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‹ Previous (08/09/2008) MONTH Next (2008-11-07)› ‹ Previous (2009-08-29 - Nepal) COUNTRY Next (2009-09-19 - Pakistan)› India Jaipur (see on map) 08/10/2008:
A hundred kilometres before reaching Jaipur another tyre burst behind, in the same circumstances that the wheel burst in Iran, circulating through a new and completely smooth road. Both wheels had been bought in Ethiopia, of the Chinese brand Goodride, and the weight that they probably held was more of which they could. So, it was a good way of buying two new tyres in Jaipur, in theory better than the original and most economic ones. With everything, in spite of this unexpected issue, we had sufficient time to walk through the city and its bazaars and to know its history. For more than 1000 years, Rajastan was dominated by the Rajputs, a group of warlike clans, originally of Hindu religion but some of them converted to the Islam, and with a code of honour similar to the gentlemen of the European medieval period, who preferred fighting among them before confronting common enemies, as it was the central power of the Mugals. In any case, the power of the Rajputs was increased with the decay of the Mugals, moment in which the mahara Jai Singh II decided to build a new city in the plains, leaving the fort of the mountains. The new city, called Jaipur, started to be built in 1727 designed from an old treaty of Hindu architecture, with blocks of rectangular buildings, big avenues and some powerful walls around. Years later, by the power of the Rajputs, momentarily more with the arrival of the British power, which they compromised the independence from its kingdoms. And a good proof of this excellent relation is the city of Jaipur, which changed its physiognomy in 1853, painting all its buildings of pink colour, as showing respect to the visit in the city of the prince of Wales. In any case, the relation with the British provoked the end of the maharajas, for these, instead of governing dedicated themselves to travelling around the world using up big resources and leaving the population of Rajastan with the worst cups of life expectancy and of education of India at the moment of the independence. At present, Jaipur is one of the most touristic cities of India, included in a triangle of gold together with Delhi and Agra, and is not strange of crossing in the street with different tourists who speak Spanish. At the same time, Jaipur is a city with an immense bazaar, occupying almost all the streets of the old city, with large areas dedicated to textiles and craftsmanship for where Alexandra got lost (followed by me) in search of bargains. In any case, even if we would have had dedicated a week going over all the bazaar, Alexandra would not have had sufficient time to satisfy her longings to mix up dresses and cloths. So, today in the afternoon I have obtained to move away from her madness and we have taken the car to visit some places of interest close to the city, as the palace of Jal Mahal, a lake and two castles in the mountains, from one of which a magnificent sight was enjoyed on the city of Jaipur, which extended through a big plain, convincing me of its 3 million inhabitants. Ajmer (see on map) 09/10/2008:
When reaching Ajmer at noon, we started an avenue through a park that was ending with a lake with some nice bordering pavilions of marble under which there were different families resting. From there, directing the look towards the melody of a distant music, we have discovered at about two hundreds metres in the edge of the lake, some stairs (ghats) that went into the lake and a colourful crowd of people that were celebrating some holiday. We have gone there, advancing some group of youngsters that danced the rhythm of drums and were throwing red and pink dust, and have arrived to the ghats where we have introduced ourselves among the festive crowd to contemplate as they threw offerings in the lake and different deities brought down the stairs introducing them in the water and leaving that these gulped them disappearing forever. The atmosphere was happy and mystical, and would be romantic if it were not for the long trail of plastics in the water, under which the gods rested, for the unconscious Indians, which threw the offerings of flowers with the included bags. We have asked to the nice people that did not stop of asking us photos (maybe too many) what they were celebrating, and with little English have managed to explain that they celebrated the holidays of Navratri, dedicated to the deity Durga, that bravely beheaded a terrible demon that threatened the humanity, the kindness prevailing once more on the wickedness. When one of the cards of photos has been finished and I have realised that the other one was in the car, we have returned, and I have went to another scenario, while Alexandra waited for me at home. On the way towards the mosque of Dargah, that contains the tomb of a sufí saint worshiped by hundreds of Muslim pilgrims that come of all India, I have crossed a bazaar where they sold Islamic products. Pulled in the street there were different invalids asking for charity and among these pigs, quite present in India although they are almost never included in the menus of the restaurants (perhaps they have them only as an insult to the Muslims). After letting the bag in a ticket window, pass for a detector of metal and got registered, I have entered the big mausoleum mosque, where the festive atmosphere was very different to that of the tidy mausoleums of Iran. The marble was dirty, there were strings of colours hanged from doors and windows, and in the ground there were remains of burned incense and flowers of offerings, which were sold in different shops. The women dressing colorful and the men with the covered head folded, walked or listened to a group that sang to the rhythm of a drum and a small organ. Entering for a small door, I have been in the crowded mausoleum where tens of pilgrims entered offerings flowers. The flowers that were thrown out on the tomb and fell on the ground to be crushed by hundreds of feet were so many that for the first time on many days I have felt a smell (I do normally not smell anything), of roses. When going out from the mosque I have found another surprise. The entry was much more guarded of policemen than when I have entered and in front there were different carriages pulled by cows or horses loading boys disguised of Hindu gods or mythological characters. The carriages were surrounded by different bands of music with a very strident organ connected in some powerful loudspeakers that made rattle the foundations of the mosque. Seemed exactly a provocation, in spite of that well studied, because for about ten seconds, the music has stopped so that the song of the muezzin of the mosque could be listened to, for afterwards to continue with force. The procession has been started off, and I, also observing in front of the carriages, dances with swords that a demon with black face and tongue took in part hanging a collar of cut heads. When arriving to the autocaravan, we have started off towards the next town of Pushkar, stopping on the way another time in the ghats, where I have lowered to make other photos to the happy youngsters that led to bathe its gods. Naturally, in the end I have remained completely covered of red dust (including the camera), when in an attack of hysteria a crowd of boys has surrounded me throwing me the paint until I have screamed hysterical "stop!." Bikaner (see on map) 12/10/2008:
