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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…

All the Colors of India – Jaipur

Posted February 28, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

All the Colors of India

We were on our way to Jaipur, in Rajasthan India. Our drive from Delhi to Jaipur, known as the Pink City, was a full-on introduction to all the colors of India.

From our big purple G Adventures bus, we watched all the colors of India pass by–how different and boisterous and surprising! Every one of us, glued to a window–absorbing the sights, exclaiming about this or that, and throwing question after question to our leader, Khush. We saw marigolds and perfume bottles sitting on truck and car dashboards, women carrying masses of sticks and wrapped bundles of mustard grass and wheat on their heads, men piled high on truck cargo checking their cell phones and waving back at us, oxen being herded at a rest stop, semi trucks decorated with brightly-colored tassels and “Blow Horn” and “Use Dipper” painted on the back, loud happy music in processions of ladies in red, orange, and yellow saris, indifferent camels, nosy goats, herds of sheep, gangs of monkeys, the Jaipur “bye pass”, and so much more.

Doctor's Chamber at the crossroad. Jaipur, India. — *Doctor’s Chamber at the crossroad. Jaipur, India.*

The Bissau Palace Hotel

A few hours later, the bus pulled into a quiet drive and an opulent courtyard. We were checking into the extraordinary Bissau Palace. This beautiful place was built in the 19th century, as the palace for nobleman Raghubir Singhji. The hotel is located just outside the walls of the old pink city of Jaipur. Thirty-six rooms encircle an entrance garden. The courtyard lobby is open to the weather, with seating in nooks and crannies under eaves. Perfect spots for taking tea or coffee and contemplating life. The hotel had a central area with a bar, and a cozy dining room. Old photographs and maps decorated the inner-lobby, accented by the soft glow of a crystal chandelier and lamplight. A library of leather-bound books and velvet-covered chairs and sofas offered a quiet haven to read, and to step back in time.

*Panorama of the lobby of Bissau Palace. The Pink City of Jaipur.*

*An old photo of the Raj in the Bissau Palace Hotel, Jaipur, Rajasthan, India.*

*The crystal chandelier at the Bissau Palace Hotel*

Room #18

Our room was old, musty, elaborately decorated, and behind dungeon doors. Bryan wrestled with the substantial padlock and the bolt, and finally the several-inches-thick dark wood doors creaked open into a room that was flamboyant, embellished, and gilted in gold wallpaper, hand-painted murals, ancient textiles, old photos, and stained glass. After another struggle with the doors–they had to be fitted together just so in order to close properly–we bolted ourselves in with heavy ornate levers, and got situated.

*Room #18 at Hotel Bissau Palace, looking at the door and stained glass windows. Jaipur India.*

*The door of room #18 at Hotel Bissau Palace. Jaipur. Ornate wallpaper, murals, old photographs. Jaipur India.*

*The door to Room #18 at the Bissau Palace Hotel.*

The Old Market of Jaipur

We went for a walk in the busy market area in the early evening until sunset. The contradiction with the world beyond these hotel grounds was clear. The streets were teeming with people and motor vehicles, smog, and haze. Monkeys ran through the branches of trees that bloomed plastic-bag flowers. Dogs nested in trash heaps.

Dogs nesting in the trash, just outside the gates of Bissau Palace Hotel, Jaipur India.

*Mama monkey chasing her baby. Jaipur, Rajasthan, India.*

This was pure senses overload—-a deluge of smells, an abundance of colors, an immersion among so many people, my eyes struggling to see it all at once, my brain grasping to remember each image. No words can describe the assault, the filling up, the discovery, the shock and awe of India at your elbow.

*A goat, a man, and hundreds of caged chickens. Jaipur, India.*

*Buying a tray of grains to feed the birds and our souls, a common practice near religious places to bring good karma. Old Jaipur, India.*

Holy cow in the streets of Jaipur, India. — A child grabs an ear of a holy cow in the streets of Jaipur, India.

*Selling all the colors for Holi. Jaipur, India.*

*Grains and vegetables in the old market bazaar, Pink City of Jaipur, India.*

*Fruit lady and shadows. Jaipur Bazaar, India.*

If I could photograph smells, you'd be sneezing right now. Peppers. Jaipur, India. — *If I could photograph smells, you’d be sneezing right now. Peppers. Jaipur, India.*

*A girl stares in the market. Jaipur, India.*

Tumeric in Jaipur, India. — *All the colors of yellow: tumeric grinding in Jaipur, India.*

Chai, Samosas, and Death in Jaipur

We saw kohl-eyed kids–the eyeliner is to ward off evil or sickness. We passed sari shops with fabrics in all the colors and every pattern under the sun. Two women sold dung cakes, dried and ready to be used as fuel. Men stood at each tiny shop stall—-each with a specialty–each hawking their wares. We sat for a spell at a chai shop, waiting for its careful preparation while trying to absorb all that went on around us. I looked at our group, every face slackened, all eyes widened, mesmerized. THIS was the magic of travel, found in a moment.

*Pink cups in the Pink City. Chai time. In the old market bazaar, Jaipur India.*

We passed a street stall selling funeral cots. Hand-held wooden cots the size of a six-foot ladder with shimmering golden cloth hammocks for the bodies to rest. Earlier, we had moved to the side of the street to allow a funeral to pass-—the body wrapped in white muslin and held high on a cot like this. Only men were in the procession. We took no photographs out of respect for the family and the dead person on his/her way to the funeral pyre.

Later, Khush bought us hot samosas from a street vendor. Bryan took a bite and coughed on the intense spice. I gave my intact samosa to the oldest looking of the elderly women sitting on the street curb begging. She took it with both hands and a nod, then gave me a beaming, toothless smile.

*Street food in the market bazaar of the old city of Jaipur, India.*

Navigating the streets of Jaipur

On the bus, Khush had given us some advice to cross the street in India: “Look left. Look right. Then run for your life.” He wasn’t kidding. At nightfall, we visited a temple and went to a rooftop to look down on a roundabout. With all the honking cars and trucks, shouting rickshaws, weaving motorcycles and bicycles, dodging pedestrians and animals, it appeared to be a moving tangle of madness.

A few minutes later, we joined that madness. Our destination was a garage that had been turned into a dining hall under the stars famous for its tikka. We crossed the street holding hands, and got two-by-two into bicycle rickshaws. Our small loquacious driver randomly screamed out “ooh-la-la” as he peddled and prattled. I counted this as the first of many times we cheated death in India.

*Looking down on the night traffic at the roundabout in Jaipur. India.*

From a bicycle rickshaw in Jaipur. A child sleeps on a motorcycle. — *Riding on a bicycle rickshaw in Jaipur’s crazy traffic.*

Mornings at the Hotel

We woke early and made our way over to the dining room behind the courtyard. The buffet breakfast served hard boiled eggs, potato cakes, a curry rice mix, jams and breads, and some mysterious fried…meats, vegetables? There were so many things to see in that dining room. I was usually the first one there, and the only one for a while. I wrote in my journal while sipping my way through an entire pot of the very best coffee on our trip. Sublime.

Elephant curtain rod in the Bissau Palace Hotel. Jaipur, Rajasthan India. — *Elephant curtain rod in the Bissau Palace Hotel. Jaipur, Rajasthan India*.

