We’ve arrived at J number 2: Jodhpur, India. We’ve just left Jaipur, and Jaisalmer is next on our list. After a late (7:30) wake-up call, we had breakfast, watched some Olympic highlights, and moved out of Devi Niketan. The Admiral took our picture in front of the building and said he’d send it to us. After saying good-bye and thank-you and have-a-nice-trip, four people, four suitcases, four backpacks, and one hat piled into the taxi and rode to the train station.

Each time we ride, I feel a little less conspicuous. Apparently we look like seasoned travelers (or just English-speakers) so much that a young lady asked us if she was on the right platform (#3) for train number 14865. We told her she was. What we didn’t tell her was that we were on train 14865. I’m not sure if she saw us getting off, but I’m relieved to see her as the train changed from Platform Three to Platform Two. The side of the train read it and the announcer lady said it, but it didn’t seem like she spoke English very well.

After a six-hour train ride in second-class, we almost got off at the wrong station. We took our cue- and a clue- from everyone else, though, and returned to our seats. I wonder what the Indians in seats 1, 2, 3, and 4 thought since we passed them twice.

We had to wait for about ten, maybe twenty, minutes for our driver to come. Then four people, four suitcases, four backpacks, and one hat got into a taxi for the second time in one day. We went on a curvy, bumpy, but thankfully paved, road to get here, and on the way I saw a truck hit a tuk-tuk in the back. No one was hurt but the driver sure was mad.

Happy and Pepsi were the first to meet us; they’re the dogs of Mandore Guest House. Poor Happy has huge amounts of thick black fur. Pepsi is more suited to Indian desert with a short tan coat. Our luggage was carried to the doors of our rooms, which are in the same little cottage. We discovered that we aren’t the only guests here (a first in India); there is a family, a couple of couples, and a group of people that I know just about nothing about except that they’re staying at Mandore Guest House.

We read, walked around, and finally had supper. To finish it, Dad had ice cream that looked like panna cotta (pah-na-COAT-uh) from Boutique della Pasta in Chiang Mai but tasted like tonic-otta (ton-ick-OH-tah). Ciao!