Alexandra kept walking alone through the bazaar of Pushkar passing as Iranian in order to obtain the best prices, exclaiming "in Iran this product is more economic and it comes from India". Meanwhile, I dedicated the morning to discover the ghats of Pushkar that surrounded a small lake, where some priests appeared reticent to let me walk while i observed how the faithful ones threw offerings and they bathed and purified, men as well as women. However, other priests were shown more receptive to the tourists, inviting them to do offerings while they made you to repeat a mantra that i ended up saying "I will deliver to the priest 3 $ for my happiness and to that of the entire world". I, had naturally warned him that i did not have money to deliver and as he demanded from me something, I told him that i deliver many good wishes for him. Also although there were other calmer priests and who did not look for any direct bonus, as the one that explained to me the history of Pushkar, name that means "from a flower". The legend explains that Pushkar and its sacred lake were created from a flower of lotus that Brahma (the creative god of the universe) let fall. After the creation of the lake, Brahma decided to dedicate five days of penitence to accumulate good Karma, but on the contrary to the tradition, his woman Savitri (deity of the learning) did not want to attend, Brahma choosing to marry another woman during her absence. Understandably annoyed, Savitri cursed him so that Brahma was not adored in any other place separately from Pushkar, motif for which Pushkar is one of the few places of the world where there is a temple dedicated to Brahma. In any case, because of the absence of Savitri, Brahma also cursed her so that her temple in the summit of a hill did not have access to the sacred water of the lake. This way, in order to be able to be adored, every day a priest raises water originaly from the lake. In any case, continuing with the legend, after these five days of penitence, Brahma accumulated sufficient good karma to be able to create the universe, thanks to which we owe our existence. After visiting the temple of Brahma, I met Alexandra that loaded a bag full of dresses and blouses each bought with less than 50 cents of euro, and we started to do path towards Bikaner. Half the road we lost more time in some village trying to buy some gas cylinders, for it did not seem that in India i could recharge mine bought in South Africa. But the price that they offered me for a bottle of butane was exaggerated, and annoyed by the continuous attempts to be tricked we left without buying the cylinder, starting to project the turning off of the fridge to have sufficient gas to keep cooking. In any case, the day after in the morning we left the problem of the gas on the side and we stopped at the temple Karni Mata, known as the temple of the rats. Naturally Alexandra stayed in the car and I directed myself to the temple, which had evident signs of some recent Hindu celebration, with different shutdowns around that were being dismantled and tons of grain accumulated in the entries. On the other hand, in the interior, the rats seemed dead of so much holiday and did not react to the pilgrims that still arrived and threw them sugar lumps or biscuits. In fact, most of the rats were hiding in the numerous holes that there were in the walls, in some holes there were 5 or 6 rats sleeping with the heads inside and the bodies outside. Probably because of that, some of the rats that there were strolling through the temple were the ones most unfortunate, with the emaciated bodies or with the eaten eyes. These rats, together with the shit extended through the ground (for where it had to be walked barefoot), were not a very nice show, even if the legend of the temple had its interest. In the 14th century, Karni Mata, an incarnation of the deity Durga asked Yama, the deity of the death, to restore the life of the son of a helpless story-teller. But Yama refused and annoyed by Karni Mata, reincarnated all the dead story-tellers in, in order to deprive Yama of the human souls (poor life that of the story-tellers). After returning to the car and of cleaning well my feet, we finish the few kilometres up to Bikaner, where we repeated the attempt to buy a cylinder of butane. They directed us to an address, but to arrive we had to ask multiple times, many of which orientating us in wrong direction (this behaviour I also observed it among Indians, prefer answering anything before saying I do not know ). In any case, we in the end arrived to a distributor of gas that did not want to sell a cylinder and he wanted to sell me another one smaller to a still more excessive price. Irritated, I said that with these attempts to trick the tourists they were accumulating very bad karma, or that in Iran or Pakistan people were better than in India because there they had never tricked us (that last seemed to bother them more). Already annoyed we returned to the main street, although I decided to do a last trial when observing a lorry where they loaded cylinders of butane. There they offered me a more reasonable price for a cylinder, but, I had at the same time the luck of a man, who for the first time in India seemed ready to help us uninterestedly and to find a solution to our problem. Binod (like this was called the man) commented me that we would manage to recharge one cylinder, so, I took one and put in on his motorcycle to go to a point of refill, afterwards to another with the autocaravan, and finally another where finally we could recharge the blue cylinders of campingaz for which I got a fair price. Really Binod behaved marvelously, finishing rounding its kindness off inviting us to tea and biscuits in his home, where there was his woman and two children. There, Binod asked us if we had gotten married for love and we answered that yes, but they commented that their marriage was fixed, as all in India, although at present they are in love a lot. In similar words another woman in India had expressed herself, explaining to us that in her country, you first get married, you get disappointed afterwards of your new couple, and you finally start to feel love. I commented that in Europe, you first start to feel love, afterwards get married , finally you get disappointed ; the woman laughed and exclaimed "for sure" while she extended the hand. With all the time wasted searching for gas, only yesterday we had time to visit the magnificent palace of Junagarh, where we discovered the opulence with which the maharajàs lived. At night we camped next to Devi Kund, the pretty cemetery of small domes and mausoleums where the family of the old Maharajàs is still buried. And today in the morning we have finish to visit Bikaner going through the old town with a rickshaw up to the splendid Jain temple Bhandasar. The temple of Bhandasar is very simple outside, however, its interior is exquisitely decorated with paints and some sculptures. A very nice monk explained us that the jainists think that the beauty is in the interior of the beings and not in the exterior, being represented in the same way in the temples. On the other hand, the man also explained that when the temple was built in the fifteenth century, they used 40.000 kg of butter in the foundations (strange and incredible, but true) during the summer even it greases and dirties the ground and provokes that the temperatures in the temple are unbearable (was not too good idea about