yeh mera india

Wow, where do I even begin in summing up my thoughts on India?   Given that we spent more than two months there, I fear this post may read like a Bollywood movie script, at least in length…

When we were planning this trip, Aman understandably warned me about every likely scenario that we might encounter in India…  You might not have as much privacy as you are used to in the States… People might be very insistent on what, when and how much you eat…  We might run into someone in the crowd who has really unfortunate and offensive body odor…  I, having spent many a childhood summer in Greece, largely scoffed at the suggestion that I could not handle such circumstances.  I can take a nosy, pushy, smelly person any day of the week, I joked.  I’ll survive. 

And, with the help of more Pepto Bismol than I have ever needed in my life, I not only survived – I loved India.

India is a country of many things, especially contrast.  In Rajasthan, a state in the Northwest bordering Pakistan, we traveled along highways that gave view to modern, state-of-the-art wind farms in the distance.  Yet, more immediately in front of us, we passed weather-beaten men in camel-drawn carts.  From our room in Mumbai, we could see the dirty corrugated metal roofs of a nearby slum.  But amazingly, several of the huts appeared to have the luxury of satellite cable dishes.  And, in a magazine article that I recently read while traveling through Kerala, the author fairly pointed out that India is a land where people somehow have more access to cellphones than toilets. 

During our stay in India, we traveled a lot.  In fact, we visited a number of cities in nine different states:  Delhi, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Goa, Maharashtra, Kerala, Karnataka, Pondicherry and Punjab.  I know we have already shared tales of some our adventures in Delhi and Agra/Vrindavan (in Uttar Pradesh) here and there.  But, for posterity, we thought we’d add a little something about everything else.

Rajasthan         

Rajasthan (literally, Land of Kings) sits in and around the Aravallis, one of the world’s oldest mountain ranges.  It is bordered on the west by the Thar Desert and, beyond, Pakistan.  I was told, before we arrived, that the people of Rajasthan have a pride in their unique local heritage like no other.  Indeed, this is a place full of massive forts and palaces, which has a rich history about Rajput emperors, maharanis and long-fought heroic battles.

Our plan to see Rajasthan was formed roughly in New York, months before we arrived in Delhi and, in finer detail, during the days before our mid-December departure.  In a last minute, fortunate turn-of-events, it was decided that two of Aman’s uncles (a first-class entourage) would come with us.   The four of us made our way out of Delhi via the ajmer shatabdi (express train), which was quite comfortable – a far cry from the stereotypical image that some folks may have when it comes to Indian rail travel.  The Delhi railway station, on the other hand, is exactly what you would expect (i.e., hawkers, touts, and the miscellaneous shady types).  We approached the train in a solid v-formation, with one uncle leading the pack, one uncle bringing up the rear, and Aman on my right.  Naturally, I was concerned about the vulnerability of my left side, but … I got over it.

The train ride itself was fairly uneventful. I spent most of it peering out the windows, soaking up the sight of the passing landscape, which grew increasingly mountainous as we got further and further from Delhi.  Because the train windows were either dirty or tinted (a likely mix of both), everything had a sepia-colored tint to it, which seemed appropriate, as some of the rural villages were reminiscent of an earlier era. 

After four hours, we reached our first destination: Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, also known as the “Pink City.”  Upon disembarking in the chaotic train station, I did not feel as though we had come very far from Delhi.  But, as soon as we began driving through the congested streets of the old city, it was impossible not to notice some immediate differences.  The women, for example, dress way more colorful than women in Delhi.  Everywhere you looked, there were women dressed in vivid shades of canary yellow, peacock blue, and emerald green. 

We first went to Amer Fort, which was probably our favorite among the many forts that we would see over the course of the week.  We spent two or more hours there, touring the extensive grounds, taking in the incredible fortress walls containing the old city, and listening to our very knowledgeable guide tell us about the history of the Rajput clan who once ruled the grounds.  Apart from the incredible history, my favorite moment was when a random Indian woman tapped my shoulder and dropped her two kids on either side of me, indicating to me that she would like a photo:

Aman, of course, was busy taking spectacular photos:

From Amer Fort, we headed up to nearby Nahargarh Fort, which was used as a treasury for the emperors of Amer Fort.  Legend has it, that untold riches are still buried somewhere within the walls of the compound.   We didn’t find it, but we did take some more cool pictures:

Our second day in Jaipur started with a refreshing cup of chai in the courtyard of our hotel (a simple, yet comfortable haveli) and a tuk-tuk ride to the City Palace complex.  As much as I love a tuk-tuk ride any day of the week, this was quite possibly the loudest way to start the day.  We crawled along the crowded streets, horns blaring in morning traffic from absolutely every direction.  Chaos, at its finest.

