Author: rr_admin

We find ourselves way behind on the blog once again. No matter, we’ll try to do a few short entries in succession to catch up.

We take a deluxe bus from Udaipur to Ahmadabad. (Deluxe as in ‘air-conditioned’, ‘clean-ish’, ‘costs more than five dollars’ and ‘doesn’t look like it’s been rolled down a mountainside’.)

We treat ourselves to a stay in the House of MG Hotel.

Formerly the home of a Gujurati textile magnate, it’s very comfy. We especially like the Lotus Pool.

The hotel is at the edge of the old city. The old city is a rabbit warren of streets with many examples of interesting local architecture, including buildings with intricately-carved wooden balconies and decorations. Sadly, most are crumbling into rubble.

500 years ago, Ahmadabad was founded with city walls and gates. The walls are mostly gone, but the gates remain.

We are persuaded to visit the Jama Masjid mosque. I point out that I’m wearing shorts (unsuitable for visiting places of worship of any kind – friendly reminder to a million Western tourists.) The gatekeeper kindly provides a loaner pair of trousers.

My shorts are a problem again when we visit the Hutheesing Jain Temple.

Fortunately, the gatekeeper has pairs of pyjama-like pants for the use of immodestly-dressed visitors.

Among Ahmadabad’s claims to fame: Ghandi spent years here at the Sabarmati Ashram. This was his base for toppling the Raj.

2019 is the 150th anniversary of Ghandi’s birth. There are signs and billboards throughout the country.

On the grounds of the ashram is this interesting wood sculpture carved out of a post.

One of Ahmedabad’s biggest attractions is the Calico Museum of Textiles. We try to go, but the process of actually trying to visit this museum is so complex and Byzantine, we eventually give up. Maybe next time.

Sight or Insight of the Day

One day, we take a tour with a car and driver, arranged from the hotel. We drive to this place, the Adalaj Stepwell.

We’ve visited these – stepwells – elsewhere in India, but this is the largest and most ornate we’ve seen.

It’s five storeys deep.

Looks like an opera house.

Typical for India, lots of amazing stone carving.

We take a local bus from Jaipur to Bundi.

This gentleman is dressed in typical Rajastani fashion.

Bundi is a delightful little place. (By Indian standards, of course.) We stay at the Haveli Dev Niwas.

Because this is not the tourist season – it’s fiery as the pits of Hell out there – we are the only guests.

There is usually a breeze in the rooftop restaurant. Nice view, too.

An interesting detail in our room is the leftover pulley from what was once probably a punkah setup.

The punkahwallah sits outside and pulls the cord to keep the punkah moving in the room.

The lanes of Bundi have ‘character’ without the nightmarish aspect of bigger Indian cities.

We purchase tickets at the gates of Bundi Palace.

To quote the Lonely Planet guide:

‘ This extraordinary, partly decaying edifice – described by Rudyard Kipling as ‘the work of goblins rather than of men’ – almost seems to grow out of the rock of the hillside it stands on. Though large sections are still closed up and left to the bats, the rooms that are open hold a series of fabulous, fading turquoise-and-gold murals that are the palace’s chief treasure.’ 

Like most of these palaces, this one has massive gates.

I model my new block-printed shirt from Jaipur.

The builders of these palaces surely knew about the cool breezes you enjoy at this height.

The Chitrasala Palace, part of the larger complex, has painted murals and a garden in the front.

This is the Chogan Gate – the main gate into the old town.

As usual, we visit the market.

We make our way back to our lodgings against the current of traffic.

After cooling off, it’s time to enjoy the sunset over Nawal Sagar Lake.

Next stop is Udaipur. Time for another character-building bus trip.

This is a common sight in the bus stations of India.

We arrive in Udaipur after dark. We stay in another haveli, the Jaiwana.

They have a nice dog, a beagle named Milo.

Next morning, the first destination is the City Palace.

There’s usually a great view from the heights.

There is a surprisingly orderly system for visiting the palace.

Everyone follows a clearly-marked tour path.

Except for a few minor logjams, it works quite well. We emerge out the other end of the palace.

We leave the City Palace and take a boat tour on Lake Pichola.

Maria models her block-printed top from Jaipur.

