Tue 9 Dec Aurangabad Ajanta Caves

Tue 9 Dec Aurangabad Ajanta Caves
The bus from Indore to Aurangabad in nowhere as nice as the bus from Bhopal. No pillows, no blankets. The king sheet that Carol carried was our only covering. At least our sleeper seats were lower seats.  That didn't mean a good night's sleep, merely that it was easier to get out to pee when the bus stopped, as it did every 2 - 3 hours.  Mike had the aisle bunk, which meant that he got to hold on to the outside pole to keep from being rolled into the aisle as the bus bounced along and took the turns.
At 0745 we arrived in Aurangabad, which will serve as our base for visiting the World Heritage sites of Ajanta and Ellora.  Aurangabad lies between the two sites; securing accommodations at either one would have been a tactical nightmare. Ajanta Caves are closed on Monday (ie, yesterday) and Ellora Caves are closed on Tuesday (today). We could not have procured a bus trip from Bhopal to Jalgaon [on the north of Ajanta] or Bhopal to Aurangabad [on the south of Ajanta] during the daytime on 8 Dec. So, good morning Aurangabad!
We have secured two nights' rooms at Manmandir Hotel.  The bus lets us off close to the hotel and a 30 R rickshaw drive gets us there.  It is not clear in advance that our credit card went through on the computer along with our reservation, but they have the charge.  Finally we get checked in, finishing up at 0830.  This is a curious hotel in a mixed commercial part of town. There is a private bus terminal, complete with restaurant, on the lowest level. Up to our room, where we shower, change clothes, and take down 5 days of laundry to be washed.
Over to the bus stand.  At 1020 our bus to Ajanta Caves is off.  It would have been nice to have gotten an earlier start on this 105 km ride, but given all the travel constraints detailed above, this late departure was the best we could do.
We get out at Ajanta Junction, walk through the tourist shop zone, and get on a shuttle bus to take us the last 4 km to the entrance.  This bus wheezes and chugs up the hill - we are praying that we don't need this bus on the way down.
Ajanta Caves consists of a series of extensively-painted caves built into tufa rock between 2nd C.  BCE - 6th C. CE.  Most were probably commissioned by merchants trolling the early trade routes through Asia to the Arabian Ocean, who supported Buddhist monks and their monasteries.  Some have called Ajanta the "Buddhist Louvre". The site lay under jungle foliage for decades until it was rediscovered in 1819 by troops from the East India Company. The paintings, and the fact that they still are in reasonably good condition (unlike, say, parts of the Mogao Caves of China that were desecrated by Moslem conquerors and 20th C. Communists), are what make the place worth visiting. 
There is a short steep climb to the first caves. A series of guys holding two-man palanquins wait hopefully for any tourists who want to be carried (500-800 R).  Mike is propositioned but declines.  A young Korean woman accepts and is carried up and down, cave to cave, over the whole set of caves.
The caves are arrayed over a horseshoe-shaped gorge. There are caves numbered 1 - 30, not all of which are open.  Most require shoes that shoes be removed to enter (these are holy sites, after all).  Most also have restrictions on the use of flash photography.  Thus the pictures you take are not at all great (at least the pictures WE got were not at all great).
The sculpted figures are exuberant, and the colors that still cling to them (all derived from natural water-soluble substances) are deep. There has been no attempt to touch-up anything, but some paintings are now enclosed in glass. Many of the murals depict earthly pleasures alongside Buddhist virtues. It is interesting to see the many depictions of Buddha in contemplation. There is a spectacular reclining Buddha with a serene face awaiting Nirvana.
By 1545 we are through.  It's getting hot and we have seen enough. Mike was really thirsty and got a large soda, which he drank quickly.  This induced a large amount of mucus and a some deep coughing which sometimes precedes vomiting, but didn't in this case.  Carol had said don't drink the soda that fast.
By 1600 we are back at the main bus junction.  Also at the gate is a privately hired jeep.  It cost us 240 R to take the local bus here.  We are offered rides back to Aurangabad for 400 R for the two of us.  We say OK, get into the front seat, and off we go.  It turns out we just missed the regular bus, and we would have waited a good bit for the next bus coming through. A front-seat ride was a real treat (and probably reduced the price the couple who hired the jeep had to pay the driver). Win-win all around.
It is well after dark when we get back to the bus stand in town.  We start walking back to Manmandir Hotel, get a little lost, and finally catch a tuk-tuk to get there.
We pick up our clean laundry and go downstairs for a little dinner.  Carol orders the mini-thali (100 R).  OK, nothing special. Mike is mostly thirsty, but gets the Hakka Noodles (95 R). 
Carol suggests booking a 0600 direct non-stop Volvo bus to Pune departing from the bus terminal in our building. For whatever reason, we don't act on it.
Tomorrow is Ellora Caves day.  With a good night's sleep we will get a much earlier start. 

Mon 8 Dec Bhopal

Mon 8 Dec Bhopal
Our hotel breakfast today consists of poha and paratha and tea.  The potato filled paratha, with a side of  "curd" (yogurt) reminds Carol of latkes and sour cream. She is irritated because every interesting museum in Bhopal is closed on Mondays.  We had about 1 1.2 hrs to squeeze in a museum yesterday afternoon, but didn't. So after breakfast we undertake a walk of 1.5 km or so to the Taj-ul Masjid, supposedly the largest in all of India.  Since our hotel has a 24-hr check out policy we can still keep the room for a while.
There's still a crush of people on the main street for that Muslim convention so we triangulate. We find a Muslim cemetery nearby, a quiet garden-like place in bustling old-town Bhopal. We can see two large minarets in the distance. Carol proposes that we follow interesting (and 100% no tourist) streets that trend uphill, while looking up to track the minarets.
We reach a major traffic circle with an imposing statue of some ruler (?) or conqueror (?) and eventually make our way to the masjid. You could probably fit 20-30 K worshippers in the courtyard for Friday sermon - maybe a lot more.  Today, the huge courtyard is mostly empty.  The masjid itself has a center and two wings, all facing west.  Inside the masajid (the term for this "mother of all mosques"), we spend time studying a world map with Arabic writing for the location names.  Near one doorway is a list of do's and don'ts:  among them - "Maintaining Good Smell".
Near the mosque is a body of water; older men throw bread to the fish. We catch the SR5 bus back to our neighborhood.  We do a final pack and check out - storing our bags by the front desk.  We have about 3 hrs to kill on the internet. 
Then out to Manohar.  It is 1500 - time to stuff ourselves, because we have a long bus ride ahead. Carol orders a South Indian plate, with vada and udappam.  Great.  Mike gets a veg pizza.  The Indian pizzas rate about a C+.  Carol will really miss this restaurant, as much for the wonderful mix of clientele as for the food, drinks and sweets. There's something very nice about sitting with white-clad Muslims, turbaned Sikhs, sari-wearing women, hip kids with their electronica. Lots of families, too. We look at all the sweets but don't buy. However, Carol asks for a lidded plastic container. After all, we have a long bus ride ahead.
At 1615 we grab a rickshaw.  The driver wants 150 R "because it is 11 km to Newmarket".  Mike pulls out the bus ticket from the day before showing the mileage as only 4+ km.  We settle on 100 R for the fare. 
We are at the Hans bus at 1635.  Packs are stored underneath.  We have bunk seats 13 and 14, which are both lower. Four young Aussies who are also headed to Aurangabad are several rows behind us.
Off we go at 1700. This bus is very nice - bedding, warm blankets and big pillows. And, wonder of wonders, there is a restroom onboard for women (the sign says "urain only"). The chatter ceases after a while and we get in some sleep. The bus heads westward.
At about 2100 we are in Indore - here we change buses.  This is a major transfer point for all the Hans Travel buses (after all, Hans Travel is based in Indore). We are about to get on the Pune bus - luckily, someone intervenes. Quick, grab our luggage. Our correct bus is still across the street, revving its engines.  So we run, load our bags once more, and hop on for the long ride south to Aurangabad.