The best coffee on our trip...at the Bissau Palace Hotel, Jaipur. India. — *The best coffee on our trip…at the Bissau Palace Hotel, Jaipur. India.*

A puppet and the maker, in the courtyard of Bissau Palace Hotel. Jaipur, India. — *A puppet and the maker, in the courtyard of Bissau Palace Hotel. This puppet came how with us for my Aunt Aline. Jaipur, India.*

A sweet black street dog in Jaipur, Rajasthan, India.

More to come from Jaipur

There is so much to say about India. All the colors. The smells. The vastly different culture. Please stay tuned for more from Jaipur, the Pink City of Rajasthan India and more from India!

*Peeling Coca-Cola wall and fence. Jaipur, India.*

A motorized rickshaw in Jaipur, Rajasthan, India.

In the meantime, you can read more about our arrival into India, or our visits to Cambodia’s Angkor Wat, Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, and/or New Zealand’s Franz Josef Glacier.

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you’ve been to India, please leave a comment about your favorite moments! If you liked this post, please…

THANK YOU!

Incredible India, Intimidating India!

Posted February 27, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

India! The fourth stop on our around-the-world trip was Incredible India. Intimidating India! Crowded, chaotic, contradictory, colorful, captivating, Slumdog Millionaire India.

When we were planning our trip, India was a must. But we wrestled with the idea of going it alone versus taking a group tour. In the end, we decided to take a classic G Adventures small group tour, and WOW!—what a good decision! More on that in a minute. But first, let’s go back to us leaving Cambodia.

Intimidating India

We left Cambodia the afternoon of February 24, with a bit of anxiety. First, we were getting odd responses from other tourists when we mentioned India was our next destination.

“Uff,” one man grimaced like he was watching a car crash, “Cambodia is a party compared to India.” His wife raised her eyebrows nearly to the top of her head while taking a very deep breath, giving a stingy smile and a semi-reassuring, “Dirty place. You’ll be fine. Just don’t get robbed.”

“It’s like the waiter talking to Albert Brooks in Defending Your Life,” Bryan said later, “‘You got 9 days?! Ooooh!'”

Malaysia Airlines

Aside from this omg-we’re-going-to-India anxiety, we were anxious about flying on Malaysia Airlines. In March 2014, one of their jets mysteriously disappeared over the Indian Ocean, and in July 2014 another of their jets was shot down over Ukraine. We sat in the airport in Cambodia and tried not to think about all that.

Turns out, Malaysia Airlines was one of the best airlines we flew on our around-the-world trip. The jet still had that new-plane smell! The on-board stewards/stewardesses were serenely courteous, their uniforms were elegantly beautiful, and the food was filling and tasty. Mecca’s direction was on the flight-info screen for those who needed to pray in the air. We flew for just over two hours from Siem Reap to Kuala Lumpur, and thankfully, no incidents to report.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Delhi, India

During our two-hour layover in Kuala Lumpur, we walked around the posh airport looking for cables to double lock our suitcase zippers (at the cautious advice of a Cambodian traveler who’d been to India). Nada. We managed to order Burger King and a DQ Blizzard despite not speaking Malay, and got a few Malaysian coins in change. I find it disappointing to see the exact same shops all the world over. It takes some of the discovery and surprise out of travel. Globalization — I thanked it for giving me an Oreo Blizzard, and I cursed it for making KUL resemble ORD or LAX or LHR.

On the five-and-a-half hour flight to Delhi, we sat across the aisle from two bearded men dressed in long layered robes–like monks, or Afghan warlords. As they were pulling food and drinks from their suitcases, Bryan got a beer from the steward. The two men stopped and stared, nodded and beamed wide smiles at Bryan, then motioned the steward pointing at Bryan’s beer. A few minutes later, with their beers in hand, the monks waved slices of white bread at us. They were generously sharing their picnic stash. We smiled and gestured to say “no, but thank you” and instead raised our wine and beer cups to toast across the aisle. Toasts, smiles and laughter. That is the joy and wonder of travel. I thanked all those stars in the night sky. All-in-all, it was a wonderful 3,100+ mile day.

Arrival in Delhi

We arrived into Delhi around 10 p.m. We already had visas, so went through a quiet lane of immigration, and walked out into a bright, modern airport. After changing $400 USD to 24k Indian Rupees ($1 USD = 63 INR), we were met by the G Adventures representative, Bhupinder. While waiting for others coming in for G tours, Bryan stocked us up with bottled water and snacks.

I love arriving into a new place at night–it adds an air of mystery. We followed our Women on Wheels taxi driver out of the airport about an hour later, stepping into a smokey midnight. Dogs lay unmovable, curled up and asleep on the sidewalks. The parking lot was crowded and tight. We squeezed in and the young lady driver pulled out.

Traffic was insane, despite the hour. Choking traffic in a lane-less chaotic mess—cars honking to pass, honking when anyone got too close, honking, honking, honking. Overpasses, underpasses, passing trash on the streets, passing crowds walking along the road. In the dark and blinking street lights, I watched the driver’s calm eyes in the rear view mirror–eyeliner, bindi, pony tail. About an hour later, well after midnight, we arrived at Hotel Perfect, in a run-down, dark street.

Hotel Perfect?

At check in, we learned that the hotel had us reserved for two nights ago. We showed our paperwork with this date. He wiggled his head. Was that a no? A yes? Maybe? An impasse? We stood there, tired, no other options. The night manager showed us handwritten notes in a reservation book. Bryan persisted, “Yeah well, we don’t know who wrote that.” The manager made a phone call and gestured for us to sit on the couch in the narrow lobby and wait.

Finally, we got a room. A sleepy, cranky-looking, very thin young man got into the elevator with us and showed us to the room. I got the idea he’d been sleeping in room #313. The twin beds were unmade. The sheets looked dirty, and had an oily feeling. The room reeked of cigarettes. I asked for clean sheets. He left and returned a few minutes later with one sheet and one fleece throw blanket. We improvised bed covers, called home (it was ~2:00 p.m. in Chicago = 1:30 a.m. India), and crashed.

*Room #313 at Hotel Perfect, Delhi India.*

*Bryan in our clean Room #205 at Hotel Perfect, Delhi India.*

First Impressions of Daytime Delhi

I heard horns and a cooing pigeon. It was daylight and I woke up not sure where we were. A deep breath reminded me. The smell of smoke was overwhelming.

We went onto the roof for the breakfast buffet (200 INR each). The air was hazy from smog. Birds swooped around and chipmunks screeched as they waited for scraps. Bryan talked to the front desk, and we were moved to Room #205. It was cleaner, not smoky, and had more light. Hotel Perfect! 🙂

Reception desk lobby Hotel Perfect "Your reservation was 2 nights ago." — *The books at Hotel Perfect’s reception desk.*

*The breakfast buffet guys at Hotel Perfect. Delhi, India.*

Later, we walked out onto the crowded, dirty, colorful, and cooler streets of Delhi. India! Wow! We had drinks and ate spicy-hot pizza at Boheme Bar down the street and had a conversation with a turbaned taxi driver who’d worked in New York City many years ago. We spent that day in Delhi watching the world go by, catching up on sleep, photo downloads, journals, and doing laundry. A wonderful, lazy day in the midst of our long, around-the-world trip, waiting to meet our G Adventures group.