At City Palace, our guide pointed out the ramps (not stairs) connecting the complex from floor to floor.  This, I learned, was convenient for the maharanis, who apparently wore such heavily bejeweled dresses and other gems that they couldn’t walk.  Hence, they were put in “wheelchairs,” and rolled around all day.  (NB: a firm historical example of women wearing things they cannot function in.  Suddenly I do not feel so bad about the last time I put on a pair of four-inch heels that took skill to walk in.)   

Before leaving Jaipur, we also visited Jantar Mantar (an impressive playground of ginormous astronomical instruments built by Maharaja Jai Singh II between 1727 - 1734) and took an unguided tour of the Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds, built by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh for the royal women to look out onto the busy streets of town).   By this time, we had been on three guided tours that were starting to sound similar and we felt familiar enough with the commentary to make it up, for sport, ourselves.  (For example, the windows in all of these forts and palaces were built so that the women could see out, but no one could see in.)

Jantar Mantar:

Hawa Mahal:

Day three in Rajasthan reinforced a lesson learned quickly since I had arrived in India:  nothing, nothing, NOTHING, happens on time in India!!  7 o’clock in the morning means 8 o’clock, 8 a.m. means 10 a.m., and 10 a.m. means sometime shortly after lunch….

We had an eight-hour ride from Jaipur to Udaipur, which involved an early morning wake-up and a long day in the car.  Planning to be on the road by 7 a.m., we were on our way around 8:30…   The ride took us through rural farmlands and past marble mines (The Rajasthan region is very well-known for its marble exports – hence, lots of oversize flatbed trucks hauling huge slabs of stone.) 

Along the way, we made a brief stop in Pushkar to visit the only Brahma temple in India.  A relatively calm town with no motor traffic through the main shopping area, Pushkar was a nice contrast to the chaotically busy streets of Jaipur.  Back on the road, we made only two additional pit stops.  The first stop was for lunch.  We stopped the second time after something shiny in one of the roadside shops caught our attention.  Back in the car fifteen minutes later with a fine new sword and four Kingfishers, we pressed on. 

We arrived in Udaipur after nightfall, and drove through labyrinth-like alleyways (I don’t know how our van managed to fit down some of them…) until we found our hotel.  

Udaipur is well regarded as the most romantic city in India.  It is a very, very picturesque little town built upon Lake Pichola.  The lake is home to a palace, where the royal family used to live during the hot summer months, but which is now an exclusive five-star resort.  If you take a boat ride on the lake (which we did – very relaxing), you can see the sprawling City Palace complex, where the royal family still conducts business, in the background.

 

 

Our favorite part of Udaipur though was Monsoon Palace.  Built high in the mountains, it was previously used by the royals during the rainy months (as its name might imply…).  It sits empty now, but still has spectacular views of the city and is a good place for watching the sunset:

 

From Udaipur, we trekked on to Jodhpur (famous for its trousers?) along a carefully planned route that involved a brief stop in Ranakpur, a small town in the middle of nowhere, hidden in the mountains.  Ranakpur is home to one of the most beautiful Jain temples in India.  It is about 600 years old and has 1,444 intricately carved pillars, no two of which are alike.  Not very many tourists, and incredibly peaceful:

 

 

By the time we pulled into Jodhpur, it was too late to do much else besides grab dinner.   We checked out a few places before we found one that we liked (On the Rocks), which had outdoors tables seated around small bonfires.  Cozy.  Sometime between leaving for dinner and getting home, however, Aman lost our hotel key….  So our night ended with a scrappy-looking kid from reception showing up at our padlocked door with an old shoebox full of unmarked spare keys.  He tried them, one by one, for a good fifteen minutes before finding one that worked. 

