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.

Chemins de vie: voyage en Inde

I don't remember when this blog had a post that could be so adapted to its title. "Life crossroads" had been a blog full of intersections between ramblings of feelings, travels and general appreciations. I want to start writing again during this month, with the pretext of informing my friends on my adventures running over the Indian subcontinent, but also with the aim of documenting a glimpse of the life of the people I cross my road with. Apologies for the absence of visuals of these posts, as they won't come until I get my camera synced.

The purpose of this trip is a bit uncertain, but serves as as the conclusion of a process in a year that have had many bumps in the road. A year that I have certainly grow up as a person, and learnt to center in my personal road instead of others'. From 2014 I will start a new job, with a clearer idea on how to profile my career future, excited of being again in a Latin culture, where are many things to learn. Certainly it comes at a stake of renouncing to a comfortable life, to six years of knitting a thight social network, good friends and a "local feeling" that one that you have when you know how to approach each situation, because you have done it before.

Before entering in the core of this post (the trip to India), let me stop for a second on a reflection coming from these changes: we sit in two different of extremes: the young, inexperienced warrior, who does not know but does not fear, and the experienced, petrified observer, who knows a lot from his ivory tower, but fears too much to jump into a real experience. How do one get the balance between the thirst of actions  that ignorance grants, and the accurate aim given by experience?

I want report on my first 48 hours of trip. Started on my trip from Copenhagen to Istanbul, where next to my seat I met Ataer, a Turkish guy in his mid forties. I have never been to Turkey and Ataer wanted me to learn as much as possible from the culture, and the market possibilities of Turkey, which, after being the main representative of one of the biggest headphone companies in the world, he knows quite well. He was funny and all that, but reminded me why the corporate world attracts me less and less. It is filled with individuals only centered in their ego, with no interest in the other. This is not to say that academia is not a place for strong egos (who could ever say that?!) but my last years in industry have shown me that it feels more cynical here than in the university world.

After almost losing my plane in Istanbul and adjusting my time 5:30 hours more than in Copenhagen, we are in India.  After reading so much about health and money threats I'm a bit paranoid on this trip, and I pay an overpriced iced tea in the airport that I barely touch due to be scared of water poisoning. I feel this experience is going to be hard, as there are so many aspects I won't be able to control, and I feel that letting myself simply let go can bring to uncomfortable situations, but I'm doing my best.

After refusing something that seemed like an arranged cab, and driving 15 times around the same four streets to find my hotel, we get into Karol Bagh, at the Rockwell Plaza hotel. Indians may know English, but some of them have such a strong accent that is impossible to understand them: Rockwell turns into Rokvel and Plaza turns into Playa, and I thought myself in Goa already. The budget hotel is spacious and clean, and the personnel some of the friendliest people I have ever met, but I miss couch surfing so much. Because of safety recommendations I have decided not going into any CS house, but it simply feels empty an experience without the local point of view. On the other hand, after seeing Delhi you understand why Cs was probably not the best choice. The city is so diverse, so chaotic and unstructured like anything I have seen so far. My hood (Karol Bagh) is popular for receiving tourists, although a bit older than the ones going to Paharganj, the other backpackers area. I tried to find a compromise between price and experience for these two days and it seems acceptable, although still overwhelming. The area is mostly a gigantic market, full of smells, flavours and colors. If somebody that reads this post knows my home city, they can think of going to a market place like La Alameda to get the same feeling. Despite being a busy, dirty place, it feels predominantly safe. Here, nobody notices me,  and even the concierge in my hotel believes my mother or someone in my family is Indian (I suppose Christopher Columbus gave a good name to the West Indies after all). That helps me in my advantage comparing to other tourists, as I am not spotted as a $$$ resource, nor mobbed to become a customer.

It's hard to report from the first day, apart from the fact that the jet lag pays tribute and I sleep the whole morning. Out of the many places I wanted to go in Delhi I decided on one, the red fort. My way there is my first real culture shock: the zone of Chadni Chowk is a chaos, where no space in the street is left without a soul. Street markets, food, dogs, hundreds of rickshaws or public dumpsters populate the place, and it's really hard not to get touched by it. The best moment of the day appears in the same area. Orange dresses, flowers and chants seduced me, and I entered into a gianist temple. The atmosphere is sacred, and I have to take my shoes off and cover my head to enter. Vibes are strong, and this music has something hypnotizing in between those powerful drums. Now it's that I remember why India attracts me so much, and why this cocktail of religions is impossible to get anywhere else.

After the gianist experience, it's time to reach the red fort and try my Indian look. I get local prices for the show of the lights and sounds, with the disadvantage that I get to the Hindi show instead of the English... There you go resemblance! My brain refuses to learn Hindi today, so we call it a day.

The second and last day in Delhi is devoted to a visit to the national museum. There's so much history in this continent, that the two hours suggested for the visit will not make it justice. It opens questions, like why India migrated from Buddhism to Hinduism, when the evolution of religions in other areas of the world shifted from polytheism to monotheism. The museum has an impressive collection of artwork, specially ivory and stone carvings, as well as the history of the many miniature painting schools in India.

The last hours I have spent learning more on the life of Ganesha with my coach mate Sandeep, who is pilot and goes to visit family in Jodhpur. I asked about the nature of arranged marriages, and he answers me with the following question: when do you think you are going to be happy, before or after the wedding? And certainly touches my visions of marriage....

That's all for today, and tomorrow we will be riding camels and exploring forgotten forts in Jaisalmer.