Snickers in India! Pakau Laatsahab — *Snickers in India!*

Meeting our G Adventures Group

*Our G Adventures Group Leader, Khushwant (on the left)*

We met our group in the evening of 2/26. There were 12 of us, hailing from the UK, USA, Germany, Canada, and Denmark. Our leader, Khushwant, explained a few things including the likelihood of getting a touch of “Delhi belly”, and how much a little patience and a few smiles would help us enjoy our time in India. Afterwards, we had dinner together at a neighborhood restaurant–with Khush helping us understand the menu. Delicious!

Bryan and I are not typically “group tour people”, but because of how intimidating India was, we signed up for a tour. We chose G Adventures because they had the itinerary we wanted, the timing we needed, a cost we appreciated, and they had good reviews. It was a great group, with a great leader. Khush was a thoughtful, helpful chief experience officer, and he taught us much about India. We’d do a trip like this again in a heartbeat!

India Gate

G Adventures’ big purple bus showed up in the morning to take us to India Gate and on to Jaipur. As we drove through Delhi’s traffic, Khush told us about India–the 6th wealthiest nation and with 1.25 billion people. Corruption and population growth plague India and widen the wealth gap, which is why we see so many expensive cars idling in traffic jams next to families waking up in tent villages under overpasses.

India Gate is a memorial built in the 1920s to honor the 82k Indians who died in World War I. Thirteen thousand soldier’s names are engraved in the stones. This hazy morning could have been today, or a hundred years ago. Crowds arrive. Guards stand watch. Women in orange saris sweep the roads and the grass around the memorial. Dogs wander and some still sleep amidst the people. Men smoke. A snake charmer squats down with his basket and flute. We walked around the memorial, enjoying the sun.

*India Gate, a memorial to the 70k Indians who died in World War I. Delhi.*

*A crowd gathers near the Canopy, at India Gate. Delhi.*

A street dog sleeps comfortably by India Gate in Delhi. — *A street dog sleeps comfortably by India Gate on early morning in Delhi.*

*A dog and a street sweeper at the Canopy near India Gate, Delhi.*

Delhi to Jaipur

After our stop at the India Gate, we got back on the bus for our five hour bus ride to Jaipur (167 miles from Delhi).

We passed rich embassy row, and saw more families living in the medians. Street kids with painted-on moustaches contorted and performed like jesters in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Cows sat on the roads–Khush said the pollution deters flies and maybe makes them a little high. A few hours into our trip, we stopped to use the facilities, at a McDonalds! Later, we stopped to eat lunch at a roadside restaurant. Next door was a small valley, and a hundred cows and “buffs” were herded up and out onto the road as we boarded the bus to leave. Ah India. This was going to be an incredible trip!

Roadside Cows and bulls near Jaipur India. — *Roadside cows and bulls near Jaipur, India.*

*A herder with his cows and bulls on the road to Jaipur, India.*

Local "bus". We photographed each other on the road to Jaipur. India. — *Local “bus”. We photographed each other on the road to Jaipur. India.*

Thanks for reading!

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The Cambodian Countryside around Kampot

Posted February 21, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

In the Cambodian Countryside

Most of our daytime hours in Kampot were spent with Chuck, a remork driver and guide we hired to take us to the salt fields, pepper plantations, and to see regular life around the Cambodian countryside. We rode through a fishing village. Small wooden houses sat very close to the road, reminding me of old main roads curving through little towns all over the rural U.S. The similarities stopped there. These little houses of unpainted wood sat high on stilts. Under the stilted houses, families gathered on platforms that looked like bed frames–eating and working all together, sorting beans, sewing, and talking. Hammocks swayed nearby, shoes lined up by the doorsteps. Chok told us this was a Muslim fishing village that speaks Cambodian/Khmer, while Muslims in Phnom Penh speak Arabic.

Bull / Ox in a field near Kampot Cambodia. — *Bull / Ox near Kampot Cambodia.*

Pepper Plantations and Salt Flats

Chuck took us to a pepper plantation, where acres of peppercorn plants grow around rows of brick pillars and wooden poles. Black, white, and red pepper are all grown from all the same plant. Fresh peppercorns were drying in the sun, and we sampled each variety, biting into one little peppercorn at a time. Sharp kicks to the tastebuds, followed by a little coughing, and a lot of water. We also saw acres and acres of salt flats. Sea water is flooded into the fields and then blocked. And then they wait. Evaporation leaves behind salt, which is gathered, treated with iodine, packaged and distributed in Cambodia.

*Warehouses along the salt flats in Kampot, Cambodia.*

*A worker in the salt flats, Kampot, Cambodia.*

Little red roofed house amid the salt flats, near Kampot, Cambodia. — *Little red-roofed house amid the salt flats, near Kampot, Cambodia.*

*Peppercorn plants growing under netting near Kampot Cambodia.*

*Peppercorn plants growing around bricks, Plantation near Kampot Cambodia.*

Dog waiting Sorting and drying peppercorns at a plantation near Kampot, Cambodia. — *Sorting and drying peppercorns at a plantation near Kampot, Cambodia.*

Palm Oil

Later I noticed an ant of a man climbing palm trees. Chuck stopped and told us the man was collecting palm oil. Ladder-like rungs were nailed into the trees for ease of climbing, and bamboo-shaped plastic buckets hung in bunches with the foaming oil. We passed thatched roof barbershops, kids on bikes coming home for lunch, workers in the fields, attentive and angular cows, chickens with baby peeps on their heels, railroad tracks, red dirt roads, potholes, puppies, the bluest blue bird, and loads of little kids who beamed big smiles from doorways, waving and shouting “hello!” Life is so hard, and yet they smile.

*Palm oil containers. Near Kampot, Cambodia.*

Green house on stilts, near Kampot Cambodia. — *House on stilts, near Kampot Cambodia.*

Raindrops in Cambodia

As we rode around in that remork, seeing so much, I had this feeling that time is wasting and going by too fast. There’s never long enough time to stop, to linger.

It pounded rain overnight, on our last night in Cambodia. We were in Siem Reap again, and we’d spent the hour before bed repacking and preparing for the trip to India tomorrow. It was long after midnight and I was restless, unable to sleep as I listened to the rain.

I stepped barefoot out onto our covered patio. The rain was furious, giant drops, straight down, and as solid as a wall. It smelled fresh and wild, mingled with the scent of the oil from the still-burning bug candle near the door. I curled up in the wicker chair, to watch the rain.

We’re always moving on. Or maybe it’s really just waiting to move on, to start over on life number two, or life number 2,000. What would it feel like to recognize that I’d just been reborn as a merit bird in Cambodia—destined to be caught and released, again and again and again? Or maybe I’ll come back as a color—like the orange of a monk’s robe. Or maybe I’ll be recycled as a degree of humidity, or a particle of red dirt. Or maybe a single raindrop in a monsoon.

Red dirt and railroad tracks, kid on a bike, Riding in the remork with Chuck, near Kampot Cambodia. — *Riding in the remork with Chuck, near Kampot Cambodia.*

*Until the cows come home, near Kampot, Cambodia.*

*A cow looks back. Near Kampot, Cambodia.*

*Friendly dog along the road in Cambodia.*

Ride field in Cambodia — *Rice field in Cambodia.*

You can read more about our time in Cambodia at these links: Siem Reap, Angkor Wat, Blessing Bracelets, Phnom Penh, and Kampot.

