Hello Nepal! Lumbini and Buddha

Posted March 7, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Walking into Nepal

I love going as much as arriving. Getting to Nepal from India was a lot of going, and it was a lovely day for it. By sunset, we’d be in the birthplace of Buddha, Lumbini, Nepal.

In the still-dark early morning, we left Varanasi. First, a tuk-tuk ride to the train station, followed by a six-hour train ride, before a switch to a bus for a couple of hours hurtling north. After nearly nine hours of going, we landed in the border town of Sonauli, India. We passed a hustling, bustling market area, then stopped at a tiny building for Indian departure stamps.

Thirty minutes later, we walked out of India and into a no-man’s land between two countries. Amused and thrilled to be on our feet, we dallied for photographs of the arches announcing India on one end zone, and Nepal on the other. Checked out of India, but not yet checked in to Nepal. Technically, where were we if something were to go wrong in this gap, in the cusp between this and that? Buddha eyes watched us from atop the Nepal goal post. As we walked into Nepal, the town became Belhiya.

I love walking across a border! It’s active, physical. It’s both casual and more formal. They stamp passports. Overland border crossings feel like a border crossing, a little Wild West, a bit 1800s Grand Tour. Definitely old school with a little extra zap of drama that we just don’t get anymore in airports. And here, where would one go if refused entry? Camp in the cusp?

Goodbye India. In the between. No man's land at the border crossing India to Nepal. — *Goodbye India. In the in-between. The border crossing India to Nepal.*

Hello Nepal. No-man's land at the border crossing India to Nepal. — *Hello Nepal! We walked through a no-man’s land, and under the “Welcome to Nepal” stupa with Buddha eyes, the town became Belhiya, Nepal.*

First Impression of Nepal

Listen! Nepal was QUIET! India’s honking madness was not even a football field away. But here, the streets were blessedly quiet.

Our luggage had already crossed the border on rickshaws and was now packed high atop our new pastel purple G Adventures bus with two Nepalese pilots. Time to go!

Immigration at Border Crossing into Nepal. — *Crossing into Nepal.*

The Story of Buddha

Our first stop in Nepal was Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha. During the two-hour bus ride from the border, Khush, our G Adventures Leader Extraordinaire, told us the story of “Lord Buddha”.

The man who became Buddha was born a prince. His mother, Queen Mayadevi, stopped at Lumbini on her way to her mother’s house. At Lumbini, she gave birth to a son she named Siddhartha Gautama. She dreamed he would conquer the world in one of two ways: as a king through war or as a monk.

He was a thinker and empathetic. He married and had a son. At 29, he went outside the palace to see his province. It is said that on his journey, he saw an old man and learned that growing old was part of the cycle of life. He saw a leper and sickness and learned that one can’t escape karma. Finally, he saw a dead body and learned that everyone dies. He went home depressed from all the suffering and pain he had seen.

But then, one day, he saw a poor monk who was begging for food. Despite his poverty, the monk’s face was bright, shining, and wise with enlightenment. Siddhartha decided that to get this kind of peace and knowledge in the face of the human condition, he too needed to be a monk.

Becoming Buddha

He left the palace, his wife, his child, and his possessions. He shaved his head and wandered in the jungle for five years. But nothing came to him. He met five others in pursuit of knowledge and together they meditated. To stimulate the chakras, they didn’t eat and gave pain to their bodies. One day an old lady from the untouchables caste passed by with milk in a terra cotta pot. She offered it and he drank. The five others declared him a fake monk and left him.

He decided to lead a normal life, but with meditation. He studied and lived a life of moderation, a middle way. Unsatisfied, he sat under the shade of a bodhi tree and meditated for 49 days, until he found the truth. And with that, he became Buddha, or self-enlightened. Later he found the five others near Varanasi and gave his first sermon. The five became his disciples and his teachings were passed on by word of mouth for two centuries before being written down.

A Bit about Buddhism

Essentially, the teachings of Buddha say that sufferings are caused by desires and that to overcome sufferings you must control desires. This is done by striving to have the right:

View: know that our actions and beliefs have consequences after death because death is not the end.
Intention: practice loving kindness and compassion, and contemplate suffering and our impermanence.
Speech: don’t lie, or make rude speech, don’t tell one person what another says about him/her.
Action: don’t kill or injure, don’t take what is not given, no sexual acts, no material desires.
Livelihood: beg to feed, only possess what is essential to sustain life.
Effort: generate energy, exert the mind, and strive to prevent and eliminate evil and unwholesome mental states.
Mindfulness: be present, never be absent minded, be conscious of what one is doing.
Concentration: give up pleasure and pain, happiness and sadness, in order to enter a place in the mind of pure equanimity and mindfulness.

This is drastically oversimplified, as is the Pancha Sila. But the kindness and good intentions are clear and universal, no matter how deep one gets into religion.

Lumbini, the Birthplace of Buddha

We arrived at Lumbini in the late afternoon, walking into the park that seemed to be growing prayer flags. Here, there are ruins of ancient monasteries, a sacred Bodhi Tree, the Ashokan pillar marking a prince’s birth, and the Mayadevi Temple, where Buddha’s birthplace is located. It is a large park-like complex with many peaceful places to sit and contemplate life. But first, you must remove your shoes.

People and monks from many countries come here to meditate. Chanting pilgrims surround the ancient bodhi tree which is draped in thousands of prayer flags. We briefly walked through the main building where Buddha’s birthplace is marked by excavated stones under bullet-proof glass and offerings. And then spent our own quiet time near the tree and wandering the grounds.

What peace there in the dying light of the sun, prayer flags blowing in the breeze, and the sing-song chants of the monks. I would have liked to spent the day there, watching, listening, and maybe doing a little meditating.

*Prayer Flags and the sun. Lumbini Nepal*

Mayadevi Temple--the birthplace of Buddha. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Mayadevi Temple–the birthplace of Buddha. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*The sacred Bodhi tree. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*Offerings at the foot of the Pillar of Ashoka, Lumbini, Nepal.*

Candle wax remnants. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Candle wax and incense remnants. Lumbini, Nepal.*

Prayer flags and Sunset at Lumbini. Nepal — *Sunset at Lumbini. Nepal.*

The Pancha Sila -- the 5 precepts of Buddhism. Lumbini, Nepal. — *The Pancha Sila — the 5 precepts of Buddhism. Lumbini, Nepal.*

Prayer Flags and Laundry. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Prayer flags, barbed wire, and laundry. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*Peaceful breeze and prayer flags, Lumbini Nepal.*

Peaceful Nepal

My first and lasting impression of Nepal was of peace. Calm, repetitive chanting, singing bowls and chimes, cool breezes, flower mandalas, and the surrounding mountains.

Purple flower petal mandala. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal. — *Purple flower petals in a floating mandala. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal.*

Yellow flower mandala--a universe floating. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal. — *Yellow flower mandala–a universe floating. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal.*

The mountain view from our Hotel room. Butwal, Nepal. — *The mountains as viewed from our Hotel room. Butwal, Nepal.*

*The lane behind our hotel, Butwal Nepal.*

Butwal, Lumbini to Barauli

*Buddha as an enlightened adult. Nepal.*

The next day, we left for a four-hour bus ride to Barauli. Along the way, we were almost hit by a Bob Marley-decorated truck. The truck passed a car while being passed by our bus, and came about one inch from hitting our bus at the exact spot where my elbow was resting against the window. The drivers got out and yelled at each other. Our driver fetched a policeman, but the truck did not stop when the policeman flagged him over. The policeman got on his motorcycle to go get the truck. We saw them pulled over down the road and stopped again so our bus driver could join more debate. Khush said the truck driver would likely be fined on-the-spot, and/or taken to jail.

