thurdaysd: that is an interesting contraption. I can think of a couple of places it would have been helpful on this trip, but like you, hopefully I won't have to resort to it any time soon!
rhkkmk: I wish I had the time and money for my own return visit! Actually, I wish I had enough money so any of us could travel whenever we felt like it. Now THAT would be wonderful.
Marija: I can't believe they treated you differently in the restaurant just because you wern't staying in the hotel!!! I could sense from the attitude of some of the staff at that place that I was glad I wasn't staying there. They actually had someone "escort" us through the museum -- it was really rather annoying. I felt like I was being pushed through the place. Not cool.
msmango: If you're just using R4WD in Rajasthan, you probably won't have a problem. If you want, request the driver they gave us, Ramesh Meena, who we liked just fine. Still, paying on the last day keeps your options open -- always a good idea.
dogster: you really are a sweetheart. Thank you. I hope you have a fab time in Mumbai. I really liked it there and would like to get back. If you don't get to Elephanta, its not the end of the world -- there is so much else to do in Mumbai -- I could have easily spent a few more days just wandering around looking at people. Let me know how you like Gordon House. When our plans for the Taj fell through, we wanted to stay there, but they didn't have room, so we ended up at Suba Palace next door. Gordon House looked nice from the outside. Its a great location.

The Dude in the Desert

The trip to Jaisalmer went well. The road was actually pretty good. Other than our first night hotel glitch, which I mentioned at the top of this report, we settled in to the Taj Rawal Kot for several enjoyable days. The weather was as perfect as it could be � sunny and refreshingly breezy. Jaisalmer, we�re told, hasn�t seen rain in over three years.

The fort at Jaisalmer is right out of Arabian nights and has an aromatically exotic atmosphere � the place really does feel as if you are stepping into a tale of conquest, opium and veiled romance. Maybe its because the cobbled streets of the fort are still alive with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, but unlike some of the other forts we visited, the Jaisalmer fort felt more vibrant. The fort is crumbling in spots due evidently to heavy tourist traffic, but we saw few visitors while we were there. I�m surprised that it hadn�t blown away long ago � the sandstone construction looks fragile and ephemeral. We spent the good part of a day wandering though the palace, admiring the ornately carved windows and balconies, visiting the temples and just drifting through the alleys and passageways of the fort.

There is enough to keep you entertained sightseeing-wise in Jaisalmer for a couple of days. In addition to the fort, it is worth visiting the city surrounding the fort and finding some of the elaborate havelis, which are impressive for their lavish latticework. For some strange reason I really enjoyed Bada Bagh. We were totally alone there, which contributed to the adventurous feel of the place. The cenotaphs of these former rulers once looked out over the desert, but now stand in the shadow of a huge windmill farm built by the Rajasthan Mines and Minerals Company, an unusually apt juxtaposition in this country of paradox.

One of our days in Jaisalmer we decided to drive through the Desert National Park to the village of Khuri for the perfunctory camel safari. Having been on camel safaris before, I wasn�t keen on the idea (I hate that my inner thighs and butt command my attention for the next couple of post-ride days!) but DD begged to do it, and what DD wants, DD usually gets. The drive through the park was very interesting � though it is mostly scrub, we saw plenty of wildlife � lizards scurrying across the road, flocks of large birds, a blackbuck, gazelles � and we even stopped to take close up photos of a desert fox. I think the fox was as curious about us as we were of him. He stopped and stared at us, just as we were doing the same. When we got out of the car, he moved back a bit, but stayed focused on us. As we moved closer to him, he moved back, just about exactly the same distance. Has anyone ever noticed that animals seem to have a sense of proportional appropriate distance? I mean, if they aren�t high-tailing it, of course.

