To be a bathroom or to be locked in one, that is the question!

When traveling between Indian cities it is guaranteed that you will emerge from the cramped, humid train car or bus with colorful experiences (most of which are funnier to look back on than they were in the moment) . Arriving at 8am, my (supposed to be)  7am bus rocked and rolled back over Snake Mountain; the packed old bus slowly climbed up the mountain from Pushkar and flew at what should be (and probably is) an illegal speed down past Ajmer en route to Jaipur. At one of the stations, a family climbed abroad and, due to the volume of people, had to join the crowd of others standing in the aisle. My love of babies got the better of me and I immediately reached out and offered to old their tiny baby in my lap until they got a seat. As they eagerly handed her over I thought, 'As long as she doesn't cry the whole way or puke on me, I'm happy to cradle her along the bumpy ride.' On the bright side, she didn't throw up on me. On the down side, she peed instead- and cried. A lot. After about ten minutes she started wailing and I was the object of many a you-quiet-that-baby-down stare that I have admittedly thrown at babies on planes. Mid- bounce as I tried to quiet her down, my lap was suddenly soaking wet. Great. The parents- and everyone else around for that matter, thought it was hilarious and were all the more thankful that I was the recipient of her accident. Just as I thought that it was probably better that I didn't hold her for the four hours (my own body heat is enough thank you!)- I saw her, wrapped in a little blue towel, being handed back to me as if she was a piece of luggage making its way to the back of the bus. Luckily, she slept the rest of the way and I think her parents were a little too serious about having me take her back home with me! Jaipur was a great city- the explored the monkey, Surya, and Ganesha temples and found myself lost in the huge bazaar. Yet, given the sprawl, the pollution, and worst hassling I have yet experienced here, I think I prefer the smaller option (Jodhpur is the second largest city after Jaipur in Rajasthan)!

I left Jaipur on a 6am for a whirlwind day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. With all of the hype surrounding Indian trains/stations, I will admit that I was slightly nervous as I approached the HUGE station weighed down with my growing backpack.. the gifts/fabrics/jutis (shoes), and gifts just keep finding their way in! With the exchange rate of gifts for clothes/toiletries as I repack my bag with each city, I will most likely arrive home with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I was relieved when finding and boarding the train was actually very simple and I found my berth among the hoards of Indian families enjoying their summer vacations. As much as I tried to hold it for fear of what I might be confronted with, after 5 hours I couldn't fight the urge to use the bathroom. To put it bluntly, it was nothing more than a hole in the floor with a platform for each foot that looked down onto the threatening tracks below. Hey, at least it controlled the smell! As I went to unlock the door and go back to enjoying the trance-y Hindi music I found in Pushkar, I realized the door wouldn't open. I tried again and again to yank it open.. maybe it's just stuck? But it was no use- the little handle on the other side had locked me in from the outside. At that moment, I felt as though my stomach had fallen right down the hole and had been run over by the train. No windows, extremely loud rattling of the train car, and closed doors between the berth area and the bathroom. I started banging the door and yelling for help- looking back, I may have gone a little overboard with the hostage-like pleading, but with Agra approaching and no one to notice if I didn't come back to the berth, the thought of being lost to the world in the train bathroom warranted emergency! After a few minutes of knocking and slapping the door, the door was finally opened to the faces of a concerned looking mother and her daughter. Flustered, I found my way back to my seat and started brainstorming ways to avoid the bathrooms on my upcoming 11 hour (to Varanasi) and 20 hour (to Haridwar) train rides.

Pushkar's Happy Love

"All people who come to Pushkar have happy love for each other." My friend Laura (another solo girl I met from Denmark) and I met Rakesh the day of the monkey vs. camera near disaster. Speaking perfect English that he had only learned from befriending travelers as he sat in his little shack selling CDs and handmade bracelets at the foot of the mountain, he offered  to take the two of us to the little Shiva temple 8 kms up the road on his moped. Up for an adventure, we agreed to meet him at his 'shop' at 8am the next morning to head off into Pushkar's hills. The next morning, the three of us piled on to the little bike and sped off for the temple, passing through tiny hillside villages and goats on their way up the mountain for breakfast. We arrived at the tiny temple and sat on the cool marble floor as Rakesh told us stories upon stories ranging from his arranged marriage at the age of 16 to funny encounters he'd had with travelers over the years. He spoke of the connection that many travelers in Pushkar have ('very happy love') and the way that the magical town seems to seduce some into passing months before moving on. I thought of the friendly, funny people I had met over the last two days (a few of which I will be traveling with for the two days) and decided that this Rakesh's 'happy love' is indeed in the air. He described it as a good friendship with people you've only known for minutes- one of my favorite things about travelling.  Before we knew it, 4 hours and 3 cups of chai from the tiny chai shack had gone by so we again squeezed onto the bike and retraced our hill-carving trail.

