Hannah BW

Pushkar: Day 57

First things first: I have no plans to visit Ahmedabad, Surat, or Bangalore. I know the US media didn't do a particularly assiduous job of covering the bombings, but over the past 8 weeks I have come to expect less of my newspapers, so I forgive them and remain a loyal reader. Or rather I plan to resume my readership as soon as I have an internet connection faster than 1kb/s.

The past couple of weeks have been hectic. I remain smitten with McLeod Ganj, but I quickly tired of the hordes of faux-Buddhist backpackers "waiting for the Lama." Also, in a fit of Tibetan history-induced sanctimony, I refused to buy a made-in-China sandstone ring from a jewelry merchant on the street, and he (rightfully?) yelled at me. For how long could I hide from the real world in Lhamo's Croissant, the French-Amdo hybrid cafe? Or drinking tea in prayer-flag draped restaurants? So I took the overnight bus to Shimla, where I discovered my fear of monkeys and affirmed, in person, my love of the Viceregal Lodge.

The next day (the 29th) I took the "toy train" down through the mountains to Kalka. I splurged on a first class ticket and was seated with a couple on the way back from their honeymoon. They had me "click snaps" of them making out, I guess assuming that because I am American and we do that kind of thing in the States, it wouldn't bother me. It did, however, kind of gross me out. In the scheme of things I was probably happier, though, since the folks in second class raised a roller-coaster style scream whenever the train entered a tunnel. There are 102 tunnels on this route (though a plaque at the Shimla station informed me that everyone says there are 103--purely for sentimental reasons). About 3 hours into the ride, the train stopped and everyone got out on the tracks because there was a fight.

Next stop: Jodhpur. The ride from Kalka through the desert was sandy, and I was once again surrounded by middle-aged men who asked me why in God's name my parents were letting me travel alone. Ma and Pa? After a couple of days lounging about in the heat, I took an afternoon bus to Pushkar yesterday. I spent the night at an unremittingly-Pink Floyd themed and overpriced hotel. I am sorry to tell you that the food in Pushkar is really bad so far. Everything tastes like Gorgonzola cheese, but nothing is supposed to. I miss Lhamo and her croissants. I've overdosed on bananas. Also, today the streets of Pushkar flooded waist-high, so I have no desire to actually leave the hotel and see the temples and ghats and find the restaurant that Lonely Planet says serves excellent gnocchi. A day inside might be called for.

Labels: ghats, monsoon, rain, viceroys

posted by HBW @ 2:57 AM