Sun 7 Dec Bhopal

Sun 7 Dec Bhopal
Hotel Sonali serves a business clientele, so there is a fresh crisp newspaper in our door in the morning. Breakfast is also included for our class of room - so at 8 am Mike gets an omelet and Carol gets a poha dish. Milk tea for both.
At 9 am we are at the bus stand for a bus leaving for San Chi, a Buddhist site. Mike dozes. On the way we pass a huge walled-off expanse of empty land. Some holes have been punched into the wall; a few people use this as a pass-through to more developed areas further out of town. Some sections of the wall are covered with anti-Union Carbide messages. However, the site of the gas disaster was the other side of Bhopal. Could this be a different brownfield? Don't know. But we do pass some medical research (and, presumably, treatment) facilities.
We arrive at San Chi 46 km later, about 1045. Tickets to enter are 250 R each.  There is a short steep climb up a hill, and we are in.  This is an old set of ruins, dating from 3rd C. BCE, that was the site of 5 stupas and a number of Buddhist monasteries.  Prince Siddhartha never slept here, but relic boxes containing bone fragments of two of Buddha's most noted early followers were unearthed here. Fortunately (or unfortunately) San Chi has been entirely reconstructed and now seems to Mike like a historical theme park for Indian tourists, rather than the historical ruins we have seen in other countries.  Still, the intricate sculpture (including round-bellied figures and Bodhi trees) is beautiful and the quiet countryside (and clean air) wonderful.
During our visit we meet Shomit, his wife Shurti, and his mother.  He teaches planning and architecture here in Bhopal, even though he hails from Aurangabad.  We talk about water and the desertification of northern India.  His program has been evaluating step wells and pumping systems, along with other systems of water storage. They are also familiar with the Hans Travel bus, having taken it several times.
They offer us a ride back to Bhopal.  On the way back, Shomit points out that we are crossing the Tropic of Cancer line, and so we stop the car for a photo op.
We get in to town about 1530. They drop us off at Palash Residency Hotel. Hans Travel is just a few meters away on the side street.  We now know where we need to assemble tomorrow.
We are in Newmarket, the second (first?) downtown of Bhopal.  Here a theater showing the just-released Bhopal: A Prayer for Rain.  This film, released on the 30th anniversary of the Union Carbide disaster, is being shown (in Hindi, we think) either at 1800 or 1900.  There is a long line to buy tickets. We demur.
Up the street we pass the Nehru Statue, and then see and enter Bapu ki Kutia, an eatery highly recommended by Lonely Planet.  We get a paneer masala (120 R), bhindi do pyaza (95 R), a roti (12 R) and a buttermilk (18 R). Plenty tasty.
We take a city bus (SR3 or SR4) back to the railway station (12 R each).  We spot a gurdwara (Sikh temple) in the area around our hotel and then, at sundown, a big mosque.  Bhopal is 40% Muslim and this is the Muslim side of town. We have also seen women wearing Jain dress. What a melting pot!
It is dark. Internet time - and time for a quick visit to Manohar for a lime float and a milk shake. Then gather in the hand wash, do some more, watch some TV, and to bed.

Sat 6 Dec Bhopal

Sat 6 Dec Bhopal
The train heads to the southeast. We sleep until about 0830, at which time Mike relinquishes his seat to the gent who held the original ticket.  For the next 3 hours they talk, joined by his colleague (Carol lays low and follows the scenery).  These two fellows, a Muslim Shiite and a Christian, both from Nagpur, had taken a 21 hr train ride - almost as far as from Jaipur - to transact some business. Almost immediately, business completed, they caught a train back to Nagpur.  They seemed to be business partners in some respect.  One of them asserted that 9/11 was an inside job - how would a jet fuel fire have brought down such huge buildings?  We three talked about Indian food and Indian politics.  Time passed, and one guy thanked Mike for taking 3 hours out of an otherwise very boring trip.
It turns out that their loooooong train ride was competitive with their airplane alternatives:  Nagpur to Delhi to Jaipur, followed by bus to the town, and then the reverse. Not an easy trip, but surely better than any bus alternative. 
At some point in our journey, we leave the tourist-hub state of Rajasthan and enter Madhya Pradesh, rarely visited by tourists.
Since our train was late in leaving Bundi, we presume that we will arrive in Bhopal around 1230. At 1140, passengers around us say that we are at the Bhopal station!  Quick onto the platform (as with all transportation actions we have to be quick, because things happen quickly, and you might end up involuntarily going on to the next stop).
Bhopal has a booming train station, surrounded by snarled traffic and vendors of all kind.
Guidebooks in hand, out for a short walk to Hotel Sonali, where we are booked.  Sonali is not easy to find, since it is on a back street.  But we find it.  A back room (with balcony) on a back street means downtown quiet, much to be desired. And a chance for Carol to do some hand laundry.
We check in, shower, change clothes, and go up two blocks for lunch at Manohar Dairy and Restaurant.  Bright yellow sign outside, busy tables inside. Manohar is half restaurant, half sweet shop. We are handed the English-language menu, which seems to have the same layout of menu items as the Hindi menu. By pointing, Carol orders the large thali, which includes a glass of buttermilk.  Mike had the smaller thali, with one fewer dish, and without the buttermilk.  After we finished we asked for the check, so the waiter brought two cups of chai.
By now it is 1500.  We aren't going to get to any tiger parks this trip, so our goal today is to visit Van Vihar Zoological Park, where they have tigers.  A 150 R rickshaw ride takes us there.  We leave the crowded central part of the city and come to a much greener and upscale area. Upper Bhopal Lake, the oldest man-made lake in India, was created by Raja Bhoj in the 11th Century by constructing an earthen dam across the Kolans River.
A gated area indicates the entrance to the park. We purchase tickets and walk in.  The park is linear, along the lake.  Animal exhibits are located every 200-500 meters.  The total walk is 5 km down and 5 km back, which is out of the question (it will be dark and the park closed long before we could finish such a walk).  However, the tigers are only 1.6 km in, so off we go. Being outdoors and walking is a great antidote for our demanding overnight train ride.
We see an Asiatic lion, some panther/leopards, some tigers, and some white tigers.  It seems that these large animals are in two kinds of enclosures - a large spacious walled and fenced area, in which it is impossible to see the animals on the far side, and a smaller closer cage, in which there are one or two animals reasonably visible to park visitors.  Perhaps the animals are shuttled between the cages on a daily or weekly basis?
It isn't Sasan Gir, it isn't Ranthambore. But we are seeing animals in a much more spacious and natural setting than in any zoo we have ever visited. And they are awake and active, doing their own thing. One tiger is playing kitty cat, luxuriously grooming itself. No long jeep rides or guides with GPS. Less time, less money. Works for us.
About 1630 we have turned around and are walking back.  On the way back, one of the tigers has caught a monkey and is chowing down. A sloth bear is engaged in some weird perseverative behaviors, twirling a very large rock back and forth.
We walk out from the zoo into an amusement park environment.  There are kayaks and paddle boats available for rental. The teenybopper guys and gals of Bhopal strut along the lake, snapping selfies. We read later that some feel that the loud noises from the entertainment zone and country clubs are adversely affecting the nearby animals. 
The rickshaw cost 150 to get here, but the going price seems to be 180 to get back to town.  Something about a parking fee?  Go figure. Anyway, finally a driver agrees to take us to the Rwy. Sta. for 150 R (it is easier than to say Hotel Sonali). 
We wanted to maybe see the famous mosque on the way back but for some reason our driver was leery of taking us there. It turns out that today is the first day of Aalmi Tablighi Ijtima (World Preachers’ Congregation) an annual 3-day event considered among the top five Muslim conventions in the world.  "Over 15 lakh Muslims" (that's 1.5 million people) from various parts of India and Malaysia, Iran, France, Russia, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Jordan, Indonesia, Sri Lanka are expected to converge on Bhopal.
Back downtown, we spend an hour on internet to determine that Hans Travel has a sleeper bus from Bhopal to Aurangabad, our next stop, leaving 1700 and arriving 0740 the next morning.  Total fee 1500 R for two tickets.  We book for 8 Dec.
Out for "dinner" at Manohar.  We just order drinks and milk shakes.
The range of TV channels is good in our hotel. We indulge before we go to sleep.
To get the big question out of the way - why have we chosen to visit Bhopal? There are some places, like Soweto, Selma or Dachau, that are forever linked with catastrophic histories. We aren't in Bhopal because of the Union Carbide gas disaster of 3 December 1984 (the 30th anniversary of the explosion, and the release of the film "Bhopal: A Prayer for Rain" have been featured in Indian and international news this past week). Bhopal is a city of 1.8 million with a strong Muslim flavor.  Bhopal is also the best choice as a base for visiting our first Buddhist site, Sanchi, and beginning our westward return to Mumbai.

