Rajastan and Jaipur pics
Some pics of our time in Goa
Sitting on our b&b’s roof. What I see: a troupe of locals with drums and snake-music, doing circles around the village streets. It sounds celebratory. Behind them is a magnificent ancient hindu temple, cut out of stone ages before. The resident ‘travel agent’ / house cleaner hangs around the area below, waiting for fellow travelers to be trapped by his offer of a cheap tuk-tuk tour around the ruins. He’s a bit creepy and Stefan’s already put him in his place. Below us is a 20m2 area containing loads of rubbish, and 4 buffalos. A lady came out a minute ago and hit one with a big stick. She is tiny but it worked and he went inside. She’s barefoot in the buffalo waste. It’s Saturday but kids are running around in school uniforms. A monkey is eyeing the french family’s breakfast - he tried to get ours but stefan nicked him with a blunt knife. A ‘kettie’ is supplied by the hotel, but with no ammo, as this is a ‘holy’ village, strictly vegetarian and non-alcoholic (except for the lone ‘government lodge’ which serves meat & booze.) The buffalo lady now has a huge smile, she’s got a baby cow at the end of a rope. It must’ve been born Very recently, he can’t stand up properly yet. She is so beautiful in her sari and her smile, sweeping the courtyard with tied grasses. I think he thinks she’s his mom. The band is approaching again. In front of us are colossal stone boulders which together with the temples make little Hampi famous. India is splashes of color and I am envious of the Indians’ short memory - enduring hardship and easily bursting into celebration. Planning to rent a bike again today and explore.
Taking the train in India is like boarding a small self-contained city. It’s impossible to sleep in the daytime - there is a constant stream of hawkers and entrepreneurs trying to entice you with their samosas or grapes, masala chips or cucumbers. The chai sellers pass every couple of minutes, with their lukewarm milk mixtures, and beggars, singers and even a recent accordion player attempts to rid you of your spare rupees. At every stop, I imagine that scores board the train, only to catch another passing train later on to get back. I am amazed that they are all able to evade the system, because the ticket officiers seem fierce and authoratative, at least with us foreigners bundled together every here and there. This might be due to the Indian system of bribery which permeates every area of life here. On a previous trip, Stefan got locked in the latrine (it’s a long story) and eventually kick-boxed himself out of it, breaking down the door. An un-fficial bystander promply demanded 200 rupees from him, to pay for the damage he’d caused. Stefan has long ago figured out that all Indians are smaller than him, and that they are easily intimidated. He did not have to pay the 200 rupees.
I Have Other Sheep That Are Not of This Fold
life expectancy in Angola