Tag Archives: Jodhpur

J-Cubed

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I woke up at- oh, this hurts- 3:20 am take a shower so we could be in a taxi at four. Our train was supposed to leave at 4:45. It left at 6:30.
Between these times, we saw a pickpocket trying to rob a man sleeping on the platform. We think he failed.
Once on the train, we went to sleep and when I woke up, I put my hand on the window. It was the inner of two. And it was almost hot.
Our train finally chug-chug-HONKed into Jaisalmer. The brown buildings were a welcome sight after hours of red dirt. We got off and maneuvered our way to the exit and the man holding the sign that said “Jery.” Four people, four suitcases, four backpacks, and one hat piled into the Jeep. The vehicle slowly wove its way up narrow streets, into the fort, through four gates,  and to a small parking lot. We got out and walked the fifty meters to Hotel Surja. After the necessary obsessing over our rooms, we settled in, cooled off (we were already drenched with sweat after only fifteen minutes outside), and waited through several short power outages.
Dad decided we needed to go explore, so we left the fort and walked up and down a few streets. Thankfully we didn’t get lost. After another short power outage, we went up to the roof and ordered a round of lassis. I should have remembered the hot “chocolate” of Mandore Guest House. It was only a lassi with hot cocoa powder mixed in. Yuck. And that should have prepared me for the custard at desert which was like hot pudding with, once again, hot cocoa powder mixed in. I’m sure breakfast will be better, though, since they have toast, which I pretty much eat by the loaf. Ciao!

Indian Elementaries

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Today was our village day and our last day in Jodhpur. We did this with Lorrianne. Rachel was with us at the very beginning and end.
I  liked the two schools better than the village because the kids were less shy and so cute. The first school we went to was the one where Rachel, our next-door neighbor, is working for three weeks. We only went to her classroom, which was kind of disappointing because I wanted to meet some of the younger students there.
The class sang songs like “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” for us and two of the girls danced. The school was nice enough to serve chai tea, which was so good but scalding hot. We went to a village after that and then another school. This one was in the middle of no where and had far fewer students. We passed out pens and chocolates there and got to “help” some of the first-class students. Khavita, the girl Dad and I were with, taught us that butterfly in Hindi is “tiki.”
We got back in the Jeep and picked up Rachel. On the drive home we saw lots of people going on pilgrimages. They were walking to a temple 150 kilometers away. They were lucky to choose today because guess what??? It started raining at around 7:45 pm!!! Ciao!

Can You Say ‘Cow Poo?’

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This morning on our way home from the park down the street, Dad commented on the lack of cow poop in the road.There is a lot on the road, including filling up potholes. “There is some,” he admitted. “But there are lots of cows.” These would be the holy cows, naturally, and a few minutes after he said this, I found two reasons why.

1: There was a wheelbarrow full of the stuff on the side of the road.

2: There were bricks of cow poop drying on the side of the road. Whether they’ll be used for bricks or fire fuel, I’ll never know.

Also on the topic: the walls in the restaurant here at Mandore Guest House are made of cow dung, which would explain why I said, on our first day, “It smells weird.” Ciao!

Indian Impressions of India (or what Columbus thought was India)

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“Where are you from?” the man asks. “United States,” my dad replies. It seems like half the population of India should know that this family are from the US. Obviously five hundred million people don’t, but it feels like they do.

When people ask “Where are you from?” they usually add, “England? Canada? Germany?” No one has guessed the United States. I’m surprised they guessed Germany because they heard us speaking English, which is why most think we’re British.
When we say “United States,” there are plenty of funny reactions. Here are some of my favorites:
Boy: Where are you from?
Dad: United States.
Boy: Oh… Obama, Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan?
—
Man: Where are you from?
Dad: United States.
Man: Oh, Obamaland.
—
Man: Where are you from?
Mom: United States. America.
Man: Ah, Mexico.
—
Man: Where are you from?
Dad: United States.
Man: Oh, land of Obama. I like Obama… He’s Muslim. You can tell by the name: Osama, Obama.
—
These last two happened today at the bazaar. Ciao!

J-Squared

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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!