When we get to the recommended guesthouse in Khuri we are offered tea and enter into negotiations over the price of our excursion.
While we are waiting for tea, our driver whispers, �Osama Bin Laden is here.�
�Huh?�
�Look over there,� he nods his head toward the food preparation area.
Sure enough, standing out amongst the guesthouse staff like the Burj Dubai, is an imposing figure with that familiar face sporting a long, graying stringy beard and Betty Davis eyes.
OBL notices us looking at him and he immediately slinks off into one of the straw-roofed huts.
Scratching our heads wondering about this chimera just miles from the border of Pakistan, we saddle up our camels and head out into the desert with our camel man and his two young apprentices.

The camel ride is not so bad, as long as we aren�t going downhill. I�m not sure how long we pound the sand, but eventually we come across a desolate desert village. As we alight our camels, we are accosted by a throng of desert children. As children go, they are not the most attractive, probably because they are prematurely weathered by the desert sun and a hard isolated life. The dusty little lambs run around us, tugging our clothing, putting their hands to their mouths and kissing our feet, so surely they see tourists fairly regularly. This is one thing I hate about India. It just breaks your heart. They mug for the camera and giggle every time we show them their photos. We walk around their village, visit one of their homes and meet some of their moms. Where are the men? We never do find out.

After this brief visit we remount our camels and ride out to the dunes. The camel man, who is dressed in a colorful red flowered cape, finds a lovely spot for us to stop and watch the Thar sunset. As we sink into the cool, silken sand, a young man breathlessly runs up and plops down beside us. His bag is dripping, which I gullibly point out to him.
�Cold beer anyone?� It�s a beer walla out in the desert!
�Chips?�
You have to chuckle at the ingenuity of these people.
We buy a few beers, lean back in the sand and as the sun sets we discuss politics, religion and sex with the camel driver. Really. Anyone else find that its so much easier to talk about these taboo subjects with complete strangers?

After the sun sets, we are back on the camels and head back to Khuri for the requisite desert meal and entertainment around the campfire. Its pretty cold, so we are provided quilts to wrap around us. As we are enjoying festivities, the tall, shadowy figure, also mummified a quilt, slides into a chair on the other side of the fire. He sits there in stony silence, peering out from his blanket, as the musicians serenade us and the dancer twirls around the courtyard. We are finally all asked to join in, including OBL, who appears reluctant, but joins in, and we find ourselves boogying around the flames with this reserved person who does, remarkably, look like OBL. After dancing we are served dinner: potatoes, rice, dal, and desert beans, which looks like a pile of twigs and tastes a bit like cooked, spiced hay. The dinner is surprisingly good, but I always think everything tastes better when you cook and eat it outside. We wash it all down with some more beer and, even though its pretty chilly, take pleasure in the evening air. Just before we are ready to hit the road back to Jaisalmer, they turn off all the lights and we watch the moon come up. The view of the milky way is spectacular out here and I think about all the generations of people who saw the sky this way for thousands of years, and how it is lost to most of the world now.

We thank our hosts, and get ready to leave, when OBL approaches us. Turns out he is French Canadian and speaks no English. We manage to find out that his name is Jacques and he is from the Gaspe Peninsula in Quebec, but nothing more, except that he is a shy, gentle soul.

In the car on the way back to Jaisalmer, the driver tells us he found out Jacques� sad tale from the guesthouse folks. Jacques arrived alone in Delhi with the intent of traveling in India for a couple of months. He hired a tourist agent, who provided him with a fantastic itinerary fulfilling all of Jacques� dreams. The agent told Jacques he needed to pay up front in cash and that the trip would cost him $7,500, not coincidentally exactly the amount of money Jacques had in his pocket. Jacques turned over the cash and the agent packed him into a car with a driver and Jacques was off on his Indian odyssey.

You probably know where this is going. The driver took Jacques out to the desert, dropped him off and disappeared. Now he is out of money, abandoned in the middle of the desert with no way to communicate with his loved ones and no resources to get back to Delhi and wait for his return flight home. The guesthouse folks have taken pity on him and have invited him to stay there and eat with them. He�s been out there for two weeks. I wish I could do something, but what? Our driver decides that he will call the Canadian embassy to try to get the poor man some help. What a lesson for us all.