Near Lumbini, we stopped to see another golden statue of Buddha. Khush explained that statues of a bald short-haired Buddha are of him yet-to-be-enlightened, while curly, long or pony-tailed hair is after he’s enlightened. Despite the fact that Nepal is 81% Hindu and only 9% Buddhist, Buddha seems to be everywhere in Nepal.

The Nepalese Thali Set

*A Thali Set. A delicious and filling traditional meal in Nepal.*

The bus kept rolling. I could ride on that bus forever, watching the mountains pass. I didn’t want to get there, no matter where “there” was.

Nearing our Barauli Homestay in Chitwan National Park, we stopped to eat at a hillside mom-and-pop restaurant. They served us a traditional Nepalese Thali Set, similar to the meal we’d had at the cooking class in Orchha, India.

A “thali set” offers all six flavor profiles—sweet, salty, bitter, sour, astringent, and spicy–served all on one metal plate. This veggie plate had rice, lentil soup, greens, a curry, and several unidentified but dang-spicy fried veggies. Khush said, this meal “Will cost you $3 on your pocket. You will love it.”

And we did!

Anyone have recommendations for where to find an authentic Thali Set in Chicago? Let me know!

*Mirror at a rural restaurant in Nepal.*

Curtain and shoes Rural restaurant in Nepal. — *Rural restaurant in Nepal.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

*What is written? Prayer Flags, Lumbini and the Bodhi Tree. Nepal.*

India: Varanasi and the River Ganges

Posted March 6, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

We arrived into Varanasi around noon, after a 13-hour overnight train ride from Orchha. Men had just carried our suitcases up the stairs from the train platform, and now our bags were loaded onto a tuk-tuk for the quick ride to the hotel. However, our group of 12 plus Khush walked the two blocks to City Inn–together, in a wobbly blob. After the long night train ride, and the longer morning without coffee, we held on to each as we crossed the chaotic traffic-teeming streets of Varanasi.

Across Varanasi to meet the Mother River Ganges

After coffee, check-in, coffee, showers, coffee, and lunch, we gathered again in the lobby. Wifi, then we divided into tuk-tuks for rides to the river where Khush had arranged for us to take a sunset cruise on the Ganges.

Eventually, our tuk-tuks dropped us off and we walked through a crowded market. Cows ambled along beside us. People looked at us. We saw vendors selling dolls and toys wrapped in plastic, and stacking fruit we couldn’t name. There were sari shops, one big bowl of green peas sitting nearly in the street, stalls of bronze bowls and bells, and shops draped in beads and colorful yarn. Hot pink cotton candy trees bobbed through the crowd, beggars sat with tired eyes, and black and white posters of people showed up on just about every wall–were they missing, or found dead? Bulls and dogs laid peacefully in streets–cleaving the traffic like it was the Red Sea. Eventually we came upon steps–lots and lots of steps–down to a wide, ash-blue river. This was the Mother River Ganges.

Varanasi’s Ghats

Varanasi’s 88 ghats and the river Ganges are the spiritual capital for Hindus worldwide. This was one of the busiest and most important: Dashashwamedh Ghat. We saw men on cell phones waiting, holy men praying, dogs sleeping, goats eating, monkeys screaming along the tops of the buildings, a cow sitting in smoking ashes, kids running, groups of women in colorful saris holding the hands of their grannies. People were jovial, joyful, festive. We came to a plateau where a dozen skeletons of umbrellas hung with flags, garlands and bells. And then down more steps down to the boats, and to the sacred water of the river Ganges.

Visual gluttony. A sugar-high for the eyes. A little dizzy, shaking and dazed, I followed our group down to the water, to a sunny wooden boat. A monk-orange cloth draped the seating ledges. Little bouquets of orange and magenta flowers with candles gathered on the table in the middle of the boat. Our pilot, an older gentleman with graying hair and a bright smile, took my hand as I stepped up and into the bow. A young man with an inquisitive expression assisted us down from the bow and over to seats. And then they pushed off with long poles into the current of the great river. First, we motored north, then east, over to the sandy beach across the river. All the while, Khush telling us the story of the Mother River Ganges.

Boarding a boat for an evening ride on the Ganges River, Varanasi India. — *Boarding our boat for an evening ride on the Ganges River, Varanasi India.*

Flowers and candles prepared for us to give to the River Ganges. — *Roses, mums, and candles in candy wrappers sit on brown paper “boats”, prepared for us to light and offer to the River Ganges.*

Afternoon on the Ganges, Varanasi India. — *Our pilot for a sunset ride on the Ganges, Varanasi India.*

“The Mother Ganga takes and gives.”

The Divine Mother, the River Ganges or Ganga, is sacred in Hinduism. Pilgrims come to pay homage–wading in to their waists, bathing, swimming, cupping the holy water in their hands, lifting it, and letting it fall back into the river, and drinking it. It is common to offer flowers and floating candles, and to take water home. The water is said to have healing properties, and to be self-purifying.

Many consider it safe to touch or drink, despite the fact that sewage empties into the Ganges. Also, people do laundry in this holy water, wash their dead loved ones in it before cremation on the banks, and bury people in it. Five types of bodies are not cremated, but instead are sunk in the River Ganges with stones: kids under age 5, pregnant women past the seventh month, snake bite victims, leprosy victims, and holy men.

Ladies bathing in the Ganges, Varanasi, India. — “To drink the water, having bathed in it, and to carry it away in bottles is meritorious. To be cremated on its banks, having died there, and to have one’s ashes cast in its waters, is the wish of every Hindu,” Eric Newby in Slowly, Down the Ganges.

*Three men on a boat in the Ganges. Varanasi, India.*

Ghats on the River Ganges. Varanasi, India. — *A view of the ghats on the River Ganges. Varanasi, India.*

Camel on a beach, across the Ganges from Varanasi. India. — *Camel and piles of clothes on a beach, across the Ganges from Varanasi, India.*

Horse on the beach across the River Ganges from Varanasi's ghats. India. — *Horse on the beach across the River Ganges from Varanasi’s ghats. India.*

*Our G Adventures Group on the River Ganges, Varanasi, India.*

The ghats get crowded in the evening, as people come for the Ganges Aarti ceremony. Varanasi. — *The ghats get crowded in the evening, as people come for the daily Ganges Aarti ceremony. Varanasi, India.*

Cremation on the banks of the River Ganges

Hindus believe cremation on the banks of the Ganges River frees the soul from the cycle of death and rebirth. It is said that those who are lucky enough to die in Varanasi, and are cremated on the banks of the Ganges, are granted instant salvation. The river absorbs the ashes, and forgives.

Only in Varanasi and Kathmandu can cremations take place 24 hours a day, every day. And here in Varanasi, there are two cremation ghats on the Ganges. As the sun went down, our little boat passed and then turned to pull close to one of them: the Manikarnika Ghat. It was twilight, but still we saw smoke swirling up to the darkening sky from the many fires. Eleven cremation fires burned at once.

