This is our ninth (?) day in India, and we're already well behind on blogging, which I'm going to blame on a combination of being too intimidated by the intense level of detail on Patrick's last entry, dodgy WiFi, and this bloody tablet deleting half of what I wrote last time I sat down to do this. Alors, we pick up in the desert, where Patrick left you, dear Reader, post camel ride.
In short, we woke with the Friday dawn and watched the sun rise from a sand dune, cosy in our sleeping bags, before pulling ourselves together over a hot cup of masala chai. Jeeps took us back to the city of Jaisalmer, stopping en route at the "ghost city" Kuldhara. We spent a relaxing afternoon back in the city, returning to the Sunrise Cafe on the ramparts for a ridiculously scenic lunch, before a genuinely pleasant shopping experience with Pappu, and chilling out in the hotel's oh-so-comfortable beds. We finished the day with dinner with most of the group at a delightful "Italian" restaurant built into the fort walls. We were also able to look down on a wedding procession, and after dinner Patrick was head-butted by a very affectionate cow, which we all declared excellent good luck. Saturday morning we hit the road for Jodhpur, stopping once on the way on purpose (to meet the girls and women of the Sambhali Trust) and once not on purpose when the truck got stumped by an arch, adding a few dozen km to the journey. It's now Sunday and we're entering night two at the gorgeous and verdant Mandore Guest House, having spent the day in Mehrangarh Fort. Phew!!!! See - we're too damn busy doing stuff to write about it!
Worthy of further discussion is Kuldhara. A few stories exist about how it came to be deserted, but the favourite seems to be that some sort of despot demanded to marry a teenage girl from this city in the 1700s. Rather than let him have her, the entire population of the city up and left as one, all abandoning their homes in an act of solidarity. To make the story even juicier, they left a curse on the village, and no one has ever moved in to resettle the dozens of abandoned stone homes. I googled it when we returned to the hotel, and the first result discussed how the Delhi Paranormal Society got all kinds of strong ghost readings. I can't claim to have felt any eery disembodied hands on a sunny Friday morning whilst clambering up to rooftops, but it was fascinating to see the crumbling original buildings whilst labourers continued to restore a few of them. I certainly recommend further Google and YouTube investigation.
I've always wanted to experience an Indian wedding, and watching a street procession from atop a fort wall was a pretty tame introduction. It was led by a truck with 2-metre high speakers blaring what I can only assume were Bollywood favourites, as the army of colourful sari-wearing women following it were very coordinated in their dance moves. Less choreographed were all the men bouncing along in the parade too- I think more than a few probably weren't connected to the wedding but just wanted to join the party! Bringing up the rear was a resplendent white horse, very richly decorated, being ridden by the groom, who was apparently emulating some sort of royalty, given his towering turban crown and all the jewels. I think getting married must be quite profitable for Indian men because as I watched from the ramparts, most passersby came up to the slowly marching horse, circled a rupee note in an always identical figure 8 in front of the groom's chest, then handed the cash to one of the two attendants on either side of the horse, who were collecting their friend's money so he could remain holding the reins in a stately manner.
After leaving Jaisalmer Saturday morning, we spent the afternoon at a really special place that Dragoman supports- the Sambhali Trust, for the empowerment of Rajistani women and girls. Boys and girls from 4-15 years can come to the centre after school to learn additional skills, such as English and hygiene, and do arts and crafts. Older girls, and women of all ages also use the centre to build skills that allow them to earn an independent income, mainly sewing bags and clothes. It's separate from the local schools, but completely free for those who wish to attend their classes, as it's supported by various foreign organisations. The three teachers that were there told us a bit about themselves - they were mostly young, and "graduates" of Simbhali themselves! Puja told us about the project and both our group and all the children shared names. They sang some songs and we were invited to do the same- the best we could come up with was "the wheels on the bus go round and round," so the kids definitely have us beat in their cultural skills there! After a very tasty lunch prepared by Puja, we spent the afternoon playing with the kids. An impromptu turban-tying competition was arranged, a football was kicked around with Vincent, Ida's long blonde hair was admired and braided, Patrick and Sophie got far too competitive in some sort of Red Rover field game, and the girls all wanted to practise henna on us. It's a really fantastic place, and the joy of the girls is really evident.
Though we don't have too much to compare so far, Jaisalmer was easily my favourite city in India - not just because of the marvelous sites, but because there is so much less hassle and hustle! Tuk-Tuk drivers may ask if you want a ride, and shopkeepers may ask if you want to look at their wares, but they accept a polite no, without pressuring. Pappu - who we bought some textiles from - certainly understood how much this is appreciated by tourists! In fact, he was the first local I've had a proper conversation with- he told me about growing up in the fort (born and raised!) and asked about where we live in London. When I asked about his children, he told me about them, then asked all about the cats (which I said were what we have instead!). All this was post sale, when he could have easily been back outside the shop drumming up more business. Lucky Patrick got to hop on the back of a motorcycle for an undoubtedly thrilling ride through the tiny alleyways to find an ATM.
We have many fond memories of Jaisalmer but now- Jodhpur!