Some of my photos from Cambodia are for sale on Etsy.

Have you been to Cambodia? What was your favorite place and moment? Please comment and share. Thank you for looking!

Kampot

Posted February 18, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Kampot is a small town on the Praek Tuek Chhu river just southeast of the Elephant Mountains and about three miles from the Gulf of Thailand. The town is known for salt fields, pepper plantations, and its French colonial architecture. We were looking forward to seeing more of the Cambodian countryside.

Cow near Cambodian People's Party building, Cambodia. — *Cow near a Cambodian People’s Party building, Cambodia.*

Phnom Penh to Kampot

It was supposed to be a three-hour bus ride, but it took five. Locals were headed to the coasts on this Chinese New Year weekend. Markets seemed to sprout up on the streets around us–either serving the traffic or causing the traffic as people in waiting cars got out to shop. People held their plastic bags high to squeeze between buses, cars, and motorcycles as they returned to their vehicles. Some cars going our way tried to avoid the market madness by passing on the other side of the road. But they stopped too, and then no one could get anywhere. Parking lot.

We were next to a car packed with eight people, including a granny with her neck stretching to catch a breeze, her bony little hand gripping the door as if to hold the window down. We saw monks walking through the market in saffron robes with yellow umbrellas and orange bags—barefoot. Barbershops under thatched roof huts. So many dirt roads cutting off from the main road, inward to the countryside. Loudspeakers of chanting around a temple or shrine. And the heat. Always the heat.

Orange robed Monks with yellow umbrellas making their rounds in Cambodia — *Monks making their rounds in Cambodia.*

Kampot

At last, we arrived in Kampot, and made our way to Rikitikitavi. A beautiful small hotel filled with art and geckos, and made more beautiful by the bonhomie of the Cambodian staff—Celine, Thean, Romly, “Monkey” and Pat.

After dinner and after dark, when the temperature was more reasonable, we walked along the river. The old wooden bridge was lit up like Christmas. Kampot’s bars and restaurants were hopping with tourists and expats galore, plus night-roaming dogs, cats, and bats. We stopped for mojitos at Cuban bar called Camp Potes, run by Jean-Jacques—“just call me Jackie”—a Frenchman from Reunion. Shelves behind his bar were filled with jars of Jackie’s homemade flavored rums and the place was decorated like a Havana living room. Salsa music blared from a single speaker. Later, we walked to a small market a mile down the river where a movie played in the night sky and neon-lit carousel rides ran for kids.

Sorrow in Kampot

We ambled around the town sampling food and drinks, and browsing the shops and the clothes that hung on sidewalk racks (it finally dawned on us that these clothes are not for sale, but are laundry that’s been sent out.) One day, a crowded van drove by. The back doors were open and two live ducks hung upside down from the rear bumper, their beaks sometimes touching in the exhaust, the heat, the fear, the disorientation. My heart broke for them. And as I fell into sorrow, the yellow thread of the granny monk’s blessing caught on my camera and snapped.

The next morning, very early, we heard music. It reminded me of a popsicle truck, or one of those old jewelry boxes with the plastic ballerina, but with an asian twang. Was it from a temple or shrine? A 6 a.m. alarm? We asked Monkey. “It’s very sad music. For funeral.” That music played most of the day—coming and going in wafts like the smell of flowers. Soothing. LISTEN:

Funeral music coming from across the river. Kampot Cambodia.

Yellow floating house on the Praek Tuek Chhu river Kampot Cambodia — *Kampot’s floating houses on the Praek Tuek Chhu river, Cambodia.*

*The old white wood Entanou bridge over the river is for motorcycles and pedestrians only. Kampot Cambodia.*

As I fell off to sleep that night, I wondered…maybe when we die, a popsicle truck comes for us. And then I felt sad for Cambodian children in the USA who hear the popsicle truck tunes coming down their street. I dreamed of ducks flying overhead, and of ducklings running after an unseen mother across a red dirt road.

*Crossing a railroad track in the Cambodian countryside near Kampot.*

*Looking across the Praek Tuek Chhu river at dusk. Kampot, Cambodia.*

To read more about Cambodia: Siem Reap, Angkor Wat, Blessing Bracelets, Phnom Penh, and the Kampot Countryside (coming soon).

Select Cambodian photos for sale on Etsy.

Phnom Penh and the Mekong River, Cambodia

Posted February 17, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

A Giant Ibis to Phnom Penh

Early one morning, we waited at the Siem Reap bus station, watching a woman sweep up leaves and trash from the gravel and dirt parking lot. Baffling, quixotic–and beautiful as the sun silhouetted her in a cloud of pink, glowing dust.

Our Giant Ibis bus ride to Phnom Penh would be six hours, including a few breaks. We had a driver, a back-up driver, and an attendant who announced “comfort breaks” and handed out a bottle of water and a smashed croissant to every passenger. Once out of Siem Reap’s morning traffic, the drivers drove like the road was a racetrack. They jabbered on their phones while driving, and one drove single-handed as he peeled and sucked on a piece of fruit so enthusiastically I could hear it from row five.

I concentrated on the Cambodian countryside: fairytale haystacks—tall and egg shaped, small houses sitting very high on stilts (how much monsoon-season rain necessitates that height?!), curled roof lines, red dirt paths heading off into fields and neighborhoods, an open warehouse of spirit houses for sale, a white ox with a neck hump wallowing in a pond, a rabbit-eared cow waiting in front of a golden gate, a front yard filled completely with a three-foot layer of empty plastic bottles, cooking oil (or gasoline?) in glass coke bottles for sale, a wooden house with a single red potted flower hanging by the door, an ornate white throne-like sofa with garish gold trim for sale on the roadside, colorful coffins at a coffin maker’s shop, a roadside market with attendants hanging in hammocks above tables of unwrapped meat, and always—that red, red Cambodian dirt.

*Floating village on the Tonle Sap River, Cambodia.*

Phnom Penh

Six hours later, we arrived into a hot, sticky Phnom Penh and checked into the Monsoon Boutique Hotel. The hotel was near some questionable establishments but it was clean and cheap, and just a five-minute walk from the river, restaurants, and bus station. Our concealed balcony overlooked any bawdiness on our late-night street.

On Chinese New Year, about twenty ladies dressed in red from the bar next door spilled into the street to celebrate. Despite the mid-day heat, the Chinese dragons and lions danced for more than an hour to bring good fortune to the bar and the community.

Dragon costume dance Chinese New Year celebration in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. — *Chinese New Year celebration in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

At a shrine by the Mekong River, pink and white lotus flowers were arranged with incense sticks in coconut vases, waiting to be purchased as offerings. Not 25 feet away, dumpsters overflowed with yesterday’s discarded—but still fresh—offerings. In the middle of the shrine crowd, a small cage teeming with twittering finches sat on the sidewalk. I later learned these were “merit birds”. Tiny wild finches are captured and caged. Worshippers buy a merit bird to release during prayers—signaling forgiveness and a return to good. Many birds will be captured again, sold again—repeating the cycle like reincarnation, or sin and forgiveness—again and again and again. All those tiny souls, waiting to be bought, waiting to fly free, all at the whim of guilty and guilt laden humans.

