begins winding it around his head occasionally stopping to check his work. He completes his headpiece and passes it to Todd. They have a tradition of welcoming strangers with opium tea. They take the crushed seeds and pour hot water through them until an amber tea appears. They serve it by pouring it into your hands (remember me mentioning I have been going with the flow and not paying attention to what’s going on... I didn’t really expect that

I would be offered drugs that day) they also serve Chai... should you not wish to try the painkilling brew. 

http://travel.cnn.com/explorations/life/opium-and-curry-from-bishnoi-tribe-656885/

Back at home we made a Christmas tree out of a lamp (obviously cutting a tree here would be frowned upon) and had a memorable Christmas here in North India.

We 

Camel rides and Desert Gypsies.

Camel rides and Desert gypsies. 

We’d all been looking forward to the day we would ride camels and camp under the stars in the desert. 

Our journey started with an epic Jeep ride into the Thar desert. Our driver is a kind faced man who keeps a kite tucked into the head space of his Jeep. Kids, and apparently Jeep drivers, fly kites all over. The sky is dotted everywhere with square kites made of super lightweight bamboo frames and paper or plastic. They travel what seems to be miles in the air. 

We stoped at a fort, we’ve seen probably too many at this point but it allowed us a view of a deserted village below. We get to our destination and find several  camels sitting in the sun, their colorful saddles hiding their iconic humps. We are paired up with our camel mates and with a brief instruction that amounted to “lean back” the beasts would rise one step at a time. Camels are tall was my first impression. Second was the realization there’s no yoga pose that involves your inner thigh like this and there was no way I wasn’t going to feel this 90 minute ride tomorrow. We rolled along towards the setting sun. Listening to the constant chatter of the girls talking. I made a mental note to tomorrow not have their camels walk near each other. We stopped once to watch our clever guides gather firewood from a dead tree by throwing a rope with a bottle full of sand tied to it over dead branches and then when that failed they sent up the smallest guy to untangle it. Soon the rolling sand dunes appeared and I was grateful after the 90 minutes in the non yoga position we didn’t have to go up and down too many of them. 

Our camp was set up with a small shelter on 3 sides made of sticks and branches. After some snacks they built a fire and the sun set. A group of 4 local Desert Gypsies showed up and played music and danced. Eventually getting everyone except all my boys to dance too. Dinner was good and everyone was tired so we piled into the bed and decided it wasn’t enough covers for the cold desert so we got closer and doubled up covers. The moon was so bright it was almost too bright. As it arched it’s way across the starry night you could make out planes and satellites crossing the sky. 

The silent sunrise beckoned everyone out but the chill of the air meant we’d wait for it to actually reach us before we left the warmth of our desert bed. Sand was everywhere. I learned camels fart a lot, I have daughters who HAVE to have toilet paper, and I cannot pee if a camel is watching. 

The friendly camel guys made breakfast and everyone gathered their things for the camel ride back.  

It was a fun strange glimpse into the word of the desert and those who can call it home. 

Night train, fort, fort, palace.

It’s hard to wrap my experience in India so far into a cohesive paragraph or even page. Suffice it to say it’s the most lively place I’ve ever been. It would be impossible to be lonely in India. Should you somehow manage to avoid human contact surely some stray animal would befriend you. 

I’ve given up on telling the kids to avoid the stray dogs as if they all have rabies-I dare you not to pet a puppy who comes up to you.  Cows! Cows don’t seem to like us. I’m not sure if it’s the fact we look different, or they can sense we’ve eaten a few of their friends but we’ve had several encounters where cows let us know they don’t like us. While walking down a narrow alleyway yesterday we encountered a bull who sent us scrambling after taking his picture and then there were the ones that ran us off the beach, pushed us into a wall, and so on. 

For all my travels, I’d have to say I couldn’t have said I’d traveled until coming to a place like this. All pretense seems to have been thrown out the window here, there are rules, many of them deeply imbedded in custom and tradition, this is a place where 90% of all marriages are still arranged, the cast system while officially gone is still referenced and obviously observed. It’s not been hard to travel here, I mean it’s got its challenges for example I can count on one hand the number of actual hot showers I’ve had, most of those were in the form of a bucket but honestly it’s been easier than I imagined. 

Jaipur and Jaisalmer. 

We arrived to our homestay in Jaipur. Our homestay is an immaculate mansion run by an obviously wealthy Indian family. They have a daughter currently trying to get into a US medical residency. The retired couple turned their home into a BnB after their children were grown and they host mostly foreign travelers. They spoke perfect English and it felt more like a visit it to an American family, Mrs P actually had Trader Joe’s pancake mix and real syrup she’d brought back from her last visit to US that made the kids’ day. 

We met our exuberant guide at a yogurt drink shop. He presented us with rose leis, they smelled like heaven and I had no issue wearing all the kids’ when they became too itchy. The yogurt drinks, like the leis, I would end up collecting from the kids and drinking as much as I could take before throwing the terra cotta cups it comes in into a trash bin.   