Slowly, we drifted way from the cremation site. Then, we lit our flowered candles, leaned over, and set the candle boats gently out onto the river with our wishes, prayers, and tidings to the dead. I touched my wet hand to my head and watched our flames float away, all together as if they were holding hands into the dark waters of the Mother Ganges.

My flowered flame floats away on the River Ganges. Varanasi, India. — *My flowered candle boat floats away on the River Ganges. Varanasi, India.*

Ganges River Aarti at Dashashwamedh Ghat

After watching our little flames drift away, the boat turned back the way we’d come. Our pilot motored up beside other boats back at the Dashashwamedh Ghat. The ghat now looked like it was ready for a carnival, brightly lit with throngs of people and boats waiting. Boats continued to come close, crowding in to “park”. A commotion ensued each time a boat pulled close, a scrapping sound, splashing water, admonishing and advising pilots, and a grabbing at lines to steady the boats.

Dashashwamedh Ghat is the main ghat in Varanasi on the Ganga River. Built in 1748, the evening ritual of Ganga aarti–offering prayer to the Ganges River–is held here everyday at dusk. Priests perform this ritual simultaneously under the lit skeleton umbrellas and flood lights. There is music and chanting, as the crowd swarms on the ghat and the boats bob in the water.

We sat there for about an hour. Watching as vendors walked across the water, boat-to-boat, selling candles, souvenir postcards, prayer beads, and brass trinkets. The chanting and music was accompanied by the sounds of wooden boats rubbing together, the Ganges lapping and splashing, cameras clicking, soft voices talking, and people slapping at the biting mosquitoes.

A man walks boat to boat offering candle boats and souvenirs for sale at Dashashmedh Ghat, Varanasi, India. — *A man walks boat-to-boat offering candles and souvenirs for sale at Dashashmedh Ghat, Varanasi, India.*

*Hundreds of boats, with hundreds of people, sat in the River Ganges watching the aarti ceremony in Varanasi, India.*

The Ganges at Sunrise

Before dawn the next morning, we were back with our little boat on the Ganges for sunrise. Like others, we soaked in the extraordinary meaning of this place.

*Boats push off into the Ganges for sunrise. Varanasi, India.*

*Sunrise on the River Ganges, Varanasi, India.*

*A man takes a morning swim in the River Ganges. Varanasi, India.*

Manikarnika Ghat

We returned to Manikarnika Ghat where many of the night’s fires still smoldered. One fire was blazing–newly lit. Only in Varanasi and Kathmandu can cremations happen 24-hours a day. In other places, bodies are burned only in daylight hours so they don’t turn into ghosts.

*Wood and scale. Near the Manikarnika cremation ghat, Varanasi, India.*

Our boat motored to steps near the cremation ghat and we got out to walk through the narrow alleys. A pile of cloth puddled at the lip of the river, the water lapping at the rainbow of colors and swirling ashes. Men walked waist deep in the water separating cloth from wood, and pulling water through big bowl strainers. Dogs and cows lay in the ashes to stay warm. The air was dusty. If there was a smell, I didn’t register it. Stacks of wood and large scales to measure the ~1.5 kg needed to cremate a body lined the narrow lanes.

*Stacks of wood line an alley near the Ganges cremation site. Varanasi, India.*

We viewed the Manikarnika Ghat from above. One of the holiest ghats along the River Ganges, it is believed that an earring fell from Shiva here, making it especially sacred. Named in writings dating from the 5th Century, Hindus have long believed that a soul finds instant salvation when cremated here. The sick and elderly often come to spend their last days here, walking along the edges and absorbing the charisma of the ghat, pondering life and awaiting death.

Death Rituals in India

Khush explained that when someone dies, the body is taken home for cleaning and dressing by the women in the family. The men of the family then carry the body to the cremation site, while the women stay home to clean the house of negative energy. Sometimes dead bodies and their male relatives have to line up into the alleys, to await their turns for cremation. That morning, we watched as a body was unwrapped of her fine red cloth–down to a plain white muslin shroud–and placed on a pyre. Two men stacked wood on top, then balanced sandalwood and incense on top of that. A man began to circle the body clockwise, preparing to “give fire” with oil or butter. Out of respect for the dead and the living, we left before they lit the fire.

In India, death is considered a gateway to another life received as a result of our past actions, also known as Karma. A body takes about two hours to burn. Afterwards, the family collects some ashes in a terra cotta pot and mourns for 12 days, to give the soul enough time to reach heaven.

*Vendors sell plastic and terra cotta containers for pilgrims to take home River Ganges water and ashes. Varanasi, India.*

Contradictions

I read, “There are two types of people in the world — those who have been to India and those who haven’t.” At first, that seemed arrogant and exaggerated. Now, I get it. India is beyond incredible: astounding, vivid, dirty, crowded, colorful, and conflicting. It overwhelms the senses. Every hour, every moment.

And India overwhelms the emotions. Incredible poverty. Humanity and the closeness to death. The sad state of the animals, the water, the air. We walked and walked that morning. By the time we saw the dead puppy on the ghat, I was in some state of stunned stupor. All I could think about was how we are nothing at all. A blip. A whiff. A thin trail of smoke. Vapor. A breeze. Dust. Why does anything matter? Why does EVERYTHING matter?

Dogs sit in the morning sun on a ghat in Varanasi, India. — *Dogs in the morning sun on a ghat in Varanasi, India. A dead puppy was behind me on the steps, a stream of ants still arriving and covering his little body.*

Morning along the River Ganges in Varanasi India. — *Morning. Varanasi India.*

Laundry along the River Ganges, Varanasi, India. — *Laundry. Ganges River,Varanasi, India.*

Morning rituals along the River Ganges, Varanasi, india. — *Morning rituals. Ganges River, Varanasi, India.*

*A dog sleeps in a fire pit, Varanasi India.*

Someone sleeps along the banks of the Ganges River, Varanasi, India. — *Sleeping along the banks of the Ganges River, Varanasi, India.*

*A cow looks over the fruit, before the man hits him with a stick. Varanasi, India.*

In Varanasi, life and death both seemed so close. The tuk-tuks helped with the craziest rides of all–thrills of a lifetime and frights like it was the end. One night, each set of our group entered the restaurant exclaiming a version of: “Oh my god, that tuk-tuk ride! I thought we were going to die!”

*Bulls and cows stampede into the street. Varanasi, India.*

*In a decked-out tuk-tuk. Varanasi, India.*

*A dog waits, while we wait for a repair. In a Varanasi tuk-tuk. India.*

Walking out of India

On the day we left Varanasi, we were also leaving India. First, we had a 6-hour early morning train ride to Gorakhpur, then a 2-3 hour bus to the India-Nepal border.

As we got closer to the border, we saw gobs of the colorful Indian semi trucks lined up for miles and miles. Khush told us that they are often stuck waiting at the border for 24-48 hours. Our van crossed to the wrong side of the road to pass the line of semis, dodging oncoming mopeds and trucks with all horns blaring. Loud India.

Approaching the border, we got out of the van while our pilot and co-pilot packed our bags onto 2 rickshaws. We waited outside a small building as the officials stamped our passports for departure. Then we walked out of India, across the no-man’s land separating India and Nepal.