*The Preah Ang Dorngkeu Shrine along the Mekong, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

Pink White Lotus flower with Incense in coconuts arrangements near The Preah Ang Dorngkeu Shrine, Phnom Penh, Cambodia. — *Lotus flower arrangements near the Preah Ang Dorngkeu Shrine, Phnom Penh, Cambodia*.

*Discarded offerings of lotus flower arrangements near the Royal Palace, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

When we passed back through Phnom Penh later in the month, we stayed at the Foreign Correspondents Club on the banks of the Mekong River. This place was popular with foreign journalists and aid workers during civil wars and unrest. Our room was a delightful step back in time with squeaky, shiny wood floors and french doors opening on to a balcony with an old-school tile floor, overhead fan, and wooden chairs overlooking the Mekong River. I sat transfixed out there—freshly showered, with a steaming cup of coffee, journal, and camera, staring at the mighty Mekong as the water went pink in the coming light of dawn and orange draped the skies at dusk when the neon lit up.

The Mekong River

The river called to us as we sat watching the world go by from our FCC balcony. One evening we took a sunset cruise on the Tonle Sap and Mekong. As we waited on the quay for our boat, a child of no more than five years old was begging near the street. His fist was tightly clenched around his Cambodian Riel folding money—maybe it was safer in his fist than in this pocket judging by all the kids around him hustling for money and food. I asked one of the boys where he lived—and he pointed out to the river.

As we would soon see, there are villages so very poor on the banks of the river. Dogs barked, and lush green rice fields passed by. And in the shadows of a 5-star, high-rise hotel and just across the river from the neon lights of Phnom Penh, sit hundreds of crooked tin shacks on stilts, and tents housing entire families on small fishing boats. The fishing boats were preparing to go out at dusk. Men hopped along the boats, moving things and we saw a woman untangling nets while nursing a baby.

Man walking down to River cruise boat docking on the Mekong, Phnom Penh, Cambodia. — *River cruise boat docking on the Mekong, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

*Village along the east bank of the Mekong River, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

*A fishing boat pushes out near the Sokha Phnom Penh Hotel, Cambodia.*

The boat’s motor denied the river current’s attempt to sweep us downstream to Vietnam. Waiters brought us drinks and told us precisely when the Tonle Sap merged into the Mekong. Musicians played sad and delicate string instruments. Cambodian hosts asked us three times if we were enjoying their country, this city, this boat. “Yes, we are”, we smiled. They beamed. The Cambodians on the boat worked so hard to make the cruise nice for us. And when I learned the boat was owned by a Texan, only then was I disappointed—I wish I’d looked for a Cambodian-owned river cruise.

orange sky mekong river Fishing boats preparing to go out at dusk, Phnom Penh, Cambodia. — *Fishing boats preparing to go out at dusk, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

*Fishing in an orange dusk on the Tonle Sap, Phnom Penh, Cambodia.*

Later, I sat on the FCC balcony watching the Mekong and all the mopeds’ bouncing headlights go by. I wondered what it’d been like here before all the outside influences, before wars, before motorcycles. A large man in a suit was walking with his dog along the river—he stopped to pick up the Bulldog’s poop and the dog wandered into the busy street. I held my breath, wishing that dog to be safe—and the motorcycles flowed around him like water running around a rock. The dog jumped back onto the sidewalk and caught up with his person. Does it maybe work like that sometimes? Does a wish thrown into the universe sometimes work like a Harry Potter Patronus charm? Can we wish good on people, on the environment, on animals, and it come true? A Golden Retriever went past, ears flapping and smiling up at me from a remork’s side car…maybe that’s a “yes”.

To see more of Cambodia, click here.

Select Cambodian photos for sale on Etsy.

Cambodia’s Red Dirt and Colorful Blessings

Posted February 15, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Cambodia’s red dirt

Our days in Siem Reap passed quickly. Remork rides with Sothea were a favorite part of every day–quiet, almost chilly morning rides to the temples and refreshing breezes in the chaotic afternoon traffic when we returned to our hotel.

Cambodia has this red dust. It colors the sky with a diffused, hazy pink at dawn and at dusk, and coats everything with a layer of grit. Hundreds of booths selling water, postcards, and snacks line the roads around the temples. One afternoon, we passed a woman sitting in the shade on the roadside, doing needlepoint—in all the heat, humidity, traffic, and dust—-calmly and fastidiously working on that fine material. I wonder if her hands have that sweaty grit, or if the material feels as dirty as my clothes do after just one day.

Ta Prohm and colorful wrists

The Ta Prohm temples are covered in strangler fig and silk cotton trees. French restorers decided to leave it as it was found so tourists could see it as the “finders” first saw it and demonstrate the power of neglect for ruins near a jungle. Work has been done to stabilize the ruins, to build walkways for tourists, and to maintain a look of “apparent neglect”. There are clink-clink-clink sounds of hammering as workers remake designs on concrete and stone amid all those tree roots slowly inching into the old buildings.

Ta Prohm's strangler fig trees, Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *Ta Prohm’s strangler fig trees, Angkor Wat, Cambodia*.

*Workmen rebuild and remake parts of Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

*Trees prying into the ruins of Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

We walked through the area in the morning, when it wasn’t yet jam packed with people. In one of the alcoves, a woman sat with baskets of string bracelets, incense, and a donation bowl. I stopped to look and we smiled at each other. I placed money in her bowl and she picked up a yellow woven bracelet and whispered a chant as she tied it to my right wrist, and without letting go of my hand, added a second blessing bracelet of bright red and pink braided over a purple thread. I motioned for permission to take her photo and she nodded yes, and gave my camera a shy smile. Later, as we stopped in a line of people in another alcove, a second blessing lady smiled at my colorful wrists. I smiled back and squatted down to put a donation in her empty bowl. She quietly sang a chant while adding a blue bracelet and then a braided yellow and red one. These women sit there among all the tourists, waiting and watching–and ignored by many who walk by. I wanted to spend a few minutes with these ladies, and get their sweet and simple blessings. It certainly can’t hurt to give a few dollars, spend a moment together in a place so special, and come away with good spirits and colorful wrists.

*Blessing giver in Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

Overwhelming

We returned to the area where all the remork drivers waited. To pass time in the heat, some drivers napped in hammocks, others sprawled out in their carriages—feet or hands dangling over the sides. Angkor Wat has so many temples and things to see: Ta Keo on a hill, Chau Say, the 200+ faces of Bayon, monkeys, Neak Pean’s ponds, Victory Gate’s row boat men sculptures, elephants in traffic, and the Terrace of the Elephants. We lost ourselves—even with a map. It was like walking through a museum of the finest treasures—where after a few hours, the immenseness floods the senses, and details start to get lost in a mind jumble.