The next morning, we took a quick tour of Mehrangarh Fort, which provides amazing views of Jodhpur, also known as the “Blue City”:

 

The fort itself was also very cool.  Our guide, probably my favorite of all the guides we used in Rajasthan (in small part, because he had a habit of calling me “the maharani from New York”), told us fascinating tales of Takhat Singh, the famous maharaja who had 29 wives and 31 concubines (busy dude).

After completing our tour, we jumped in the car and started towards Jaisalmer, a desert town close to the Pakistan border where we had plans to spend the night camping in the dunes.  The drive to Jaisalmer was easily one of the best rides in Rajasthan.  As we approached the outskirts of the desert, there was less and less traffic.  The majority of the cars on the road were slow moving military caravans – we passed by a lot of them.  No traffic lights or stop signs, we slowed only in order to avoid the many goats and cows that wandered aimlessly about.  The landscape around us became more arid looking.  And, against the barren hills with the occasional lonely shrub, the brightly dressed women walking along the roadside stood out beautifully.    

Perfect timing, we reached our camp in the Thar Desert just as the sun was starting to get low.   We had just enough time to throw our stuff in our tents and grab a couple of camels! 

As you might expect, our night in the desert was exceedingly cold.  We woke up the next morning in a state of semi-frozenness, and got moving towards town, where we spent our second night in Jaisalmer. 

Jaisalmer, by the way, is known as the “Golden City” (detecting a theme yet?).   Its fort is unique in that it is still inhabited by a quarter of the city’s population.  It is one of the last forts in the world that still have people living within its walls. 

We really enjoyed the fort.  For no reason at all, we opted not to hire a guide this time even though some of our previous guides were very good and they proved helpful for pointing out some of the little things that might otherwise go unnoticed.  We wandered around aimlessly, and got lost along the narrow corridors of the fort city until we got hungry enough to have to stop.  We found an awesome little Tibetan place with rooftop dining, Kingfishers and good momos (Tibetan dumplings, one of our faves).  Amazing views:

From the fort, we meandered through the market back to our hotel, another darling little haveli with beautiful courtyards.  The market was typical of many other markets we saw in Rajasthan.  Seven-by-ten foot stalls lining either side of a twisting dusty lane and offering for sale any imaginable goods or services:  vegetables, fruits, home goods, leather crafts, clothing, jewelry…tailors, pharmacists, mechanics, barbers.  You can find absolutely anything you need. 

When we woke the next morning, we made our way back to Jodhpur for one last night – it was either back to Jodhpur or head through Bikaner, a town whose claim to fame is a temple dedicated to the worship of rats…. rats, as in, there are thousands of live rats running around.  Umm, no thanks.  I mean, we are pretty open-minded people, but no thanks. 

Going back through Jodhpur also gave as the opportunity to go zip-lining over the garden grounds of Mehrangarh Fort, something that we would have tried on our first pass through town if time had permitted.  It was awesome – you have the fort on one side of you, the Blue City on your other side, and lakes and deep crevices that used to protect the fort from attack beneath you.  On the last run, you fly right over the moat and a low wall straight back into the fort.  (Wonder if guarding the fort from tourists is something the king ever thought of…  I bet not.)

Me, coming in backwards after losing momentum at the last moment:

  

The mama-jis, zipping in style:

Later that afternoon, we checked into the Ranbanka Palace, which was, by far, the nicest hotel that we stayed at during our Rajasthan travels.  The room was comfortable and tastefully decorated, with a nice terrace overlooking a huge courtyard.   We relaxed for a short while before Aman and I made our way for a romantic dinner at Umaid Bhawan, another former palace that has been converted into a five-star hotel.  From the food to the service, we both thought that dinner was exquisite.  After we were done eating, we took our glasses of wine to the roof via a spiral staircase that was virtually wallpapered in old black-and-white pictures of tiger hunts and the coronation ceremony of the current king (he took the throne at four years old).  Very cool place.

The next day, our trip came to an end with a five-hour drive from Jodhpur to Jaipur and a four-hour train ride from Jaipur to Delhi.   As we stood on the platform waiting for the train and watching Bollywood music videos on a nearby television screen (of course), our little traveling group marveled at how our gear had somehow grown to fifteen pieces of luggage, boxes, and/or bags of personal effects…  At this rate, it’s going to be a truly backbreaking year for Aman and me.