In India, it is said that “Everything is written.” We follow an inevitable path. I hope that path someday returns me to incredible India.

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Also, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite memories and places! One day I will go back and would love recommendations.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Overnight Train to Varanasi, India

Posted March 4, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

The Night Train to Varanasi

After Holi and a couple of days exploring Orchha, we were going on the overnight train to Varanasi. The plan was to eat dinner at a cooking school in Orchha, before taking tuk-tuks to the train station at Jhansi. From there, we’d catch the 10:30 p.m. overnight train to Varanasi.

Rajni’s Cooking School

*Rajni at her teaching kitchen. Orchha India.*

We were doing some adventurous eating with the Indian curry, dal, paneer, masala, tikka, and naan. For this vegetarian, Indian cuisine offers many nutritious and savory meal options. Plus, I’ve been told that turmeric–a key ingredient in curry–is a good natural elixir for arthritis and other ailments of people our age. Bryan and I talked about incorporating our favorite Indian dishes in our meal rotation back home. Perfect, because on this night, we were headed to Rajni’s cooking school for a lesson, some recipes, and dinner.

*Emily assists Rajni at our Cooking Class in Orchha, India.*

*Using a stone mortar and rock pestle to grind ingredients. Rajni Cooking Class, Orchha, India.*

First, she made us Masala chai and served it in delicate cups. As we sipped the spiced tea, we watched as she and her helper ground the curry ingredients on a stone mortar with a rock for a pestle. They cut and seasoned eggplant, then fried naan, heaping it into baskets to pass around. Rajni explained the process and ingredients to us, and invited us to sit with her and help. At last, the food was served on divided metal plates. Savory. Delicious. Healthy. Yum…down to the very last bite.

Our G Adventures Group enjoying Rajni's Cooking Class meal. Orchha, India. — *Our G Adventures Group enjoying Rajni’s Cooking Class meal. Orchha, India.*

Before we could offer to help do the dishes, tuk-tuks came to take us back to the hotel to grab our bags and make the one-hour trip to the train station in Jhansi.

At Jhansi Station

Sleeping in the Jhansi Train Station around 10:15 p.m. India. — *The Jhansi Train Station around 10:15 p.m. India.*

Our tuk-tuks dropped us off in a teeming parking lot. Headlights illuminated people walking to and from the station, and squeezing luggage through the metal gates at the doors. Khush got us situated on the platform, with some of us waiting in a women-only room before our sleeper-car train arrived around 10:30 p.m. The station was full of people, some had staked out space and were sleeping on blanket pallets on the platform.

I was beside myself with excitement. I love a train ride! And an overnight ride in a second-class sleeper car in India, well, my skin tingled with the thrill of it.

On the Overnight Train

Khush rallied us just before the train pulled into the station. We boarded the crowded train quickly, found our places, and made space to cram our bags under the seats. All of us were in the same car, but we were split up into trios or quartets. We sat smiling at the six Indians who were sharing the compartment as the train slowly pulled out of the station and swayeded down the tracks.

Not long after the train left, it was decided that it was time for bed. The Indians showed us how to pull down the bunks, pointed out the brown-paper wrapped sheets and pillow to dress the bed, and coached us on climbing up. To imagine the sleeper car compartment, picture a U. The bottom of the U is two longer and deeper bunks. Across the aisle, each of the sides of the U have three shorter, more shallow berths. Thus, each compartment was designed to sleep eight people.

Bryan ended up with one of the longer bunks. I had a middle berth. I stood on the bottom bed to put my sheet on and climb in. It was a small space. My camera bag and a bottle of water needed to be in bed with me for easy access and safety. Clothes and shoes were left on. I squirmed into my space. It was impossible to sit up–the top bunk so close to my face. I nearly panicked. Carina suggested rolling onto my stomach and looking into the open space of the aisle. It worked. Anxiety abated.

Sleeping on the Overnight Train

It was hot, then cold as the train rocked and click-clacked through the night. A thick wool blanket was at the bottom of my berth, but it was a trick to reach it without dropping it, knocking off any of the stuff in bed with me, and without being able to sit up. Eventually, I got covered and slept.

At one point, I awoke to see Simon talking to me from the dark aisle, “Where’s Khush?” The train was moving faster, and everyone was asleep except for a handful of people who’d just gotten on. There was some question over assigned berths. The woman beneath me knew Khush’s berth number–and repeated it three or four times, like a chant designed to remember. Simon nodded and disappeared down the dark aisle.

Carol in her narrow middle berth in the 2nd class sleeper car, night train to Varanasi. India. — *Carol in a narrow middle berth, night train to Varanasi. India.*

Bryan in his long berth. Night train to Varanasi, India. — *Bryan, up top, in his berth. Below, a family of three shared one bunk. Night train to Varanasi, India.*

Early morning on the night train to Varanasi. Taken from the middle berth. India. — *Early morning on the night train to Varanasi. Taken from the middle berth, looking at the mirror, the curtained window, and the other berths. India.*

*Another passenger, enjoying his phone and window-berth view. Night train to Varanasi. India.*

Waking up on the Overnight Train

The train car woke up slowly. Whispers. Shuffles. Squeaky berths being folded up and returned to seating. Some people had exited at early morning stops, and we sat in their empty bunks playing cards, eating our snacks, reading, and waiting for the signal that we’d reached our stop. The only thing missing from this perfect little morning was COFFEE!

I was reading A Long Way Home by Saroo Brierley. When he was only five years old, Saroo went with his brothers to scavenge at their village train station. Little Saroo fell asleep on an empty train car. When he awoke, the train was a long way from home. He was unable to read, and did not know his hometown or his own last name. He survived for weeks by himself on the streets of Calcutta trying to figure out the train that would take him home, haunting stations for food and shelter. Eventually, he was befriended by a trustworthy adult, transferred to an adoption agency, and adopted to a family in Australia. He spent many years exploring the Indian rail lines with Google Earth, trying to piece together his memories and locate his family and hometown. I won’t spoil the ending for you. But please read this powerful story.

Trains in India

The train stations and railroad tracks in India seem to attract people who may have no better place to go. I saw gangs of kids scampering across tracks, tents alongside rail lines, groups of women cooking on small fires near stations. Every newspaper I picked up in India had a section dedicated to identifying people who had been found dead on the tracks. A photo of the dead person’s face was featured, along with the place, date, and time he or she was found. A practice both efficacious and macabre.

The train sat for an hour at Allahabad. Vendors came onboard selling samosas from a yellow bucket lined with a greasy newspaper. And we wondered if we jumped out to find coffee if the train would pull away and abandon us…or god forbid, we get back on a train and it be the wrong train. Thinking of little Saroo, I stayed put. Coffee would have to wait.

Dare I jump out at Allahbad to find coffee? Overnight train in India. — *Dare I jump off this train while stopped at Allahbad to find coffee? Overnight train in India.*

*Bryan and an Indian lady. In the morning after an all night train ride to Varanasi, India.*

Group-Travel Tip Pools and Luggage Men

Finally, we arrived at Varanasi around noon, after a 13-hour journey. We piled out of the train into the bright sunlight with our bags.