Fri 5 Dec Bundi

Fri 5 Dec Bundi
Up at 7 am.  Mike administers an injection.  A little better than last night, but not much. But he slept well - the best in days - and the fever has broken.
Time to leave our pretty room and the trailing flowered vines framing our window. By 9 am we have checked out of Braj Bhushanjee and deposited our backpacks near the reception.  Since we are leaving Bundi early tomorrow on a 0116 am train, we would prefer to leave the baggage in the hotel until midnight. However, the somewhat inflexible management wants everything gone by 7 pm so it can lock up for the night.
As we are leaving Braj for the day, we have a conversation with a group of Italian hotel guests.  They are driving to Ranthambore National Park to (hopefully) see wild tigers. One, a pharmacist, looks at Mike's list of medications and says he agrees totally with the prescribed treatment plan.  But the total price is as astonishing to him as it was to us. 
In this neighborhood of historic houses, there are more little boars than random cows roaming the streets and munching on litter. Litters and litters of litter-eaters, as a matter of fact.
It is now 0915. Mike is feeling a whole lot better, but trying to visit Bundi's 17th-century palace and climb to 14th-century Taragarh Fort w/o breakfast is way too much for us.  We look for street food for breakfast, find none, and settle on breakfast at Haveli Elephant Stables. Yes, a hotel installed where the royal pachyderms were once housed, complete with elephant tether stones. This huge courtyard with six backpacker rooms and 20' ceilings abuts the fort and palace.  A very cool place. For breakfast we each order a veg omelet (130 R each) and two pots of tea (80 R each).  We have had good omelets and terrible omelets so far in India (usually way overcooked or too salty). Ours here are quite good, as is the tea. Note: The menu also offers "special lassi"  (probably contains bhang). Happy Dumbo dreams.
We are at Hathi Pol (Elephant Gate) at 1040.  We buy tickets for the fort (100 + 100 + 50 for the camera) and for the palace (100 + 100 + 50 for the camera) and decide to tackle the fort first.
It is a long way up to the fort.  Slowly, slowly does it.  After the last gate, we continue straight uphill.  Should have turned sharply right.  We come to 2 "baori" (step wells) - huge cistern-like structures designed to capture all of the monsoon rains for the long dry winter/spring.  When we see them, they are mostly empty and the remaining water is green and murky.
On the way down from the wells we find the path we should have taken, but don't follow it correctly.  Some bushwhacking through thorn bushes that pierce the rubber soles of Carol's shoes, and we are finally at the fort with its steep walk up to the top.  Great views. At the top we see a temple nearby.  So we find it after we descend from the fort and go in.
Finally, on the way out (1300) we see 6 or so monkeys, far fewer than promised in the guidebooks, but greater than zero.
We are downhill and into the palace before 1400.  Carol notes that the entrance guard has six toes on one foot. There is no palace museum to speak of, merely a walk through an old and very fine mega-haveli, with some dimly-lit but impressive murals.
As we leave the gates to the historic sites we spring for 2 special lassis (pistachio, saffron, cashew, dried fruit) for 40 R each. Yum.
At the bottom at 1420.  Off to explore Bundi. We walk for a while through old town, past the photogenic elephant statue on a roof, placed in honor of the elephant gifted by Shah Jahan to Rav Raja Shatrushal Singh in apx 1700.  We also order another special lassi nearby.  We do NOT order the "special" special lassi which has bhang in it.
By 1500 we take a short 30 R rickshaw ride to Dr. Anil for the last injection.  It turns out that the injection needle has come out, so Mike gives money to the assistant to purchase another cannula. The assistant inserts the new cannula and then completes the 4th injection.  It turns out the syringe fills better if the bottle with contents is upside down above the syringe. 
Time to see Dr. Anil. He is greatly surprised that Mike was able to climb to the fort.  He gives us his card in case Mike has problems in the future.
It is now 1600.  We walk back through old town. In a district with a thriving jewelry section (all the way from cheap bangles to silver toe rings and thick silver ankle bracelets to gold jewelry of all kinds) we pass a row of kite sellers. Then we hit the internet for 2 /12 hrs. 
We return to Braj at 1900.  We pick up our backpacks and head to nearby Nawal Sagar Palace, a 300-year-old former royal residence. With lots of time to kill, we go to its restaurant for a slow dinner  (we had thought of holding our slow dinner at Braj, but they only serve the set dinner if you order it 3 hours in advance).
At Nawal, we drop our baggage in a corner of the rooftop restaurant. We order smoking chicken (200 R) and alu gobi (potatoes with cauliflower that seemed to be more like potatoes with cabbage) (110 R).  To stretch out dinner we order two cups of ginger lemon honey tea after we finish the mains. Aside from a French-speaking couple with an exceptional Francophone Indian guide, we are the only indoor patrons. Luckily for us, service is slow.  We bide our time.  Finally, at 2115 they present our bill, and we leave.
4 more hours to waste until the train leaves.  We walk up the street and see our tuk tuk driver from earlier today loading up some passengers (Polish-speaking?) at Haveli Uma Megh to go to the train station.  He says he will return in 30 min.  The proprietor of Uma Megh invites us to wait inside, away from the scooters loaded with teens roaring up and down the street.
Sure enough, 35-40 min later, the driver returns. We pile in, give him 200 R for the trip and we are off.  We arrive at the train station at 2240.  As we unload he mentions that he collects American dollar bills. We give him one. He is so smooth and affable that it doesn't occur to us to ask for a deduction from our original payment until well after he departs.
We follow a ramp up one story to the platform. Maybe it is the lateness of the day, but it feels chilly up on the platform level. There is a waiting room for folks with better class tickets so we go in and wait. 
There is a cow on the railway platform, wandering to and fro. Presumably, it ambled up the ramp; no one makes a move to displace it. There are also 6 monkeys in the rafters.  Do not stand underneath the monkeys!
At 0100 we go out to the platform to wait.  There is a family of English speaking Indians, one of whom is going to Bhopal on our train.  1:16 comes and goes.  Other trains come and go, but not our train. 
This is a one track station.  About 2:15 there is an announcements that our train is arriving on Track 2!  Track 2??  So we passengers all jump down 3 feet to the tracks, cross all the tracks, and wait in the dirt on the other side.
Finally, our train comes in. Our car sleeper stops way down the track! We RUN for our car, hoist ourselves up to get in, and find our designated seats (single-wide beds).  Carol has a lower berth.  Mike has an upper, but cannot manage to clamber up.  A younger fellow graciously volunteers to trade.  He takes the upper berth - Mike gets his lower berth. 
It is 0245.  We are in bed.  The train is on its way to Bhopal.

Thur 4 Dec Bundi

Thur 4 Dec Bundi
Up early and pack.  Down to breakfast of omelet, toast and a large bowl of fruit salad.  After breakfast, we return to Haveli Braj Bhushanjee, where we booked and paid for the promised room.  Our new room is a real work of art in a 200 yr old haveli. And it has external windows and a honey of a bathroom. At 900 back to Bundi Haveli, where we check out, pay the bill of 2200 R (2000 for the room, 200 for last night's dinner), and walk our bags over to Braj.
It has been days since we've done laundry and we both need clean clothes.  Braj does not have in-house laundry, but they recommend a place down the street.  We walk several blocks but this laundry isn't open yet.  A kid on the street notices these 2 foreigners with a big bag and motions us to follow him into the neighborhood.  We end up at a home-based laundry that promises to have our large load cleaned by 9 pm.
We still have to figure out we will get from Bundi to Bhopal.  We go up the road from the laundry to Shivam Tourist Guesthouse and Travel Agency, where the agent spent a huge amount of time running down possibilities, always with no available seats.  Finally, he notices that on Saturdays only, there is a train from Bundi to Bhopal. leaving Bundi (and not some other city that we have to take a bus or taxi to get to) at 116 am and arriving 1135 the next morning.  He can't book for us until it is noon (some strange regulation about advance tickets), so he recommends we take a 200 R rickshaw to the train station at the edge of town and return to buy the tickets.
We do and purchase two tickets for 2960 R.
Mike is still coughing up a storm. The family running Shivam also makes an appointment for him with a well-known local physician, Dr. Anil, for 1300.  At this point we have nothing better to do than to go over early, so our rickshaw driver takes us into town a little after noon (50 R).
Dr. Anil's clinic has an outdoor waiting area.  About 10 patients have arrived before us.  A list circulates and we are #14.
Finally, the clinic door opens at 1300.  About 1330, we are ushered in.  Mike's temp is taken at 101.1 F (fever!).  The doctor says he wants more info, so he writes medical orders and sends Mike to a lab nearby  (doctor's fee 100 R).
The lab sends a motorcyclist, Carol and Mike hop on, and all go a few blocks.  At the lab, Mike receives a chest X-ray and a complete blood workup, including testing for possible malaria.  (total lab fees 750 R).
It is now 1500.  Back to Dr. Anil on the motorcycle, X-rays in hand.  The doctor sees Mike about 1520. He shows us the X-rays and declares that Mike has pneumonitis. Something deeper than bronchitis (specialized tests would have been necessary to make a diagnosis of pneumonia). Mike needs drugs and some bed rest. But we have train tickets in 36 hours.
After a pause, Dr. Anil prescribes an antibiotic administration that involves four infusions, along with a complementary five day regimen of 5 different oral medications (other antibiotics and an expectorant) for reducing inflammation.  While Carol waits, the doctor's assistant and Mike walk up the street to a drugstore where the prescriptions are filled. 
For 770 R, Mike is handed a large green cloth bag that contained
A sterile cannula
4 sterile injection syringes
4 ampules of Gramocef and sterile water
Ventryl (1 bottle)
Montair LC (5 tablets)
Microcef  (10 tablets)
Nexpro (5 tablets)
Cefpodoxin (5 tablet
Dolcowin (10 tablets)
Back to the office with the assistant, who   The cannula is inserted into a vein.  A syringe is inserted into some sterile water, then inserted into the Gramocef,  and both are pulled into the syringe. This mixture is injected into the cannula in the vein (50 R). Mike gets instructions on how to repeat this procedure at 11pm today and 7 am tomorrow morning. Then he is to return for the final injection at noon.
Total so far: 1670 R ($28).  This would be apx $1500 in the US. Exercise for the reader?  Why the disparity in pricing?  Even if you multiply the Indian price by 4 to take into account the difference in the standard of living, it is still $110 vs. $1500.
Rickshaw back to the hotel.  In the lobby is a gregarious American woman. We swap travel tales. She is a world traveler who runs a tour service that organizes "find-your-roots" trips to Eastern Europe and good-times party excursions to many destinations. She and a friend have come to India to attend the wedding of a child of a Maharajah she met a year ago. A modern day Auntie Mame.
We get in some internet time.  Then back to Shivam, this time for a dinner - veg plate, lassi, and ginger lemon honey tea. They are glad to see Mike again.
At 8 pm we take a chance that our laundry will be ready.  It is sparklingly clean and well bundled.
To bed.  At 1130 pm, Mike wakes up and tries to administer an injection.  He only gets about half or less in.

