gone'splorin

Truth is, we almost cut Ranthambhore. Rhanthambhore National Park is where the majority of photographs of tigers in the wild have been taken. It is also where seeing a tiger is iffy at best. There are thirty five tigers roaming the almost 900 square kilometers of the Park. So do the math. Needle in a haystack? Kinda.

We debated endlessly about taking two days of our itinerary for a crapshoot. But we were feeling lucky. As it turns out, we should have bought a lottery ticket.

Out of the rooms at 6am, before sunrise, and for the first time in India, it’s chilly. We’ve had the briefing and learned that the great maharajas (and unnamed British royalty) nearly decimated a tiger population that numbered more than 40,000 less than 100 years ago. Now down to below one tenth that amount and only thanks to Indira Ghandi’s moratorium on tiger hunting and the formation of the national park in 1972.

Into our jeep and we’re off. In Ranthambhore there are five routes the jeeps can take, each is assigned at random and we draw route 3. Along a bumpy dirt trail, one could hardly call it a road, we go in search of Shere Khan. Tigers aren’t the only wildlife to be on the lookout for, says our guide. We see deer, spotted owl, antelope, gazelle, monkeys, wild boar (as ugly as you can imagine) and dozens of varieties of exotic bird. But no tiger.

Three hours later, it is time to leave the park after the morning ride and we’ve been skunked.

We head back to the hotel looking on the bright side, but feeling pretty low.

The afternoon ‘safari’ starts at 2 and we’re back in our jeep with a new driver, an new route and a new sense of anticipation. This time we’re sure we’ll see tiger, we can feel it. Our jeep heads off onto route number four and after about 500 yards we run into a little traffic jam of a couple other jeeps and lorries. There’s a buzz across the vehicles and lots of talking in Hindi between the guides. There’s a tiger just in the brush, our guide tells us. We crane our necks to see as we are not allowed out of the jeep. Sure enough I see a flash of orange in the brush and suddenly our jeep lurches forward dodging other jeeps to get a spot where our guide thinks the tiger is headed. Meanwhile we are all scrambling to get our cameras ready. By the time we stop and turn in our seats, there, peeking out between the branches are those two amber eyes. A little twist of position and I can get a clear view of the tigers head looking right at us. This is awesome.

We spend about 15 minutes watching the tiger and snapping pictures like little kids having our first ice cream cone. We spend the rest of the ride seeing wildlife of every shape and size, but it doesn’t matter. We got our tiger.

We have arrived in Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan on Diwali on the day the Indian stock market has just hit its record high and President Obama is winging his way toward India. The place is wild!

A bit like Times Square on New Years Eve wild…times a hundred. The streets are packed with people going every which way, which of course is the Indian way. Rickshaws and buses and motorcycles and pedestrians and BOOM! fireworks above your head and at your feet.

We cut down a narrow side street and see the most amazing sight. Women are walking, some together and some on their own, very peacefully, carrying small red clay dishes, each with a single candle in it. Some of the women have a tray with five or ten or more candles and others have just one. I watch as they move through the narrow street lit only by the lights in each shop until they stop in front of a small temple shrine and place their candles with the others that are already there.

The contrast between the chaos and the calm is striking. India’s scale of balance again at work.

Things are going to start changing for us again. Today we leave Jaipur and drive to the Ranthanbore wild game preserve in search of the elusive Bengal tiger. I hope to be able to get lucky and show you a tiger or two.

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’twas the day before Diwalli and all through the land, everything was moving, decorating, celebrating, a festival is at hand!

We are lucky enough to be here during Diwalli, a grand festival celebrated throughout India. It commemorates the return of one of the gods (and there are sooooo many gods) after 14 years in the woods. He’s back and that means every year at this time everyone celebrates. During Diwalli, commerce is very important. People shop and the stores paint and decorate to welcome everyone. We spent the afternoon walking through the streets where merchants of every type of good were out in force, and people crowded the streets smiling and laughing and shopping.

Today we learned why the Indian people are so very warm and friendly to each other…and to us. Most Indians are Hindu, and Hindu is very strong in their lives. There are over a billion gods and no one can know them all. The gods, in human form, walk among us and Hindus believe that a god will never be someone you already know. So the next stranger you meet could be a god and you will be blessed by their presence. We feel this from their eyes as our gazes connect. It is warm and genuine.

