colors of rajasthan

I loved the chaos of Delhi and the beauty of the Taj Mahal but really I think I loved
Rajasthan the most. In the northwest corner of India, smack dab in the middle of the desert, the people compensate for the monochromatic browns of the desert by wearing brilliant colors. The
people are so friendly and nice, they keep saying that my smile is the sign of luck and fortune. I feel it here. We visited a Kumbhalgarh Fort whose walls are the second longest continuous wall in the world after the Great Wall of China. We hiked to the top. We're the only Caucasians and I'm photographing all the Indian women in their colorful saris. One young girl, maybe 18 years old, was particularly beautiful. I asked her if I could take a picture of her. She shook her head yes. Thank God for digital cameras because the payback for shooting a photo is to show them the photo of themselves. I said to her, "You are so beautiful!" and she came back to me with "You are handsome!" We exchanged those same exact words a few more times until I realized those are the only words she knows. More than I know in Indian.

loving taj

How do I know that I want a book of postcards if I haven't seen the site yet? We got off the bus and headed towards a place I'd always dreamed about. Postcard salesmen were everywhere. I dodged them going in and out of their maze. I know their tricks now. I don't even glance in their direction. And finally we were inside the gates. Ahhh yes,-- quiet, peace, tranquility. We headed towards the arch that will divide my life between the moment before I first saw the Taj Mahal and the moment after. I waited in the darkness of the arch for a moment, eyes closed, trying to collect my thoughts. Somehow I knew this would forever change me. I took a step towards light and a deep breath. I opened my eyes and before me was something my dreams are made of. The most elegant female form of architecture I had ever laid eyes on, the TAJ. I had seen photos and travel clips so many times before in my life but nothing could touch the reality of her magnificence. Tears welled in my eyes. Yes, pinch me, I'm in India and this white marble homage of love is before me. Emperor Shah Jahan had it built as a mausoleum for his beloved wife who died giving birth to their 14th child. This is true testament that yes, Allah, there is true love! (And now my dear Jehuda, I have found it!)

india first class

I hate getting up early but we had to. Suvir insisted that in order to see India, we needed to take a train. After getting home from KaKa's party where I danced with the eunuchs until well into the night, getting up at 4:30 AM, with just 3 hours sleep, is just not civilized. And imagine the train station. It made Penn Station look and feel like a walk in the park. People sleeping everywhere. We stepped over bodies tangled on the floor to the platform and stood with the beggars until the train arrived. We were lucky... First class! And even luckier, we were traveling luggage-less. (The bus went head of us with all the luggage.) On board we found our way to the first class car which meant we sat on orange plastic-padded rock-hard seats with air conditioning that was nothing more than a rotary fan set on high. We were happy we all had our own seats next to men in rumpled business suits and quasi-hip Indians attached to cell phones like lifelines. And luckier not to be packed tightly into economy with screaming kids and chickens in cages. The service put American Airlines to shame. A biscuit was served by the Indian train equivalent of a grouchy flight attendent but la piece de resistance,-- deep-fried vegetable cutlets and cold, soggy french fries. Tough to resist this 6:00 AM breakfast but I just couldn't get it past my lips. By 8:30 AM, we were in Agra, and headed for breakfast and the unparalleled Taj Mahal.