Wed 3 Dec Bundi

Wed 3 Dec Bundi
Mike slept hardly at all.  Buffet breakfast includes poha, idli with sambar, a bean dish, and fruit nectar.  Carol eats a full breakfast.  Mike only has some tea and some water. He's clearly not well.
Since waiting until the afternoon for a train is not in our plans, we're off to the bus stand for a bus to Bundi.  The guidebook says there are some direct buses.  Everyone else says go through the station in Kota. Although there is a town before Kota where we could transfer, a transfer holds no appeal, with our bags and all.  The tickets to Kota are 157 R.
We have good seats toward the front, but the bus bounces along.  Plenty of "diversions" (lane closures for roadwork) and some local road travel. Mike sleeps, Carol reads when the road allows and looks out the window. Finally, we come into Kota, where we are told that the same bus will continue to Bundi in 5 min.  Good news! It is 1345.  The new fare for the rest of the trip is 57 R for two tickets.  Just stay aboard.
We get in to Bundi a little after 1500, take a 50 R rickshaw uphill to Bundi Haveli, and negotiate for a 2000 R room with breakfast.  Our room is internal, with no outside window.  It is attractive and clean, but not made for our needs.  Mike, who is feeling much under the weather, stays in and tries to sleep.
Carol heads out downhill into town for about 2 1/2 hours, walking around and spending time in an internet café for quite a while.  On the way back she watches an impromptu circus act on the main street.  A simple tightrope about 8-10' high has been set up. A loudspeaker blares music. A girl who looks to be around 10 traverses this 20-30' distance holding a long pole for balance.  First she is barefoot.  Then she wears rubber sandals.  Then one sandal comes off and she puts a metal dish under that foot before walking.  For the grand finale, she travels the tightrope on an 18" metal wheel.  She is very good, doing each part of the act forward and backward.  The basket under the tight rope fills with coins and bills.  Even the local kids contribute.
Finally, about 1830, Mike and Carol go downstairs for a single plate at the Bundi Haveli restaurant.  Carol eats.  Mike takes a few bites.
After dinner, we walk down the street to Haveli Braj Bhushanjee where we look at a much nicer room for 1800 R (no breakfast, though).  We promise to take the room tomorrow if it remains unrented.
Back to bed.  Mike is hacking away with a bad cough.

Tue 2 Dec Chittaurgarh

Tue 2 Dec Chittaurgarh
Buses to our next destination, Chittaurgarh, run frequently.  Therefore, we are not in a super morning rush today.  But nonetheless, we are out before 8 am w/o breakfast.  A 50 R ride to the bus stand, and a fairly quick wait for a bus and we are off to Chittaurgarh (sometimes called "Chittor").  Tickets are 193 R for two. On our bus are a young Dutch couple who were traveling the world, planning to spend 2 months in Uganda many months from now. 
We arrive to Chittor before 10 am.  At some point as we were off loading our bags, one Osprey bag cover somehow fell out.  In panic, Mike and our sympathetic driver ran back to the bus just as it was pulling out.  No Osprey.  Bad news for future intercity and airplane travel. We later found the second bag, packed away safely. Whew.
We get a 20 R rickshaw to our hotel, Pratap Palace.  At Pratap the rooms are really on the high side of our budget (our choices are 3500 R and 2800 R), but they are spacious. After all, this is a resort-style hotel.  We accept the 2800 R room, which includes a breakfast.  We noted that the kitchen was still serving buffet breakfast al fresco, so we ask for breakfasts for this morning also.  The hotel says: OK.  Great bonus for us, bringing the total room cost more in line and saving valuable time.
Lo and behold, the Dutchies show up. As we eat together, they explain their hopes for doing NGO work in Uganda and develop support for eco-tourism. They pay to join in the Indian breakfast buffet: idli (little steamed rice cakes) with sambar, dal, puris, and large amounts of tea.  A waiter even brought a basket of freshly-fried puffy puris to our table.  We pretty much stuff ourselves. The young couple have already made plans for a rickshaw tour of the 6 km long (north to south) hilltop fort to the east.  They have booked a 1545 train onward to Bundi, and have some serious time constraints.
By 1100 or 1115, we all are ready to do to take our rickshaws.  We talked about sharing a rickshaw 4 ways, but this plan makes no sense.  So they get in their 300 R rickshaw, and we get in ours.  For 300 R we get a ride up and assurance that we will start at the deer park (extreme south end) and a tour of the south end sites on the top, but no ride down.
Since the top are is 6 km long, having a rickshaw waiting makes it possible to see most of the sites.  Climbing out of the town, we pass a series of 6 outer gates on the way into the fort. Chittaurgarh was the center of the local kingdom until apx 1600 when it was conquered.  It was reestablished by Udai Singh II in Udaipur thereafter.  It becomes obvious to Carol why Chittaurgarh was abandoned in the early 1600s for Udaipur - after all, the gates are too narrow for tour busses. 
We get to the top, buy tickets (100 R each for us, 50 R for the rickshaw), and go all the way south to Deer Park, which is locked tight. No Nature today. So back to Padmini's Palace, a series of buildings around a small lake.  It was first a sun temple (Zoroastrian?), then became Hindu.
Next Kalika Mata Temple, which features a heavily decorated yoni with a snake on top.  Heavy symbolism.  Other fine decorations abound.
On to Sammideshwar Temple, with an attached 8 story Tower of Victory.  In this case, "victory" meant death before dishonor, or 'Jauhar.'  It is associated with martyrdom for men in battle; women and children were immolated or thrown to their death. Anyway, a beautifully decorated, richly carved structure.
Although we chose not to climb the tower (too dark inside) we thoroughly explored the remainder of this site.  One mandir had a set of 3 god-faces with penetrating white eyes. At another one of the mandirs we saw a group of school children.  These were Christian kids from a Christian school in Rajkot who had taken an overnight bus trip, and were going to 3 or 4 more cities in Rajasthan before returning home.  We held a conversation with some of the teachers and kids near a wonderfully lifelike bull statue.  We really took our time to see the many parts of this complex.
It was now 1330, and we were finally at the Khumba Shyama Temple.  Our driver was more than ready to go down.  He apparently expected us take less time at each of structures.  He asked for a 50 R tip, we gave it to him, and said goodbye.
We went on foot into the Khumba Shyana Temple and the semi-attached Meera Temple, both elaborately decorated Jain temples, and spent 45 minutes walking through all the sections of both.  Can't say we understand the Jain symbolism or what the individual mini-shrines to the "tirthankars" (the 24 great Jain teachers) represent.  The ridge on which the Chittaurgarh fort sits is very fertile - beautiful flowering bushes here.
We walked north past the museum (too nice for indoors) and into the non-tourist residential area, where we found some Canada Dry bottles in a rack.  For some reason, this impressed Mike. We see a cow decorated with a necklace. Further on, there was a bull sitting with legs folded underneath, a pose exactly like that of the bull statue in Sammideshwar.  Also next to one cow was a series of hand-patted cow dung patties drying in the sun.  These are used by villagers in many ways unknown to us.    We pass some old market structures, which are now ruins.
Time to turn around, buy some water, and head back to the main road down.  Near a grove of mangos we see the Palace of Rama Kumbha.  This was one of the palaces in the heyday of  Chittaurgarh.  The wall across the road from the palace had 'recycled' carved stone built in.  We like to think that locals had respect for their own ruins, but often not so much at all.
We begin walking down the road back to the city.  We pass gate after gate.  We see a bus pulling a wheelchair attached by rope up the hill.  Someone's pilgrimage to one of the sacred sites here?
Finally, we tire and hail a passing rickshaw that takes us to the bus stand.  From there it is a km walk on back streets to Pratap Hotel.
At the hotel Carol watches TV  Mike goes out to get some water.  He finds not only the water, but also 2 glasses of freshly-squeezed sugar cane juice.  He drinks one glass of his favorite beverage on the spot and carries the other to Carol.  Carrying 2 glasses plus the water bottles often leads to sticky spilled cane juice.  Yum.
Down at 1830 to the hotel restaurant.  They are setting up an action movie on the outside screen.  We take an inside seat where there is light and no movie.  We order dinner for 580 R.
Up to bed were we watch a lot of TV before going to sleep.  Vegging out with cooking shows and crime series is a real luxury.