We pass through the market. Here are some enormous cauldrons stored in a nook. We think they’re for making chai.

The combination of lakes and mountains makes Udaipur a visual treat.

You get a different perspective from the boat.

A woman does her laundry down by the water.

One of the islands on the lake contains a fancy hotel.

We stroll around the gardens while waiting for our return boat ride.

This lizard leaps across our path from a nearby bush before clinging to this stem.

Sight or Insight of the Day

While in Bundi, we see these lovely murals painted on the walls of the Chitrasala Palace.

Depictions of Krishna seem to be a popular theme in Rajastan.

It’s a shame that India has thousands of monuments in need of maintenance or restoration. We suggest (Indian) universities with faculties of archaeology/antiquities begin a program in which classes ‘adopt’ a particular site to maintain or restore.

For a start, these sites could use more personnel to simply be present to prevent vandalism and provide more oversight: many of these places are full of dark corners where the stench of urine would fell a full-grown rhinoceros in its tracks.

India can obviously afford it. Any nation that has tens of billions of dollars to spend on nuclear weapons can easily spare a few crumbs for the preservation of its heritage, right?

(By the way, about those nuclear reactors we provided? You’re welcome.)

It’s July 24 – Amelia Earhart Day.

Amelia Earhart’s disappearance is one of my favourite historical enigmas. Here’s a small femmage to her, courtesy of J. Mitchell. ‘Then your life becomes a travelogue of picture-postcard charms…’ Indeed.

See you in another life, Amelia.

Anyway, back to Delhi. After a few enervating days in Delhi taking care of business, we go south. First stop is Agra.

The Taj Mahal is one of those tourist sights that is genuinely pretty impressive in real life. Like Ayer’s Rock.

There is controversy about the meaning of Taj Mahal (although ‘mahal‘ certainly means ‘palace.’)

We think this mother-daughter duo are worth a picture.

We stay at a cheap place nearby. Great views of the Taj as we sip an evening beer.

A slow bus takes us to Fatehpur Sikri, the abandoned capital of the remarkable Moghul emperor Akbar.

A local goat finds a good place to rest in the heat…

…as does a local older gentleman.

Fine stone-carving is everywhere.

This place hasn’t changed that much since I was last here countless decades ago. Just a lot more people around.

Akbar listened to philosophical debates in this hall. (So they say.)

• 

When I was young, I read the Story of Civilization series. Twice. Still have it. It’s what sparked a lifelong interest in world history.

This is the Jama Mosque.

Of course, the women have to pray outside.

Back to Agra. On another day, we visit Akbar’s Tomb.

It’s in nearby Sikandra. Getting here is quite an experience – like doing just about anything in India.

The beautiful gardens are a respite from the chaos outside the walls.

There are quotations in Persian and Arabic on many surfaces.

The roof in the entrance preserves its glorious paint job.

Back in town, we visit the Agra Fort. Akbar also had a hand in the way it looks today. He was a big cheese in this part of the world.

We’re not sure why these girls are dressed alike.

More wonderful stone-carving. Similar buildings in modern times use concrete. Not very impressive, especially when it begins to crumble within a few years.

You can see the Taj through these arches, further down the Yamuna (or Jumna or Jamna – take your pick) River.

These audience halls are a common feature.

Our next stop is Jaipur. We stay in the Pearl Palace Hotel, the nicest place we’ve stayed so far in India.

Behind our hotel is Hathroi Fort – old and abandoned, but people still live in it.

The market in the Old City is worth a look, especially the narrow interior lanes.

Rajastan is well known for its textiles. In these market stalls, groups of ladies sit as the shopkeeper – or his assistants – pull down bolt after bolt of colourful cloth.

Looking for bargains.

The hawa mahal is one of Jaipur’s iconic buildings.

Close by is the City Palace.

Another part of the palace. Everyone wants to stay out of the sun.

In the area is the famous Jantar Mantar. This is a collection of architectural astronomical instruments built in the early 1700s.

According to Wikipedia:

The name is derived from jantar (yantra, Sanskrit: यन्त्र, “instrument, machine”), and mantar (from mantrana, Sanskrit: मन्त्रण, “consult, calculate”). Therefore, Jantar Mantar literally means ‘calculating instrument’.