Victory Gate, Angkor Wat, Siem Reap Cambodia — *Victory Gate, Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*Some of the 200+ faces of Bayon, Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

The South Gate's soldiers on the Bridge, Angkor Thom / Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *The South Gate’s soldiers on the Bridge, Angkor Thom / Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

*Ponds at Neak Pean, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

*The long bridge walkway at Neak Pean, Angkor Wat, Cambodia. Panorama taken with an iPhone.*

I also found the sheer number of tourists—particularly, the rude tourists—overwhelming. I do realize that a tourist complaining about other tourists is the height of hypocrisy. So, yes, I am part of the problem that many locals complain about when they are overrun with visitors. And I will fully admit that I was getting punchy with the heat and being tired. That said, I have a few suggestions for all of us tourists:

Be careful when walking with, or waving, a selfie stick in a crowd. Those sticks can bruise someone or crack a camera lens.
Everyone wants to see the site—not other tourists climbing into the site. Wait your turn, and stay on the designated paths.
Share the space. Take a few shots and move along. Don’t monopolize a spot for 15 minutes perfecting a pose. We saw so many people climb into temple windows, and pose there for so long that we started to make up names for their poses: “look thoughtful while resting chin on interlaced fingers” or “kick feet up and make sunshine with hands”.
Learn to say “excuse/pardon me” and “I’m sorry”—in many languages (or any language) for those instances when jostling through a crowd. At the very least, practice acknowledging others’ presence by saying something nice in your own language, smiling, or miming your intentions or apologies when bumping against others or stepping into their photos by accident.
Don’t patronize the animals. Monkeys should not be teased with food or for photo opportunities—they can bite, scratch, or snatch food or things from you or your child. It’s probably not fun for the monkeys, and it won’t be funny when it happens to you. If you must ride an elephant, look for a conscientious group that respectfully cares for the elephants, that takes care of the environment, and that is owned by locals (not foreign investors).

*Traffic includes elephants at Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

Elephant Bas Relief at Terrace of the Elephants, Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *Elephant bas relief at Terrace of the Elephants, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

Elephants temples of Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *Elephant columns at a temple ruin in Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

A most special blessing

Our days in Siem Reap and Angkor Wat consisted of remork rides to the temples in the fresh mornings, lots of walking and seeing sites, and remork rides back to the hotel for a late lunch, poolside. After eating meals like veggie spring rolls or egg and cheese spaghetti, and mojitos, we’d retire to the room to escape the afternoon heat—the wind chimes outside our door gently tolling in the hot breeze.

*View from an early morning remork ride, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

Early one morning we visited Preah Khan, another strangler tree location that is smaller and less crowded. We roamed the grounds with a handful of others. It was quiet, and mysterious in the still, hazy-mist of morning. We came across a curious pink plastic handbag sitting off the path by a cave-like structure. A few minutes later, we entered a portico clearing, and there sitting in a nook was a tiny, curled up, bald old lady monk in white. Her smiling eyes were cloudy and she had that universal-looking apple face of the very old—toothless and round. She was giving blessings and I was smitten.

Her smile was kind and peaceful as she took my hand and started her chant. She had strong nimble fingers—and bestowed her blessings with three simple strings of white, orange and yellow—knotted only once in the middle. A palm rub, then a gesture like pulling my soul from my heart, a touch to my forehead and then a playful “poof” of breath into my face and a radiant smile. She had this helpless look, but smiling, confident, and at peace—and she looked like a combination of grandmas from all over the world. I heard a guide say he’d been coming there for 10 years and she’d always been there. Precious. To this day, seven months later, those simple strings are still on my left wrist, along with the red yard tied by the boy monk. My treasures from Cambodia.

A special blessing from in Preah Khan, Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *A special blessing in Preah Khan, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

The monk's things at Preah Khan, Angkor Wat, Cambodia — *We saw the monk’s things at Preah Khan before we saw her, Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

To see more about our time in Cambodia’s Angkor Wat, please click here.

Some photos from Cambodia are for sale on my Etsy site.

Cambodia’s Angkor Wat

Posted February 12, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Angkor Wat: “Erected by some ancient Michelangelo”

On our first full day in Cambodia, we purchased 3-day passes for $67 for Angkor Wat, a place so revered by Cambodians that it is on their flag. It is the largest religious monument in the world—covering almost 500 acres.

Built in the 1100s AD as a Hindu temple and a capital city for King Suryavarman II’s Khmer Empire, it was converted to a Buddhist temple later that century. Later, it would nearly be abandoned. In the mid-1800s, a French explorer named Henri Mouhot wrote about Angkor Wat, and reestablished interest in the complex:

“One of these temples—a rival to that of Solomon, and erected by some ancient Michelangelo—might take an honorable place beside our most beautiful buildings. It is grander than anything left to us by Greece or Rome…”

A moat had stopped the jungle from overtaking the temple, but the complex needed much help to clear vegetation and restore some buildings. Today Angkor Wat, with its surrounding temples, is a UNESCO world heritage site.

We took a remork (Cambodian tuk tuk) to the temple, enjoying the cool morning air breezing on us in the carriage. Through the residential side streets, and main road motorbike chaos, into the red dirt land of Cambodia on the road to Angkor Wat, those rides were a favorite part of our day—talking to Sothea (the driver), and seeing life along the streets of Siem Reap.

Just outside the main entrance to Angkor Wat, we decided last minute to hire a guide to walk with us through the complex. Our expectation was that he’d take us to the most meaningful spots (he did), allow me time to photograph (he did not), and tell us about the complex with both facts and local stories. We got the facts—spewed at us without context or passion as we ran to keep up with him. Any questions set him to rewind-repeat-data mode. One hour of this fast-moving, fact frenzy for $15. Whew. I was glad to hear him say, “Time is up. You want ‘nother hour?” “No sir, thank you.” And that was the first and last day we used a guide. From then on, we decided to wander, see what we saw, and look it up in our book—a pace better suited to us.

*Donation box at a temple at Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

Lady with blue umbrella Walking around the almost 500 acre temple complex at Angkor Wat, Cambodia. — *Walking around the almost 500-acre temple complex at Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

*Cool, dark tunnels in the Angkor Wat temples, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*A building from 1100 AD at Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

*Bas relief of two women at Angkor Wat temple complex, Cambodia.*

Red Yarn Blessings

It was after our guide left us that we heard a soft young voice chanting, and saw the teenage boy making the song. He was a monk. Shaved head, wrapped in an orange robe, seated in front of a woman and her young daughter. We watched and waited, and when they stepped down, we stepped up. He indicated our shoes. We took them off. He pointed to our places to sit. We sat, Bryan to my right. And then he began chanting while looking down at his accoutrements and monk tools. Next, a raised a scooper out of a bucket of water and shook it in our direction. I covered my camera in my lap and welcomed the cool drops of water in this 90+ degree humid day. He looked at me and indicated my left wrist. I offered my arm and he began tying a red-braided piece of wool yarn around my wrist while chanting—knotting it once, twice, how many times? He then took scissors and carefully cut off the excess. Then he did the same to Bryan’s right wrist. Bryan put money in the young monk’s basket, and we reached to get our shoes. I turned back to the young monk and asked him, “How old are you?” He hesitated for so long that I thought he did not understand my language, and / or was not going to answer. But as I picked up my shoes, he ever-so-quietly said, “Fifteen,” waited a heartbeat or two, and then smiled at me. My heart melted a little as I smiled back and said my best “saum arkoun nay” (Thank you in Khmer…I hope) and I stood to go.

The red string is to remind the wearer to be compassionate, to mind the tongue so as not to harm with words, and to be fearless, courageous, and brave. Some say it protects too—absorbing negative energy until it can hold no more, and falls off. As I write this, it is nearly seven months later, and the red yarn blessing is still secure on my wrist, and the young monk’s shy smile is tucked tight in my memories. I like this red yarn and its reminders.