Mon 1 Dec Udaipur

Mon 1 Dec Udaipur
Out in the cool of the morning.  It is beautiful, crisp, and clear.  Perhaps 16-17 C (61-63 F).  For breakfast we end up at Queen Cafe again where we order poha (expertly seasoned), chana masala, paratha, raita, and milk tea.
Before 9 am we see the locals bathing in the lake.
We are heading to see the City Palace.  On the way is the Jagdish Temple with spectacular sandstone carvings (or maybe these are marble carvings, since Udaipur is the center of marble for India). OK, people take photos of themselves and their friends.  And they take selfies.  But an incredibly crass English - speaker (American?) climbs into the small shrine of Durga and takes a selfie with the statue. Aaaargh.
We walk up the hill from Jagdish Temple to the City Palace, where we pay our entrance fee (115 R each) but forgo the camera fee. Here we start to see the more mature Brit, Euro and Asian tourists, who come in busloads or with their own guides. This museum tells the story of the proud Mewars, who ruled their kingdom continuously from CE 734. The hero here was Pratap Singh, who evaded capture as a young'un and fought bravely as a warrior etc etc.  According to this museum, the Mewars were the only kingdom that was not conquered by the Mughals (muslims).  They say that Jodhpur kings intermarried with the Mughuls.  We learned otherwise in the Jodhpur museum. Hmmmmmm... Comparing the two museums leads one to the conclusion that there is some exaggeration here.  So much for history. Anyway, lots of spectacular stuff including a ruby-red mirrored room and the Moti Mahal (Pearl Palace), a completely mirrored chamber with stained glass windows that spill reflected colored light.
For lunch, we walked over to Lotus Cafe, where we climbed up to the rooftop eatery, and ordered safed maans (lamb - but maybe goat to judge by the bones) (160 R), chicken swetta (140 R) and hakka noodles (100 R) along with a pot of lemon tea (45 R).  This was our first meat in a while.
The hakka noodles were a pleasant surprise, full of veggies.  Not anything like the hakka noodles we had had in Atlanta or Toronto. We ate our veggies, for sure.
After lunch we walked and walked.  We were in neighborhoods to the west of the lake, away from tourists.  Then we crossed the auto bridge (north of the pedestrian bridge we had been using).  We saw where the fancy wedding and carriage horses are stabled.
Back on the east side of the lake, we walk north, walking out of touristy Udaipur.  Eventually we are on New Bridge, perfectly positioned to see the sunset in 20 min.  But if we wait to see the sunset, we will be walking back in the dark on unfamiliar streets.  So we leave the lake, the bridge and all possibillity of seeing the sunset and walk to Hathi Pol, about 1/2 km north of Clock Tower, and about 1/2 km north of Tourist-stan.  South to Clock Tower, which comes sooner than we imagine.  Up to our hotel.
We hear the fireworks boom of the evening sound-and- light show starting somewhere over the lake, so we go to our hotel's rooftop restaurant and listen to an evening concert floating across the lake.  We ordered alu palak (130 R), naan (60 R) banana lassi (90 R), and cold coffee w ice cream (120 R).
Downstairs to our room to pack, watch some TV, and then to bed.

Sun 30 Nov Udaipur

Sun 30 Nov Udaipur
It is 520.  We are downstairs with packed bags.  We awaken two Cosy hotel staff guys, who carry our bags down the steep alley to the main street.  There is a waiting rickshaw.  We had been told it would cost 100 R, but now the driver wants 150 R.  Why not?  It is an ungodly early hour.  We tip the Cosy guys 20 each.
We are at the government bus stand by 540.  Traffic moves at this hour.  Our bus doesn't leave until 630.  At about 615 the Volvo bus we are going to take pulls into position.  We present our bags to be placed under the bus.  We have seats 37 & 38, so the baggage handler takes some chalk and marks 37 on both our bags and in they go. Goodbye Jodhpur. On our way for a five and a half hour bus ride.
About 3 hours in, we stop for food and bathrooms.  A cow has its head deep inside a trash bucket.  We are making good time.While Mike dozes, Carol enjoys the landscape.  We pass an area of marble mining, then cross the hills into Udaipur, the Pink City on Lake Pichola. We arrive in Udaipur about 1230.  The ordinary bus would take 7 - 8 hours. 
Once we step off the bus, we are fighting with the auto rickshaw guys,  who want an exorbitant 150 or 200 R to take us to Mewar Hotel.  Finally, we get someone to take us  for 50 R: more like the correct "Indian price."
We check in.  Our room is very nice (2150 R) with great views of the lake.  This  part of Udaipur is dreamy tourist central - everyone wants to sell you mellowness - ayurveda, yoga, coffeeshops, bhang?
At 1400 we go out for lunch - our first food of the day.  We cross over a pedestrian bridge over the north end of the lake.  "Millets of Mewar" is highly rated in our guidebooks, and so we climb the stairs to go it, and realize that this is a crunchy granola (made with millet) $$$ health food place, Udaipur style, and walk out.
Around the corner is Queen Cafe:  small, modest and recommended in both guidebooks. We sit down and order spinach soup (35 R), pumpkin curry (70 R), tomato curry (70 R), kashmiri naan (fruit-filled bread) (35 R), kashmiri lassi (50 R), banana lassi (45 R), and a pot of masala tea (65 R). Each item a vivid natural color and has a distinct flavor. 
There we see a Brit fellow and his girlfriend.  He had had a bad surfing experience, which resulted in a very bad concussion.  In the course of diagnosing and treating the concussion, they had discovered that he had a compression of the C2-C5 disks in his neck,  This is potentially very serious, and he was heading back to England for extensive treatment.  Chris Reeves, the former Superman, had sustained a fracture at C2-C3, which resulted in his becoming a quadriplegic, unable to move from the neck down.  For our purposes, he related that all of the testing in India (MRI, CT scan, etc.) had come to $145.
Meenu, the daughter of the restaurant owners, sits down with us and opens up a packet some of her special masala. Come, try it on your dishes (even the lassi). It is so good we buy apx 100 g for 200 R.  We talk food and enjoy each other's insights.
She takes us a couple of blocks to her cooking class room.  On the way, a milk delivery truck and many vehicles are all blocked by an elephant in the street. Nothing unusual here.
In Meenu's kitchen classroom, we talk about Indian cooking - specifically Jain cooking.  She gives us a printout of her recipes and asks us for 450 R.  It is the class notes from her cooking course - much cheaper then spending hours cooking in the class.  All for a good cause.
We take pictures of the sunset at 1735.
At 1845 we go out to attempt to find Natraj Restaurant, another recommended eatery.  At last we're heading away from tourist-stan (but not all that far away).  It is rapidly getting dark.  We pass the Shri Shitalnath Ji Bhagwar Jain Temple on our way.  Beautiful (and just a neighborhood temple dating from the 1800's).
On to the Udaipur Clock Tower.  At this point we walk east on small streets.  After a long period of walking, we think we are at Suraj Pol (gate), where we need to pass, but we are not.  We splurge on a 40 R rickshaw.  We never would have found Natraj otherwise.
We arrive, walk in, sit down, and the food starts coming.  This is a 120 R all-you-can-eat thali, not a 250 R thali.  So the ambiance is not that fancy.  No cute boys in pyjamas, just mid-aged men as servers.  But the food is plenty tasty, and we need to aggressively stop the waiters from piling it on the plate.  Lots of everyday customers and families enjoying good food.
As we are walking back to the hotel, we come to a fork in the road and have no idea which way to go.  Along comes our rickshaw driver from earlier today, the one who took us from the bus stand to the Mewar Hotel.  He wants 70 R to take us back.  Mike doesn't have the fight left to bargain.  So we hop in and we are back at the hotel.
To bed.

Sat 29 Nov Jodhpur

Sat 29 Nov Jodhpur
Carol was up very early, watching from her balcony perch the fort and the waking up of the neighborhood. First, the "aunties" get up, finish their ablutions, sweep the street outside with straw brooms.  A pile of covers on one roof turns out to be 3 sleeping men.  An older woman passes silently near them to start a fire under a pot.  When all the women are up and dressed, time to rouse the men.
Mike slept until 7 am.  We finally get going around 8:30 am.  Breakfast is going to be street food as we wander - we settle on some fried samosa-style stuffed fried pieces (meh), followed by two honey infused jalebi.
By 915 or so we set out to the fort (Mehrangarh).  The instructions are: take the alley from Cosy sharply downhill to the main street, then left to the fort.  At one point we have the choice of a left or right turn.  We go left uphill and come to a lake or water hole with no inhabitants around it.  A guy is throwing bread into the water to feed the fish.  Is this the way to the fort?  we ask.  No, go back to the fork and turn left.  This doesn't seem promising until 5 minutes later.
We are now at Fateh Gate. Lots of exterior spikes on the massive door to defend against elephants.  This gate doesn't put us inside the fort.  But it puts us on a rising road that runs the entire west side of the fort, slowly going uphill, ending at the ticket booth at the northeast corner of the fort.
About halfway along at 1000 am, we are at Chokelao Mahal, a madrassa like courtyard attached to fabulous living quarters.  These were for a rejected queen of Shah Jahan, who lived out her life in this place. The wife who didn't get the Taj Mahal. Here there is a scaffold and on the scaffold is a painter who is painstakingly restoring some of the individual paintings covering the walls. He is using a mix of gum arabic and boiled camel fat to get the historically correct paint. He graciously takes time to explain the symbolism of the beautiful art, mythology and local history.
Mehrangarh really does the concept of a UNESCO World Heritage site proud. It is still run by the Jodhpur royal family, who have decided to max the explanatory material and minimize random commercialism. We continue uphill, buy our tickets for 300 R each (we get a senior discount) plus 200 R for the camera. Along with our tickets, we get a highly rated audio guide which includes anecdotes by the royals themselves - our device has two ear plugs, two ear phones. Near the entrance are 2 sets of small handprints - the sati or immolation marks of  royal widows.
Much of our time was spent reviewing the various rooms of the rulers of Jodhpur, their weapons, royal palanquins and howdahs, etc. Luxe to the max. A wonderful room of miniature paintings reminds us of Iran.
Opium smoking was a regular practice; a mustachioed gent mimes the hookah experience.
The long and short of the museum's message is that the builders of this fort did such a fine job that even though the place was shelled (cannon ball damage still exists), it was never captured, and Jodhpur remained un-captured by the neighboring Mughal (muslim) shahs in the 15th-early 18th C.
By 1230 we are almost all the way through the museum. We are given a free 30 min raga concert that is supposed to relax.  It is so relaxing that Mike falls fast asleep. At the zehanna (women's quarters), the tape contains narration by one of the elderly female royals about how royal life changed for her with nationization and the end of purdah. A few more steps and we have finished the tour of the museum part of the fort. There is a tasteful low key handcraft shopping experience at the end, complete with working artists..
While Mike sits and dozes, Carol checks out the textiles, maps, statuary, and musical instruments (where the sounds of the correct instuments follow your footsteps). We walk all the way to the south to see the prominent mandir at the south end of the fort.  Then back all the way to the north end. Mehrangarh gets 5 stars from us.
It is probably 1 1/2 km down to the Clock Tower, which is the center of touristy Jodhpur.  We are quoted rickshaw rates of 200 R.  We start walking.  Finally, someone agrees to take us for the sensible rate of 50 R. As we pull in to the crowded tourist section of Jodphur, Carol has a visceral "get me out of here" reaction. Yuk.
But right here is the stand of the famous omelet man of Jodphur..  We each order veg.masala omelets for 30 R each.  We eat them while we are talking with two Italian girls who have arrived in India a couple of days ago. The omelets, each served on individual plates, are so bounteous that we mistake one plate as the serving for both.
It is now apx 1500. Hightailing it from.tourist-stan we walk along a narrow street to get back to our (less touristy) side of the town - the west side.  We are back to the hotel, and head up to the roof for some tea and decompression. Too bad that most of the tourist kids are glued to their iPhones and tablets, but we manage to strike up some conversation.
Major sites all seen, Carol would leave Jodhpur tonight if it weren't for the fact that our laundry won't be ready until 9 pm or so.
There is a Volvo express bus to Udaipur at 630 am tomorrow.  Our hotel guy calls a rickshaw guy who, for 150 R. agrees to run over to the bus stand, buy a pair of tickets, and deliver them.  We leave sufficient money for the rickshaw guy and go out to spend some time on the internet.
At 2000 we are back at the hotel for dinner. Our tickets are there.
At 2130 our laundry is delivered.  No green laundry bag - which we have carried for years. Our hotel guy makes a call and the bag is delivered by rickshaw about an hour later. Cosy gets an A+ for helpfulness.
To bed.  We have an early start tomorrow.
Yes, Jodhpurs originated in Jodhpur.

