A Final Tribute To: Monkeys

Monkeys abound in India. After observing many of them from afar and feeding enough of them at arm's length, I can confirm that they are sneaky, bold and mean. I still think they are cute, and very cool.

Walking around the Red Fort, like they own the place.

Feeding my new friend a tasty peanut.

Joey, taunting his new friend, also with a peanut.

This is real.

This is also real. Totally worth waiting for the 40th second:

Please note how no one stops to take a second look at the monkeys scattered across the path, part of the spectacular scenery that is commonplace in Gnarly Town, I mean Darjeeling.

Jaipur

Jaipur, called the Pink City. I'd choose Sun City if I were nicknaming -- the buildings shrunk and shined and danced and darkened as the sun's light traveled through the day.

Elephants were nearly as common as auto rickshaws.

The city stretches flat and full of life, situated in the Thar Desert.

Crumbling buildings, full of mystery and beauty from days gone by.

The Amber Palace.

My obsession with doors continues.

The palace is partly ruins, partly (relatively) well preserved fortress.

Street food. Spicy nuts and chopped-up onions, peppers and other crunchy stuff. Wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. The good stuff you're not supposed to eat.

We wandered down eerily abandoned streets, in search of The Sun Palace.

As we rounded this amazing vista, chanted prayers drifted loudly, beautifully, from the desolate buildings below. Dreamlike.

Coolest reflection pool I've ever seen.

Secret town. Surrounded by rocky hills and primarily inhabited by monkeys.

There were no placards or tour guides to tell us anything about the amazing frescos and delicate architecture of these temples. I did, however, meet a tiny classroom full of teenagers learning Sanskrit. Seriously.

Watching the sun set from the Sun Palace. And taking a moment to jot down a few of a myriad of thoughts.

Jaipur was pretty incredible.

Agra

Agra, home to the iconic Taj Mahal.

Flanked by symmetrical temples, also massive and intricate.

There was a lot to see.

Impressive, massive marble grandeur. (That's me leaping for joy, and for scale.)

Equally as impressive, the intricate marble detail. (That's me in Joey's artsy shot.)

Beautiful.

This temple (beyond the Taj column) still functions as a Muslim mosque. The other red temple, directly opposite, was simply built to maintain symmetry.

After wandering around the Taj Mahal and then shelling out the two bucks for a tour, we headed across the tourist-trap town to the Agra Fort.

Joey made a friend.

More visitors.

We said goodbye to the Agra Fort (also called the Red Fort) as the sun set.

Darjeeling

Darjeeling, nestled into the steep foothills of the Himalayan Mountains.

We walked through friendly neighborhoods, stacked like colorful shoeboxes into the valley.

We drank lots of loose leaf tea, Darjeeling Tea of course.

We hiked down into Happy Valley Tea Plantation.

A third-generation tea plantation worker invited us into her home for a hot cup of "Super Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Piko 1" tea and an in depth lesson on the grades and harvests and flushes of tea.

Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, a jump-off point for treks and fascinating museum documenting harrowing Everest expeditions.

The public library made me want to read a lot of books.

Tiger Hill sunrise -- the third highest peak, Mount Kanchenjunga, behind us; the brightly bundled up couple pointing to Everest in the distance (not actually visible that morning because of the fog).

After a one-night splurge in a heritage hotel, we took our packs and decided to find a cheaper hostel for the remainder of our stay. We lucked out with this room -- complete with a space heater and an amazing view of Mount Kanchenjunga from that massive window.

Kolkata

Kolkata, a city of old and new.

Typical traffic crossing.

Mother Teresa's home (on the left)

Haircut, anyone?

See you next time, Kolkata.

[Back] From the Road: Part Three

Though it somewhat belies the title, I write this entry from my Home Chennice Home. Partly because I'm still in "holiday" mode, partly because I am neurotic and want to record systematically and report equally. So before I get to uploading photos and crafting captions that will never be adequate, I remember the golden hills of Rajasthan:

Jaipur. Another city-love at first sight. Well, my first sight by daylight. After a long delay and a choppy train ride, I did not have a lot of love for the streets anywhere at 4am. But when Joey and I awoke to a cool breeze wafting its way through the cracked shutters and wandered out to the garden for homemade french toast and chocolate-banana crepes, I knew Jaipur would live up to my expectations. Our time was short but sweet, and my expectations were exceeded.

