You can't get away from the heat... Unless you seek the shelter of a sandstorm.
The fan and the hot room serve as a perfect analogy for India. Constantly, things appear to be working, only to end up providing a less than perfect result. And vice versa. Nothing here is consistent with what I know, and ultimately I find myself perplexed over such simple things as the various stares and smiles I encounter during an average day. I don't really get it, I don't really understand it, and it's those two facts that help me maintain a certain level of patience with the absolute chaos and disorder--combined of course with the multiple, incredibly good, people that you have the opportunity to meet.
I took the audio tour of the Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur. It was simple, educational, thought provoking, and fun. I didn't care that my 20 minute walk had left me drenched in sweat, or that I had been followed by two different Rickshaw drivers who were trying to lure me into their rides for a swifter movement uphill. I got there early, and just enjoyed it: the views of the city and camel racing track, the absolutely stunning intricacy and craftsmanship of the buildings, and so much more. Shortly thereafter, I found myself lost in the twisting and turning alleyways of the Blue City , but was eventually set on the right path by a kind tailor who seemed pretty set on trying to sell me some Ali Baba pants. I told him I didn't have time, as I actually did have to meet up with a friend of the hostel owner to be 'shown around.'
A picture of a guard in the Mehrangarh Fort. I think that his name was Tariq. Either way, he was a pretty jovial fellow...
I was pretty sure of what this would entail. I told the guy that I wanted to find some block print cloth, because I could sew, and was interested in taking some home. I told him that I wanted nice quality stuff, but that I was a student, didn't have a lot of money, etc. Despite this, I knew that my words had fallen on deaf ears, and that I would be led around like the Westerner that I appeared to be. Of course, I was right, and off we headed into the humid afternoon. First stop: A suit shop. Where he got the idea that I wanted to buy a suit, I don't know. I tried, with increasing persistence, to explain that I only wanted block print fabric, or at least some electric blue linen. He agreed, but told me that we needed to stop at his friends convenience store, where we would enjoy some chai and a casual conversation. He slowly, but surely, introduced his companions to me, one by one, so that I could make sure to remember everybody's name. It didn't really even matter, as after the moment introductions were done, they all started to chatter rapidly in Hindi, ultimately leaving me out of the conversation--one of the more rude things that people can do. I kind of just laughed it off, and enjoyed the fact that I was inside an air conditioned building for the first time since I had arrived in India. The chai arrived, and I declined, as I was kind of sketched out and put off by my hosts complete lack of consideration. He eventually paused every now and then to talk with me about random things like American girls and drugs, sketching me out even more. Eventually, his cousin started passing around little black beads for each of the men to put in their tea. After scouring my brain for what it could be, it dawned on me: Opium. At that point, I tried to do what I could to overtly express the fact that I wanted to get the hell out of there, and eventually just walked out and hopped in a Rickshaw. When I got back to the hostel, I packed up my stuff and got ready to get out of Dodge and head west to Jaisalmer.
I didn't end up leaving until the early morning of the next day, because the train was full the night before. Either way, I was kind of glad to relieve myself of the awkward experience that was Jodhpur and get on with the trip. I boarded the train, after being unable to figure out which car was S4 (posted absolutely nowhere), sat down and sighed. I offered some crackers to the members of the Indian Armed Forces sitting next to me--they appreciatively accepted--and I had made some new friends. Unfortunately, they weren't in my compartment, which was shared with two starers, who either were so incredibly fascinated by my wild hair and height that they could do nothing but keep a straight face, or else they wanted me off of their train. For the next seven hours in the dust and heat, I sat there, while they stared at me. I offered a biscuit, they stared (after accepting of course). Nothing could crack the intentness of their new (or old) habit.
After finally arriving in Jaisalmer, I was greeted by Saruk, the manager of the Artist Hotel--a cooperative developed some odd years ago through the teamwork of an artist colony and an Austrian expat--and was led away on a motorcycle, down the beaten path, to a little peace and quiet. I was the only person staying at the hotel, which allowed me an opportunity to be alone, something I've finally started to truly enjoy.
The town of Jaisalmer is on the edge of the Thar Desert, and close to the border of Pakistan. It's widely known as the Golden City, because of the way it's buildings and Fort blend into the sand from a distance. It's also got a reputation for some badass camel treks into the proximate desert, and it's Bhang Lassis (think marijuana shake). It's quiet this time of the year, there's no pollution, and life just seems to roll by at an easy pace. It was just what I needed after navigating my way through three cities easily described as human ant-colonies.
The main entrance to the fort of the Golden City of Jaisalmer
The Fort in Jaisalmer is supposedly the only 'living' fort in the entire world...
In Jaisalmer, I didn't do a camel trek, nor did I drink the mythical Bhang Lassi. I rested, strolled, and picked the brains of any person willing to chat--particularly the Austrian expat that helped start the Artist Hotel. I was keyed in on multiple issues surrounding the artist community, given a brief lesson in the caste system, and discussed the intricacies of Indian spices--something I know absolutely nothing about. It was an easygoing and relaxing experience, that is, until a storm came through.
I woke up about five times in the middle of the night, as a result of dust, rain, hail, wind, broken glass, shear heat, anything--you name it. Somehow, I managed to slumber through the most of it. When I awoke the next morning, all of the straw roofs of each and every house that surrounded the building was blown off. Bricks and morter, reduced to piles on the still soft ground. Yet, despite this, everything seemed to be fine. People were smiling, playing music, and picking up the pieces. I was kind of in shock. If that happened in the US, everybody would stand around and talk about what to do, before not doing anything... Though it made sense to me, it seemed... illogical? I don't know how to explain it. Most things here have defied what I know about the 'proper' or rational way of doing things... Anyway, in less than a day, things were cleaned up, roofs were reattached, and life kept on going. The same girl was still sitting outside waiting for me to walk by so she could ask me for rupees and the sun was just as hot.
I left later that afternoon, on a 14 hour train ride for Jaipur--where I am right now. After my experience on the short jaunt from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer, I was dreading every second of it. I sat down in my seat, and was immediately greeted by a 13 year old boy named Deepa, and a family of four whose little baby couldn't stop staring at me. For once, I didn't mind the staring, and I felt a little less serious. The final ounces of tension fled my body after I was offered a piece of sweetcake, and I thanked the mother in Hindi. The entire train car erupted in laughter and glee that I was trying to learn the language. I answered the general questions, and the family offered me some of their dinner. Then, for the next four hours--until darkness fell--I received a lesson in Hindi from the 13 year old that I won't forget any time soon (though most of the Hindi words were lost on me).
Tomorrow, it's off to Kolkata... Should be a good time.
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