using the butter). After being a good while connected to Internet, to average we have started to go late towards Jaisalmer. When darkening, we have camped - for the first time in India - without asking in a wasteland place and uninhabited, similar to an arid savannah. But about 10 in the night, when i had just edited photos, a motorcycle has approached. Warned we have turned the computers off and I have opened the window asking who they were. But the man and the boy of the motorcycle did not speak anything of English and with brusque and aggressive gestures they required that i went out from the car. Besides, when I have asked them exalted if they were from the police, they have started to call towards other voices that seemed to approach. Meanwhile, i had already started off the engine of the car and illuminated them with the lights, annoying them even more, for they were in front of the car preventing me from crossing. But I did not want to remain not to know the plot nor the outcome of this possible nightmare, and have thrown the car ahead with intention of knocking the motorcycle down and the man if they did not move away. But they went on the side and immediately after have i tightened the accelerator in depth, jumping the sand, plants and rocks until i arrived to the asphalted road, where we have lost of sight the motorcycle that had been following us some moments. We have driven some kilometres with the things jumping inside the autocaravan. Afterwards we have stopped some seconds to dress and to order the not fixed objects of the autocaravan and continued about thirty kilometres, stopped in a gas station, where we have spent the rest of the night; sleeping while we listened in dreams to the proofs of fire that the Indian army made near the border with Pakistan. Jaisalmer (see on map) 15/10/2008:
David and Maria had told us that we would love Jaisalmer, and we really loved it. The city and its fort were founded in 1156, in a strategic situation, dominating the routes of camels that traded between India and Asia central. During a long period of prosperity, in which wars against other rajputs kingdoms were not lacking, some traders and sites of Jaisalmer homes and mansions (called havelis) were built exquisitely decorated exteriorly with stone of sculpted sand. In spite of everything, the wealth of Jaisalmer declined quickly as the sea trade carried out across the port of Mumbai (Bombay) was increased. But the fortune returned to the city, prospering another time, as the channel of Indira Gandhi that takes water crossing all the desert of Thar (the same desert of Cholistan of Pakistan) up to Jaisalmer was finished; also, as the strategic position of the city is confirmed in the eternal conflict between India and Pakistan; but especially with the arrival of the tourists, who have made bloom trades everywhere. The three days in Jaisalmer are destinated to all the shops of the old town in search of fabric to do a new change of aesthetics for the autocaravan, an idea that was roaming in my head since the exterior decoration in Pakistan. It is Already two years and a half that the selfcaravan is our home, and if everything goes well, will keep being another two, so,we had decided that any inversion that did it more comfortable or prettier would be welcomed. And in Jaisalmer we did another step and changed the curtains of the autocaravan. We already looked many options at and the final decision was to buy cushion covers of different colours and full of mirrors to dismantle them and to join them again (we payed a tailor) to form new original and pretty (according to our taste) curtains. In any case, between trade and trade, we also had time to visit the city, which preserves a relaxed atmosphere, in spite of the numerous tourists and of impatient vendors. We visited the façades of different havelis, some of them still inhabited, others converted into shops and the rest in museums. Getting on different times to the immense fort, visible from all the city, where the streets are narrow and we had to keep avoiding cows, tourists and vendors, while we were surrounded with pretty buildings and temples. Among these I visited a magnificent jainist temple, again, very simple in the exterior and marvelously worked in the interior, with sculpted columns with semi-gods, walls representing sensual feminine and masculine figures, and different sculptures of jinas or tirthankaras in a state of meditation, the 24 jainist teachers that discovered and showed the path of the salvation about 3000 years ago. One of the main principles of jainism is the non violence, which implies the respect for every living creatures. So, the mouth and the nose are covered up with clothes not to inhale accidentally any insect, a behaviour that I observed surprised in a monk of this temple,apart from being strict vegetarians. Finally, today in the afternoon we have visited what seemed another point of interest of the city and its surroundings, the dunes of sand in Sam, but the show that we have found was surprisingly grotesque.When we arrived close to the dunes, we have found hundreds of camels (I do not exaggerate) sitting and waiting for the buses of tourists that afterwards we have crossed. In the surroundings of the dunes there were tens of camps with tens of shops each. So alone we have lowered of the car, tens of men and boys have called continuously to sell us camel rides or a stay in a camp with food and included show. I have walked briefly around and inside the dunes, which were completely trod on by camels, people and everything. But when the tenth guide screamed for me from a hundred meters to sell me something, i have decided that this desert was the antithesis of the calmness and romanticism and have returned to the car, where Alexandra was trying to keep other tens of guides and sales man far from the autocaravan; we have gone up, and ran back towards Jaisalmer. Udaipur (see on map) 19/10/2008:
The following visited city was Jodhpur, also called the blue city, that has the most impressive fort of Rajasthan, dominating the plains from a hill. Knowing that the main point of interest of Jodhpur, is the fort of Meherangarh, we threaded a small road that at first crossed some bazaars, and we arrived to the entry of the fort, where we could pass the night with calmness. The day after, I woke up early, before the sunrise and I went out to make some photographs, surrounding the pretty mausoleum Jaswant Thada, of white marble. When i returned, already satisfied with the magnificent sights, I was about to wake up Alexandra to leave towards the following destination, for the entry in the fort of Meherangarh was too expensive for the tourists (for the Indians it is always very economic). For luck, before going up to the car an Austrian approached me and, after showing interest on our journey, he told me that we could enter the fort freely, as long as we did not enter the palaces converted into museum. So, when Alexandra woke up, we visited the firm fort, which did ever not have to hold any siege thanks to the alliance of the clan rajput with the Mugals of the north of India, which left that Jodhpur prospered benefited by the commercial routes that crossed it. On the fort, we visited some interesting Hindu temples, but we especially enjoy the impressive sights, which dominated the city of Jodhpur, which seemed to be suffering from a marvelous spell through the numerous homes painted in blue. Traditionally, the blue colour identified the home of a