Early in the trip, we gave Khush 3,500 INR ($55) each for a tip pool. He used this money to tip on behalf of the group for baggage handling, restaurant service, toilet use, local guides, and the bus drivers and co-pilots. In Varanasi, Khush negotiated with a few men who stood in a close semi-circle near him. Suddenly, they took their tablecloth-sized scarves from around their necks and wound them tall and tight on their heads in one sweeping motion. These three strong men then stacked and carried our suitcases up the stairs ON THEIR HEADS! As with all the money in our tip pool, Khush passed the payment to one in our group, and pointed out the man to pay.

*Strong men carry our luggage on their wrapped heads out of the Varanasi Train Station. India.*

Oh India! Incredible indeed. Welcome to Varanasi!

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Also, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite memories and places! I’m dying to go back and would love recommendations.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

India: Holi in Orchha

Posted March 3, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Holi in Orchha

After spending the afternoon and sundown at the Taj Mahal, we celebrated with a big dinner. Tomorrow we would leave Agra via train. We were headed for Holi in Orchha. Tonight was Holi eve, and the streets were active…drums, bonfires, shouting and singing…Oh India!

First, What is Holi?

Holi is the festival of colors celebrating the victory of good over evil, the arrival of spring and end of winter, and is a day to forgive and forget. The festivities last for a night and a day, starting with bonfires on the evening of the full moon day. The next day people throw brightly colored flour-like powder, smearing each other in a free-for-all festival. Anyone and everyone is fair game–friend or stranger, rich or poor, man or woman, kids or elders, locals or tourists. And it can happen anywhere–in the streets, parks, outside temples, train stations, in tuk-tuks…anywhere and everywhere. The Holi color flinging starts at daybreak.

Holi Eve in Agra

On Holi Eve, celebrations in Agra started at sundown with bonfires in the streets, drums and joyful calls of “Happy Holi!” (sounding like “Appy O-lee!”). At dinner, we watched from the restaurant balcony while discussing the purchase of paper-thin, white outfits to wear instead of our travel clothes (350 INR, about $4.50 USD) and a bottle of alcohol to celebrate Holi in Orchha. It was a fun night, sitting there eating and drinking, and jumping up to try on different sizes of white outfits that seemed to materialize in the restaurant. Several of us purchased the long white tunic and pants set for 350 INR (about $4.50 USD). And we collectively bought a bottle of vodka to share.

Taking the train from Agra to Orchha

We left the hotel early the next morning for the train station. Almost immediately after we got to our platform, Khush got hit with magenta by a stranger in the station, his jet black hair now with a large streak of pink.

While we waited, we petted and fed two dogs who were roaming the station. The dogs sat among our luggage, smiling at us and maybe hoping we’d take them with us. And how I wish I could have. Like every poor country in the world, animals in India suffer from hunger, thirst, and cruelty. Please if you go to India, consider taking resources for the animals.

A basic breakfast was included in the train ticket price: “cutlets” (meatless potato sticks), green peas, four (4) french fries, and two slices of bread. An odd combination for me, but when served with coffee while India rolls by my window–I was perfectly happy. That’s the joy in traveling!

man on platform train station Agra, India. — *Early morning at the train station in Agra, India.*

A hungry dog at Agra's train station. India. — *A hungry dog at Agra’s train station. India. Stray dogs are common in India. If you are a dog lover, please check out Help Animals India to help.*

Boarding the train on Holi. Agra, India. — *Boarding the train on the morning of Holi. Agra, India.*

Tuk-tuks to Orchha

After a 2+ hour train ride to Jhansi, we had a 1+ hour tuk-tuk ride to Orchha. Our group divided into five tuk-tuks and we were on our way. Bryan and I rode with Carina, and laughed like kids as we watched people get hit with Holi colors. All along our route, we saw people splattered with splotches of yellow, green, pink, or purple. It was in their hair, on their backs, and across their faces. Everyone smiled at us with “HAPPY HOLI!” greetings, and gave us mischievous grins as they most certainly were considering sharing some Holi colors with the tourists. Some in our group got a gentle thumb of hot pink color across a cheek and a forehead when a smiling stranger reached into their stopped tuk-tuk.

Driver on a cell phone in a Rickshaw. Jhansi to Orchha. India. — *The tuk-tuk driver takes a call and dodges a cow. Jhansi to Orchha, India.*

Bryan, Carol, Carina - in a tuk-tuk, Jhansi to Orchha, India. — *Bryan, Carol, Carina in a tuk-tuk from the Jhansi train station to Orchha Resort, India.*

We were on our way to the beautiful Orchha Resort, where some of the rooms are tents. We were anxious to get to our hotel, eat, change into different clothes, put the cameras away, and get colorful!

Happy Holi!

Khush and another G Adventures leader decided it was too risky to take our groups into town where the celebrations were running high octane on alcohol. So we “played Holi” at the hotel. A table was set up in the grassy area just outside our tent, and we all grabbed handfuls of color, chasing and heaving it at each other—running and screaming like kids. Within 10 seconds of walking out of the tent, someone grabbed me and dropped a big handful of green and yellow powder on my head and down my back. Bryan got a handful in the ear. But what fun! And what a holy mess!

As you might imagine, clean up took a long while. Colors stained everything. The white outfit served its purpose and was trashed, and undergarments were permanently stained. Bryan had green powder in his ear for a month. My hair seemed almost blonde with the yellow flour powder. The shower tile turned green and yellow. Pink powder remained on the palm tree outside our tent, and puddles of colors covered the grass the next day.

Holi at Orchha Resort with another G Adventures group. — *Happy Holi! Playing Holi in Orchha Resort with another G Adventures group.*

Bryan and Carol covered in colors after Holi, in Orchha India. — *Bryan and Carol covered in colors after Holi in Orchha, India.*

Simon stubs a toe in Holi. Looked at by Khush and tended by former nurse Carina. — *Simon stubs a toe at Holi in Orchha. Looked at by Khush and tended by nurse Carina.*

Around Orchha

We loved our cozy tent in Orchha. It was equipped with a water kettle for early morning coffee. An AC unit and fan kept it comfortably cool. And it had a bathroom with a big shower. I think I could spend a month of Sundays there.

Our tent at Orchha Resort. India. — *Our tent at Orchha Resort, on the Betwa River. India. Behind are the Cenotaphs.*

Tent hotel Orchha Resort — *Our tent at Orchha Resort*

*Typical bathroom equipment in India. Orchha Resort.*

After Holi clean-up, we walked to dinner at Ramraja, a small restaurant near Orchha Palace and Fort. They served delicious, home-cooked meals in a cozy, friendly space. Also, they let us lock up our cameras and bags before we went to a temple.

To round out Holi, we attended a Hindu Puja at a nearby temple (Ram Raja). First, we removed our shoes, then walked barefoot into the temple joining hundreds of other people sitting in a courtyard, waiting. The perimeter had grottos with statues encircled by candles. Bells rang, a door opened to a holy man performing a ritual, the crowd chanted “jai ho” with hands up, many lit incense fans, and brought flower offerings wrapped beautifully in newspaper. At the grottos, people received water drops from the River Ganges–the water was placed in their palms to taste and touch to eyes and head. As we left, a line of people pushed through a gated area to get closer to the holy man. And the cries of “Jai Ho” continued.