After chatting with the lovely husband and wife owners of Krishna Palace -- the heritage homestay we stayed at and enjoyed many delicious meals at -- Joey and I bargained with an auto rickshaw driver to be our tour guide for the day. We departed our quiet, peaceful neighborhood and entered the traffic. The traffic: the usual tour buses, trucks and lorries, junk cars and luxury automobiles, cows pulling carts, plus bicycle rickshaws galore, really tall, snooty looking camels pulling carts full of assorted goods and people, painted elephants carrying passengers and mostly young boys with reigns (whips), scrawny street dogs fighting swine and dirty piglets for trash lining the alley shortcuts our auto driver took at breakneck speed. A crazy city.

In the 11th century, Jaipur was known as "Amer," an imposing military town. Today, the Amber Fort remains an impressive testament to those days gone by. We loved walking around the seemingly empty palace -- plenty of ruins to explore without other noisy tourists and many unlocked doors and halls that didn't have signs posted that we should not enter, so we obviously took that as invitation to enter. Amazing views of the surrounding city of Jaipur below -- a mix of modern buildings and regal, Mughal towers, domes and mosque minarets, separated by lined streets and joined by thick, pink arched gates. A city of past and present.

Satisfied by the palatial ruins of the Amber Fort, we were not expecting to be so wowed by our next historic destination: the Sun Palace. AKA Monkey Temple. Our auto driver dropped us off on a desolate side street; a few guys selling chai and tacky bangles etc, plus some cows munching refuse and, as we had hoped to discover: monkeys. But oh so many more monkeys than we had hoped for! We walked up the rocky path, unsure which way to go because there were no signs anywhere. Not many people either. We continued to climb, pausing now and then to point and photograph the increasingly amazing view of Jaipur below and beyond. Then we turned a bend and came upon a few abandoned houses, stores, temples? A few men with magical white beards and red paste and tumeric smeared on their wrinkled foreheads peeped out at us. I surmise they are Hindu priests or spiritual gurus perpetuating the mysteries of the bizarre, wonderful city. One was singing, chanting as we walked by. A clear, deep voice that commanded rapt attention precisely because it sang to no one at all.

We stumbled up and down the uneven path, feeding monkeys from our hands -- tentatively at first and then (Joey) tauntingly. We passed a few women with a bundled baby and baskets of cobras (yes, real live cobra snakes they swatted casually then shoved towards us, asking for photos and rupees). The sunlight started to dance on the rocks, growing taller and wider around us. And then we reached a well-preserved ancient, tiny town. Or maybe it was once a single large estate that housed the temple dedicated to monkeys. A young man bathed in a square pool of dirty standing water, some sort of ritual observed by a small group of family members. Another small group of foreigners were finishing up their tour of the otherwise non-touristy town. Joey and I examined frescoes of Hindu gods and ancient legends; ornate doors and beautiful archways painted once-bold, still-beautiful shades of green, teal, burgundy, orange. We walked into one of the simple, amazing temples and discovered the courtyard was empty but for a small room -- where a dozen or so young students sat on the floor reciting Sanskrit for their instructor. A secret city.

In addition to the stunning architectural details and vistas from several almost too-good-to-be-true vantage points, I loved Jaipur for the craft she has generated over the centuries and now revived: hand block printing. Essentially, it is a method of printing cloth with handcrafted wooden stamps using vegetable dyes, over and over and over, to create a patterned length of (gorgeous) material. Perfect for wearing or furnishing or simply looking. There is more love for Jaipur, but I think I need more time to find the words.