We toured the Royal Palace with a guide. It was an expensive ticket-like $20 a person which meant we were basically the only people touring it. Which made it interesting. The current maharaja lives there and even uses the spaces. Framed pictures of Prince Charles from his last visit sit on side tables. The highlight was what in my mind amounted to a previous maharajas attempt at impressing the harem ladies. We were led into a  room with tiny curved mirrors and jewels. Once in, the door was shut and we found ourselves in complete darkness. A guard lit a candle and began walking around the room. The light seemed to bounce like fireflies from mirror to mirror. It was indeed hypnotizing and delightful. Hey I might even join a harem with that trick. 

We went to the Amber fort which has towering views of the area. We went to another “tourist” restaurant, basically having given up on these occasions getting street food. We were taken to a jewelry shop and a carpet and textile store. It’s a common practice in places for guides to take you to “factories” to see where they make local goods. It’s normally got a couple people making stuff and then an elaborate demonstration followed by them trying to get you to buy stuff. In Morocco we saw rugs in the same way. At the end of the day it’s a sales pitch, you didn’t know it but you’ve just found yourself with the best sales guy in town. It’s lighthearted normally and I’ve gotten better at saying no as the items they bring drop in place until out of desperation to get you to buy anything they finally bring out some tiny nicknack dust collector that was definitely not made by the hardworking craftsman you saw out front. At the last textile place they would make dress shirts in 2 hours and deliver it to your hotel for $30. Todd got a couple made. The next day we did nothing which was fantastic, we left in the afternoon to the train station for our next 12 hr overnight train. Indian trains are amazing. Where as last time we had monopolized a whole section now we were spread out a bit in the car we were in. The sleeper cars have small beds for each person. If you have a bottom bed it can be a seat. I was with the girls who had the top bunks (3 up) so they were basically invisible in their own world. My bed was seat level which meant if I was not taking up every inch of that bed someone would sit basically on me, and if I got up I would come back to 3-4 people there. People in the lower class cars will wander around looking for better seating options. Everyone will eventually move when you ask and I kept the girls on the bed and we all played cards and watched the Indian countryside roll by. One thing I love about the rest of the world is that it’s not idiot proof. For example in the US there would be about 50 steps to opening a moving train’s door requiring likely 2 people and keys. On Indian trains you’ll likely find the door open on a train flying down the tracks at 60mph, you want to stick your head out? No problem, no sign to even warn you that it may be a bad idea because hey, that should be obvious, proceed with caution. 

But it’s one of the highlights of train travel, so ya I let my kids hang off the sides of trains. There are people at every stop. Eager faces look up and often smile or say hi. Sleeping on a train is shockingly easy. I feel like it’s like going back to our time in our mother’s womb. Something about the gentle rocking that seems to help you drift off. I woke once to find us at a train station that clearly was in a town experiencing a power outage, small dim lights could be made out in the town but the station was completely black, dark figures illuminated by the train lights only run up and down the platforms. I snuggled up to my pillow made up of my bag with our passports, the only thing I really don’t want to lose, and drifted back off to sleep. At 4 am we were in Jaisalmer. The hotel actually looked like a small hotel(that’s new for us). Again food is available in the hotel so we basically wandered through the cute small village and Christmas shopped and let the kids eat. Kids took turns ordering food. Once again finding that things may not be what you think. For example the girls ordered a “Banana split” to be served a banana split in half and fried. :) I made them eat it as that’s the new rule, you order it, you eat it.

The Taj

From the mountains we decended into the valley and onto Agra. The destination was singular, the Taj Mahal. The drive to Agra was fun. I’ve decided to think of driving in India as fun. The alternative is a paralyzing sense of fear that you’re about to die in a head-on collision since chances are 1. Your car will have no seatbelts and or 2. You will be involved in at least 2 passes that involve 3 cars and or tractors, likely some livestock, and a shoulder at some point.
I’ve been practicing what I learned in “Little Tibet” about mantras and meditation so that driving here is tolerable. But believe me, I’m not exaggerating, I feel like skydiving would be less exciting.
Our driver speaks English, which is great except he keeps trying to engage Todd in some conversation by pointing out how quiet he is which is pretty entertaining from the  back seat where I meditate.
Even a glimpse of the Taj between alleyways is breathtaking. It is truly a wonder of the world.
We went across the river to view the sunset behind it. Some local boy showed us how to avoid paying the entry fee to a park and see the same view from what turns out to be where they burn bodies and put ashes in the river. A security guard kept trying to move us along but the stubborn boy just told us to ignore him. So we got enough pictures and got back to homestay.
The next day we had a tour guide meet us at Taj and show us around. The air was clear and that made it all the more beautiful. The story is that it was built by a Maharaja for the 3rd of his 4 wives who bore him 14 children and died in childbirth. He built it as a memorial to her. It’s her, not him, that is the center of the whole complex. Literally her body marks the benchmark of the entire complex. When he had plans to build a black Taj exactly the same across the River his son said he’d basically wasted enough money and said no, so he’s buried off center next to his wife...no black Taj...which would have also been epic.

It’s not the biggest thing I’ve seen, not the most ornate, but it’s a masterpiece of symmetry and perspective. It pulls you to the middle from wherever you view it.

We left there for what our driver claimed was the best city in all of India, Jaipur...his home town.