Fri 28 Nov Jaisalmer to Jodhpur

Fri 28 Nov Jaisalmer to Jodhpur
Overnight a few noisy dogs have at each other.  From the balcony and our room, we get great views of the rising sun over the fort.  Also views of the historic haveli next door.
One of our guidebooks calls KB Lodge a $$$ hotel, their most expensive category.  Hence, everything is classy. We are up at sunrise for the included breakfast.  At 1800 R we have gotten the cheapest room in the place.  The other guests are paying much more.  Hence, the included breakfast for this classy clientele is nicely presented: A masala omelet with lots of veggies, a whole basket of toast with butter and jam, a big pot of tea, AND fruit salad.  At breakfast, we see the French couple we had met at Sunset Point the night before.
We finish our breakfast.  It is 815.  We don't have to check out because the hotel has extended checkout to 2 pm.  We start walking through narrow streets to the fort.  It feels cool (60-65 F) (15-18 C).  We note the water coursing under the edges of the streets and alleys.  This is an age-old sewage system we have seen in Samarkand.  It functions as the drainage/sewage system for the city.
Beautiful buildings are scattered all through the city: some abandoned, some well maintained.  Numerous houses are decorated with an artist's painting of Ganesh with a rodent carrying offerings. The paintings are all signed and dated.  One house has a picture of cut dancing coconuts (which we later realize are probably drums) next to the Ganesh elephant.  All in all Jaisalmer has resisted the temptation to tear down the old and is a very consistent ensemble.
It is 840 when we get to the entrance to the fort.  There in a mandir (temple) before reaching the entry, where a group with drums, cymbals and singing perform a rousing morning Hindu service.
We are at the top at 850.  We decide to visit the fort ensemble by always turning right, even if it involves going steeply uphill, until we have seen everything.
We walk behind a fellow pushing a wheelbarrow, collecting household garbage that people throw in.  Our pathway takes us quickly up to a great view of the town, except there is FOG!  A San Francisco fog!  Today is cool - yes, cool - according to a local. This town is so dry that they haven't seen fog or mist in ages. Lucky us.
Along our way, Mike asks a friendly merchant if there is a set time for Hindu services.  The answer is YES: Early in the morning until about noon, and then late in the afternoon through evening.  We are told that the morning is especially auspicious because along with the rising of the sun, the "magnetic waves run east-west through the body and make the body more receptive." Works for us.
This gentleman also offered his services as a guide.  A charmer, but we demurred.  However, he or a friend were selling sandstone carvings.  A Ganesh figure called to Carol (250 R).  Maybe expensive in this market, but a way of saying thanks for the conversation.
Many merchants along the way, but no aggressive sales tactics:  more a teasing "Looking is free!" or "Time to spend your money - HERE!" or "Let me help you spend."
Some way on Mike sees a money changer, offering 60 R to the $1.  Mike asks if he will give us 60.5 R. Money changer says:  How many dollars?  $500. OK.  So for $500, we have 30250 R (all in 500 Rs).
Pretty soon we are at Laxminarayan Temple, and the related (although less opulent) temple just across the road.  We go through both.  The next turn takes us back to the beginning point.  It is 945. Here a gentleman offers us his services as a guide for 50 R.  For that price, why not?  He turns out to have excellent English and was a font of information. We 3 walk toward the series of Jain Temples (one ticket of 200 R gets you into the whole set).  The guide offers to supply commentary in the temples but Mike doesn't feel like spending the money.  We see another Sulabh (public toilet) and Carol checks it out. Our guide talks to us about the havelis we see.  The sandstone construction and carving is done off site and then lowered into place in the building process.
We see a string of chilies and limes (3 chilies, one lime, and then 4 chilies) hanging at the door of most buildings.  Our guide says this is to ward off the evil spirits. Dried mango leaves hanging above a window are also for good luck.  At one door an artificial abstract chili and lime hanging sculpture in glass or plastic with a metal surround catches our eye.  It is apparently not expensive, but we don't see one for sale anywhere.  A pity - the perfect souvenir.
We pass a spice seller and ask the Hindi names for each:
Black pepper                kali mirch
Cinnamon peel              dalchini
Cinnamon stick             dalchini
---------------------------------
Mustard flower             javidai
Cloves                          long
Star anise                      badyan
---------------------------------
Nutmeg                         jaipal
Cumin                           jeera
Garlic                            suth
---------------------------------
?
Mustard                         rai
Tamarind                       haldi
---------------------------------
Red pepper                    lal mirch
Fenugreek                      methi
Coriander                       dannya
Everyone is amused that these westerners are asking this.  These are everyday spices - doesn't everyone know?
We climb a small historic cannon spot to get the view - still foggy and cool, but soon the sun will come out. Soon we bid goodbye to our guide, who says we are true Indians (frugal? CHEAP?), not like tourists.  We try to get him some follow-up business by recommending him to other passers-by.
An item for sale all over tourist Jaisalmer is a turban-style hat made from bright printed quilted cotton. Many non-Indians buy one for 150 R and look ridiculous. We spot a cute tyke in the center square wearing one of these turbans and snapping photos; the father then piles on two more. Click, click. A woman who looks almost Romanian gypsy is carrying a kid in a hanging basket, and begging. She's glad to take money in exchange for a photo.
Lots of signage in Hebrew.  Israelis apparently come here in droves.  An Aussie hotel/restaurant offers Vegemite. Cater to the visitors.
With the guide already gone, Carol insists that Mike pay the 200 R and take at least 40 pictures in the 3 Jain temples, so she can experience it vicariously.  He does so.
Now the sun has come out so we retrace our steps and retake some pictures from overlooks.
It is now 1145 and time to head on down.  We pass a place highly praised in the guidebooks that offers Makhania Lassi for 40 R. This drink is hard to describe: like the tastiest filling imaginable for sour cream raisin pie, with saffron and pistachios added for good measure. They are SO GOOD, we have two.
After walking out, and back in lower town, we see the Salim Singh ki Haveli, a historic building. Admission is 30 R apiece, plus 20 R for the camera.  Admission comes with a personal tour.  What a knowledgeable guide.  We are told that this is the earliest of the Jaisalmer famous buildings, that it was built with chunks of sandstone, carved with male and female fittings (think Legos) so that the whole thing could be put together (and even taken apart) without cement (not enough water to make the cement). Even the decorations were designed with male and female ends for ease of construction. Wood insets were used to give the structure flexibility in the event of an earthquake, and to reduce the total weight of the structure.
The building was designed with a men's side an a women's side.  There was a system of visual signals to enable the women (harem?) to get their needs across non verbally, and vice versa. Pitch some woo tonight?...
Then we arrived at a room with many cunning objects that the guide showed off and explained in detail. There were intricate metal animal figures that could conceal keys or perfume flasks; a flower that opened up to reveal small bowls [perfect Seder plate?] etc.  He was so smooth that that it took many minutes to realize that this was a sales room.  If we had chosen we could have purchased 6 - 12 kinds of aromatic oils, along with lamps, trinkets, and other replicas of clever gadgets used 400 years ago to run a household.
It was 1240 and time to get back to the hotel.  Once again, we weren't careful, and we started walking southeast instead of northwest.  After about 10 minutes, we recognized our mistake. There was nothing to do about it except grab a rickshaw for 50 R to get us where we needed to be.
At 1315, back at the hotel.  1330, paying the bill of 1800 R (no extra tax) and leaving.  1345, rickshaw to where the bus is leaving.
We are in seats 2 and 3 just behind the driver.  We can see out the front and the side window.  We can, and did, put our bags in a compartment under the bus.  The bus will go faster than the one the day before.  So far, so good.
But . . . every other promise made at ticketing is false.  The bus quickly gets super crush loaded.  We are stuck in our seats, trapped by drivers and a door. This is somewhat to the good.  Nothing around us affects us except for being trapped by the door and the huge crowd on the other side of the door. And with stops, the bus is not "express-express" as promised.
Seated behind us is a smart and restless young boy whose parents are trying hard to keep him amused. After listening to him count fairly successfully IN ENGLISH to 125, Carol whips out the KwikPoint pictographs. They play a few rounds of "what is the English word for this?". Watch out: this kid will one day own your employer's company.
While on the bus, we call June Mahal to arrange a room in Jodhpur for 1050 R.  OK. However, the proprietress calls back and says there is a problem.  Bad phone connection or maybe some problems in communication?  We don't fully understand but decide to go to June Mahal on arrival anyway.
It is 1900 and dark when we arrive in Jodhpur.  We are dropped off at Pal Rd, about 4 km from June Mahal, which is somewhere in crowded Ada Bazaar in the old city.
The guidebook says rickshaws will take you into town for 80 R.  The taxi men smell blood.  Everyone wants 150 R.  If someone hesitates, the others say something like: "Hold firm."  Eventually, a guy in the business adjacent to our drop off spot sees what is happening and tells us to pay closer to 150 R. In the end someone carries us in for 130 R.
Many urban streets have speed bumps.  At some point, the street has a huge bump.  Mike flies up and hits his head hard against the roof.  Carol is glad to be short.
The old city has narrow roads more fit for donkeys that scooters and cars.  And the driver can't find the lodging on the road.  He won't give up and asks repeated questions, backtracking several times.  Finally, he parks the rickshaw and walk about 2 blocks to the hotel with us, carrying our bags.  He gets the full 150 R. What a trooper.
The woman proprietor at this 370 year old mahal feeds us two teas and explains that she is fully booked, but her sister hotel, Cosy, about 6 blocks away in the Navichokiya area, has a room for 1050 R.  If we like it, they will deliver the bags.  So we and one of her employees walk over there.  On the way over we pass a congenial crowd of men (geezers) playing card games on the front porch of some kind of temple.  The six blocks turn up to be uphill - really UPHILL.
This is a good old-fashioned backpacker haven: some low-priced no-amenity rooms, all the way up to our relatively "boutique" lodgings. We like the room!  At 1050 R it is the best buy of the trip so far and is at least as good as some of the 2000 R rooms we have been in.  And it is quiet, away from the chaos in town.  June Mahal was stunningly decorated, but we have lucked out here. According to the gentleman who accompanied us, the Cosy property has been in the family for generations. So we settle in.  Carol does some wash and hangs it on our little balcony to dry.
Time to go upstairs to the rooftop restaurant and order some dinner and a 650 ml Tuborg (150 R). There is lots of good conversation, something we've missed since this is one of the few backpacker places we have stayed. An Aussie metallurgist tells diverting stories of his business and pleasure trips.  We have great rooftop views of the Jodhpur fort from the west, too.  Cosy is a winner.
Eventually to bed.