But today is only the day before Diwalli. Tomorrow we will be in Jaipur and the real party starts. We hear there will be fireworks all night long. We don’t know exactly what we’re in for but we are ready for anything!

The landscape and the climate have now completely changed. We’ve left the Thar desert in our rear view mirror and climbed, climbed up into the hills where the air is crisp and the breeze is perfect. Each part of India has it’s own unique identity. Now the turbans have a different shape, the eyes of the beautiful women a deep shade of chestnut and the saris in their brilliant hues contrast the rocky hillsides.

In Ranakpur’s magnificent Jain temple we cover ourselves out of respect to a tradition of those who worship without clothes on. No, we could not figure that out either but the gargantuan blocks of solid white marble that make up this structure are incredible.

On up into the mountains we continue, now we are in leopard country. A stop for chai and we learn not to wander the villages after dark as the yellow eyes will be watching. To Kumbalgargh and a wall so great around a fortress so strong that we are in awe once again that all this, all this is India.

En route today we plan and execute the perfect picnic along a lake in the country. Wine, sandwiches and sunshine!

Tonight we have settled in to a great palace on the lake in Udaipur. Surrounded entirely by water, Marci said to pretend I was on a mooring. It is beautiful and here is the sunset we enjoyed tonight.
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A Robert Klein routine from years ago included him imitating an Indian accent and saying “cows are sacred in my country.” We had no idea they actually rule India. Now having traveled hundreds of miles along every kind of road and every kind of city and village we have seen cows absolutely everywhere. On the highways they are in queue and brazenly stroll right down the middle of the road while cars, trucks and motorbikes dodge them from all directions. On hillsides, in valleys, and in the desert, on every single street…cows. They brush by you as you pass. They meander from one pile of garbage to the next, always getting a small meal. We had no idea how they subsisted until a local villager explained to us: the Indian people care for the cows each day. There is a person hired by the government in each village to fill water troughs placed on city streets. Women in every household prepare breakfast for the cows before they feed their own family. Want a second helping of dinner? The cows get all the leftovers from every meal.

And again there is balance. The cows eat the garbage on the streets…newspapers, boxes, all of it. In exchange, they leave piles of, well, you know, which are picked up by the water trough guy and later made into building materials for village huts. The cows move slowly, at peace with their surrounding which is actually chaos swirling around them. You can’t help but giggle uncontrollably as they strut, chewing their cud, and daring the traffic to just try and move them out of the way. Oh, to be a cow in India.

Beeeeeeep! Screech! Squeeze by. Turn left…right…STOP! Ouch (cow horn). Watch where you step! Welcome to the Jodhpur bazaar.

We have learned a great deal about how the Indian people have achieved a strong internal balance and no external balance. Nothing makes this clearer than the wondrous chaos on the streets of the bazaar. Words can’t describe it. Pictures won’t do it justice. I can only say wow. We walked through the endless maze of streets for over two hours going in and out of tiny shops, watching women in jubilant colors dodge rickshaws, playing with children whose smiles are as big as India.

They call it the Blue City. It is the Crazy City!

There’s something remarkable about watching the sun rise over the dunes in the desert. A feeling washes over that I can’t quite get in the US. The rhythm of the camel’s sure and steady gait, the tranquil sound of the small bells that hand from their neck and the miles of undulating sand combine to a kind of inner peace that is just not enough to overcome the displaced hip sockets and the saddle sores.

After getting comfortable atop our massively tall rides, we spent a beautiful morning through desert scrub, cascading sand dunes and lovely small villages home to herders and their families. It was a great experience that we all enjoyed and made the long rise to Jaisalmer very much worth it.

The Jaisalmer fort is a remarkable part of the city. Built by King Jaisal on the mer (hill) it is a study in old world craftsmanship that still lives today. Unlike the detail of the Duomo, the skill that carved the intricate designs in the sandstone, sculpture, really, is still present in new construction.

We continue to be amazed by all the colors. And our wonderful guide here put it all into perspective. It’s a beautifully simple matter of balance. Indians understand the world as a balance of many energies. For example, here in the north, you see, is barren desert, low brush and miles of brown with hazy skies. Seeking balance, the central and northern Indians began to add color to their wardrobes to both add brightness to their world and to celebrate their happiness. The vibrancy is visible especially in women’s clothing. Brilliant hues of pink, purple, blue and orange pop from the landscape, even at a distance. A slight nuance to this is the fact that unmarried younger women wear lighter colors, married women wear the brightest colors and widows are dressed in darker tones.