Next: Rats! Why�d it have to be rats?!!

Turn in OSB and you can travel for life! Thanks for another segment.

It's great to see Jaisalmer through your eyes. Unfortunately we couldn't fit it into our very short (8 day) itinerary. I hope someone can rescue Jacques--how awful.

Thanks very much Marija and msmango for sticking it out with me. Eight days only msmango? yikes! You will be packing in a lot in a short time. I had to bend all the rules at work to get a big chunk of time off for India -- which really sucks. Its one of my biggest gripes about USA business practices -- even if you've earned the time, its almost impossible to get more than 2 weeks off at a time, which just isn't enough time to properly visit some places. BTW, this will probably be it for a few days, as I have to go out of town on business. I'll try to post the final few chapters next weekend, if you're still interested.

On the way to Bikaner, we stopped at Khichan, a small village that has become a winter resort for the demoiselle cranes, who have flown here from Siberia and Mongolia. There are thousands of them surrounding a pitiful little half-dried up lake. It seems very odd that they would pick this spot, but apparently the local Jains started feeding them some years ago and the cranes have come back each year in increasing numbers. Its really quite a sight.

As we pull up to the edge of the lake to take in a view of the flocks of birds, our car is chased by a flock of another sort � a pack of village children. They accost us, begging for money, chocolate, pens . . . . As much as it pains us, we have figured out that it is best not to give anything to the little lambs, as it just encourages them to beg more � and you can�t possibly give something to each of them. The reality of this is confirmed in the form of another car � a Dutch couple who has stopped there at the same time. They�ve made the mistake of giving 5 Rs to one child, and are now being crushed by the grabbing, scrumming mob. The kids are tugging on them, reaching into the open doors of the car and pulling stuff out, crawling on top of the hood. They barely make it out of there, slowly pushing upstream through the crowd, tires squealing when they finally clear the horde. Life is just so unfair � and so much of a crap shoot of circumstances � and situations like this continue to remind us that we should be eternally grateful for all with which we are blessed.

At some point on the trip, we have to stop for a passing train. If I didn�t find it so amusing, what happens at a train crossing in India would be entirely exasperating. The railroad crossing arms are lowered � way ahead of the train�s impending arrival � and instead of waiting patiently in line, every vehicle on the road � trucks, cars, rickshaws, and camel carts � crowd into every available space on both side of the gates. In the meantime, motorcycle and motor bike riders are squeezing their way up to the crossing and playing limbo under the gates, calculating whether they will make it across before the train comes barreling through. Once it does, and the arms are finally raised back up, there is no where to move, as everyone is facing each other down. It takes an hour to get sorted out � and we are just one car behind the front of the line. Its pure madness!

Just a little while later I remark to DD that you really can�t be fainthearted to travel in India. At that very moment, we glance out the window to see the decaying carcass of a cow on the road � eyes bulging out and staring into space, with all its fur stripped away, muscle and sinew glinting in the sun. The sight of it was jarring and horrifying. I guess it must be my Western sensibility, but it seems to me that if you really hold cows sacred, wouldn�t you keep them off the highway?

Before we get to the hotel, we make one last stop: the camel breeding farm. I�ve kinda had my fill of camels, but the place is rather interesting. We learn a lot of facts about camels and camel breeding. I now know more about camels than 99.99% of Americans. One tip: camel ice cream is an acquired taste.

When we finally get to Hotel Lallgarh Palace we find it to be an intriguing place to stay � just don�t change money there (see the top of this report). I really enjoyed dinner in the courtyard restaurant � ordered the meat platter and it was delicious. The garlic naan was also very tasty. Service was excellent. If you end up staying there � or if you go there for dinner � do check out the bar and the billiard room.

There are two things that make me squeamish and that I find really disgusting.
Cockroaches, which are absolutely nasty.
And . . . rats.