Thurs 27 Nov To Jaisalmer

Thurs 27 Nov To Jaisalmer
We stumble off the bus from Bhuj. We were nowhere. On Pal Rd in the far suburbs of Jodhpur near nothing else except other private bus companies.  For 30 R, we convinced a rickshaw to take us a little way to another company that ran buses going to Jaisalmer.  It was 810.
For 250 R each, we got tickets to seats 11 and 12 on a bus leaving 830.  The back compartment was filled with bags (of rice?); the bus company representative sat our packs in the aisle on the floor.  We grabbed 1 kg of bananas (9) for breakfast.  Luckily, a porta-potty on site.
Finally, off we went.  It was not that crowded until we were out a little further.  Then some 30 more got on. Standee time.  They were everywhere, incl. standing and sitting on our bags.  It was this way for hours.  We hadn't slept well and were sort of numb.  Finally, at a rest stop, Mike had enough and moved our bags from the floor onto a seat.  The guy from the bus said we had to pay another 400 R (!) to let the bags sit on a seat.  The aisle was apparently OK.  We compromised by his jamming one of the bags into Mike's foot space at his seat, with the other on the aisle. Mike and Carol were thus imprisoned in seats 11 and 12 for the rest of the trip, while the bus and its 100-120 passengers tooled merrily along.
On the bus, we had telephoned ahead to KB Lodge in Jaisalmer and arranged for an 1800 R room w/o AC but with breakfast.  So when we came to a last stop the edge of Jaisalmer, we took a 50 R rickshaw to the hotel, saw our room, sipped on some tea while we decompressed.  The room was about the size of the bed, but nicely decorated.  And  the bathroom was OK.  This hotel (and our room) has great views of the spectacular fort at Jaisalmer.  And the clientele is European, mostly French  (French usually means expecting style in lodging). And they were also our age.
Off at 1500 to see the town (the Fort could wait until tomorrow). One of the things that makes Jaisalmer unique is that the monsoon is light enough that the sandstone is preserved much better than the other Rajasthan towns with their sandstone carvings. Across the street from our hotel was a historic public bathhouse and "urinal" - the largess of past rulers.  Many of the houses in this area had similar exterior paintings, seemingly painted by a couple of artists who lived by beautifying buildings.  The predominant painting is a Ganesh elephant with standard symbols around him AND a mouse/rat worshiping at his feet.  This isn't Mickey.  Mike's theory: is that little figure is probably omnipresent because nearby in Deshnok in Rajasthan, the white mouse is felt to have achieved "moshka" (final reincarnation), saved from the wrath of the God of Death.  Interestingly, the Hindu story sounds very much like the Elijah tales of the O.T.
Time to shake a leg.  We walk into the Patwa ki Haveli, up the street, a spectacular building made of sandstone carved into elaborate carvings.  Not all of the building is open to us but we are able to climb 5 stories and get some great views.
We never seem to have consistent maps, so we usually try to discover east and west by the time of day and the position of the sun. This time we do not carefully orient, and soon find that nothing on the ground corresponds to what we are seeing on our map, including a very nice Jain Temple. Finally, someone helps us out, and we realize we have gone north from the haveli, rather than west.  Now that we know where we are, we pay an auto rickshaw 30 R for a ride to the correct traffic circle.
The guidebooks say that the private bus company Hanuman is more reliable, so we buy their tickets.  For 200 R, we get seats 2 and 3 on the 2 pm bus for tomorrow, right in the front just behind the driver.  We are told this would be an express bus and that it wouldn't be stopping all along the route.
We are hungry.  At a street stand with lots of customers we buy 2 vada (fried lentil circles: looked like doughnuts but not sweet) which come with a bowl of dal and bowl of sambar for 20 R.  Another customer got the vendor to dip the vada into the soupy dal before serving.  This move may have been a bit too goopy for us to handle, but even tastier.
A few meters away was a fresh-press juice place, where we ordered 2 papaya juices and a pineapple juice. We were still hungry so we went to a recommended restaurant in the same square.  It was only 1700 so they were not yet serving meals.
So we walk uphill and end up in a part of town called Artist Point.   Not artsy at all - seems to consist of businesses and some shacks.
Later, we headed back uphill: this time to Sunset Point via a 30 R rickshaw.  We were dropped off a place with a fine view of the town and the fort.  But then a local beckoned us over to the real Sunset Point.  This was the classic view of Jaisalmer that appears in the glossy coffee table books.  Before our trip, Mike had seen a picture of the Jaisalmer fort at sunset from Sunset Point that convinced him that we had to come here.
Eventually, there were about 10 tourists snapping away.  Carol found some kids and pulled out the International Sign Translation cards and starts asking the kids to identify the pictures in English, a language they have studied.
Mike snaps about a dozen pictures of the town and the fort, and about 8 pictures of the setting sun - all of them inferior to the coffee table picture.
As the sun sets we find some steps down to the city and are soon back at the restaurant we tried to visit earlier.  This time it is hopping with locals and some tourists.  We order Govind Gatta (a grain dish) and Dam Aloo (potato with paneer in curry).  Both turn out to taste pretty much the same - but good nonetheless.  We eat and find our way back to the hotel, with a little assistance for the last 50 m.
To bed.  No TV.

