The Ellora Caves

On the road.

We arrive in Aurangabad and find that at our guesthouse, an Indian wedding is under way. The groom sits handsomely on a white horse, and women sit in glittering saris in the shade.

We travel by local bus to the Ellora Caves- ancient Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples cut from the cliffs.

The caves are dark and cool, the temperature outside is hotter, and it is more humid than the North. In the Buddhist caves, the Buddha sits calmly smiling, and we hear an Indian family chanting. The father sings in a low drone, the mother in a soft and high voice, and the children in strange, excited melody as they run between stone pillars.

Many of the caves are home to hundereds of bats that swoop past your head as you walk by.

The Hindu caves show beautiful carvings of the gods, Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma as well as curvacious godesses whose breasts are shiny after centuries of groping!

To reach the farther caves we have to walk across a narrow ledge in the middle of a cliff-face. We take off our shoes in order to have a better grip. Don't worry Mum- it wasn't as bad as it looked! The largest structure is the Kailasa Temple built in AD 760 which covers twice the area of the Parthenon in Athens.

We viewed it from above, since it sits in a gouged out chasm.

We travelled on to Pune- a city famous for Osho's ashram which offers dubious spirituality at great cost to a largely Western clientelle- a stark contrast to the teeming streets outside where it is not unusual to see people lying on the roadside or sheltering under corrugated iron shacks.

Finally, we are heading to Panaji, Goa, then North to Arambol where, if you are there, Rosa, Denise, David and Alan (and Fion if you change your mind), we would love to see you again. Keep in touch.

Fear and Loathing in Indore

Indore is a stop on the way to Aurangabad- it is an industrial city which would ignite if you shook it. We feel lost in the mechanisms of a giant machine that someone has lost control of. Chaos and confusion reside here. This is definately not geared towards travellers like some of the other places we've visited but is an important part of our journey. Exhausted, we flick through Indian t.v. channels and to our delight, 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' is on- undubbed!! So with the clamour of outside still rattling in our heads we laugh and lose ourselves in yet another surreal world.

Thoughts for Elen

Monsoon Palace

Have changed our ticket twice so as to stay in Udaipur longer, and have finally made it up the mountain to the Monsoon Palace. The palace itself is abandoned and there is not much to see inside, but the views are wonderful. The Aravalli range is one of the oldest in the world, and the rounded mountains are smoothed by time.

At the top we came across an old man and a kitten playing with a ball of string. We have also seen wild peacocks and monkeys but no tigers, panthers or dragons.

Tomorrow we are off (probably) to Indore, then on to the Ajanta and Ellora caves.

Here is our guesthouse, The Panorama. Notice that it is still Christmas here.

From the banks of Lake Pichola

Travelled by bus from Jaisalmer to Udaipur - a 14 hour journey by bus on Indian roads, which are mostly unsurfaced, and extremely bumpy. Amazingly we managed to get quite a lot of sleep and arrived at Udaipur at six in the morning. Found the Panorama guesthouse, which is a wonderful place overlooking Lake Pichola, and huddled under a blanket on the terrace until our room became available.
Of Udaipur, it is a gorgeous place, surrounded by rolling misty hills. The lake gives it a kind of Venetian feel, and it is referred to here as the Venice of India. Monsoons of the previous few years have been so bad that the lake has been completely dry but thanks to this years heavy rains it is the fullest it has been for thirty years.
A visit to the City Palace provided much information about Udaipur's history. Founded in 1559, it has been under the rule of successive Maharanas who live in the palace. It has always remained independent of Mughal influence, and is referred to sometimes as The White City. We were surprised to discover that the colours relating to particular towns (such as Jaipur- the Pink City) have a deeper significance and are not simply to do with the colour of the buildings. Jodhpur, for example, is known as The Blue City. This is because the women of Jodhpur are renowned for their beauty and many Maharanas preferred Jodhpur women as their wives. In India, blue is the colour of love.
We have been feeding the chipmunks chips this morning, they're very brave and take food right out of your hand. We were planning to leave tomorrow but have extended our stay as we're having a lot of fun here and have yet to make it to the Monsoon Palace...

For Lawrence, thank you for your message- here are the details of our journey so far:
Arrive Delhi 01/01/07, 11:30. Leave 05/01/07, 17:45
Arrive Jaisalmer 06/01/07, 14:00. Leave 13/01/07, 15:30
Arrive Udaipur 14/01/07, 06:00

Raju Ram and the Desert Aeroplanes

We are taken by rickshaw out of Jaisalmer (both given the chance to drive down the long, straight roads!) At a small desert village we stop to meet the camels, and our guides: Raju Ram and a wise looking old man whose name we think sounds like Ghandi. Raju is a youthful man who has worked with the camels all his life- they are his Aeroplanes of the Desert and the desert is his great love. When the camels stand up or sit down, they do it in 3 stages, giving three opportunities to fall off! We see gazelle type creatures and eagles soaring overhead. By the time we stop for lunch we are bandy in the legs, but we are assured that for a man it is altogether a different ball game!

