The drive to Pushkar, along the highway that connects Delhi to Bombay, lasted a little less than five hours including the time it took for Kamlesh to find the Greenhouse Resort where the itinerary indicated we would be staying in luxury tents. Indeed they were, despite everyone's initial apprehensions. I especially liked the paisley motif on the canopy above the beds.
The grounds, a well-tended oasis at some distance from town, included a swimming pool, a croquet lawn, hammocks and a theater-in-the round, surrounded by fire pits, where native Indians performed traditional dances prior to a buffet meal later in the evening. Steven and Andrew asked me to take their picture in front of this strange plant.
The place reminded me of a fancy retirement community in Arizona so I was eager to resume our sightseeing. Thom and George stayed behind to enjoy the sunbird amenities.
Near the entrance to the fair, we found hundreds of livestock dealers, including this cosmopolitan young man with a t-shirt from Milan, displaying their horses.
They sure did kick up a lot of dust during exhibitions of their speed.
The food vendors took their cue from Carmen Miranda.
Although the five-day fair had just begun, this shot, taken in the late afternoon, gives you some idea of the scale. Dan said it reminded him of the Sermon on the Mount. That's the thing about India: despite its headlong plunge into modernity, some aspects of life haven't changed in centuries.
Here are a couple of camel traders in traditional dress.
We were surrounded by humps, curvy necks and big brown eyes. Surely, camels are the harlots of the animal kingdom--just look at these two!
Often, their hides are tattooed with henna. So much kinder than branding.
Some beg for snacks like very tall dogs.
Here's an embroidered saddle. It doesn't look very comfortable for either the camel or the rider.
Our guide, who insisted we call him Mr. Rator (a shortened version of his very long name) led us to Pushkar Lake, an artificial body of filthy water in the middle of the city, for a Hindu ceremony welcoming the pilgrims to an event that would culminate with the full moon. Mr. Rator barely spoke English but he capably steered us from spot to spot through vast crowds of early arrivals. Here he is with Steven.
And here's a solemn pilgrim standing on the ghats, or steps, surrounding the lake.
The lake and light combined to make a perfect mirror, but one shattered by the cacophony of amplified prayers. There's no place for quiet reflection in India.
The scene grew gaudier and noisier as the natural light faded.
A more spiritual person than I might have grabbed the opportunity to swim in the holy water, or at least dip a toe, but the colors of the nearby bazaar were way more appealing. Look at the hats
. . . the bracelets
. . . the tiny Hindu gods
. . . .and the bejeweled children's slippers.
No one, not even Dan, still proudly sporting his bindi, bought anything!
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