Friday, November 23, 2012

Time For Hopscotch

Once upon a time, nearly five centuries ago, there was a progressive Mughal emperor named Akbar who had a multi denominational love life.  He built Fatehpur Sikri, a beautiful palace with a public assembly hall and rooms for each of his three wives (a Muslim, a Hindu and a Christian).  Less than a decade later he abandoned it because there wasn't enough water.  Oh well.


Tansen, the father of Hindustani music, supposedly performed concerts on this platform.



Akbar also liked to play Pachisi, a board game in which members of his court served as tokens.  Sunil, our guide, told us it was a lot like what "Americans call hopscotch." We couldn't resist playing.


Here's Akbar's ornate assembly hall.  He presided from the central turret.


Akbar's Christian wife had the smallest room, which was decorated with frescoes.  Muslims subsequently rubbed away the heads of all living creatures because it's sacreligious to depict such things.  Who knew?


Fortunately, this lotus blossom survived.


We also visited Jama Masjid, a huge mosque in Fatehpur Sikri.  Many mosques in India share the same name.

 
How fierce is this imam?


 Simple repetitive patterns characterize many of the decorative motifs.


I'm pretty sure camel shoes are embedded in the mosque's enormous wooden doors.


This little goat helped keep the place clean.  They'll eat pretty much anything.  I think he's snacking on a candy wrapper.  Don't you love the way his horns curve around his ears?


Fatehpur Sikri is about 30 miles from Agra, the capital of Uttar Pradesh, and the home of the Taj Mahal.  En route to Agra, we passed a filling station where hundreds of 3-wheeled vehicles, called tuk tuks, waited in long lines for natural gas.


We got our first view of the Taj at sunset across the Yamuna River, which flows into the Ganges.  I specifically asked George to make sure he got the dome in this group shot, along with our heads.  He failed, but his smart-ass response produced the biggest smiles of the trip.


Our accommodations at the ITC Mughal paled in comparison to the night before although the bar wasn't bad and the food was better than any we'd had since dining in Delhi.


Thursday, November 22, 2012

An Unusual Thanksgiving

Chris and I escaped the grounds of the Greenhouse Resort for a brief visit to rural India shortly after dawn on Thanksgiving.  Water buffalos, not cows, provide most of the drinking milk in India.


These children were thrilled to see us.  When I showed them their pictures, I wondered if  they ever had seen digital images before.  In any case, I felt like the Pied Piper of India as they continued to follow us and send excited word among their neighbors.



This man carried firewood to his house.


These very serious children, waiting for a school bus, may have careers as doctors or lawyers in store for them.  Rajasthan has one of the highest literacy rates in India.  



After breakfast everybody boarded the van for another visit to the camel fair.  Thom and George didn't have any choice this time because we planned to drive back to Jaipur for an afternoon elephant safari.  Tom took his cue from Lawrence of Arabia.  If only the day had ended so happily!


The number of camels seemed to have multiplied overnight.  Notice how their front legs are yoked together so they can't run away.


Looks like this vamp really enjoyed her oatmeal.


Man and beast water at the same holes.



Steven and I were the first to saddle up.  The others boarded carts behind us.



I rode Krishna.  He (or she) was pretty ornery and kept spitting at the the 19-year-old driver. When I observed that his camel didn't look too happy, he said "Krishna always happy."


Matthew and Thom doubled up on Krishna.  She appears quite content now.  Maybe she's just not a morning camel.



Thom, uncharacteristically, decided to join some locals for tea as we left the fair.


We spent the rest of the day driving back to Jaipur but by the time we got to our villa--yes, our villa-- it was nearly dusk.  The Tree of Life made the Greenhouse look like a trailer park.  Unfortunately, we didn't have any time enjoy it.  This is where Thom and I roomed, by ourselves.


Nothing like lounging around on your window seat, after you've had an outdoor shower, been in the hot tub or had a massage.


I longed for a dip in the infinity pool but settled for a pose.  That's the dining hall behind me.


But like I said.  We had no time for any of this because we already were an hour late for our elephant safari, something I had been looking forward to since the Amber Fort.  Nothing like the prospect of riding two beasts of burden on a day most Americans associate with turkeys to get you going!  

Unfortunately, my Grand Poohbah-shot doesn't nearly begin to capture the experience of moving slowly through the fragrant brush in the dark, under a nearly full moon as you hear the call to Islamic prayer in the distance and servants hand you a bottle of beer from a torchlit temple along the way.


Here's my driver, whom I tipped heavily for offering to break the rules by jumping down and taking the previous shot while his elephant took a dump.  He made sure we were out of sight of the others.


Our safari ended with yet another buffet meal.  I don't think I've ever missed turkey quite so much.


Back at the villa, I marveled at this light fixture above my bed before drifting off to sleep in the second best hotel of our trip.




Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Next Stop: Pushkar

Here's another example of the sandstone architecture that makes people call Jaipur "The Pink City."  There's not much behind the pretty wedding cake facade.


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.  


Pilgrims lit little boats filled with ghee and marigolds.


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