Thirty kilometers from Bikaner is the village of Deshnok. We arrive to what looks like a carnival � in fact it is just a typical day outside of the Karni Mata temple, a.k.a. the Rat Temple. Surrounding the temple are booths selling all sorts of sweets and souvenirs of the type you would see at a fair. Sid (short for Siddarth), our guide, buys some prasad (a fluorescent yellow sweet cake) to feed the rats. We bring along some blackened bananas left over from a breakfast buffet a few days ago. We remove our shoes and deposit them at the shoe stand across from the temple entrance � the location of which is rather annoying because then you have to walk in bare feet over wet sand and gritty mud and then through metal detectors to get to the temple entrance. (Tip: you might want to bring a pair of socks you can slip on inside.) The entranceway is resplendent with a beautifully carved marble ediface and huge silver doors.

Sid tells us the story of the temple: in the a 14th century a girl named Karni Bai was believed to have supernatural powers and was able to cure illnesses and ailments including snakebites and blindness. She found favor with the ruling family of Bikaner, and, as Karni Mata, was thought to be the re-incarnation of the warrior goddess Durga. Karni Mata asked Yuma, the god of death, to bring back the dead child of one of her kinsmen. Yuma told her he could not bring back the child because he had already been reincarnated, so Karni Mata made an agreement with Yuma that from that point forward, her kin would be reborn as rats until they could be reincarnated back into her kindred. In the meantime, they would live in this temple and be worshipped with sincere devotion.

Once inside, I am repulsed as I gingerly tread on the slippery, black and white tiled floor, which is heavily sprinkled with crumbles of yellow prasad, gifts from earlier pilgrims, and loads of rat poop. We enter the inner temple, where we see large bowls encircled with pink-eared brown furry rats drinking milk that has been provided by the temple priests and visiting devotees. Fortunately, these rats are not the huge like the ones I used to see rampaging on New York City subway tracks, not as if that helps alleviate my squeamishness. Scores of rats, 20,000 according to Sid, live here. OMG, a rat scampers across my bare feet! Sid says I am blessed (Really? Cuz that is not my idea of a blessing). He also tells us that there is one white rat and if you spot that white rat, you are especially blessed.

I am disgusted by a dead rat lying in the corner. Other rats are scurrying over and around it. I point it out to Sid, who tells me that if anyone kills a rat by stepping on it he is expected to offer a life-size silver rat as a replacement. I have two things to say about this: first, I didn�t step on the dead rat � he was already lying there, so I hope its death is not pinned on me; and second, what is actually the purpose of replacing the dead rat with one made of precious metal � isn�t the rat going on to a new and better life? I walk even more lightly and carefully so as to avoid the silver rat fine.

I turn around to find DD freaking out � ducking and letting out a shriek. In spite of the nets and wire grills that cover the temple, she has been dive-bombed by a pigeon. And this plop was no small splatter � it is so mammoth that it covers her hair and jacket. Poor thing is distraught. We peel her jacket off, wipe off her hair as best as we can and get ready to leave, but she wants to at least feed the bananas we�ve brought to the rats, bless her little heart.

We walk into the temple courtyard and see a man lying face down on his stomach licking � yes LICKING � the floor. How revolting! Sid explains that some people believe that licking the rat urine will bring them supreme blessings (more like a deadly virus, I think to myself). Over in the corner, another pilgrim reclines in sleep while a couple of rats curl up in his hair. Others are lighting candles and kneeling in prayer.

DD breaks off pieces of banana and starts feeding it to the rats. The rats go wild, climbing over each other and fighting each other to hang on to a piece of it for himself. Its really quite amusing. Just before we leave, out of the corner of my eye, I spot the white rat slurping up milk out of a bowl. Turns out I am blessed, in spite of my rat paranoia. As I said, India is not for the fainthearted, and the rat temple is no exception.

Another tip: bring lots of antiseptic wet wipes!

Even now I shudder just thinking about this experience!

I'm still reading along, too. You have more guts than I do - I didn't visit the rat temple, and have absolutely no desire to do so! (I've seen video and photos, that's quite enough.)

I hope dogster's reading. Sounds like his kind of adventure. I'll pass. The monkey temple was good enough for me. Have a good trip. I look forward to reading the rest.