Goa

After Rajasthan and a month in and around Delhi (celebrating our engagement, etc.), Aman and I boarded a plane to Goa where we spent a week in early January.  The yogi in me was beyond excited about this portion of our India visit, as I had been looking forward to Goa more than any other city on our itinerary.   And in retrospect, at the end of over two months of traveling through the Motherland, Goa ranks number one as our favorite place visited in India.

Our flight from Delhi to Goa arrived around sunset.  As the plane lowered from the sky, we watched the colorful landscape come into view below.  Houses painted in Easter-egg shades of purple, blue, pink and orange, poking out of the green treetops, became increasingly visible as we approached the ground.

By the time we got out of the airport and found our driver, it was dark.  We made our way to Yab Yum Resorts, a fabulous beachfront hideaway (literally, unmarked by any signs) in Northern Goa that we discovered through a friend whose cousin works there as the yoga instructor.   As we drove to the resort, under cover of night, it was impossible to see much along the way.  Nevertheless, Aman and I chattered happily about how pleasantly warm it was and how it smelled like the beach.  The first (and only) noise we heard when we got to Yab Yum was the nighttime roar of the Arabian Sea, meters away.  

We checked ourselves in, secured our stuff in the room, and made our way to dinner.  It had gotten late, and we were famished.  Our destination, a suggestion from the staff at the front desk, was the Pagan Café.  Not ten minutes down the beach, we found the softly lit, thatched-roof restaurant with a happy, and haphazardly arranged, mess of tables and chairs facing the sea.  A bit of a dive, it was comfortably crowded.  We got situated and looked at each other, enthralled by the chill vibe.  Aman looked at me, and joyfully declared, this works.

We spent our first day relaxing and taking in the scene at Ashvem beach, where Yab Yum sits.  After falling in love with the Arabian Sea (the water is not Caribbean blue, but it is clean and plenty warm enough), I spent much of my time onshore under an umbrella reading Shantaram (amazing book, perhaps the most popularly read book for tourists in India), while Aman read Investment Biker (thank you, Bridget Killackey). 

That night, Aman was anxious to go explore but I managed to convince him to stay local and hit another one of the beach cafes for dinner.  We settled on the Aladdin Cafe for a barbecued feast of grilled stuffed calamari, grilled fish and tandoori chicken.  It was delicious, not to mention, a well-needed break from the heavier North Indian cuisine that we had been eating throughout December.  And just when we thought the night might turn dull, we met a hilarious Englishman named Rolf.  I had recognized him sitting nearby as a man we saw earlier in the day at Yab Yum.  Within moments of striking up a conversation, Aman and I liked him immediately and the three of us spent the rest of the night cracking jokes and telling stories over drinks.  After several rounds, we lost poor Rolf on the way back to Yab Yum when he decided to take a late night, moonlit swim in the ocean.  Yup, first complete stranger to be Sharmed*, check.  

*(to be sharm -ed, verb, 1. to indulge in drinks happily and excessively in the joyful company of Aman Sharma, may lead to occasional memory loss) 

The next day, we really got settled in when we moved into our dome:

(Since no domes were available when we first checked in, we spent the first two nights in one of the cottages.  Cottages are totally fine, but the domes are really special.  Read:  Book your dome early folks.)

 

We also spent the day cruising around on our Honda Stunner:

Not really having an agenda or schedule to keep, we aimed towards Anjuna beach.  A more popular and crowded beach than Ashvem, there was a bustle of hawkers (mostly women dressed in bright sarees) selling everything from sarongs to bangle bracelets to beachside massages to CDs to coconuts.  And, of course, the occasional stray cow: 

We fumbled our way home and, in the process, found the most popular Greek restaurant (Thalassa) in Northern Goa… oh, did I mention that it was located on a cliff overlooking the water?  And, that we got there right as the sun was starting to set?  OPA!!  The venue was ideal, and we both thoroughly enjoyed the meal (tasty mezze, Greek salad, calamari, lamb moussaka), which incidentally could have fed the small village in Lemnos where my dad was born…