Brahmin, one of the highest castes of India, dedicated to the study, teaching and sermon; anyway, the homes of blue are also at present painted by the members of other castes. In the afternoon, after having visited the pretty gardens of Mandore, in the north of Jodhpur, we started to make road towards Udaipur. But an hour before sunset, different truck drivers and some area of service, informed us about the road that we followed as not being good, then further on being bandits and as we understood, the road not being in too good state either. So, we moved back about thirty kilometres and the day after (yesterday) we started to circulate for a road that first drove us up to the marvelous temple of Ranakpur. When arriving, the big temple of Ranakpur was opened only for the believers, therefore, we dedicate the while up to the opening visiting some other small jainist temples, also impressive for the numerous reliefs of princes and sensual consorts in the exterior of the temples. But incredibly when to enter later to the temple of Ranakpur, this entity made forget any other marvel observed beforehand. The temple of Ranakpur, dedicated itself to Adinath, the first of the 24 tirthankaras or Jainist saints, is one of the biggest and most important temples of this religion. Built in the 15th century, with white marble, it contains different rooms supported by a forest of 1444 pillars, each different to the other ones in forms and reliefs and sculpted figures. Personally, it did not seem to me that there were as many columns as the ones mentioned, anyway, there is a legend that says that all the pillars cannot be counted. Of what there is no doubt, it is the fascination that produces the temple, which some suggest as one of the seven marvels of the world. Showing more interest for the jainism, I discovered surprised that the Jainist do not believe in the existence of God, creator and maintainer of the universe, however if they believe in a universe governed by natural laws and eternal, which passes for successive cycles of creation and destruction. In a more pragmatic level, the jainist practice the total non violence, which makes them deny foods obtained with unnecessary cruelty, like this for, apart from not eating animals, many of them do not eat roots of plants (potatoes, garlic, onion) because as they take out the plant from the ground many insects and animals that live in the earth are killed. Naturally, to be able to enter in the temple I had to leave my skin belt in the car, although ironically, in the interior of the temple I discovered a couple of drums made of skin of camel. When going out from the temple in an almost mystical state, we immediately returned to the worldly level when realising that during our absence, some Indians had extracted three or four adhesives of the car . Alexandra was a wild animal and I, even if I appeared more soothed, did not stop being annoyed with the Indians, who have a culture that I do not quite understand. For example, it is completely surprising, that every day there is somebody (especially adult people and many of them middle class) that they try to open the door of the autocaravan. Many times we surprise them and when questioning them on their attitude they ignore us, as if they had not made anything bad. However, naturally, what bothers us more is that children and youngsters (and some adults also) try to pull out the adhesives planted in Pakistan. It is not strange that Alexandra has nightmares in which she kills Indins(and also Muslim Indians). The truth is that I do not understand their behaviour, nor when this is positive, for example somebody left us some days ago 10 rupiahs (0,13 €) in the window, probably as a sign of blessing. With the sun gone, we reached Udaipur, a romantic city that i already had visited during my previous journey to India. In spite of everything, our arrival was stressful, for despite being a pretty city growing about some lakes, Udaipur is a terrible city to enter with autocaravan and especially to find parking place during the night. Normally, in the cities we park in the area of the hotels of luxury, but in Udaipur, these hotels are around the lake (or in the centre of the lake) in an area of impossible access for the autocaravan. So, we started to search and to search, until throwing reverse gear in a dark alley without exit I crashed against a parked motorcycle. At first Alexandra exclaimed scared: "you have killed somebody"! and i went out shot to look behind. A family of a home in front also went out complaining for the fallen motorcycle, but when they proved that the motorcycle did not have any problem and however I did have all the bumper fallen (it does seem funny but it is true)they calmed down. Then they asked us where we went, and as we answered simply that we are looking for some place to park, this family showed us the first indication of hospitality since days and let us park on their street (a family had thrown us out half an hour before from their street where there were other cars parked). Today, we have moved the autocaravan a little more to the centre and have gone to walk towards the lake Pichola and the City Palace, but on the contrary to my previous visit, the city has disappointed me, and Alexandra also. The lake was dirty, the sun came in front (that also contributes), many trades were closed (it was Sunday), we have eaten in a mediocre restaurant... Our feelings, probably, would be very different if we had found a calm place near the lake for the autocaravan, but without desires of giving a second opportunity to Udaipur, we nullifyed the plans of relaxing for three days and left towards the following city. Bundi (see on map) 22/10/2008:
Even if Chittorgarh remains out of the touristic circuits, this fabulous fort well deserves a visit, and likewise consider it tens local tourists that every day go over to the fort of Chittorgarh with rickshaw. We had the luck of the elephants being able to have measures similar to the autocaravan, because we could pass very exactly for all the doors of the fort, saving ourselves like this to do a long hike or to stress out negotiating the visit with rickshaw. The fort, occupying a big area on a hill, preserves different palaces, monuments and temples. Above all, it stands out of spectacular tower of the victory, built in the fifteenth century and raising 37 meters, being possible to climb up to the eighth floor through some labyrinth stairs. In spite of everything, the history of Chittorgarh is not too victorious, and like this remains reflected in numerous Indian songs in which rajputs of the fort relate the three jauhares or suicides in mass of the women and the men with romanticism, before falling defeated by the enemy. The first jauhar, that influenced other jauhares happened later in other cities of the Rajasthan, succeeded in 1303, when the sultan of Delhi in front of a powerful army attacked Chittorgarh, with the goal (like this accounts the legend) of taking the beautiful wife of the king rajput. But that happened, and foreseeing the imminent defeat the king and the rajput army were dressed in saffron colour lothes, and they were thrown to fight against the enemy to a safe death, while the queen and the women of the court instigated a great pyre where they were thrown alive avoiding like this of being dishonoured by the sultan of Delhi. On the contrary to some legends, not all the population of Chittorgarh died, a couple of centuries later, in 1535 and in 1568, the rajputs of