The Golden Triangle, which consists of Delhi, Jaipur and Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, is a common itinerary for first-time visitors to northern India. You probably could do the drive from Delhi to Jaipur in four hours but it took us most of the day because of multiple stops along the way. Clean restrooms and food guaranteed not to get you sick are the lures so you're inevitably surrounded by people who look just like you, even if they speak a different language, when you travel by automobile or bus.
But we learned that Indian highways offer more than one kind of tourist trap when we took a pee break.
Of course a banana vendor had set up shop right next to this monkey and a dozen of his screeching brethren along with a couple of nilgai, according to Dan. For those of you who aren't ferocious Scrabble players or crossword puzzle solvers, that's an antelope indigenous to the subcontinent. Blackened peels littered the area in front of the monkeys, and as soon as we pulled away, a couple of other vehicles took our places.
Here's Dan at an "antiques" store where everybody spent close to an hour looking for higher end souvenirs while I wandered around outside. No doubt Kamleesh collected a commission from the owners, just as he had when Matthew purchased an ebony chess set at an earlier stop. Later, Chris admitted "I didn't take into account how much time people would need for shopping."
Colorful trucks of all sizes barrel along the highways of India.
I'll bet there are more two-wheeled vehicles in India than anywhere else in the world, with the possible exception of China. People drive around on the family motorcycle. Each comes equipped with a side rest so sari-clad passengers can ride sidesaddle.
Our guide in Jaipur, Nidhi, met us at the Samode Haveli, the first in a series of luxury hotels where we took refuge from the squalor of the streets directly outside the gates. Nidhi, which means wealth in Hindi, explained that she was a licensed guide with a masters in ancient Indian history and proudly showed us her identification card.
Before she took the others shopping, I asked her if it was OK to walk around with my camera instead, soaking up some of the real India. "If you take pictures of people, just ask them first," she instructed, adding "it's not necessary to tip them."
I carefully memorized my route along the winding, unmarked streets teeming with people, most of whom smiled and agreed readily to have their pictures taken when I pointed to my camera. Like these haircutters and their customer:
This snacking little boy needed a tissue.
Here's a marigold vendor. Not sure why he colored his hair with henna--it may have something to do with his profession.
People cook right on the streets. These balls of dough, about to be deep-fried, looked pretty tasty.
Notice the crescent moon and star. I assume this means that the soup is halal.
The farther I got from the hotel, the more attention I attracted. "Hello, hello" shouted this group of children. When I asked Nidhi the next day why they had been so excited, she said "For them, you're a celebrity." It certainly felt that way!
This mother posed shyly with her baby.
A curtain served as a woman's front door.
Just around the corner, I saw a man defecating in a dark alley. There didn't appear to be any sewers or trash collection aside from the hogs which feasted on the leftovers that most Americans put in their garbage disposals. Not much goes to waste in India.
I saw only one cat during our entire trip and no rodents.
But cows have the run of the streets and highways.
Back at the hotel, I ordered a gin & tonic at the bar, sat on a chaise lounge by the gorgeous mosaic pool, listening to my i-Pod and watching many of the guests taking advantage of the free wi-fi with their i-Pads. The contrast with what I had just witnessed astonished (and embarrassed) me but I can't say that the people inside the gates looked any more content than the people outside. Like Judi Dench in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which took place in Jaipur, I guess I had just been bitten by the India bug.
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