Shahrukh, who has accompanied us into the desert, leaving behind his usual occupation as manager of the accounts at the Artist Hotel, brandishes his chess board and as the pakoras and chapatis cook, he defeats us relentlessly. Raju Ram tells us about the monsoon last year which was so heavy it destroyed many houses including his own. Lots of people died, as they do when there is no rain.

We reach our camp as the sun is setting. The dunes stretch away in the distance, and we play in the warm sand. We aim for a high peak to see the sun set, struggling as if we are climbing up a downwards escalator, knee deep in sand. Running down again is lots of fun, like scree running.

Night falls very quickly on the plains of Rajasthan and wild dogs are abroad. It is cold in the night but the last time we saw stars like this was in the Algonquin National Park. We sit around a camp fire telling jokes until, shivering, we try to get some sleep.

Back in Jaisalmer we celebrate Helmut's birthday- he is the Austrian funder of the guest house. There is lots of drinking, dancing and traditional Rajasthani music as well as some Bob Dylan sung by Helmut.

Finally, a desert flower for Mum x

The Golden City

Our journey from Delhi to Jaisalmer was about 20 hours! On leaving Delhi we passed the shanty towns that line the railway tracks. Very surreal.. communities of people in tightly packed rooms, many beautifully decorated with glimmering lights and open doors. The railway is used like a road and some sit on the track round fires while children play. Some of the poorest people in Delhi but dedication to beauty in the home is always apparent.
We sleep on the train and wake to find ourselves in the desert, from which Jaisalmer Fort soon rises in the distance. Our guesthouse here is The Artist Hotel, which has been set up by an Austrian gentleman in the old musicians quarter in Jaisalmer. Many years ago, families of these people would entertain in the fort. Now there is little requirement for that, and so the guesthouse is designed to bring income back into the area, which had become very poor. The musicians still play their traditional music on the rooftop of the guesthouse, and serenade us as we eat.
The fort is the colour of the desert and surrounded by high walls from which temples and rooftops emerge. It is lit up at night and our guest house looks directly at it across the small town beneath.
Tomorrow we are going for a camel trek in the desert. We are told that if we whistle to them, they might mate!

Disguise in Delhi

Hi and thank you all for your lovely comments.
Delhi takes some getting used to! Now we are beginning to feel quite at home here but it's not been without some sticky situations. We are constantly approached by people trying to take us somewhere, sell us something- these touts can be quite misleading at first. But it is an extreemly exciting place, so alive. There is constant activity.
On the 2nd we visited a mosque called Jamal Nasjid. We got of our rick-shaw at the end of a very busy street where we were offered goats (to buy)! The mosque was peaceful, birds flying low overhead, vast airy space. Brightly dressed children ran up to us giggling and wanting to shake our hands. They hide behind us then jump out again with smiles.
Back on the path we get a lot of unwanted attention from a crowd of young men who follow us to the rickshaw and cluster around us, but we are able to get away. Decide to cover our faces with scarves next time we visit a crowded place at dusk, and the following evening we put it to the test. We find that we can move among the crowds unhindered. The calls of 'hello, you want to buy....? Looking free," disappear and are replaced by utterences in Hindi / Urdu.

We're catching the 17:45 train to Jaisalmer today. More from there x x x

First post

During the flight we follow our progress on the inflight map.. it takes us over a mountain range (part of himalayas?) Wonder if we'll see a peak rising above the thick white clouds. Dawn, and deep furrows, ridges become visible.. smooth, pinky orange snow shines in the morning sun. Jagged brown rocks and dark blue valleys in perfect detail. We see huge plateaus and cloud lakes. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
Land suddenly in thick fog thinking we were still in the clouds. Get a taxi number from inside the airport and expect just to find our vehicle and leave. Not so. There are hundereds of people who descend on us as soon as we step out. There is a clamour of horns beeping and we are told we have the wrong number many times. Our taxi is no-where to be seen! We head straight back into the airport to avoid the confusion if nothing else and are kindly led to our taxi by someone we hope we can trust. Even so it is hard to keep track of him. But finally we are in, letting fate decide.
Now it is like time speeds up. The fog adds to the bizarre journey into the Paharganj, seems like the world is on fire somewhere. Fast along the busy roads, bewilderment reigns.. crumpled buildings, corrugated huts where people (at home here) wash by the roadside. Cricket is being played in feilds of rubble and cows loom through the fog. It is like being thrown into someone else's dream. Women carry huge piles of logs on their heads, monkeys sit in trees. There is no order to the traffic just a rush forwards and continuous blaring of horns.
We tip our driver and step out into the Paharganj, Main Bazaar.... (should be Main Bizaare!)