The next couple of days consisted of (more) relaxing at the beach and exploring on our motorcycle, which were the two dominant themes of our Goa experience.  On one particular day, we drove around for hours from beach to beach before making it back to Yab Yum around sunset to chill out for the night.  Upon arriving back at the resort, we were heading to the bar for a couple of Kingfishers when we heard music in the distance.  It was house music, and it sounded good.  Aman and I looked at one another… do you hear that, our eyes asked.  We grabbed our beers and started for the beach, instinctively we followed the music up the beach.  Twenty minutes later, we located the source at Shanti Goa – it was a full moon party on the beach!  And it was awesome.  We surveyed the crowd and, after both agreeing on the potential, went straight home to change for the night and planned to quickly return.  What an amazing night.  The DJ, an Algerian born man in (at least) his 60s with a tangle of long silvery-gray hair piled on his head and held in place by his headphones, was fascinatingly good.  We danced the night away with the full moon facing us, and the ocean at our backs.  And, as Aman said while walking back to Yab Yum on the beach that night, it was “the best night.”

As the days leading up to our departure dwindled, we tried to see as much as possible.  (Until this trip, I did not appreciate how big Goa is.)  The both of us were really keen to see Old Goa before we left and so, one morning, we jumped on the bike and made our way south.  The drive there was about 1½-hours long, and it was outstanding.  The roads give you a nice view of little towns teeming with everyday life, and vast green fields lined with palm trees.  Naturally, this is all set against a cloud-free, brilliant blue sky.  More than cars or trucks, we mainly shared the roads with fellow motorbikes, scooters and cows.  Old Goa, itself, was worth the ride.  We stopped to see Basilica of Bom Jesus and Chapel of Saint Catherine, perhaps the two most popular and well-known churches in Goa.  Influences from the Portuguese era are evident in the architecture of the surrounding town.  On the way home, we stopped at Candolim beach before heading back to Ashvem beach and then taking a walk to Arambhol beach (hey, we said that beaches were a dominant theme of our Goa trip….).  

Our last dinner was a thali (a meal consisting of several small dishes accompanied with rice and bread) at Yab Yum, recommended as not-to-be-missed by our friend Rolf.  It was one of the best meals we ate in Goa.  (Yab Yum is a small resort, so they do not staff a full-time kitchen for dinner.  But, you can order a thali dinner in advance, and they are more than happy to accommodate.  Moreover, they cook meals using ingredients grown on their nearby plantation so everything is amazingly fresh, as well as organic.  I recommend the Greek salad with (fresh) hummus for lunch... everyday.).

We awoke on our final day to morning yoga led by Deepti.  I was particularly excited that Aman was joining me this morning.  Even more excited when, at the end of the practice, he told me it was the most refreshing morning he had in Goa.  I certainly can’t think of a better way to start the day. 

Our last stop, on the way to the airport, was the flea market at Anjuna.  So colorful:

Mumbai

From Goa, we made a quick four-night stop in Mumbai.   Having heard mixed reviews from various sources, we were really unsure how much we were going to like Mumbai.  (Aman had never visited before either.)  But, from what we saw during our brief stay, this was probably our second favorite city in India.

Same as Goa, we arrived around sunset.  Flying in, we saw skyscrapers (a welcome sight for these two Manhattanites), which are not as widespread in Delhi.  We also passed over the sprawling Dharavi slum, which is one of the biggest slums in Asia.  (I would learn later that night the difference between a slum and a chawl.  A chawl is a step up from a slum.  It has some permanent characteristics, such as concrete, as opposed to dirt, floors.) 

A man with a “Sharma ji” sign greeted us at the airport.  He was the driver of friends (Karan, Komal and their precious daughter, Ahilya) who were graciously hosting us for the couple of days.   We first stopped at their place to unload our bags and freshen up.  Karan then took us for a spin around town to get us a bit oriented, which would prove to be hugely helpful the next day when we spent the entire day walking around.

Our first full day involved an epic day of exploring on foot (sightseeing by foot is not as easy to do Delhi).  We took a vintage-looking Fiat taxi to the Fort Area and began by walking for hours down the Colaba Causeway and surrounding side streets, just to check things out.  But, when we stumbled upon the legendary Leopold’s, we felt compelled to stop for a beer.  On the counter, we would find stacks of Shantaram, the book that did nothing but add to Leopold’s popularity.   