I agree. I'm glad I don't have enough time for the rat temple, enough for me just to read about it!

gpanda has been known as the white rat since boyhood...


loving your story

Yeah, I'm here. Yup, marija, it sounds like Doggie heaven. I love the taste of rat urine. Big smooch trav - I'm really pleased your report is getting the attention it deserves.

Thank you so much guys! I am so touched that you are spending your time reading my tales.
Dogster, I swoon, in spite of the doggie breath.

My business trip has been delayed by a snow storm. Yay! So, as I sit and warm myself by the fireplace, I am happy to type in my next episode. I hope you enjoy it.

From Shekawati to Jaipur � and Bram Stoker call your office!

About half-way between Bikaner and Jaipur, we arrive in the grimy town of Fatehpur, and park across from a counterfeit DVD/CD store on the main drag. We mosey down the dusty, pot-holed street toward the bus station/market. The place is jam-packed. As the busses depart the crude depot, men and boys squat and hang on every space available on the bus roofs and sides. It looks terribly dangerous. There are no tourists here, and we are greeted with turned heads and stares. Lunch is at the forefront of our minds, and we find a grubby-looking little hole-in-the wall place run by a father and his two young boys. We get a grin out of the younger boy who says, �Hello white people.� He is scolded by his father, who pulls out a greasy order pad and tells us to sit. DD gives me a look that says, �we�re going to eat HERE?� Its a small restaurant, only about four tables, but it smells fantastic. We ordered a round of cold limcas and a bunch of potato and onion stuffed parathas, which are served with bowls of fresh yogurt. Delicious. (What I wouldn�t give for a freshly made paratha right now!)

The proprietor helps us hire a street boy/guide so we can find the painted havelis. Gopal, who looks no more than eleven, speaks almost perfect English and he escorts back down the main street to one of the abandoned havelis. The old mansion is being guarded by a young man sitting on its steps. Gopal tells him we would like to see it and he tells us that for 100 Rs a person he will unlock it. The fee seems a little steep to us, but, what the heck, that�s why we�re here. Inside the haveli are courtyards and balconies elaborately painted with brightly colored frescos showing religious scenes and images of early industrialization. The house was obviously formerly inhabited by a wealthy family, but other than the occasional visitor, is now abandoned and deteriorating. Gopal turns out to be a great little guide � he steers us to havelis all over Fatehpur and even allows us to use his family�s toilet, an adventure in and of itself (my friends can�t imagine this toilet in their worst nightmares!).

We spent a few days wandering in Shekawati � after Fatehpur we trooped around the town of Mandawa, where we stayed in the Castle Mandawa, and then visited Nawalgarh, which had the best surviving examples of the painted havelis. These communities, formerly on a branch of the silk road, must have been spectacular in their day. Some of the havelis have families of squatters who take care of them the best they can, but it is truly unfortunate that most of the havelis are crumbling and collapsing � they�d make a great rehab project for a university. I was delighted to see this article in the Wall Street Journal on a restored haveli in Nawalgarh just after we returned: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123505976996423459.html Hopefully this means there is some developing interest in saving these mansions and restoring them to their former glory. They would be real gems for Indian tourism.

After Shekawati, we drove down to Jaipur, which surprised me, as I didn�t expect it to be such a big city � I haven�t compared the population figures, but it seemed much, much larger than Washington, DC, where I work. I won�t go into all the places to see in Jaipur -- our visit to the old city, including the Hawa Mahal, the City Palace, and Jantar Mantar was very pleasant. We had a great thali at LMB restaurant, where we also stocked up on some sweets. And, of course, we rode elephants up to the Amber Fort:

�Scuse me, Madam�
�Madam, look here!
�Hellow!�
Those photo guys really get on your nerves. At every turn of the pathway up to the fort, they are there, �Excuse me!� trying to steal your glance.
We roam the fort for a couple of hours (great 5 Rs toilet after the exit, by the way, so good I would have easily paid 100 Rs for it!) and find our vehicle in the car park. We drive down and away from the fort back toward Jaipur and suddenly there is a motor bike next to the car, its driver and passenger waving wildly and beeping at us. They are weaving all around us, flapping their arms trying to get our attention. At first, we thought maybe we hit them or someone else. We realize they are shaking something at us � it turns out to be a photo from our elephant ride up to the fort! You�ve got to be kidding me! These guys are so good that they matched us to our photo through the tinted windows of the car as we drove past them. And they don�t give up. Do you know they actually followed us for miles waving that photo at us? Its really quite ridiculous, but you have to laugh at their persistence � I suppose it gets them sales, as it is quite impressive!

One evening in Jaipur we decide to go to Choki Dhani for dinner, which is like an Indian Disneyland. When you enter they adorn your forehead with a bindi and throw marigold petals over you. One part of the restaurant is a kind of amusement park with dancers, puppeteers, henna artists, elephant and camel rides, palm reading, traditional smoking pipes, ayurvedic massage, a maze, a replica safari, and tastes of traditional food. It feels a bit contrived to me, but I suppose if you can�t see these things in person in your Indian travels, it would be very entertaining to walk around and see/sample all these things packed into one convenient evening. Putting aside my cynicism, I have to admit I had a fun time � mostly by watching the delight of the children of the wealthy Indian families that flock here. Dinner is okay � you sit on the ground at low tables and are served traditional foods thali style (LMB was better).

Afterward we visit the Raj Mandir movie theater to see the latest Bollywood flick. What fun! It was my first Bollywood flick and I really enjoyed the upbeat plot, the singing and dancing, the saturated color and especially the audience participation. They clap and cheer for their favorite actors, sing along (the soundtrack, we�re told, is released ahead of the film so people become familiar with the songs), and loudly react to the story line. This is a great way to spend an evening.

Our driver Ram is from Jaipur and he invited over to his home one night to meet his family. We didn�t get to meet his parents, who were out working on the family farm, but we did meet his stunningly beautiful sister, his shy aunt and his uncle, who is the family patriarch. Poor Uncle is not mobile � he had a serious accident on a motor bike some years ago and his leg was crushed by a truck. Ram told us he is in his late fifties, but he looked probably twenty years older than that. It seems to me that people age so early here, even putting aside tragic accidents.

Ram�s house has several sparsely decorated rooms off an inner courtyard. We sit on plastic chairs around the TV � the rest of the furniture consists of uncomfortable-looking rope beds and a coffee table off to the side. A continuous loop of a temple music blares from another room. Ram says they play the temple music continuously � 24 hours a day. THAT would drive me insane. Just goes to show how you can learn to block out anything. Strangely, a piece of blue cloth is moving around on the coffee table. Ram notices my quizzical look, chuckles and tells us it is because of his pet rats.
Dang.
More rats.

He picks up the cloth and shows us two white rats. DD asks what their names are, but Ram says they have no names. Strange � are we the only ones who name everything � including our cars? DD picks up Rat One and Rat Two and one of them promptly pees on her! We all burst out in laughter � poor thing is such is an excreta magnet! More blessings, I tell her! BTW, when the dhobi walla found out that she got pigeon splattered in the rat temple he did our laundry for free � that counts for a blessing, right? Hey, speaking of the rat temple, just think of the fun we could have had at the rat temple with these guys!

As I dig out the antiseptic wet wipes, Ram�s sister brings us some masala chai, which she and Auntie have prepared for us in the little kitchen off the courtyard. Its really good � what do they put in this stuff anyway? Its so addictive. Looking for topics of conversation, DH mentions that we enjoyed meeting Ram�s lovely fianc�e, Asha, the other day. Ram jumps up out of his seat, dashes behind uncle�s chair and starts gesturing wildly for us to be quiet. Uncle turns around.
Ram smiles.
�More chai anyone?�
We search for other things to talk about � our first Bollywood movie, where we�ve been so far, and how much we are enjoying the chai. Uncle is not a great conversationalist, so its a bit awkward, but we really do appreciate their unexpected hospitality. I always find it interesting to visit people�s homes when we are on travel � it gives you an unfiltered picture of the local lifestyle.

