The end of kings' trail

I don't know which day is today, nor exactly which part of the subcontinent I'm exactly in: I have just entered in Bihar, after leaving Jaipur, Agra, Khajuraho and Varanasi. My intention was to make an entry after every other city, but the last days have been really hectic: sometimes you only sleep in trains, and some others there is so many emotion to absorb, that finding a quiet place to write and the energy to do so becomes a challenge. Thanks to the ones who have written me about this blog, it's great to hear you enjoy the stories as much as I do writing them.

This entry relates the end of the trip thorough Rajastan and the visit to Agra, the city of the Taj Mahal.

Jaipur was my last stop in Rajastan, and I was actually pretty tired to go to museums, palaces and other attractions, so I decided to stay outside the city center and enjoy the tranquility of a family hostel. Apart from a brief tourist tour, I entered Jaipurs bazaars. They are famous because it's the place where all the merchants from Rajastan get together, and it is certainly an experience to walk in a labyrinth full of colorful silks and garments for the house and for women, just as if one was in the city of Aladdin.

India is the kind of place where, if you are open, anybody can teach you a lesson. In Jaipur I had an agitated conversation with a rickshaw driver, that let me thinking for a while: he pointed out how defensive I was, and how hard will it be enjoy the trip if one shields oneself out of any contact. The truth is, that in comparison with South America or Europe, I have found really really difficult to trust on the friendship offered by Indians in the streets, as I have not had one encounter with them that do not involve a story involving money in one or other way. Despite the reasons of my closeness, this rickshaw driver has wisdom in his words, and makes me focus on the importance of all the interactions here in order to find a balance between the naiveness and experience.

I went for a massage (they cost nothing, and after nights in between trains, it's the best thing to do) and I met Kenneth. This small guy could be confused with Nepalese rather than Indian, and his origins are from the northeastern part of the India. Kenneth (who prefer his American pseudonym rather than his Indian one) is the first Christian Indian that I met on the road.  Perhaps not exactly a Christian church, he and his group work for an American pastor in one of the most depressed areas, in the Manipuri region. Before being a masseur, Kenneth was devoted to performing religious services, but his family depends on him and a life in the church does not give enough to feed a family. It seems that different variants of Protestantism have been getting momentum in northeastern India, mainly by charity missions from the United States. It was super fun to hear him singing Christian hip hop!

I quickly move from Jaipur to Agra, with a fast train that takes only six hours to arrive. Agra seems to be almost a must-do stop for tourists in India, and it seems that the whole population lives out of the tourist inflow. Despite this, the infrastructure is spartan to say the least, and only the monuments are worth to see in a city that has a big misery belt. Here you get all possible tourist traps from the moment you go down the station: from the tuk tuk driver who offers you a 'tour' (3 stops and a visit to one of his friends' shops) seven times more expensive than the normal price, to the guide apprentice who sticks to you in the Taj Mahal to friendly take a picture of you to charge you afterwards. Even the 'hotel' is a shack unworthy of all those lovely tripadvisor reviews. These places are to be alert, but tiredness weights my body and I decided to play a losing game, that all in all costs very little after all.

As for the monuments, the Taj is indeed majestic, and one can't but reflect a little bit on this place. It's symmetry is astounding (and the mathematically-inclined would agree with me that symmetry = beauty), the materials pure and deeply curated, but despite the general believe of the Taj as a love temple, this is probably the biggest mausoleum in the world. The emperor built it when his wife died giving birth to his fifteenth (yes, 15th) child! In my westernized view, she was not treated as a woman, but as a baby machine :-) Anyway, it is the mourning of the departure that is commemorated here, and remind us how hard can be when the jouney of our partner takes a different path than ours. I get conflicted here, as despite the beauty of the gesture, it makes me think how futile such demonstration is: if death is part of our path, an attachment to the past will only make our present heavier to accept.

That closes for today, hope you enjoy the reading, and wait fir the adventures in Varanasi and Khajuraho...

Andrés

On the forgotten, sandy dunes: Namaste Jaisalmer

These train trips give enough time to get oneself some time to clear thoughts and impressions, so it's better start getting done with it. I just left Jaisalmer, a small village about 40 kilometers from Pakistan, in the borders of the Thar desert. The place is small but full of charm: once capital of the state and home of many Rajput, Jaisalmer used to be the a strategic spot on the commerce between Persia, Indostan and China. After the opening of harbors in south India and the conflicts with Pakistan, the state has struggled to keep their finances alive, and nowadays lives mainly from tourism.