Chittorgarh had occasion of carrying out another two jauhares before falling in the hands of two other powerful enemies. It is said that the second jahuar was carried out by 13000 women and 32000 rajputs warriors, and the third for about 8000 warriors, some numbers maybe a little bigger, but in any case terrifying, even if one or two zeros of the numbers are taken. Among the different temples visited in Chittorgarh, there was one jainist situated in front the tower of the fame (built by a jainist merchant). In this temple it stood out, in some sculptures as well as in different photographs of its interior, different teachers or completely naked monks, for according to the jainist sect Digambar, the only path towards the lighting is the uprooting of anything material, even the clothes. So, according to this tradition, only the men can obtain the lighting, for the women are not allowed to transpire from the clothes, because they would probably obstruct the lighting of the men. When going out of Chittorgarh we were asking many people about the best path to reach Bundi, David and Maria had then explained us that a month ago they had done the same tour and the road was terrible, covering about 200 kilometres in 6 hours. Finally we convinced ourselves of the information that the Indians gave us as being correct and that there was a new road open for the first time exactly one week ago. And like this it was, only although it could be circulated through two of the four lanes that were built, we had to keep confronting ourselves with madness of the road, as the driving of some Indians (especially drivers of lorries and buses) seems suicidal, as if they did not have respect for their own life nor that of the others. India is one of the most dangerous countries for driving, where the possibility to have an accident depends more on the other ones than on oneself. On the sides of the roads there are many lorries with evident signs of having been startling frontally, for they without being important to them that vehicles come in contrary direction. On the other hand, we have to keep avoiding at all times sacred cows that they consider the asphalt more comfortable than the lawn and people, who think to be walking in their garden. The truth is that I do not understand the way of being Indian and the risks that take, for example some days ago we saw a bus going to 90 km/hr through a road, and suddenly, a man goes out for a lateral window, and doing balances is gone up above of the bus together with the luggage. Maybe, believing in the reincarnation they do not give value to the life so much? Then, Would this be a proof that the Christian and Muslim do not believe with the same faith in the paradise? (*) The day after before midday we arrived to Bundi, another marvelous fort and palace, dominating a small and nice village. In spite of everything, until we did not find a calm parking place in a police station, we thought that we would not enjoy anything of the village, the same as it had happened in Udaipur. Afterwards we went to eat in a restaurant (a quite economic one for India), as we finished we go towards the big palace, where we visit the palace of the women (those of the men were with payment) that were painted formidably, we next walked a little through the bazaar, and we finally returned to the autocaravan, where we relaxed with the approval of the guardian of the police. But at 9 in the night, another man who opened the shutter of the car without any contemplation came and he told us that we had to leave. I became angry with the little Indian hospitality and with the police who were so little helpful (not even so much alone wanted to suggest where to park), but we did not have more remedy but to collect again the things and to park at a hundred meters distance of the police station, in front of a pretty lake that refracted the palace and the illuminated walls. On the following day, today well early in the morning, I have gone out to walk for the side of the palace up to the summit of the mountain, where there was a line of walls and some forgotten palaces. As in many other forts of the Rajasthan, I have observed once in the summit of the mountain big pools or deposits that accumulated greenish water. This proof of the quantity of rain that falls during the monsoons, which are capable of accumulating in a basin provide water for all the year. When returning, we have started to do path towards Gwalior, the following destination, going in the same way that the previous day, a motorway in construction. But this time, on two occasions, the motorway crossed a river for a sky-high bridge, in whose beginning there was a point of toll done with four woods. They have announced to the first toll that we had to pay the equivalent to about 10 euros, and I, laughed at them and told them that without ticket i would not pay anything,i have kept advancing until I crossed the barrier. But in the second toll, the boys seemed more serious, but also more exalted. They have reported us that we had to pay one euro through the toll, the same cost that a bus. Then we have initiated the same discussion as in all the tolls of India (are quite frequent and in any point): that our autocaravan did not have the category of lorry or bus and that simply was a van (which, normally pays less than one third that the previous ones). But in this toll, the boys did not seem to follow any discipline and their aggressiveness has made me think that if i did not pay i would have problems. But as the barrier was lowered, the other lorries in contrary direction could not pass, so, when they have raised it momentarily to leave to pass a lorry, I have started pushing but the men aside started to hit the autocaravan with violence. We have escaped but we were completely exalted. Were all those nerves only for a euro worth? Probably not, but on the other hand, if we accepted all the cheating attempts, neither we could do the journey, for lack of budget. In any case, we are getting used to these frequent phases of tension and after little I am already capable of relaxing my mind again and of enjoying the present. Proof of that is the dream of tonight, in which some wild animals (representing the Indians or my exaltation) wanted to attack me, but with patience and cold blood, finally i tamed them. (*) Days later I read in an international journal that, according to official data, 10% of the fatal accidents of traffic in the planet happen in India. In 2006, there were more than 460.000 accidents (four accidents every five minutes), in those more than 100.000 people died,and about 500.000 people who were severely wounded. Gwalior (see on map) 24/10/2008:
in Gwalior it changed significantly our experience with the Indians. Anyway, before that happened, yesterday in the morning we stopped before entering in the city to change the brakes from behind, which already started to do noise and could not hold even the Nepal road, where we think to make different repairs with less fear of being tricked. We stop in a quite modern service where, after dismantling a wheel behind an extracting a tablet of brake worn out,they told to me that possibly we would not find the same spare type in all India. I asked them whether they could do the same as in Malawi where they had stuck a new tablet of brake on the original support. But they insinuated to me that they were much more civilised than the Africans and that this solution was not possible in India, but that in any case they would find another. In the end they brought me some bigger original tablets, which they cut until they could be adapted to my wheel. But so that the tablet did not touch in the axis they placed two bits of metal without welding that today they have fallen screeching on the axis all the time. When finishing the repair, it started again the odyssey of finding parking place in the city. at the touristic information point again they sent us away informing us that they did not know about any possible parking place, a hotel with a big parking place neither let us park arguing that they had to leave the possibility of filling the hotel in a single night opened, the commercial streets of the city seemed chaotic and full of people as always... Finally we found a calm alley in front of a big house, where I asked to a boy who talked English if we could park on the other side of the street. Almost surprisingly he answered me that yes. But more surprising was later, at night, when he presented himself with a cousin of his to suggest us to park in their home in order to not be bothered during the night. Then I commented them that they were some of the few Indians that had shown hospitality, answering that the problem is not hospitality, but the Indians hesitate or doubt a lot at the time of approaching the foreigners, because of the language or perhaps for our alien car. Anyway, I do not think that it is like this, for the Indians approach us for many other reasons without hesitating: to touch the car, to try to open the door, to pull outadhesives, to ask us our names and of where we are, to ask us for photos with us... but never to invite us or to let us enter a little in their life, as it had happened in the Islamic countries. It seems that the Indians are much more modest with their privacy, even if they do not appear too respectful with our privacy. In any case, as I have written at first, our experience with the Indians in Gwalior went completely different, for which this morning, they have invited to have breakfast when we woke up, the two boys (Ankur and Ankit) and the parents of Ankit, and while we ate they have suggested to us visiting the city with their car. Incredible, it seemed that we were in Iran or Pakistan! For a moment I have thought that they might be Muslim, but the decoration of the house has convinced me of being Hindu, confirmed to the subsequent conversation, in which they commented that they were vegetarian (they had never tried the meat or eggs), by religious, but also ethical reasons, because they do not want to take part in the animal suffering. After having breakfast and of buying for us a newspaper in English, Ankur and Ankit have accompanied us with the car up to the fort of Gwalior, that, as they themselves have commented did not have too much touristic interest. And were right, as the main attractions were a palace decorated exteriorly with blue pottery, a jainist temple and some enormous jainist statues of the fifteenth century, maybe the most outstanding of Gwalior, even if many of the statues had the faces and the genitals destroyed by the Muslim army that conquered these lands a century later. During the hike, I have asked Ankur, which had about 18 years, whether it preferred that his parents fixed a marriage for him or wanted to get married for love. he has explained me, that on the contrary to the majority of families in India, his fathers were very open and had declared to him that he could marry the one he wanted, even if she was of different caste. When returning from the visit of Gwalior, the family of Anki still had for us another surprise prepared, for they have invited us to eat a delicious meal, although something of the food was very heavy or oily, and it has been complicated for us of digesting afterwards. Finally, without any of both sides knowing how to finish this pretty experience, we have made a photo and we have said goodbye thanking them a lot for their hospitality. And we have returned to the road, sleeping near some pretty temples or palaces called Veer Singh Mahal that did not appear in our guide. Khajuraho (see on map) 26/10/2008:
It was time since my computer did not crush,i had not done safety copies since a month and a half ago and now, my only expectation is that at least i can recover the diary of the last month in India. For luck, Alexandra had stolen me the photos of my computer without my licence and I have only lost some photos of two days ago. In any case, that is not the most important thing to count. The most important thing is that the journey continues, and that the last two days we have visited two interesting places and we have done some new friendships. Yesterday we visited Orcha, maybe not so recommendable of visiting if it was not found on the way to Khajuraho (which we have visited today). In any case, Orcha is interesting for the different temples and palaces left to surround a small Indian village. For my taste, it would stand out a big Hindu temple that it seemed to copy the dimensions of a European cathedral and another temple that was found occupying the stays of a palace, for the history says that a maharajá installed in a temporary way an image of Rama that later was impossible to move, unmistakable signal that God wanted to transform the palace into temple, although that mysteriously, later the image of Rama could be moved up to another temple. At midday we started to do path towards Khajuraho, a very bad road that made us fear for the future roads , for Khajuraho is one of the main attractions of India, especially for the tens of photos that most of the adults have seen of the statues of its temples, identified with the kamasutra normally. The magnificent temples of Khajuraho were built a millennium ago, during approximately one century, in a remote area of India. It is not known why the dynasty Chandela built these 85 temples (of which only 22 have survived the crossing of the time) in one area so far away of the big towns and commercial routes, nor as how they recruited so much manpower in such a depopulated area. In any case, this strange situation of Khajuraho saved its temples from the destruction, the Muslim invasion and domination of Mugals in India did not have any interest to go into a forest area, full of tigers, where they remained left the temples. But if they had done it, for sure that the Muslims would have devastated these exhibitions of impure heresy, where numerous statues are shown fornicating or taking part in orgies of people up to four (normally a man and three women). Although most of the statues in the temples only show daily situations of the life in India of a millennium ago and images of its gods, they stand out among these, in front of the occidental eyes, the sensual or clearly erotic statues. There are different theories on why there is so much sexual exhibition in the temples of Khajuraho, although none is clear. Some researches say that the mentioned sculptures only represent tántric images, one of the many disciplines of yoga (spiritual exercises) to obtain the enlightment, that in this case the spiritual satisfaction about the basic instincts; although I do not think that the image of a man penetrating a horse (as it is represented in one of the temples) is tántric. Other theories talk about an open manual of the kamasutra (old Hindu book that shows, among other aspects, as initiating and maintaining a sexual union) where the young brahmins could learn how to behave in their adult life. However, other more innocent theories explain