Orchha’s Cenotaphs

The next morning, we visited the Cenotaphs of Orchha. Cenotaphs are empty tombs built in honor of people buried elsewhere. Here, there are fourteen memorials to the rulers of Orchha, grouped along the Kanchana Ghat of the river Betwa. In this complex near our hotel, we saw nesting owls and vultures. And in the eaves, there were many massive wasp nests–very big…like the size of six-burner-industrial-oven big. As we sat to hear Khush’s stories of India, Hinduism, and the Cenotaphs, we were careful not to sit beneath the wasps…just in case.

Bicycle and Shoes. Orchha, India. — *Bicycle and Shoes. Entering the Cenotaphs in Orchha, India.*

Cenotaph ceiling in Orchha, India. — *Bryan looks down from a Cenotaph in Orchha, India.*

*Panorama from Orchha Palace Fort, India.*

Holy Cows

Cows are sacred in India–slaughter is forbidden and eating beef is taboo. Khush explained that cows represent mother, and they are milked even though they wander freely. Despite their exalted status, we saw a man slap a cow in the face at an intersection, and another man hit one with a stick when the cow nosed around the fruit at a market stall. Cows and bulls are everywhere. They stand in traffic, on sidewalks, and roam around in markets. Cows nose through the trash and burning roadside piles looking for food or warmth. They are hungry. Many get sick from eating plastic. The Dalit caste (“Untouchables”), are charged with disposal of dead cows. One night, I dreamed of an endless grass field with freshwater ponds for them–these holy cows.

*Cow near a fire burning in the road. As seen from a tuk-tuk. Orchha India.*

A Holy Pup and his Not-so-Holy Man

On our way to the palace fort, we came upon a man posing as a holy man with a puppy. The man (who was really more about getting donations for drinking according to Khush) called the puppy “Julie” and was collecting money from tourists for photos.

Later in this very hot day, I saw him walking with the puppy looking wilted in his arms. I asked him if the puppy had water or food. I poured bottled water into my cupped palm and offered it to the puppy. The poor pup squirmed up and raced to drink the water before it dripped away. The old man held his hand beneath mine to help stop the leaking water. I refilled my palm until the bottle was empty. I fussed at the man the whole time…”Take care! This is just a baby. Feed her. Give her water. It’s too hot for her.” I think–I hope–he got the message.

You can't eat money puppy. False Holy Man, Real puppy, Orchha, India. — *You can’t eat money puppy. Fake Holy Man, Real puppy, Orchha, India.*

*Puppy sleeping. Orchha Palace Fort, India.*

Thieving Monkeys

As we entered Raja Mahal, we encountered monkeys…thieving monkeys! They all turned when they heard a plastic bag rattle, and ran at the young man carrying it. He screamed out and tossed his bag of food to another guy to save it. But the monkeys were faster. Two monkeys intercepted the toss, screeching at each other and tearing the bag apart. Snacks rained down. Monkeys mobbed the space, grabbing all they could. A dog ran over, but was one second too late and no match for the monkeys’ greedy hands. Monkeys scattered with their loot. They do not share. One small monkey reached for a bite and was screamed at by the monkey who held the bread just out of the little one’s reach.

Monkey at Orchha Palace Fort. India. — *Monkey running with his loot at Orchha Palace Fort. India.*

Orchha Palace Fort: Raja Mahal and Jahangir Mahal

We spent a quiet afternoon wandering the palace and fort area. The Raja Mahal, built in the 1500s, was where the royals resided until it was abandoned in 1783. It is simple on the outside, but has ornate murals in interior rooms. Later, we sat catching a breeze and watching “holi’d” goats graze at Jahangir Mahal.

Lone person in Orchha Palace Fort, India. — *Orchha Palace Fort, India.*

*Rachel and Marion with Indian ladies resting in Orchha Palace Fort, India.*

*Everybody participates in Holi. Goat at Jahangir Mahal, Orchha India.*

*A kohl-eyed baby and his mom at Jahangir Mahal, Orchha India.*

Later, we watched the full moon rise over the cenotaphs and our hotel’s tents. Tonight we were headed to Varanasi on the overnight train. Stay tuned!

*Bryan enjoying morning coffee in our tent at Orchha Resort, India.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Also, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite memories and places! I’m dying to go back and would love recommendations.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

The Taj Mahal

Posted March 2, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

India: From Jaipur to the Taj Mahal

After Jaipur, our next stop was Agra to see the Taj Mahal.

We started our day in our hotel palace, drinking pots of coffee served in proper fine china teacups and saucers and filling up on breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, potato cakes, and a rice curry. Bryan only had a few pieces of toast, still recuperating from yesterday’s Delhi Belly–but feeling much better.

Stepwells

After a few hours on the road, we pulled off to go see the Chand Baori stepwell and the artisan village of Abhaneri.

Khush told us that Chand Baori in Rajasthan, is one of the largest of hundreds of stepwells in Northern India. I had no idea what a stepwell was, so walking up on this gaping hole with steps to the bottom was shocking.

It is a deep open well–very deep, like 10 stories deep–with a pond of green water at the bottom. To access the water for drinking water and bathing, Indians take the terraced, switchbacked steps down, down, down. It is said that flooding on the slippery shores of India’s major rivers was tamed by the construction of ghats, which are long, narrow stairs and landings on the banks. This approach was used to build stepwells to collect precious water in a dry environment. Many of these old stepwells have fallen into disrepair, filled with trash or dirt. But this one survives, though no longer used for water supplies.

*Chand Baori, a stepwell near Jaipur, India.*

*Chand Baori, a massive stepwell near Jaipur India.*

Bangles

Near the stepwell is the artisan village of Abhaneri. We watched a man work a colorful resin plastic over a thin wire circle, melting and turning it over a small fire until it became a bangle. It is said that it is inauspicious for a married woman to not have bracelets, and multiple bangles are better. Thank goodness for my Cambodian blessing strings and Death Valley ghost beads.

After watching the making of bangles, some of our group tried the pottery wheel at a neighboring shop. Mainly, we laughed. Making a symmetrical pot is not as easy as it looks!

Some of our group shopped for souvenirs. We got some Lay’s Spanish Tomato Tango chips and cokes and settled in for the final leg of the bus ride to Agra.

An artisan makes a bangle in India. — *Making a bangle in India.*

An artisan makes a bangle bracelet, near Chand Baori, India. — *An artisan shows a nearly completed bangle bracelet, at the artisan village near Chand Baori, India.*

On the Road to Agra

Bus rides were story time. And now, Khush was going to tell us the love story behind the Taj Mahal.

Once upon a time, the Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan fell in love with Mumtaz Mahal. He first saw her face when her veil blew up in the wind as she laughed at him. He was bargaining with her in the harem market, and paying a high price to buy a “diamond” of sugar anise cubes. Mumtaz captured the emperor’s heart. They married, she being his first wife (according to history records, she was third). And unlike other women of her day, she went everywhere with him. When she died giving birth to their 14th child, his heart was broken.

Shah Jahan mourned Mumtaz deeply. In 1631, he commissioned the Taj Mahal in her honor and for her tomb. It would be a tribute unlike anything else in the world. It is an exquisite, elegant, delicate, intricate, white-marble confection shining on the banks of the Yamuna River. Khush told us we were traveling on the very road from Jaipur where 1,500 elephants had trudged day and night for 22 years in the 1600s bringing the white marble to Agra for the Taj Mahal’s construction.