(Patrick here; yes. The motorcycle ride through the twisting streets of an ancient fort was thrilling indeed. Credit goes to Rohit, who didn't kill anyone in the process, despite many, many opportunities.)
In short, we woke with the Friday dawn and watched the sun rise from a sand dune, cosy in our sleeping bags, before pulling ourselves together over a hot cup of masala chai. Jeeps took us back to the city of Jaisalmer, stopping en route at the "ghost city" Kuldhara. We spent a relaxing afternoon back in the city, returning to the Sunrise Cafe on the ramparts for a ridiculously scenic lunch, before a genuinely pleasant shopping experience with Pappu, and chilling out in the hotel's oh-so-comfortable beds. We finished the day with dinner with most of the group at a delightful "Italian" restaurant built into the fort walls. We were also able to look down on a wedding procession, and after dinner Patrick was head-butted by a very affectionate cow, which we all declared excellent good luck. Saturday morning we hit the road for Jodhpur, stopping once on the way on purpose (to meet the girls and women of the Sambhali Trust) and once not on purpose when the truck got stumped by an arch, adding a few dozen km to the journey. It's now Sunday and we're entering night two at the gorgeous and verdant Mandore Guest House, having spent the day in Mehrangarh Fort. Phew!!!! See - we're too damn busy doing stuff to write about it!
Worthy of further discussion is Kuldhara. A few stories exist about how it came to be deserted, but the favourite seems to be that some sort of despot demanded to marry a teenage girl from this city in the 1700s. Rather than let him have her, the entire population of the city up and left as one, all abandoning their homes in an act of solidarity. To make the story even juicier, they left a curse on the village, and no one has ever moved in to resettle the dozens of abandoned stone homes. I googled it when we returned to the hotel, and the first result discussed how the Delhi Paranormal Society got all kinds of strong ghost readings. I can't claim to have felt any eery disembodied hands on a sunny Friday morning whilst clambering up to rooftops, but it was fascinating to see the crumbling original buildings whilst labourers continued to restore a few of them. I certainly recommend further Google and YouTube investigation.
I've always wanted to experience an Indian wedding, and watching a street procession from atop a fort wall was a pretty tame introduction. It was led by a truck with 2-metre high speakers blaring what I can only assume were Bollywood favourites, as the army of colourful sari-wearing women following it were very coordinated in their dance moves. Less choreographed were all the men bouncing along in the parade too- I think more than a few probably weren't connected to the wedding but just wanted to join the party! Bringing up the rear was a resplendent white horse, very richly decorated, being ridden by the groom, who was apparently emulating some sort of royalty, given his towering turban crown and all the jewels. I think getting married must be quite profitable for Indian men because as I watched from the ramparts, most passersby came up to the slowly marching horse, circled a rupee note in an always identical figure 8 in front of the groom's chest, then handed the cash to one of the two attendants on either side of the horse, who were collecting their friend's money so he could remain holding the reins in a stately manner.
After leaving Jaisalmer Saturday morning, we spent the afternoon at a really special place that Dragoman supports- the Sambhali Trust, for the empowerment of Rajistani women and girls. Boys and girls from 4-15 years can come to the centre after school to learn additional skills, such as English and hygiene, and do arts and crafts. Older girls, and women of all ages also use the centre to build skills that allow them to earn an independent income, mainly sewing bags and clothes. It's separate from the local schools, but completely free for those who wish to attend their classes, as it's supported by various foreign organisations. The three teachers that were there told us a bit about themselves - they were mostly young, and "graduates" of Simbhali themselves! Puja told us about the project and both our group and all the children shared names. They sang some songs and we were invited to do the same- the best we could come up with was "the wheels on the bus go round and round," so the kids definitely have us beat in their cultural skills there! After a very tasty lunch prepared by Puja, we spent the afternoon playing with the kids. An impromptu turban-tying competition was arranged, a football was kicked around with Vincent, Ida's long blonde hair was admired and braided, Patrick and Sophie got far too competitive in some sort of Red Rover field game, and the girls all wanted to practise henna on us. It's a really fantastic place, and the joy of the girls is really evident.
Though we don't have too much to compare so far, Jaisalmer was easily my favourite city in India - not just because of the marvelous sites, but because there is so much less hassle and hustle! Tuk-Tuk drivers may ask if you want a ride, and shopkeepers may ask if you want to look at their wares, but they accept a polite no, without pressuring. Pappu - who we bought some textiles from - certainly understood how much this is appreciated by tourists! In fact, he was the first local I've had a proper conversation with- he told me about growing up in the fort (born and raised!) and asked about where we live in London. When I asked about his children, he told me about them, then asked all about the cats (which I said were what we have instead!). All this was post sale, when he could have easily been back outside the shop drumming up more business. Lucky Patrick got to hop on the back of a motorcycle for an undoubtedly thrilling ride through the tiny alleyways to find an ATM.
We have many fond memories of Jaisalmer but now- Jodhpur!
(Patrick here; yes. The motorcycle ride through the twisting streets of an ancient fort was thrilling indeed. Credit goes to Rohit, who didn't kill anyone in the process, despite many, many opportunities.)
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