By contrast, in the south of India where the vegetation is lush and the flowers bloom, the color all around has dimmed the colors of the clothing. It’s a fascinating symbiosis between culture and nature.

This is why we travel. To learn what we can’t from books, to experience what we can’t on television, and to share with friends.

It’s been just twenty four hours but feels like half a lifetime. Landing in Delhi last night? It’s true but so much has happened since. Lets just start with the ride from the airport. In the US we paint lines on the highway denoting lanes. In India they do too. Except in India, it seems, nobody noticed. They drive this way and that way and this way and that way. Going past you, and coming at you! Just imagine taking all the lanes on the southeast expressway and scrambling them. You get the idea. And after the plane and the taxi to the hotel, we were ready for sleep, or at least sedation.

Up at dawn to the smoky haze hanging over Delhi…it’s to keep the bugs away. Uh huh. They do it on purpose. And on to our first real stop in India. Jaisalmer. The golden city. But getting there has been so spectacular! Since this morning we have been on the road through villages and towns in western Rajasthan and we have been immersed in the biggest smiles from the friendliest people we have ever met. Incredible India? You bet. Each one, young, old, men, women, welcomed us to their part of the pavement or storefront, or village corner with open arms and wide hearts. You can see by the photos that the villagers are full of life and laughter. They are also eager to have their picture taken. What a surprise! After I take their picture, they want to see it in the digital screen. They more picture I take, the more come over for their portrait. Marci has also drawn quite a crowd with her blond hair. It’s clear that they are as curious about us as we are about them.

We hurtled down the one and a half lane highway just missing bicycles, oncoming trucks and an overabundance of India’s favorite sacred farm animal…the cow. So many cows!

We arrive at Jaisalmer just before dinner. After getting showered and changed Mindy, Roger, Marci and I have dinner of a variety of Indian dishes which we wash down with warm gin. Warm gin you say?! Well, ice cubes are the big no no. They’re made of tap water. We also have a bottle of Indian red wine which is a surprisingly good blend of Shiraz and Cabernet Franc.

Tomorrow we’re off to the desert dunes atop camels!

It’s fitting I guess. If you’re going to a place that’s as culturally different as India it should take a long time to get there. Right now it’s that moment on the plane when you have to decide which timezone you want to exist in. Our fourteen hour flight is about halfway done. The cabin is full of sleeping people, lights are out and the outside air temperature is -70F. Newark time is 3am. Delhi time is 12:30 in the afternoon.
I’m going for Delhi time. I slept the first half, now I’ll try to be awake until we land at 8pm in hopes of avoiding jet lag. Hmmmm. We’ll see.
At least I was able to sleep. No thanks to the ambien that I asked Marci for. About twenty minutes after I took it on a full stomach I started to feel funny. Then queasy. Then full out nauseous. Then, uh oh, no bag in my seat pocket! Instead a frantic slalom course around passengers getting items which had shifted while in the overhead and flight attendants trying to pour cocktails. Yes I made it to the vacant lavatory. Just. They say you get sick in India, not on the way!
All that exercise must have made me tired because then I slept like a baby until noon.
The airline cabin looks a bit like they moved a bunch of dentists chairs into an orphanage. Dimly lit, stretched out chairs with various forms of fetal positioned blanket lumps and odd noises. Every so often the headmaster strolls the aisles looking critically at each navy blue mass with hair. The orphanage has periodic little earthquakes but none of us seem to mind. We all know we’ll be united with Mother India soon enough. Soon enough.
Just a short addition…as we flew over Afghanistan toward Delhi it was sunset with thick cloud cover. What seemed like not to far away were mountain peaks poking up above the clouds. As I gazed and thought about how beautiful it was, I began to see flashes on the mountain sides. My first thought was the plane’s flashing lights bouncing off the land. But the flashes were irregular and some dim and others quite bright. Then I thought about where we were and my heart sunk as I realized what I was seeing was probably the distant sights of war. How thankful we are that men and women volunteer to put themselves there so we can fly peacefully, and safely, by. It gives much more meaning to how lucky we are to have the opportunity for this trip.

Welcome!  We’re glad you’re here and are looking forward to having you join our trip.  We’ll try to post every day, but at least every other day based on wifi.  I’ll add photos as well as I’m sure the scenes will be great to share.  If you want to get notified when there’s a new post, just Subscribe on the right side of this page –>

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