Due to the incredible heat, I am lucky if I can sleep past 6:30am before I am drenched in sweat. Awake at the crack of dawn this morning, I decided I would wander down to the ghats and watch some morning prayers as the sun rose. When emerged from the sleepy market street onto the wide hot steps of one of the ghats, I was faced with more life than I could've imagined! Women washing their saris and drying them in the wind, families bathing, priests doing pooja, and small circles chanting sacred prayers. At first intimidated by the amount of activity and ease at which they simultaneously took place, I sat away from the main ghat to watch from afar. After watching for a few minutes, I couldn't help the urge to wander in and immerse myself in the colorful celebration of life, death, and cleansing. I stopped at the Bathing Ghat (where photography is not allowed) and sat with my feet in the pool-like area among the many that poured buckets over their heads, swam in the dark green water, and washed the feet of their elders. Although the men wore nothing more than thin loin-cloth like fabric as they bathed, the women wore full saris! I was soon surrounded by a group of old ladies in their soaking wet saris who asked me endless questions about my life, family (husband), and whether or not I knew their uncle who plays traditional Indian music at a restaurant in New York. I ended up sitting down in the ghats for close to three hours as the sun took its place over the lake and threatened the bathers with its nearing 110 degree temperatures.Despite the hoards of people, the sounds of the flocks of pigeons flying over head, mumbled prayers, temple bells clanging, and wet saris slapping against the hot steps hummed together into the most peaceful rhythm I have ever heard in my life.

Pushkar Passports

Nothing like 5 hours in a non-AC bus to think back on all of the wonderful experiences, work, and people that rest fondly in my memories of Jodhpur. At 11am yesterday I hopped on a bus to Pushkar, a small town to the East of Jodhpur known for its peaceful lake, plentiful hummus, and packed market selling everything from spices to silks. One of the 7 Sacred Cities, Pushkar packed with pilgrims who come to bathe in the lake and pray on the holy ghats. Since it is a tiny little town, I had to take a bus to the city of Ajmer where I would then take a 30minute public bus to Pushkar. Despite the heat, the pounds of dirt that cling to my sweaty skin, and precariously dangling feet of those sitting overhead in the sleeper berths, I have become a huge fan of bus travel. We sped (and I mean, SPED) through dry barren lands home to nothing more than a solitary temple, thought small towns whose narrow roads tease the rather large bus, and past small farm plots where women in sparkling saris hunched over weeding the land. At each stop young boys climb aboard vending ice cream, drinks, and oil drenched samosas and mirchi bara. Men, women, and children pile in and assume seats on the hot floor atop sacks of flour or sticks. Upon leaving each stop, the air reeks even more of deep fry, masala, and body odor. Men sip chai in roadside stalls and cows are just about thing only thing that will slow the bus down.

Expecting to be dropped of in the center of the city, I was a little more than surprised when, on the side of a truck congested highway, the man shouted 'Ajmer! Ajmer!' Well it definitely wasn't the Ajmer I was expecting but, here we go. As expected the sight of a solo traveler weighed down by a large backpack attracted the many rickshaw drivers eager to bring me to the government bus stand.. for the 'very Rajasthani price' of rs. 500. HAH! Finally getting a reasonable price, I found my way to the local bus station and just made it on to a bus bound for Pushkar. The drive was beautiful- one that involved a voyage over what is called 'Snake Mountain' a peak that, not surprisingly, is made up of switch backs and hairpin turns all the way up aaaand all the way down. For a bus that was far too large and going far too fast, the amount of breath holding/praying to not die moments were few! Monkeys lined the street, looking to me like they were just about to hop on the bus and head to Pushkar. Little did I know, I would have more than enough monkey business (literally) during my trip.

Immediately after getting off the bus I met another girl about my age from Denmark traveling on her on as well. We instantly joined up, got the same guesthouse, and were hoisted into a bike- drawn taxi- my bag overhead on the tarp 'roof,' hers underfoot, and the two of us crammed onto a tiny seat peddled by a man who probably weighed less than me. We then made our way to the main ghat just in time for sunset and were led in prayer by a priest who promptly gave us our 'Pushkar passports' red strings tied around our unmarried right wrists. With plates of yellow flowers, red paint powder, sugar, and rice we stepped into the cool water and set our pooja afloat among the men and boys bathing in the evening heat.

This morning we woke up at 7am to beat the heat as we made the hour long climb to the Savitri Temple, a small temple located at the top of a nearby mountain. Along the way we were stopped by families to enjoy chai, take photos with them, and explain for the thousandth time where we are from, why were are here, and where our husbands are. About half way up we encountered a group of monkeys perched in the middle of the steep stone 'stair case' that we huffed and puffed our way up for the last 20 mins under the already burning sun- beating the heat didn't end up working out. The roads and ghats are filled with monkeys down in the market, so we figured that it would be safe to take a few pictures and talk about how cute the babies that clung to their mothers fronts were. Well, just as I opened my bag to take out my camera, one of the more sizable monkeys of the bunch stands up on its back legs and bore its very sharp, very creepy looking teeth at us. Uh-oh I've read that these little, seemingly cute, guys can be very vicious. It started making its way toward us at an uncomfortably fast pace- not giving me enough time to decide whether to start to run or not. It ran up to me and grabbed on the the strap of my bag (teeth still out by the way)and started pulling it from me! Scared out of my mind that the thing was going to bite me or wrestle me down I leg go of my bag and scampered behind one of the 5 men that had come to watch the monkey vs foreigner show down. It took out my camera bag and started inspecting it, at which point I started yelling to the men to 'get it away and get the bag!!!! One of the guys ran up and snagged the rest of my bag from the little monster when we realized that there was a bag of prasad or blessed sugary candies in my bag that I had intended to leave at the temple. I throw the bag of sweets at the monkey at which point it put down my camera bag and greedily took the whole bag into a tree. Phew!

We spent the rest of the day relaxing on various rooftop restaurants, eating more hummus, and getting lost in the winding pathways of the market picking up colorful prints, jewelry, jutis, and mango lassis on the way. At the end of the day we found our way to 'sunset point' a beautiful ghat from which we watched sadhus praying in their bright orange robes as the sun sunk behind the jagged white and blue washed horizon of the town.