Back in the car later, we find out that Ram met Asha through the internet and Uncle still doesn�t know about her. Uncle is very traditional, so Ram isn�t sure how they are going to explain Asha to him. Most marriages are still arranged in India, and even in Ram and Asha�s case, Asha�s father traveled to Ram�s house and met with his father to make sure that Ram was suitable before Asha was allowed to date Ram. Ram and his father have kept this from Uncle, in spite of current marriage preparations. Poor uncle � I hope it doesn�t kill him when he finds out.

I ask Ram if his sister is his only sibling. Turns out she is not.
�I have two brothers also Mam. I had three brothers, but one is dead. He died when he was seventeen.�
I express sadness for him and his family that they lost the boy as such a young age.
�Actually Mam, someone killed him.�
�Really?� I ask, �Was it someone he knew?�
�Actually Mam, you know, we found him behind our house, very sick. His mouth was closed and his arm was twisted under his body.�
�Oh dear,� I say, thinking someone has poisoned, stabbed or shot him.
No.
�It was Dracula. You have heard of Dracula?�
Okay, this is weird.
�Yes, I�ve heard of him.�
�Do you believe in Dracula?�
How do I handle this one?!!
�Well, I need to read up more about him � I guess some people do believe in him.�
�You know Mam, it is TRUE. I believe it!�
�Hey, check out those hawks circling the car!�
Ram turns the radio up and we drive on.

Wonderful! Hope it keeps snowing in DC so you'll write some more. We were lucky to escape alive from our ride up to the Amber Fort. The elephant man told us to lean back, we stupidly obeyed, and the bar against which we were leaning promptly fell off. It was probably Dracula who saved us...

This is just getting better and better. Wow! Fabulous stuff. Beautifully written. Perceptive, honest and acute. I hope you realize that these adventures are happening because of the kind of people you are - what you put out you get back in India - and it seems like you guys and that sub-continent are a perfect match. You've been blooded now. Do let me help you pick a few places for your next trip, eh? I have some things I KNOW you'd enjoy.

BTW, my Bollywood film star was Aishwaria Rai.

We need some more applause here for travelaw. Post your thanks for this incredible report so she keeps writing!

Yes it's a great report, I'm taking notes for my Indian trip later this year can't wait to read more.

Another fantastic instalment! Never ridden an elephant before so let's hope we survive it. And thanks for the toilet tip, I'm sure that will come in handy! I'm glad you wrote about Choki Dhani: I've been trying to find a description of it to decide whether to go or not, and yours is a great explanation as to what it is really like.

After a morning elephant ride to the Amber Fort a couple of weeks ago, the photos found us at 6PM as we exited the City Palace in Jaipur. Talk about working for a living.

It is good to know that the photographers are still working! That story prompted me to dig out my diary of our first trip to India, in 1992. At the time I recorded:

“As we plodded up the hill in the early morning hanging on for grim death whilst our elephant stopped at frequent intervals to void its massive bowel, a photo wallah was standing there braving the splashes to take our photograph.

The observatory was the first stop after lunch. Standing outside the gate was a sales wallah with our photograph; he wanted Rs50 for it. Madam looked smart sitting in the howdah in a relaxed lotus position. I looked awkward with my long legs dangling all over the place. We declined the offer.

Our next stop was the palace part of which doubles as a museum. Our sales wallah intercepted us en-route and the price of our photo had dropped to Rs30. Still no sale.

After that we went on to a jeweller again "Just to look." Too damned right it was just to look! But on our way to the car our sales wallah friend was back again. He had by now realized that he was selling a highly perishable commodity and the haggling started in earnest!”

Awww trav, I've nearly gone bush now so I probably won't be able to read your next instalments for a while. So just accept my enthusiastic praise in advance... it's all been a joy so far.