It looks like a Le Corbusier sculpture park.

One day we go out to the Amber Fort (known nowadays as the ‘Amer Fort’).

There are many of these forts in Rajastan. Most have a lengthy wall climbing the surrounding hills. Looks like a ‘Great Wall of India’.

Some parts of the palace are neglected, others are in a good state of preservation.

Interior of the first courtyard.

This is the first courtyard. (There are at least three.)

The fort was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2013.

The day is hot – we make a point of moving slowly.

The Mirror Palace is pretty snazzy.

The day before we leave Jaipur, we drop in on the Albert Hall Museum.

Inside is a good collection, a little bit in need of some curatorial care.

Sight or Insight of the Day

There are many interesting and wonderful things to see and do in India, but holy smokes, it’s exhausting traveling in this country. We’ve been on a few humble buses and trains in the last few weeks. (It’s not a case of looking for an ‘authentic’ experience of getting down with the locals, like some people carry to a slight extreme – it just turns out to be the only way to get to where we’re going.)

Unless you’re willing to wear blinders, every day brings constant exposure to people spitting, gobbing jets of scarlet betel juice, blowing out snot, lots of public urination (and worse). Wherever you turn, someone is vigorously reaming out a nostril or an earhole. Men are constantly pawing their genitals. 95% of people (read: men) who approach you want something from you. A dead giveaway: the first thing they say is ‘I don’t want anything from you’. (A negative side-effect of this is the guilt you feel when you are rude and snap at the 5% of people who are trying to be genuinely helpful.)

It’s not a place for sensitive souls. (I would say ‘No Country for Old Men’, if I wasn’t so close to being one myself.) And that’s not even getting into the physical environment. Maybe in a later entry.

From eastern Bhutan, we make our way west again.

We stop for a few days in the beautiful Phobjikha Valley.

Besides being famous (in Bhutan) for its potatoes, it is also known for a yearly migration of black-necked cranes from late October to mid February.

This is Karma. He was attacked by a feral dog and suffered permanent wing damage. He is now a permanent resident of the Black-Necked Crane Visitor Centre.

The valley itself is very scenic.

We go for a hike one day. The weather is perfect.

Sunny. Not too hot.

A squad of people are building a rammed-earth house. It’s very rhythmic as the ladies pound the earth down.

This is what a rammed-earth house looks like when it’s done.

We meet a young couple from Canton, NY on our walk. Practically neighbours. They’re making a tourism video.

We stop for a rest.

We reach the goal of our hike – the Gangteng Monastery.

The next day, we hike the Lungchu Tsey pilgrimage trail. This takes several hours. When we finally get to the top, the place is locked and there are no monks in sight. Just a couple of dogs.

We enjoy the view and set off back down the mountain.

The next day, we drive over the Chelela Pass to Haa.

Haa is a sleepy kind of place.

There is an Indian Army camp in town. This is to discourage incursions from the imperialist Chinese, who – surprise, surprise – lay claim to large tracts of the Himalayas that were once ruled by Tibet. Their logic: any former Tibetan territory must naturally default to China after that country’s forcible overthrow liberation of Tibet.

The palatial size of our hotel rooms is a real treat after the space-challenged rooms of Japan.

The next day, we head back to Paro over the Chelela Pass.

This time, we stop at the pass and hike to the nearby Kila Gompa nunnery.

As is common for mountain passes, there is a riot of prayer flags.

You can see Paro far below.

The crack of a thousand flapping flags is kind of scary.

On the hike, we stop to erect a prayer flag ourselves.

After an hour or so…

Some people come to this nunnery for meditation retreats.

As you can see, some of these structures are, um, precarious, to say the least.

Sight or Insight of the Day

After nearly 2,000 KMs driving around Bhutan, it’s time to part ways with Tula and Mr. Rinsin at Paro Airport.

We’ll miss Mr. Rinsin’s sense of humour and Tula’s solicitous guidance in all things Bhutanese. Thanks, guys.

From Trongsa, we drive to Bumthang and beyond.

The morning we leave Trongsa, the dzong is shrouded in mist.

The beginning of the journey to Bumthang – we are above the clouds.

At a rest stop, the pass is covered in prayer flags.