that such erotic images protected the temples against the fury of the god Indra, who did not direct its lightnings against the temples for its pleasure of voyeurism, although this theory must not be cast awayst nowadays, because all the temples incorporate the lightning rod. After passing a whole morning visiting and photographing the main temples of Khajuraho, we have gone out at noon from the temples while Alexandra asked me: - Have you learned any new thing? - Yes, but to practice it i would need two other women. And immediately after she gave me a well deserved kick. Almost in the same moment, another autocaravan had just arrived and has stopped in front of us. They were the first travellers by car that we saw in India and Alexandra got very happy and went to greet them immediately. They were a French couple that travelled with three daughters and a dog (that bundled outside preventing the Indians knocking the doors during the night). While we ate together in front of their parked autocaravan to the outskirts of the village, Thierry and Marie Pierre have told us that they had been travelling a year and a half through all Europe, Russia, Mongolia and, in the face of the impossibility about crossing China, they had returned for the "stan"republics up to Iran, Pakistan and at present India, with the intention of crossing Burma up to Thailand at the end of January. This possibility that we had discarded (all the world said that Burma could not be crossed with car) has added a new option to our plans that passed for embarking the autocaravan on a container up to Malaysia (about 1000 €) or to leave the autocaravan in India and to travel without house through China and southeast Asia. I have shown a lot of interest in the plans and with the possibility to cross Burma with them and with other Frenchmen who would arrive later. Anyway, it would be a complicated option, since they carried out the visa of Burma from Delhi in December, while we will be in the South of India celebrating the Christmas with David, Maria and their families. In any case, we would hold the contact to preserve this possibility opened. Nepal Kathmandu (see on map) 28/10/2008:
After saying goodbye to our French friends and connecting to Internet (using only the computer of Alexandra), we started to do path towards Kathmandu, Nepal. We planned on visiting Lucknow where we had contacts of Couchsurfing, but the good roads seemed to go towards Vanarasi and we took these, without intention of stopping to visit anything through the road, for we were tired of India and of the Indians a little, expecting to recover the lost calmness in Nepal. On the other hand, although he tried not to worry for my broken computer, i needed to fix it as soon as possible (or to try it) and Kathmandu seemed the best point, since there we had a very good friend of David and the Maria that could help us find a good computer scientist. Another of the many reasons to visit Nepal, was to carry out a series of repairs to the car, because we did not trust that in India we could carry them out with efficiency, being proved the first of these days, when we stopped in a village to fix the brakes that screeched. It was only necessary to weld a small part to the tablets of the brakes to raise them a little and to avoid touching the axis of the wheels. But after 45 minutes trying to extract one of the tablets, they filed slightly one of the sides, installed it again and told me that it was already fixed. I had already tried them to report that the solution was another and that like this was not have fixed anything and, evidently, the part screeched again when pulling the engine out. So, having seen in dismantling the wheel that the rubbing of the part was not too severe and, I commented that it could hold perfectly even to Nepal them that it was not necessary that they tried it more and I left without paying. It seemed that, at least those Indian mechanicals, did not feel like fixing my problem, or they were little innovative, or which simply did not want to be ingenious; if the things are not easy, they prefer denying the work. Despite trying to choose the best roads to Nepal and Kathmandu, there were not too many good ones, with numerous holes and dents in the asphalt, crazy lorries that made us go out from the road and villages full of people where we circulated like turtles. Alexandra asked me: "why do the roads always pass through the middle of the bazaars? ", but I supposed that it was the backwords, the bazaars were simply installed on the main roads, obstructing the circulation. In any case, it took more of two days of journey that it thought that would be needed to Nepal, again, we made records that we did not make from Africa, circulating inferior to the 40 km/hr. On the first day we circulated 200 km, the second 320 km and the third, today, 375 km, getting at about 150 km of Kathmandu. Possibly, the only reason that would have made me remain a few more days in India was the Diwali, one of the most important holidays that are celebrated in India and that already i had opportunity of enjoying among the India community of Mombasa, in Kenya. This 5 day holiday that started yesterday on the 28th, are dedicated to different Hindu deities, among these Rama, to which they guide from his long exile towards home with small torches of oil. At the same time, the Diwali coincides to the new year according to the Hindu calendar, reason for celebration with rockets and fireworks. In any case, despite not receiving any invitation to celebrate the Diwali, we had occasion of observing its celebration during the road. Through the road were sold many garlands of orange and yellow flowers, which were hanged at the lorries, homes and they were possibly offered to the gods. There were also many more shops selling sweet and, those that only came vegetal, did it the double of expensive. On the other hand, it was also easy to confirm that many homes were painted with bright colours, for the occasion. At night, the children started to throw fireworks and the homes turned on the typical lights of Christmas (in Europe) and to situate candles turned on in front of the doors. The Only luck of doing the tour during the diwali was that maybe (only maybe) there was less traffic going through the roads. Finally, today at noon we have arrived to the border of Nepal and with easiness we have been able to make a visa of 15 days (there were different fees according to the desired duration of the visa) and have entered this new country. One of the first things that catched the attention when entering Nepal is the change of hour, fifteen minutes in front of India, a way of indicating that the country is different. Although it is not necessary to detail it this way, because most of the Nepalese have the long eyes; they dress better and cleaner and of more European style (perhaps because it was diwali); it seems to have less beggars (or they are non-existent); and they seem much calmer and more affable. On the other hand, the roads until now (we were at about 150 kilometres of Kathmandu) are excellent, with the grass of the margins newly cut (and showing quite a lot of remains of rubbish that before had been concealed), the people walking for the side of the road (not on the asphalt or through the middle) and the truck drivers and drivers of bus, seemed to drive with much more prudence. Even then, there are some features in common with the India, as the cows occupying the asphalt of the road, together with numerous