A young monk bestows blessings at Angkor Wat, Cambodia. — *A young monk trims a red yarn blessing after bestowing it in Angkor Wat, Cambodia.*

Spirit Houses

As we walked around Siem Reap, we noticed colorful little houses on pedestals, often placed near door ways. The birdhouse-sized structures sometimes had offerings on their little patios—burning incense, a little bowl of rice, fruit slices, a piece of bread or cake, a cup of coffee, a shot glass of liquor or soft drink. These are spirit houses. Some are ornate, some simple and plain, and each one intriguing. I learned that they are common in Southeast Asia, and are considered a place to shelter and appease restless spirits, and to invite the good spirits of those recently departed. Friendly spirits are said to congregate in the spirit houses to enjoy food and drink, and it is their presence that keeps bad spirits away.

*A small spirit house, beside an ancient tree. Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*Ornate spirit house with coffee offering. Cambodia.*

Lots of incense and drinks at this spirit house, Cambodia. — *Incense and drinks at this spirit house, Cambodia.*

The Night Market

After a daytime of touring, we’d return to the hotel for a little rest and to clean up. At sundown, we walked into the old town for dinner. In the cool of the evening, more people were out, laughing and talking, eating and visiting. We went to the touristy Pub Street to find meals, and ventured into the circus of the Night Market.

The Night Markets were always interesting. There were narrow lanes containing hundreds of small stalls selling brand-name knock-off clothing and accessories. One could also find souvenirs and t-shirt vendors, dimly-lit and calm massage shops–where several tourists always sat in recliners getting foot massages, and bright carnival-like stalls where tourists climbed up to sit and dangle their feet in a fish tank—the fish eating dead skin from their feet. In the streets, amputees begged with a poetic cadence, and the music of bands of land mine victims drifted into the night like smoke. Little girls demonstrated high spinning toys and glow necklaces, and served as translator when tourists bought the novelties from their nearby mom. Women sold fried tarantulas, scorpions, and snakes for snacks from large display tables hanging from their necks. There was so much going on there–and always the smells of moped exhaust, woodsmoke, and lemongrass.

Such strange and different things to see, but also so many things the same as home. And the hoards of tourists—all together, in places where we can buy bottled water, eat from a menu printed in English, find a cheap, fake version of an expensive brand, and be all together to marvel and be shocked by seeing fried scorpions served on a stick.This was everything I’ve come to love–and hate–about travel. As fascinating as it was, I longed to be away from this—away from the mobs of other tourists and the universal salad of globalization. Of course, being here in Cambodia makes me part of the problem.

I’m curious how other people feel about the increase in tourism and what it does to the places we all go. There are the crowds, the traffic, the overbooked hotels. And on the other hand, there’s an economic bump to the area. But who gets the bulk of the profits? My guess is the international company coming in, not the people who live there (who may only earn a small wage working for the tourism industry). Does anyone else worry about this, and plan trips differently as a result?

*Along the street near the Night Market, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*Near Pub Street, Siem Reap twilight, Cambodia.*

*The Night Market, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*At night, the smiling faces inside the shop of the Geological Institute in Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

Cambodia prints available on Etsy.

More about our time in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

First Impressions of Cambodia

Posted February 11, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

We chose Cambodia because of a Steve McCurry photo-—you know the photo…those trees hugging and prying into stone temples, and a doorway with monks in saffron robes peering out. This was the third stop on our around-the-world trip, and we were anxious to spend more time in Asia. And we found so much more than those jungle trees in beautiful Cambodia.

A kid smiles at me from the back of a motorbike in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

To Cambodia via Hong Kong

We flew from Brisbane Australia overnight, connecting in Hong Kong. There’s something about a night flight, and a flight to HONG KONG–a place name we’ve heard all our lives and now it was printed on our boarding passes! It was 4,300 miles and 8+ hours to Hong Kong, passing over places like Papua New Guinea, Indonesia, the Philippines, and the South China Sea. I slept little, instead eyeing the flight map, trying to see the land below, and reading.

In Hong Kong, we had 70 whole minutes to change terminals and planes. We bought water, got some Hong Kong coins back in change, and I stood staring at a display of books… it took a minute in my groggy state to realize that these were for readers of right-to-left text—and were not stacked on the table backwards afterall.

Arrival in Siem Reap

We arrived in Siem Reap, Cambodia about three hours later, and exited the airport into a hot, hazy land, full of buzzing mopeds and smiling people. There was a closeness in the air, maybe the enveloping humidity and the smoke of wood fires, or maybe the dreaminess from our lack of sleep.

Traffic at dusk Motorcycles, mopeds, and remorks (tuktuks) rule the streets of Siem Reap, Cambodia — *Traffic at dusk–Motorcycles, mopeds, and remorks (tuktuks) rule the streets of Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

Mr. TinTin, a driver from the hotel, met us with a sign, escorted us to a waiting old Mercedes, and politely chattered in English with the full-blown AC on as he drove us to the hotel. We tumbled back out into the heat and smoke and sounds of buzzing motorbikes at the Privilege Boutique Hotel, and were greeted with sunny, smiling people offering cold white lemongrass-scented washcloths, and a dainty glass of an orange tasty juice I couldn’t identify. Nothing has ever felt more refreshing.

It was still morning and our room was not yet ready. So we sat and talked to our friendly hosts: Jasmine, Phally and Ken. I felt so welcomed here, it was as if we were long-lost family. They gave us advice on seeing Angkor Wat, filled us in on their elected monarch, and taught us a few important words and phrases in Khmer like Chul Mouy (which means cheers and to my ears sounded like “chew muy”). According to Jasmine, “You say this so the ears can enjoy it too”.

*Lotus blooms floating in a vase in Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*Lotus pads floating in a hotel vase, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

These friendly Cambodians have a history that is equally grand and empirical, elegant and exotic, and cruel and haunting. There is Angkor Wat, a vast religious monument that is evidence of a time when Cambodia was the center of an empire. There are also the sophisticated architecture and cuisine leave-behinds from the Indochina era when Cambodia was under French protection as a buffer between Siam and a French Vietnam. And there are the lingering effects of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime when 25% of the Cambodian population was tortured and murdered between 1975-1979.

Cambodia’s Recent History

There was a civil war in Cambodia in the early 70s. After, Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge regime arrested and eventually executed almost everyone suspected of connections with the former government or with foreign governments, as well as professionals and intellectuals. This state-sponsored genocide killed more than two million Cambodian people—men, women, and children. There are at least 20,000 mass grave sites in this small country (a country about the size of the state of Oregon). Today, bones have been gathered and are placed in “Killing Field” stupas around the country. Sometimes, bones or teeth are unearthed in monsoon rains, or when farmers are tilling fields and are brought to local stupas or monasteries out of respect. While the bones remain unidentified, they are cared for, remembered, and give the world a place to contemplate the horrors of genocide. Please, if you haven’t yet, read “First They Killed My Father” by Loung Ung and see the movie, “The Killing Fields”. As painful as these may be, it is important to remember these atrocities and the events that led to them. It is astounding what unbelievable horrors and cruelty people can inflict on other living beings.

Skulls in a Killing Fields stupa in Siem Reap Cambodia — Unidentified bones from mass graves are brought to stupas out of respect for the dead. In the 1970s, Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge regime tortured and killed 25% of Cambodia’s population in a state-sponsored genocide.