Wed 26 Nov Bhuj

Wed 26 Nov Bhuj
[This is the sixth anniversary of the storming of Mumbai by 10 terrorists and the killing of apx 180 people, incl. people in the CST Rwy Station, the Taj Mahal Hotel, and Chabad.  It is 26/11 and is all over the news.]
Of interest: The individual room locks at Hotel Gangaram and in others where we have stayed are like old fashioned barn doors with a large lock and sliding rod.
Standard breakfast. Roland showed off his purchases from yesterday.  He has a wonderful eye for spectacular workmanship.  We had driven by car;  he had traveled much more cheaply in an auto-rickshaw for closer to 500 R.  We talked about driving after dark.  His driver had not put on his lights until well after dark.  Roland asked him to illuminate.  The driver declined, saying: "I can see where I am going."
Our hotel sits at the wall surrounding the Darbar Gadhi, the walled complex from which Kachchh was once ruled.  Added benefit - less traffic noise. Today we will see what lies within the walls. We weren't sure about where to enter, so we walked around it.  Thus we saw Swaminarayan Temple, and walked through all that was publicly available.  As we were 90% around the Aina Mahal complex, we found the entry.  Very atmospheric, with pigeons and other birds flying in and out of the stonework.
First up was Aina Mahal, and several related mahals, the ancestral homes of Kachchh's rulers.  Much of the front building was badly damaged, probably from the 2001 earthquake, which was centered about 30 km NE of Bhuj.  The first two floors of Aina Mahal have been rebuilt, and is now a museum.  The upper floors await funding.  We pay and enter.
Kachchh was ruled by the Jadega Dynasty from 1510.  This museum documented how the lived and the alliances and wars they underwent.  There is an exhibit of 17th C. letters, including military alliances of small states and concern about the commercial dealings with Dutch merchants.
As the current country of India was formed in Jan 1947, each small kingdom declared its allegiance to either Pakistan or to India.  For most it areas the decision was simple, and by mid 1947 the colossal movement of (perhaps) 100s of millions of people of the wrong religion had begun following Partition.  For places like Kachchh and Jammu and Kashmir, the decision was excruciating.  Jammu and Kashmir became a battlefield, de facto divided between the two countries.
Kachchh decided as follows:  Maharao (a word meaning Maharaja) Madan Singhji became its ruler in early March 1948, long after almost everyone else cast their lot one way or the other.  On 1 June 1948, he allied Kachchh with India, thus making Kachchh a border province with Pakistan.  He also secured a lucrative position with the British Foreign Service, and left to serve in several countries.  Shrewd dude, and a crack tennis and polo player to boot.  In later life he returned to live in the Sharad Barg Palace.
As we travel India, we are seeing repeated instances of folks who controlled major amounts of money and power, and how opulently they lived.  There are glass art objects from China, Delft ware, and wonderful textiles, along with glorious British furniture and silver.  Prag Mahal, another residence of the Jadegas, was available, but we decided not to look at the inside.
We were through about 1100.  Sharad Baug Palace was another palace, the last residence of the last maharao in much later life.  It was to close at noon, but when we got there at 1145 it was already closed.  Or at least, the staff didn't want to delay their lunch break.
On to the Folk Art Museum, which was to close at 1315.  After walking some, a 30 R rickshaw ride got us there.  A simple museum, it had exhibits of the crafts styles of the folks in the villages we had visited, and replicas of typical houses.  No signage in English, however.
We finished, and grabbed a rickshaw over to the Hotel Prince, rather upscale and on the other side of town.  There, in the Toral Restaurant, we had a scrumptuous thali, thus feeding ourselves for the last time before an long upcoming bus trip, AND celebrating Thanksgiving a day early and all-veg.
You sit down and a slew of cute young male waiters, dressed in pyjamas and turbans, come out.  The first filled four bowls with bhindi (okra), alu raswala (potato), chana masala (chickpeas), and valor muthia (green beans plus).  Another fills bowls with soupy dal and raita.  Another gives you 2 sweets, gulab jamun and jalebi.  Another dishes out 3 farsan: ghughura, patra, and bahi waba.  Finally others give you kadhi, rotis, papads, salad (tomatoes and cukes) and chaas (buttermilk).  Not only that, but it is "all you can eat and drink," and the guys keep coming back, ladles brimming.  All for 240 R, plus service charge.  Locals eat here; it is not a show for tourists.Simply scrumptious, and since we were not going to eat for well over 24 hours, very practical.
We left Hotel Prince, walked around the city for some blocks, and found an internet cafe.
Back to our hotel about 1545, where we sat around until it was time to start our overnight trip.  At 1700 we took a 40 R rickshaw to the bus company offices.  There we loaded into a free rickshaw to go out to a waiting bus in the suburbs.
We climbed into our assigned sleeper bed in an upper berth and lay down.  The bus pulled out a little before 1800.  We were stuck up above for the next 14 hours (because the ladders were really hard to negotiate up and down).  We were alternatively sleeping and lying there looking out the window.  First we were overheated, then cold.  While Carol fit well, it was too short and small for Mike.  The plastic container that once held rice did toilet service twice.
At 745 the next morning we and our bags were in Jodhpur in Rajasthan, out of the bus, and on the street, after having ridden about 600 km.

Tue 25 Nov Kachchh

Tue 25 Nov Kachchh
A little about the spelling of the area we are in - Kachchh has 4 letters: k, ch (soft), ch (plosive), and h. Hindi and Gujarati have soft and plosive forms of most consonants and they can be combined in multiple ways. The "h" is sounded also.  For us westerners, "Kutch" with the "u" as in "cut" will do.
A little after 7 am an ungodly clamor emanates from the temple up the street, or maybe from a house nearby.  Hindu worship takes place early and it usually involves drums and loud singing.
We get the hotel breakfast of omelet, toast, tea, each.  It goes on our bill.  Roland is there and we talk some more. Roland divides his time between Europe and India.  He is a knowledgeable textile arts lover and dreams of starting a business working with silk producers in Assam.
It is 900. Our car and driver is here, and we are off, seeing the area north of Bhuj.  Any trip to visit the Kachchh's pastoral communities is a step back in time.  Our driver has scant English, complicating matters. This is very much a shopping trip, and we are pitched at almost every stop. Here is a summary.
About 30 km out is Sumeraser. These are Ahir people. The first stop in Sumeraser is at Tana Bana. A kindly weaver and his hospitable wife, who hurries off to make tea. We watch him operate a pit loom to create single ikat weavings. Here we are shown woven goods in a family tradition that goes back many generations. Unfortunately their standard size for a scarf does not fit our purposes, and we leave.  Carol tries to tell the driver that we have come to learn, not buy, but he has this trip down, and it takes a good bit more to get him to change the way he is going to do it.
The next stop in the same town is Kala Rakska, a cooperative crafts group that has hooked up with some of the major foundations (e.g., Ford, et al) to distribute their crafts.  They have assembled a nice mini museum featuring wedding dress and customs.  This is Ribari style mostly.  The Ribari rear cattle, buffalo, and camels. Look and go once again.
On to Bhirendiara.  As we approach the town, it is time buy our permits to travel north closer to Pakistan. 350 for 3 adults and a car.
In Bhirendiara we go into people's homes, more of a visit than a hard sell.  We see "bhungas," traditional mud and mirror-work huts.  White houses are decorated with symmetrical design and bits of glass.  It seems a bit intrusive, until one man proudly asks us to photograph his brand new (2-3 yrs old) internal bathroom - maybe the only one in the village?  Beautiful items, but mostly coverings and wall hangings. Here we broke down and purchased two small embroidered pieces featuring elephants.
On to Ludia, where we intruded on a woman in her home. After demanding a photo with Carol she in turn tried to sell us nearly every piece of inventory therein.
Daily clothing and jewelry in all these towns is incredibly colorful.  In our travels, we are a little uncomfortable about photographing people.  Our loss.
Finally, to Khavka, about 70 km north of Bhuj. Here they specialize in pottery.  We think they told us that they fired the pottery every fifteen days in a kiln about 10 km away.  Again, we are channeled into people's homes for a view of their inventory.
It is now close to 1400.  We drive to Kalo Dungar, northeast of Khavka.  We drive up a hill about 500 m high.  The car parks and you finish by walking up the hill.  Some silly animal statues along the way. At the top you get to sit and contemplate the Great Rann of Kachchh: like being at the edge of the world.  We are looking at some of the deltas of the Indus River.  During the monsoon, the entire area floods.  After the monsoon, it dries out, leaving thousands of square miles of salt flats, which are mined for their salt.  As you look out, you see a great white desert.
Back to our car, and back to Hodka, where we walk through some private areas to get to the sales tent. Carol squats down to eye-level with an adorable bare-bottomed tyke.  The child is traumatized.  We hear screams for our entire visit. Sales are overseen by a gentleman who has traveled 4 times to Santa Fe, New Mexico, to present as a master folk artist and to sell the wares of the community.
Finally, enough of the sales, and we go about 30 km to the northwest, present our permits, and get to walk onto a boardwalk out onto the salt flats.  There is a breeze, breaking the heat.  The walk out and back is invigorating. Carol tastes a little of the salt.  It is very intense.
Back to the car.  It is now 1720.  The sun will set before 1800.  We will still be driving back.  Driving after dark will be the subject of another post.  It has its own special problems.
Back to the hotel at 1840.  We pay up our hotel bill, driver bill, food bill, and laundry bill by credit card. The driver is sitting waiting for our credit card to clear so he can be paid. Hope that he wasn't counting on a cut of all those artisans' sales.
Out for dinner to Green Rock Restaurant.  We order a paneer dish and a vegetable dish.  Both very good, but both tasted pretty much the same.  This seems to be a recurring problem for us.
Even at night, Bhuj is full of pedestrians, scooters and other vehicles. Like playing Frogger to walk! Back to the hotel, which we find this time, and to bed.