We arrived in Agra around 3:15 p.m. and checked into the Taj Heights hotel. After we freshened up, we were told to leave everything behind but our cameras and phones. We were going to the Taj Mahal!

The Taj Mahal

We took a bus to the gates. Khush gave us our tickets, and we waited in long lines—separated by men and women—to go through security. Finally, there it was! We could see the top of the magnificent dome as we approached the East Gate. WOW!–my heart raced, chills ran over my arms, and I smiled all over as I got my first look at the Taj Mahal.

first look Taj Mahal agra india — *Dream come true: my first look at the Taj Mahal, in Agra, India.*

*The most beautiful building in the world, the Taj Mahal.*

Details

The 42-acre grounds are immaculate—clean and lush. There are monkeys living there. And there are crowds, and yet, it’s not really noticed. There’s too much to look at standing before the Taj Mahal.

The building sits on a platform between two other buildings, making large courtyards around the fringes. The foundation is mounted on wooden pillars to serve as shock absorbers in the event of an earthquake, and the four minarets lean slightly outward so that they would fall away from the main structure in a collapse.

There are 28 types of jewels set in the marble, including turquoise from Tibet and jade from China. The symmetrical mausoleum is graced with calligraphy poems, bas relief vines and flowers, reflective tiles, and marble lattice.

Visitors must put footies on over shoes when going into the tomb area. Inside the cool mausoleum, visitors must quickly circle the two faux tombs, placed under the massive dome and enclosed in a cool, smooth white marble screen. Mumtaz’s tomb is dead center beneath the dome. The only thing asymmetrical on the grounds is the tomb of her husband–Shah Jahan was placed beside her. No photos are allowed inside and that is enforced by guards who loudly ask for baksheesh from circling guests. The real tombs are beneath this floor as Muslim tradition forbids elaborate decoration of graves. So the bodies of Mumtaz and Shah Jahan were put directly beneath these faux tombs in a plain crypt with their faces turned towards Mecca.

The Taj Mahal's minarets lean slightly out intentionally. — *The Taj Mahal’s minarets lean slightly out intentionally.*

Details on the Taj Mahal. — *Calligraphy details on the Taj Mahal.*

*Taj Mahal details–poems in calligraphy, vines and flowers in precious stones.*

A plaza around the Taj Mahal. — *One of the plazas around the Taj Mahal.*

Marble detail on the Taj Mahal. — *The Taj Mahal’s ivory-white marble from Jaipur, carved into decorations resembling wedding cake icing.*

Love and Peace

Everyone was in good spirits at the Taj Mahal. Many patiently took turns sitting on the “Lady Diana bench” for photos, and standing at the exact spot to get the perfectly symmetrical photo and reflection. Maybe it was from being around the extreme beauty, maybe it was from the good feelings of the love story, maybe it was the happiness and joy from seeing this amazing structure at least once in a lifetime–whatever it was, the feelings of love and peace were visible. People smiled at each other, helped each other take photos of their groups, and invited strangers into their photos.

Indian tourists at the Taj Mahal. — *Happy tourists at the Taj Mahal.*

Carol with new friends at the Taj Mahal. — *Carol with other happy tourists at the Taj Mahal.*

Bryan and Carol sitting on the Diana bench at the Taj Mahal. — *Bryan and Carol sitting on the Lady Diana bench at the Taj Mahal.*

*Looking back at the East Gate from the pavilion around the Taj Mahal.*

It is said that grief-stricken Shah Jahan often sat on the banks of the Yamuna River, which runs behind the Taj Mahal, to watch during the 22 years of construction. A rumor circulated that he intended to build a matching black marble structure across from the Taj Mahal. As romantic as that is, nothing substantiates the story.

*Panorama of the Yamuna River behind the Taj Mahal.*

The Moods of Taj Mahal

I read somewhere that the Taj Mahal is rosy at dawn, pristine white at noon, sensuous in evening shadows, and has a ghostly etherealness under a full moon. We were here in the late afternoon, and stayed through sundown and golden hour.

One of the nearly 3,000 photos I took of this delicious building. — *One of the thousand photos I took of this delicious building.*

*The Taj Mahal goes a little rosy as the sun sets.*

The longer we stay, the more the light changes. Taj Mahal. — *The light changing on the Taj Mahal. The sun is just down, and the building looks whiter.*

As the light fades, the Taj Mahal turns milky white. — *And the light fades. Good night Taj Mahal.*

One last look

We stayed as late as we could, watching the light change, the sun go down, and the full moon rise. I’d once read about a full-moon night tour of the Taj Mahal…and only then did I remember it. How I wished I could stay and walk the grounds at night…and at dawn, at noon, in the rain, maybe all day every day for a spell, maybe eternity. I turned for one last look. Carina and I got a spot—dead center in the alcove of the East Gate—and waited as people exited. We were the last to leave, finally driven out by guards linked in a solid line and piercing our ears with their loud whistles.

*A full moon rises over the Taj Mahal grounds.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Also, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite memories and places! I’m dying to go back and would love recommendations.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

The Pink City of Jaipur

Posted March 1, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

The Pink City of Jaipur

On our second day in Jaipur, Bryan woke up early suffering from stomach problems…Delhi Belly! By dawn, he had decided to stay in the room for the day, close to the bathroom. After stocking him up with bottled water, I joined the group for breakfast and a day of touring the Pink City.

To begin, Khush explained that the Pink City was originally yellow. It was painted terra-cotta pink for Prince Albert’s visit in 1876. This “Jaipur Pink” represents welcoming and hospitality, and to this day, is mandated for all buildings in the old city.

Palace of Winds

First, we stopped at the red and pink sandstone Hawa Mahal, or the Palace of Winds. Built in 1799, there are 953 windows with ornate latticework designed to allow palace ladies to watch the street happenings below without being seen. The architectural honeycombs and turrets also allow breezes to pass through, a bonus for the royal ladies during Jaipur’s hot summers.

Screened-in porch, one room deep, hawa mahal, palace of winds, jaipur india — In Jaipur, India at Hawa Mahal – Palace of Winds: The facade seen from the street is essentially an enormous screened porch, one room deep in most places.

Jantar Mantar

Next, we visited the astronomical observatory: Jantar Mantar, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Completed in 1734, this monument is a collection of large astronomical structures. The instruments allow the observation of astronomical positions with the naked eye–measuring time, predicting eclipses, and tracking locations of stars.

Before going in, we met our host, who explained the importance of star study in Indian culture. Next, he went around our circle asking for each of our birth dates and times. With this information, he told each of us a little truth about ourselves. For me: “You rise early, over-think…too much decision? Staying in place is difficult? Yes.” Pause. “But you smile.”

Even on this partly cloudy day, we saw the shadow fall across the world’s largest sundial, the Samrat Yantra—accurately giving the time and date. We watched time pass, as the shadow crept across the stone like an ancient second hand.

Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India, The Giant Sundial, Samrat Yantra — *The Giant Sundial, Samrat Yantra, tells the time to a two-second accuracy. It stands almost 90 feet tall and its shadow moves about a hand’s width every minute. Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India.*

Waiting for the sun. Our Astronomy guide at Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India. — *Waiting for the sun: some of the G Adventures group and our guide at Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India.*

Telling us about ourselves. Our Astronomy guide reads Marian's palm at Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India. — *Our guide reads Marion’s palm while we wait for the sun.*

*Sun and shadow tell the time at Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India.*

The back side of one of the Zodiac instruments. Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India. — *There are 12 of these smaller structures, one for each sign of the zodiac, Jantar Mantar.*

Our guide explains the Jai Prakash, at Jantar Mantar in Jaipur India — Our guide explains the Jai Prakash. A metal plate is suspended over the center of each of the two bowl-shaped hemispherical dials. The plates cast shadows on the marked interior of the bowls, Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India.