Lingering Impressions of Cambodia

I don’t want to end this post on this note. Cambodia is so much more than the haunted history of Pol Pot, mass graves, and land mines. I will remember it for being a land of French touches like baguettes and coffee, of beautiful green rice fields and white-water salt flats, of red dust and of dragonflies, of smells of night jasmine, lemongrass, and peppercorn; of humidity and a glorious diffused light from the woodsmoke and motorcycle haze, and being home to some of the friendliest people in the world. Remarkable. Cambodia reaffirmed how kind people can be.

Four Cambodians on a motorcycle smiling and waving — *Cambodians have ready smiles, waving from their motorcycle.*

*A dog sleeps in the red dirt of Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

Exotic yellow and green fruit stacked up. Siem Reap, Cambodia — *Name that fruit. Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

*Penny Lane yellow, Siem Reap, Cambodia.*

Shutters on the French-influenced La Malraux restaurant in an alley of Siem Reap's Old Market, Cambodia. — *Shutters on the French-influenced La Malraux restaurant in an alley of Siem Reap’s Old Market, Cambodia.*

The Turtles of Lady Elliot Island – Great Barrier Reef

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

The Turtles of Lady Elliot Island

Located at the southern tip of the Great Barrier Reef, Lady Elliot Island is remote—50 miles from the Australian coast. There is limited air access, and no ferries or boats come in. Evenings on Lady Elliot Island are dark and quiet but for the sounds of the wind, the waves, the birds, and sometimes the sounds of sand being scooped and pushed as Green and Loggerhead turtles come ashore to dig holes and lay eggs.

The Green and Loggerhead turtles that call this island home are the size of end tables–three to four feet in length and about 500 pounds or more. They can live to be 50-80 years old, and will often travel as far as Africa in their lifetime. At night, they lumber up on the same beaches where they were born, to find a place above the high tide line to lay their eggs. About 8-12 weeks later, hatchlings dig their way out of the nest and run for the sea—usually on a cool, dark night. It is said that the baby turtles know their way to the water by looking for the lightest part of the sky—the horizon. Any other lights may disorient and confuse the turtles. So during our stay on Lady Elliot Island, we were urged to keep room lights off at night, and when lights were on—to close the thick curtains tight.

“She must have forgotten the time”

Every morning, we saw at least one turtle making her way down to the water after sunrise. Sometimes we saw turtles sitting at the lip of the surf–exhausted from their night’s labor–waiting for the tide to ease them over stones and back out to sea.

A turtle has an audience as she goes back to sea on Lady Elliot Island. — *A turtle has an audience as she slips back into the sea on Lady Elliot Island.*

A turtle waiting for the tide to help her out to sea one morning on Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia. — *A turtle waiting for the tide to help her over the rocks and back out to sea one morning on Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia.*

*A turtle and her tracks, waiting for the tide to help her out to sea one morning on Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia.*

Watching the Turtles

On land, turtles seem prehistoric, lumbering, slow, and so intentional. In the water, they float, glide, dive, and seem so carefree. On a glass-bottom boat tour, we saw a teenage turtle resting in a bed of sea plants on the ocean floor, while another large turtle cruised past the boat’s sea window looking in at us. A Hawksbill turtle—which is endangered and rare to see around Lady Elliot—swam by the boat. On our final morning, Bryan saw a single half-dollar-sized hatchling race to the sea.

Another day, I sat on the beach, soaking in the sun and staring out at the turquoise blue of the reef. Bryan was snorkeling—or as he said, putting his face into an aquarium of colorful, Finding Nemo fish. I tried to write in my journal, and should have been applying sunscreen to my shins. Instead, I couldn’t take my eyes off the glinting water. And like a vision, I saw a giant turtle raise her head and look at me from the reef right in the very spot where my eyes were focused. I saw her feet treading water as she bobbed in the shiny waves, looking straight up the beach at me. She stayed there for a few minutes before turning and diving down. Maybe she was looking for her nest, or being kind to this non-swimmer with a little viewing. I’ll remember that turtle for a long time, gracefully bobbing in the sparkling blue water.

Turtle tracks and a turtle on Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia. — *Nest types can be identified by the tracks. This Green Turtle waits for the tide on Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia.*

Dual turtle tracks to the water. Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia — *Dual Green Turtle tracks to the water. Lady Elliot Island, Great Barrier Reef, Australia.*

Seen from a glass-bottom boat, a teenage turtle rests. Lady Elliot Island, Australia — *Seen from a glass-bottom boat, a teenage turtle rests in a reef cubby. Lady Elliot Island, Australia.*

An endangered Hawksbill turtle, rarely seen in Lady Elliot Island, surveys the people in the glass-bottom boat — *An endangered Hawksbill turtle, rarely seen in Lady Elliot Island, surveys us in the glass-bottom boat.*

*Possible turtle nests are marked on Lady Elliot Island.*

Hatchling the size of a half-dollar runs for the ocean one morning on Lady Elliot Island. — *A turtle hatchling–only the size of a half-dollar–runs for the ocean one morning on Lady Elliot Island.*

Saying Goodbye to Lady Elliot Island

Turtles are solitary and mysterious creatures. They navigate long distances, and yet regularly find their way back across the vast ocean to the same tiny bit of beach where they were born.

As we lifted off the runway, and circled around to see the island from the air one last time, I hoped that I–like a turtle–could find my way back to the peaceful beaches of Lady Elliot Island and the Great Barrier Reef.

Plane landing on Lady Elliot Island, photo taken from a plane — *Photo taken from a plane just leaving Lady Elliot Island and circling around for a last look. Note the plane landing from the right (on the tip of his nose 🙂*

*Tiny little Lady Elliot Island, in the Great Barrier Reef, Australia.*

“And the turtles, of course…all the turtles are free, as turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.” Dr. Seuss

Holi in Orchha

First, What is Holi?

Holi Eve in Agra

Taking the train from Agra to Orchha

Tuk-tuks to Orchha

Happy Holi!

Around Orchha

Orchha’s Cenotaphs

Holy Cows

A Holy Pup and his Not-so-Holy Man

Thieving Monkeys

Orchha Palace Fort: Raja Mahal and Jahangir Mahal

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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Details

Love and Peace

The Moods of Taj Mahal

One last look

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The Pink City of Jaipur

Palace of Winds

Jantar Mantar

Arrival at Amber Fort and Palace

Into the Rich World of Amber Palace

A Procession for Wishes Granted

The Water Palace

Magic and Protection, Strength and Fortitude

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All the Colors of India

The Bissau Palace Hotel

Room #18

The Old Market of Jaipur

Chai, Samosas, and Death in Jaipur

Navigating the streets of Jaipur

Mornings at the Hotel

More to come from Jaipur

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Intimidating India

Malaysia Airlines

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Delhi, India

Arrival in Delhi

Hotel Perfect?

First Impressions of Daytime Delhi

Meeting our G Adventures Group

India Gate

Delhi to Jaipur

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In the Cambodian Countryside

Pepper Plantations and Salt Flats

Palm Oil

Raindrops in Cambodia

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Phnom Penh to Kampot

Kampot

Sorrow in Kampot

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A Giant Ibis to Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh

The Mekong River

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Cambodia’s red dirt

Ta Prohm and colorful wrists

Overwhelming

A most special blessing

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Angkor Wat: “Erected by some ancient Michelangelo”

Red Yarn Blessings

Spirit Houses

The Night Market

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To Cambodia via Hong Kong