Wow, you've come back for more of my drivel. (That was, obviously, yet another stab at self-deprecation. I am confident that my writing is more coherent than drivel. Whether you agree is of no concern to me.) Surely you've returned because of the cliffhanging conclusion to my last post...or you've completely run out of ideas to entertain yourself. As I detailed in my previous entry, I was feeling somewhere between miserable and suicidal when we landed in Jodhpur. My chest was throbbing, my throat was nearly swollen shut, and I was being deep-fried in what is apparently the hottest city in India. Yipee.
But there was no time for self-pity. After taking a "nap" of sorts, consuming a plethora of drugs, and stopping off for some vegetarian refueling at the hotel's rooftop restaurant, I joined the group in piling into a jeep bound for the Ossian Desert. Although our driver tried his damndest to make good time, rush hour traffic greatly retarded our progress. And by rush hour traffic...I mean cows. As you might know, the cow in Hindu society is traditionally identified as a caretaker and a maternal figure, and Hindu society honors the cow as a symbol of unselfish giving. Because of cows' elevated social status, their slaughter is legally banned in almost all states of India. As such, they are everywhere. Cows in the road, cows on the sidewalk, cows in the driveway (Jesus, I sound like Dr. Seuss). Furthermore, bovines are not the fleetest creatures and are painfully deliberate in their movements (read: they will always take their sweet time moving out of your way). See the images below to understand the severity of India's cow-caused traffic congestion.
After navigating our way through the cows, we finally made it to the Camel Camp (pictured below). Operated by a local tribal family, the facility offers tourists the unique opportunity to experience daily life in the arid desert region...and you get to ride a camel. (I know that you want to find out if I fell off a camel. Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't do a face plant into a sand dune. Stop here if that was the only reason you were reading in the first place.)
After settling in a bit, we strapped on our walking boots (not really) and marched up the sand dunes to take in the sunset. We engaged in friendly banter with some local children (one of whom would not stop badgering us for a pen...except when his cell phone rang) and took a couple snapshots as the sun descended towards the desert vista. Soon thereafter, we headed back to camp for a traditional Rajasthani meal. Cooked over an open fire (the hardworking chef can be seen above) and consumed on rugs set upon the dirt floor, the meal was a vast improvement over the filth that I had choked down back at the Delhi train station. Nan, rice, lentils, several curries; the local cuisine was much appreciated as I tried to rebound from my "viral."
Although the food was delectable, it was not the highlight of the evening. Following the completion of dinner, we assembled in front of a small campfire and prepared ourselves for a tribal song and dance extravaganza. For the most part, the program went as expected: a local band played the music, we didn't understand any of the words, and the performers repeatedly grabbed each of us to awkwardly join them in the dance party. However, the strangest part of the show was the woman who was the primary dancer. She was in a veil so we couldn't see her face, but I was a tad confused given her rather large hands and strong grip on my skinny wrist. (Well, skinnier than usual. I was a sick man.)
Although the group briefly debated the issue at the end of the evening, it wasn't confirmed until the next morning that the woman was actually a "woman." (For my slower readers: she was a he.) Why was a slender man in a dress dancing semi-lewdly in the middle of the Ossian Desert? Your guess is as good as mine. I fail to believe that there wasn't an actual woman who could have done the dancing. However, I can thankfully check off "dance with a cross-dressing Rajasthani in the middle of the desert" from my ever-expanding bucket list. (I don't know why I am bitching about this. If it had been a woman, I wouldn't have had anything to write besides: "We watched a dance show. It was fun." People barely read this stuff; I think that only my parents would read monotonous trip reports like that. And they would do so only out of love.) Anyway, you be the judge. Can you tell that the lanky figure in the photos above and below is a gent?
Enough with the impromptu game of "Guess the Tribal Dancer's Gender." We awoke the next morning before first light and saddled up on the backs of our enormous escorts. David (one fourth of the quartet of Brits that comprised my fellow volunteers) and I traversed the sand dunes while holding onto the weathered hump of Hera, our divinely named camel. (I'm sure that most of you don't care about the name of my assigned camel, but I like to think that my family appreciates these details. Pictured below is the load-carrying member of our group. Indeed, a face only a mother could love.)
Anyway, I managed to hold it together on the bumpy ride; loosely translated, this means that I did not accidentally trigger a camel stampede. (I briefly considered yanking on the reins so that I might goad Hera into popping a wheelie, but thought better of it as I was unsure of whether my health insurance policy covered camel-related accidents. Opportunity lost.) Besides that great success, I was treated to a beautiful sunrise and a sumptuous breakfast upon our return. (Despite my rather sullen expression in the third photograph, I did enjoy the morning feeding. And I also had the chance to photographically document my unintentional attempt at perfecting the Ace Ventura coiffure.)
After the camel caravan adventure, we headed for more densely populated pastures. Upon returning to Jodhpur, we visited the two principal tourist sights in town and (surprise, surprise) I snapped a few photographs. Below is an image-based tour around Jodhpur, known as "The Blue City." (The inspiration for the moniker should be obvious from the first photo.) I think that we can all agree that my photos provide sufficient insight into the Jodhpur experience. In fact, I think you could safely skip the city on your next India vacation because you've "seen it all" in this triumvirate of snapshots. You're welcome. (For those who are unamused by my feeble attempt at humor, the first shot is a cityscape and the bottom two are Fort Mehrangarh.)
Upon completing our tour of Jodhpur, we proceeded to the bus station (or, rather, the designated clearing beside the road) for our overnight transfer to Udaipur. After the disaster of an overnight train ride that I had experienced two nights prior, I didn't envision myself enjoying the ride. Fighting off an overwhelming sense of anxiety, I trudged onto the coach, wedged into my window seat, and tried to ignore the booming volume of the Bollywood film playing on the screen that was fastened to the back of the creaky door separating the passenger and driver compartments. (The Indians love their movie sound effects. In fact, they are used so often that it is not difficult to loosely follow the plot of a film without knowing a single word of Hindi. Every furrow of a brow, twitch of an eyelash, and flare of a nostril is accompanied by a screeching sound that elucidates the mood and motivations of the characters.)
Despite my disquiet, I managed to doze periodically throughout the 7-hour trip. Interrupted only for a "bathroom break" (which in India means that you get off the bus and the driver points to the side of the building that has been designated as a urine depository), I did not have any health issues during the evening. For once, my trepidation was unwarranted. After a mildly restful ride, we rumbled into Udaipur around 5 A.M., collected our belongings, and made our way to the volunteer apartment for some additional slumber. Our weeklong whirlwind through northern India was complete. Now came the hard part: living, teaching, and sleeping in 100 degree temperatures with no running water and unreliable electricity.
NB: I apologize for the delay in getting my India reports posted. The volunteer organization recently moved to a new apartment (with running water!) and my Internet access was cut off for nearly a week. In the interest of keeping you abreast of my current activities and whereabouts, I will try to post again as soon as possible about my teaching experience in Udaipur. I leave for another week of traveling tonight (a tiger safari and the Taj Mahal are on the itinerary...as well as two more overnight train rides) and am unsure of the availability of Internet access at our various destinations. In short, stay tuned and I'll try my best.
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