We stopped for lunch at The Souk, the Lebanese restaurant on top of the Taj Hotel.  Ironically, we ran into a little bit of home upon entering:

Lunch was a fantastic spread of Middle Eastern mezze and a yummy chicken shawarma sandwich, which we ate while taking in views of the Gateway of India and the bay below:

It was also very interesting to talk to one of the waiters who had been working the night of the terrorist attack in 2008, and told us about his experience the first night of the attack.  Apparently, the people in the restaurant were dining and oblivious to the fact that the hotel had been attacked until almost an hour and a half into the siege.

We walked for several more hours after lunch before we were thoroughly exhausted and called it a day in front of Victoria Terminus:

We met Karan, who was just finishing work nearby, and went straight to the Intercontinental to watch the sunset. 

From there, we went on a well-rounded mini-bar crawl that involved grabbing a drink at Café Mondegar (touristy café with good chili cheese toast), Gokul (popular with the locals, they have a “non-AC” section and an “AC-Deluxe” section – and identical drinks menu priced according to seating location) and Indigo (hip lounge).  The cutest moment of the night – for me, at least – was while washing my hands in the ladies room at Indigo.  A pretty Caucasian woman, maybe in her early 40s, entered the washroom, and I warned her that I just used the last shred of toilet paper in the room (sorry…).  She hesitated, and looked around helplessly before grabbing a linen hand towel and darting into the WC.  From the sink outside, I heard her remark in a foreign accent with an exhausted sigh, “Oh, India… I love you….”

The next day’s mission involved getting Aman a haircut.  He was happy to learn that Karan uses someone at the same salon that Aman used to frequent in NYC.  One haircut later, Aman was even happier to learn that his $60 NY haircut only costs the equivalent of $16 here.  And on the way home from the salon, we passed by the famed Dhobi Ghat, a very large open air laundromat powered by humans, i.e., not machines.  It is a really cool sight of colorful linens (hundreds of them) billowing in the warm afternoon breeze. 

That night, we all went out to Trishna, which we were told was “a must,” for dinner.  Like everything else we ate in Bombay, it was so delicious.  The menu is seafood-centric, and the star of the menu is a signature dish of crab with garlic and butter.  I know – it sounds so simple, but the crab was fresh and it was perfectly prepared (nom nom nom).

We ended the night at the rooftop bar of the Four Seasons (Aer), which was quite the scene on a Friday night and also provided really beautiful views of Bombay at night.  And, on our way out, Aman spotted the Bollywood actress, Urmila (of Rangeela fame).    

Our last day in Bombay was an interesting one.  We started with a visit to the chor bazaar (thieves market).  Apparently, in a different era, people – you could call them professional thieves, I suppose – would have an item or two that they were looking to unload.  So, as any civilized bunch would, they formed a market area for selling their goods.  Today, the neighborhood is more like a flea market with shops full of furniture (really nice antique quality), car parts and other machinery, household goods and wall decorations, etc.   The neighborhood is not the cleanest, and it is very busy (in a way, it almost reminded me of Old Delhi), so we stayed only a brief while before grabbing lunch nearby, and then heading to a very modern, high-end mall (the polar opposite of chor bazaar, I mentioned the fact that India is a place of contrast, right?).   The funniest part of our trip to the mall was, while waiting for our car, Aman went to the curb to have a cigarette.  Just as I was beginning to wonder why he was taking so long, I saw him approaching with a look of outright disbelief on his face.  I just got fined for littering my cigarette butt!!, he informed us.  (The alternative to the fine was community service, which entailed sweeping the streets of Mumbai for an hour.)  In his hand, a receipt for 200 rupees to evidence the fine he paid for his offense:

  

It is ironic because India, if you haven’t heard, does have a slight trash problem:  there is way too much of it, and it litters the streets in an unfortunate way.  Bombay is relatively clean as compared to Delhi, and while we laughed about Aman’s nominal fine, we all agreed that it was comforting to see some sort of efforts being made to address the litter problem.

Our last night in Bombay was spent with friends Utsav, Mitali and adorable daughter, Myra, having a traditional Indian feast at Neel.  With all the talk of food that we have been doing, you would think that Aman and I have each put on a kilo or three since we started this trip.  Don’t ask me how, but our clothes still fit nicely…

So, recall that at the beginning of this post, I mentioned that this might read (in length) like a Bollywood film script?  It’s time for the interval, folks!  We will be back shortly with stories and pictures from Kerala, Bangalore-Pondicherry, and Delhi-Amritsar.