Detail of the Jai Prakash, at Jantar Mantar in Jaipur India. — *Detail of the Jai Prakash, at Jantar Mantar, Jaipur India: Steps lead into the bowls and engraved markings coordinate and describe the position of celestial objects.*

Arrival at Amber Fort and Palace

After another short ride, we got out of the bus and divided up into jeeps. We were at the Amber Fort and Palace, and we were on our way up to the Lion Gate. It would have been pleasant to walk up, though the incline was steep and the narrow winding streets were filled with traffic. Our jeep caravan stopped in the narrow lane in traffic for about 20 minutes, and kids came out to show us their sparkling, colorful purses and pens for sale.

As we came up to the top, goats were stationed on the rock foundations. Elephants with elaborate face-painting and large platform saddles sadly carried lazy tourists up the hill and into a different gate. There was a wide view of India’s countryside. We walked around the grounds, exploring the alcoves of columns and enjoying the hilltop breezes passing through them.

Amer Amber Fort and Palace and Maota Lake, Jaipur India. — *Amber Fort and Palace and Maota Lake, Jaipur India.*

Unethical Elephant ride to/from the Amber Fort. — *Hey Man, enjoying your ride and phone call? Please DON’T take an elephant ride to/from the Amber Fort. Use a jeep instead, or better yet…WALK!*

*Ganesh Gate at Amber Palace, Jaipur India.*

Workers and Tourists in in Sheesh Mahal, a pavilion at Amber Palace, Jaipur India. — *Workers and tourists in Sheesh Mahal, a pavilion at Amber Palace, Jaipur India.*

Into the Rich World of Amber Palace

Moving as a group, we topped the crowded stairs to the shining Ganesh Gate and entered a cool interior. I looked up to see a glowing ceiling medallion. One of the guides explained the design was created from paints made by crushing jewels and stones: the blues are from lapis lazuli, the golds from sulphur and citrine, the greens from malachite, and the oranges from hematite.

We walked around a large, geometric garden. Lush and tidy, and tinkling with fountains, this garden separated the Hall of Pleasure from the Mirror Palace. Built in the 1500s, the Sukh Mahal (Hall of Pleasure) is where the family stayed in hot, humid monsoon season. Water flows through piping and channels to cool the courtyard, and to entertain the harem with the music of the water and the clinking bottles of wine cooling in the streams. Across the garden is the Mirror Palace, used in winter months, when the thousands of little mirrors look like “glittering jewels in candlelight”.

Ceiling medallion in Amber Palace, Jaipur India. — *Inside Ganesh Gate, this ceiling design was of paints made by crushing jewels and stones—blues of lapis lazuli, golds of sulphur and citrine, greens from malachite, and oranges from hematite.*

Sukh Mahal Hall of Pleasure ceiling amber palace jaipur india — *The ceiling in the Hall of Pleasure. Sukh Mahal, Amber Palace, Jaipur India.*

Looking over at Hall of Mirrors from the Hall of Pleasure. Amber Palace, Jaipur India. — *Looking over at the Hall of Mirrors from the Hall of Pleasure. Amber Palace, Jaipur India.*

Sheesh Mahal, Mirror Palace. The mosaics and mirrors, Jaipur India, — *Inside Sheesh Mahal, Mirror Palace: The mosaics and mirrors have colored foil and glass, and are painted to glitter under candlelight.*

A Procession for Wishes Granted

*Pots of coconuts and flowers, a procession near Jaipur India.*

On the way home, we came upon a loud, happy, colorful procession. Khush explained that these processions were to say thanks for favors given, wishes granted, or prayers answered. First, a truck leads, with speakers blasting music. Then, men and boys follow the truck, dancing and inviting strangers into the procession. Last, a crowd of ladies follows, wearing colorful saris and carrying pots filled with coconuts and flowers. Someone asked if we could stop. Naturally, Khush said yes, and “you will be welcome to join them”. As he said, this crowd greeted us with smiles and absorbed us into their happy midst.

At the head of the procession is a truck blaring happy music, Outside Jaipur, India. — *At the head of the procession is a truck blaring happy music and boys dancing. Outside Jaipur, India.*

*Joining the procession in Jaipur, India.*

*Lovely saris, in the back of the procession. Near Jaipur, India.*

Saying goodbye after we extracted ourselves from the procession. Near Jaipur India. — *Afterwards, saying goodbye once we extracted ourselves from the procession. Near Jaipur India.*

The Water Palace

Next, we stopped at the Water Palace (Jal Mahal) which appears to float like magic on Man Sagar Lake. Built in the 1750s, an astonishing four stories of the palace sit below the water. What magical protection it must have–sitting on the water and not drowning in the lake.

It was here at this stop I met a legless man selling small cast-iron, hand-painted oxen, elephants, and bowls–maybe the India version of the American Indian fetishes I cherish. I leaned over his spread of items, carefully chose one, and he scooted around on his hands to collect my dollar. I picked a small strong white buffalo, painted with a red blanket and face decorations. What strength and fortitude it took for this man to be here, to smile.

Water Palace (Jal Mahal) floats on Man Sagar Lake. — *The Water Palace (Jal Mahal) floats on Man Sagar Lake*

Magic and Protection, Strength and Fortitude

Many times, Khush would bring a few items from street vendors onto the bus as we loaded up to leave a place saying, “Would anyone love to have X for only 50 rupees?” It was a respectful way to support the locals and to give us an opportunity to buy souvenirs. At these times, the vendors stood in a crowd at the door smiling in.

On this day, Khush brought in Raheem—a boy magician. The boy with the beautiful eyes rode with us for several miles, doing shell game tricks on the floor of the bus with three metal pots, a fruit pit, and a clanging metal wand. He spoke a magic spell to pull a coin from Carina’s nose and then one from my knee. When asked, Raheem said he was 6 years old. But, Khush smiled at the boy– doing the Indian bobble-head–while saying “No…he is maybe 8 or 9”. Afterwards, we paid Raheem for his magic show, and the driver let him off the bus a few miles down the road.

Raheem—a boy magician who joined our bus ride for a few miles. Jaipur India. — *Raheem, a boy magician, joined our bus ride for a few miles in Jaipur, India.*

Chilis & Lemons on a car bumper for protection. Jaipur India. — *Similar to an evil eye, many cars have 7 chilis and a lemon strung and hung on their bumpers for protection. Jaipur India.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Also, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite memories and places! I’m dying to go back and would love recommendations.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

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Thank you for reading

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Thank you for reading

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Group-Travel Tip Pools and Luggage Men

Thank you for reading

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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First, What is Holi?

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Thank you for reading

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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India: From Jaipur to the Taj Mahal

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Love and Peace

The Moods of Taj Mahal

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The Pink City of Jaipur

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Into the Rich World of Amber Palace

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Magic and Protection, Strength and Fortitude

Thank you for reading

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