Rather unfortunately, Joey's experience of Jaipur was halved by a nasty stomach bug he's still fighting, mightily. Not sure if it was the spicy crunchy snack mix we ate out of a cone of newspaper from the man in a turban on the side of the road, or a virus completely unrelated to foreign food. On the bright side, of all the places we stayed, the Krishna Palace really was the most delightful place to suffer from fever and migraine. As we said sad goodbyes to Jaipur for the airport (with Joey still feverish and full of only four pieces of small toast plus some Advil), Nicolette and Magda called to propose a revision to the itinerary: skip Cochin and head back to Chennice instead. As last minute things sometimes do, the plan worked out perfectly. Although I guess the perfection started after we had survived a night spent in various positions of uncomfortable at the Mumbai airport (in my attempt to be both adventurous and stingy, I'd purposefully booked an overnight layover to save on a six-hour hotel stay. Bummer.) Needless to say, we are glad to be home and enjoying a day of rest.

I know I will need many more days to reflect on the complex beauty and astounding history we glimpsed -- and experienced -- in our whirlwind travels up North. I'll try to post a few of those thoughts here.

From the Road: Part Two

I'm typing from Krishna Palace again, this time enjoying the cool, dry afternoon. Under the shade of the wide front porch with columns and furniture meant for comfortable slouching, this is the perfect temperature. Before I walk the few steps to the garden to join Joey for lunch, I thought I'd offer a few more bullets on our middle stops. Photos, of course, to follow.

Delhi. One night was enough for us in this modern, sprawling city. We stayed in the Main Bazaar, a street full of aggressive hoteliers, tourist trap knick knack shops and many fellow ex-pat backpackers (60% of whom had dreds ranging from legit to wannabe to mangy). After we had walked a few of these over-stimulating streets and resisted an exhausting number of shopkeepers selling expensive souvenirs and tempting but cliche hippie-pants, we hired a taxi to take us by the India Gate. A famous monument. We also drove past the Parliament building and President's house -- our hospitable taxi driver asked the sleepy guard at the gate if the two foreigners could have a closer look, and we drove into the expansive driveway of the P's house. Pretty sweet.

Agra. Aboard the Taj Express, we met a friendly New Yorker traveling around India. She joined us for the day, splitting transportation costs, lunch and the inevitable stares by three, at the famed Taj Mahal and lesser-known but really cool Agra Fort.

The Taj Mahal. Meaning: Crown Palace. Built by a Mughal king for his third wife -- the most beautiful and his most cherished. They were married 19 years, before she died giving birth to their fourteenth child. Before she died, she made him promise never to marry again. Impressively, the powerful Raj followed thrugh with the promise. As I expected to be, I was stunned by the enormous and beautiful palace. We wandered around the huge white marble palace with cameras clicking, trying to capture the splendor sans other gawking tourists. The combination of large scale grandeur and precise detailing impressed me for hours. Especially after I found out the entire thing was constructed in 22 years!

Agra Fort. Also called the "Red Fort," because, well, it is mostly red. Parts of the fort date back to the early 12th century, and the fort ranges from crumbling ruins to well-preserved towers topped with intricately edged domes. We arrived late in the afternoon and were able to observe the lovely arched windows and vistas (of the Taj Mahal, in some places) alone. We entered the red ruins and sat on the wide window sills for awhile, quietly observing the sunrays lengthen and linger -- until Joey got abruptly and offensively reprimanded by a guard. Then, we made our way along loose stone paths to an unexpected courtyard and series of beautiful towers and open terraces. I allowed myself to shut my eyes and imagine what royalty must have lived here, flanked by the imposing fortress. I opened my eyes and we discussed what stellar parties we could throw here.

After our day of walking through history and touching the cold marble walls of one of the seven wonders of the world, we sipped cups of too-hot chai from a noisy roadside cafe. An appropriate transition into our three hour plus plus plus wait for the delayed train that would take us to our current destination: Jaipur. More on that later.

From the Road: Part One

Though I type this from Krishna Palace, our lovely heritage hotel in Jaipur, I back track a bit to give you a glimpse of what Joey and I have seen in the past week. Photos will, eventually, help me order our adventures and articulate more of what we have seen.