bicycles and motorcycles, some of which also they take 4 or 5 passengers. In spite of everything, not everything has been perfect and my prophecy has not been complied according to which, yesterday it would be the last day in which we would be upset during the night or that someone would try to open the door (in this case they were the same workers of the gasstation where we had parked). In Nepal, the people seem much more respectful with the property of the other ones, although we have arrived in the worst moment to check it. We had option of parking in the middle of the forest, but we have finally decided to park in a gas tation in the middle of a village. When darkening, we have observed for the window how small groups of children walked in front of houses and shops stopping to sing and to dance typical songs of Diwali in exchange for earning some sweets or some coins. Later, the groups of youngsters have made themselves more numerous, so, to sing in the shop of the side of the gas station, the youngsters passed for the side of the car, touching it, knocking it and moving it. Alexandra has been hysterical, sounding the alarm and screaming to the youngsters for the window. But the situation has turned irresistible when the shop has installed a powerful equipment of music and the youth has started to dance. We could have added ourselves to the party, but we were already in bed and the day after wanted to reach early Kathmandú, so, not to bother more the party of the other ones nor our rest, we have decided to move the autocaravan towards a calmer place. 03/11/2008:
We have spent 6 good days in Kathmandu, in the company of Jay Ram and his family. Jay Ram is a very good friend of the family of David and Maria, which have made different trekking through the mountains of Nepal guided by Jay Ram and later invited him to stay some months in Spain. So good friendship there is between them, that Jay Ram has named two of his children, Maria (5 years) and David (2 months); in the middle they also have another energetic girl Asmita (3 years). Jay Ram and his family received us with garlands of flowers and some long and fine fabrics that they hanged around the collars, afterwards we met in the small room where they lived with other members of the family and together we celebrated the last day of Diwali. They offered us tea, they painted the forehead for us with different points of colours and we were talking about our common friends, David and Maria, and their journey. Afterwards Jay Ram accompanied us through the pretty city of Kathmandu to walk, explaining to us that it was high season for the tourism (it was noticed in the streets) and that there was a lot of work as guide; in fact - he ended up explaining us - he had refused a trekking to be able to be with us. He knew that Jay Ram can work only for 6 months as tourist guide through the mountains, being the only source of income for the family. For luck, after a couple of days, Jay Ram commented us that he would have a trekking of 20 days, up and close to the everest, maintaining him quite occupied until today at night, when he has cooked us the last dinner, as always delicious. Finally, after drinking a couple of beers, we have said goodbye to him affectionately wishing him a lot of luck. It has been a pleasure to know Jay Ram and his family, has then been a great comfort after a month and a half going among distrustful Indians. his hospitality was comparable to the Turkish, Iranian or Pakistani, although the economic situation of Jay Ram was not comparable to the previous families with whom we had been. So, I tried to pay one of our expenses during our stay, although it was complicated that Jay Ram accepted it. It was also interesting to find the situation of Nepal for us first-hand with Jay Ram in order to know. Although he did not like talking about politics, one morning he surprised me explaining that since 1996, Nepal had been a country in war, innocent people were dying every day as consequence of the confrontation among the Maoist groups and the royal forces. Few years later, in 2001, there was a massacre in the royal palace, in which - according to official sources - the heir prince killed his king father, the queen and another 10 members of the royal family because they did not accept his marriage with an aristocrat. The same night, the heir prince was shot, remaining successor of the royal power the brother of the unsuccessful king, present in palace during the tragedy and considered for many Nepalese as the true responsible for the killings (in the Nepalese royal history there are other similar cases of massacres). The new king decided to govern with more harsh treatment against the Maoists, but different days of demonstrations and general strikes in Kathmandu triggered off a series of political reactions that finished with the dethroned king and democratic elections gained by the Maoists. These recent events have finished pacifying the country, the number of tourists increasing substantially this season, reason for which, Jay Ram appeared confident and optimistic when looking at the future. In fact, Kathmandu is the most touristic city that we have visited in a lot of time. There is the neighbourhood of Tamel where everything seems to be focused on to the tourists: hotels, restaurants, agencies of trekking, shops for mountain gear, souvenirs... Even so, the atmosphere is calm and relaxed and is nice to walk south, up to the old Kathmandu, the centre with the Durbar square, tightened with pretty temples and palaces, through the neighbourhood towards Tamel. The hindu and Buddhist temples are placed so close that it is difficult to take a good photograph in perspective, in any case, the details of both of the temples are also magnificent, as for example, the works in the wood or the multiple roofs. An atmosphere similar, but with less tourists, was breathed in Patan, a town in the south of Kathmandu, with another Durbar square (it means palace) and an old town with many other fabulous temples, in one of which an interesting Hindu ceremony was celebrated. I went to Patan in minibús with the passengers tinned as sardines and me, and some others, hanged out of the door. For luck nobody fell through the road and when arriving, I could go the embassy of Myanmar (Burma), main reason for my visit to Patan. The Frenchmen of Khajuraho had informed us about being possible to cross Myanmar by car up to Thailand, but the consul, although nice, did not appear too optimistic. In any case, he let me apply for the visas at the same time he suggested some travel agency in Myanmar to get in touch with. Also I dedicated a couple of days to try to solve another problem, my broken computer; but I have been very little fortunate, because I have not even been able to fix the computer nor to recover the data of the hard disk. So, today I have bought a new one through Internet that I have sent at the house of the parents of David;they will arrive in December in the south of India; and we have also modified the route to be able to arrive there in time. We will go down through the east coast, where there are not too many monuments to visit, and make use to stop in Calcutta, where I will try to take the hard disk to a laboratory of recovery of data and keep informing myself about the possibility to cross Myanmar by car. ‹ Previous (08/09/2008) MONTH Next (2008-11-07)› ‹ Previous (2009-08-29 - Nepal) COUNTRY Next (2009-09-19 - Pakistan)› |
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