The first impression when entering the walls of the old city in Jaisalmer is to be back in time to 1200... The whole complex is a labyrinth hard to comprehend, and each corner has a new surprise. Rajastani art and architecture are simply astounding, and buildings (both inside and outside the complex) have very curated forms: starry and cuneiform are the windows, and one ponders how much time stone carvers have invested in the finishing of the ceilings. White stone, miniature sculptures and details covering Jainism and Hinduism cover the old city. If you ever played Diablo II, then this place was definitely the inspiration to recreate the second city in the game.

On the first day I went to wander the city, which unfortunately had grown touristic places in almost every corner. It is hard to go anywhere without seeing a sign of a shop recommended by lonelyplanet or tripadvisor, and therefore one has to watch where to stick the head into: most of the places have been awarded a good rating one year, to later deteriorate the services while keeping high prices. I have a 2008 lonely planet guide, and could see how the places recommended there were nothing particularly good in terms of product quality or services when it came to restaurants. The second day was perfect to go to the markets and polish the bargain strategies (lots of things to learn still), get an Indian haircut (which includes knuckle massage in your forehead--quite an experience) and a camel safari.

Tripadvisor did help me to find an amazing place to stay: The Shahi Palace just outside the city walls (which is more sustainable than staying inside, where the old aqueduct cannot cope with the increasing demand of touristic services). Not only the place is cheap and beautifully decorated, but the people there were friendly to the extremes. From the pick up in the train station to a free transportation (Indian style --three people in a bike--) when I needed, and generally a good disposition here make you feel like in a little palace. 

Enough of reviews, and let's talk about people. It's crazy how easy it becomes to get in contact with people when traveling alone. It's just a simple Hi, sit down somewhere and listen a bit, and breaking the ice becomes extremely easy. Sometimes my "Indian" look works against me, and other tourists initially think that I'm going after their rupees when I address them. For good or worse, my accent helps to get a different contact (although for Indian merchants I go by Naveen, the half-Indian living in US).

Jaisalmer had three touching local characters in my stay: the first one is the owner of a new hotel, the Mystic Jaisalmer, where I went to share a beer with some fellow travelers. Since the moment I sat next to this guy, an air of peace entered the terrace where we were. Dev (to give a name), loves religions, and every once in a while he embraces a different stream that suits at that point of his life. He said that as a Sufi, one don't have a god but a lover, and such lover is represented in many forms, including other religions. We discussed broadly in the connections of dance and meditation, and I found interesting to know that part of the meditative rituals include solo dances (and in many aspects close to the ways Gabriella Roth's Five rhythms therapy uses with dance as a catalizer). Unfortunately my time was short to get to know more about Sufism.

The second character of this story is the camel guide. He is 35, and since he was 15 he walks the desert 12 hours a day, 365 days at a day for a salary of 3000 rupees (or 35 euros, roughly). He never went to school (only 60% of Rajastani people can read or write, less than 40% in women), but still prefer the peace and the stars of the desert than the sound of horns in Jaisalmer. Each of the people paying the camel tour pays 1250 rupees per trip, which tour won't start with less than 4 people. A camel cost 30.000 rupees, and given the low maintenance of the camel, we can neglect the sums of vaccinations in India. There's no need of a phd in social economics to know that these guys are heavily exploited, and their lack of education preserves this breach.

The last one, and probably the one that I felt closer with, was my driver. No, I am not used to drivers, and I'm ok finding my way out in a foreign city. Hemant picked my up in the train station and since then was the most attentive person in Jaisalmer. It is a bit funny how times have changed so much, and the rewards in terms of money of old times have been substituted by other expressions. After a great help in my stay, Herj came to me with a notebook so I could teach him some Spanish phrases so he could receive better Mexican tourists, which are close for arrival. He is a service minded guy, that knows well that the word of mouth (or a tripadvisor recommendation) brings more food to the table than anything else, but is humble enough not to show the need. Cannot but compare it with the place where I live now, where been friendly has little influence in your paycheck, and where efficiency primes.

Now, off to my train bed, as the blue city awaits in four hours.