I write this from a train -- another ride that will blend into my fuzzy but fond collective memory of train rides in South Asia. So many landscapes sliding past my dingy windows -- patchworks of brown, green and greener; fields of monotonous herbs, crops, bramble. This train ride is warmer than the last, but I'm still grateful for the wool shawl-blanket I bought as a gift (and am keeping for myself) from the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Centre at the bottom of a valley village in Darjeeling. To place name drop. My mouth is warmed -- tongue burned -- by the ubiquitous "chai chai coffee" I gulped down before tasting which one my five rupees bought. Louder than the friend of a friend's mix on my ipod (Coco Rosie at the moment, I think) I hear antsy kids and quietly laughing families; men in business clothes; the "chai chai coffee" man making his rounds again. The train shimmies side to side and rumbles forward; I'm not sure if I hear this or feel this. A few blue pleather seats away, Joey catches uneven sleep between abrupt station stops and chai calls.

I dare to offer fragmented memories from our first two stops:

Kolkata. I fell in love with this place after walking about four blocks. Crumbling colonial buildings set a beautiful, but simultaneously tragic, backdrop for the citylife moving quickly, moving on.

Our day in the bustling but cleaner-than-expected city began with roadside hot breakfast. Puri with potato, followed by a tiny terracotta vat of chai tea -- extra satisfying because you smash the thin pot on the street after the last drop of good. Nicolette, Joey and I were joined by our gracious host and friend Kari, who impressed us with her Bengali bartering language skills. We first visited Mother Teresa's home, her granite tomb simple and adorned by yellow mums spelling "I Thirst." We then ventured on to visit a couple inspiring NGO's teaching women "in the trade" alternative means of income and empowering them to seek a different lifestyle ("the trade" referring to women caught in sex trafficking or prostitution). Our full day (majorly skimmed here) was topped off with a wild rummage through humongous bags of colorful, secondhand sarees. I restrained myself and only bought seven -- to repurpose as amazing quilts or amazing whoknowswhats. One day was not enough; I'll be back.

We rushed to our overbooked overnight train ride. Nicolette and I shared a berth and my sleeping bag and were actually grateful for the forced togetherness and extra body heat; Joey lucked out when a bunk opened up after an hour or two and he left his aimiable elderly Indian man/almost bedmate. After a chilly ride north, we haggled for a seat in a jeep -- four to a bench seat (including three sharing the seat -- singular -- next to the driver of the stick shift small sized SUV). We jolted and bolted around harrowing curves and wall-less, shoulder-less bridges over deepening valleys. And, after about 7000 feet of all that, we reached our next destination.

Darjeeling. Amazing. (Really.) And it wasn't just the steady ground beneath our feet that sloped into the commanding foothills of the Himalayas.

Nicolette, Joey and I were there for only three days, but we quickly ran out of adjectives. Charming heritage hotel -- our first night's treat. Breathtaking sunrise over the Indo-Chinese border of Himalayas, viewed atop Tiger Hill. Brilliant sunrays dramatically illuminating Mount Kanchengjanga, the third highest peak in the whole wide world. Quaint cobblestone streets. Traditional grandmothers in layers of saree, sweater and shawl, walking together in the early morning with smiles and prayer beads. Trendy teenagers in skinny jeans and hipster scarves walking the same streets with each other and cell phones. Eclectic-ly potted plants and flowers spilling over brightly (but tastefully) painted terraces and rooftops. Aromatic tea in shops. Authentic tea in the home of one woman who has worked at Happy Valley Tea Estate her whole life. Ridiculously overpacked antiques at our favorite Tibetan art and handicraft shop (ok my favorite, not Joey's). Gorgeous mountains. Everywhere. Stunning valley views. Even adverbs aren't enough.

To all concerned family and friends: we are thriving and well. Joey is rocking his Adventure Pants and I am grateful for a hot shower at our current homestay. Today, monkeys ate peanuts straight out of our hands. Life is good. More updates sooner rather than later.