Our accommodation in Bumthang (pronounced ‘boomTONG’, not ‘BUMthang’, FYI) is in the Tang Valley. Tula, our guide, describes our hostess, Ms. Kunzang Choden, as ‘of a noble family’. She’s also an author, having published ‘Dawa: The Story of a Stray Dog in Bhutan‘. Her husband is Swiss. We have rösti with our dinner.

On the grounds of the property is the Ogyen Choling museum.

This is the Jampa Lhakhang monastery near Bumthang. It’s famous for staging a mysterious ‘naked dance‘ annually.

Bhutan has a lot of festivals. Peak tourist season (which we are NOT in now) usually means foreign visitors want to see these spectacles performed.

It’s not something we like to do: Bhutanese people are very sincere about the importance of these dances. We feel that the more they become a tourist attraction, the less vital they become for Bhutanese identity. But that’s just us.

We visit a ‘heritage house’, which portrays traditional everyday life in Bhutan in the past.

Our hostess is the dignified Ms. Dorji Lhamo.

We are shown tools, textiles, and other artifacts.

This is the balcony at the rear. Actually, Ms. Lhamo’s house next door doesn’t seem that much different from the ‘heritage house’.

Not far from Bumthang is the Pema Choling nunnery.

Among their duties is caring for the nearby Burning Lake – an important place in the national mythology.

On the way, we see a stupa under construction. The low-tech scaffolding and ample manpower bring to mind the Pharaonic construction of the pyramids.

Another day, we make an excursion to Lhuentse.

Along the way, we stop to visit a suspension bridge over the swift-flowing  Kuri Chhu river.

Lhuentse Dzong from below.

As usual, the doors are photo-worthy.

And below flows the Kuri Chhu river.

These dzongs often combine the monastery with the local civil government.

A young monk takes a break from his studies.

We stop for a picnic lunch along the river.

We make a postprandial visit to Khoma, a village where women bring home the bacon by their weaving skills.

This woman spends about four hours a day at the loom.

That’s besides doing other household work.

We visit another monastery on top of a mountain.

In the courtyard, monks and lay people are practicing for an upcoming dance.

Tula tells us about a politically incorrect Bhutanese saying: ‘Beware of women or monks driving.’

Another fancy door.

Some monks relax in the garden.

View of the river far below.

This monk is very generous about explaining the history of the monastery.

We arrive back in Trashigang.

Trashigang looks a bit like an Elizabethan town.

Tula, Mr. Rinsin, and I stock up on water for the road.

Archery is the national sport of Bhutan.

We see a fascinating example of how this works. Rivals shoot from 125 meters (!) away. The opponents do a mocking dance in front of the target, daring the other side to come close to hitting them (while keeping a close eye on the actual trajectory of fired arrows.) When a team does score a bulls-eye, then begins an elaborate dance that looks like a bunch of football players celebrating a touchdown.

Sight or Insight of the Day

We hear that João Gilberto passed away. Descanse em paz, amigo.

This man almost single-handedly brought Bossa Nova to the world. That world is a richer place for containing such classics as ‘Chega de saudade‘ and ‘Corcovado‘.

See you in another life, João.

From Punakha we drive to Trongsa. Much of the route follows these death-defying dirt roads.

As usual, around mid-morning we stop for a tea.

We pass many stupas along the way.

We eventually arrive at the outskirts of town.

Downtown Trongsa is a hive of activity.

We get a view of the dzong from our hotel room balcony.

At our hotel, a man paints decorative dragons on the doorway.

In the valley below is a dam for a hydro-power project.

The fortress/monastery is a short stroll away.

We befriend a kitten.

Pretty amazing doors are standard in these places.

Gotta keep the monkeys out, though.

Tula takes this photo as we look out from an ornate upper gallery.

Sight or Insight of the Day – Trongsa

We read ‘Beyond the Sky and the Earth‘, by Jamie Zeppa. A quick read, and schmaltzy in the way of most chick-lit, but interesting in that many of its observations are still evident in Bhutan today. (The political tension is much reduced now.)

Bhutan is the kind of place that lends itself to over-romanticization. The country is making hay with its ‘Gross National Happiness‘ initiative – seems like a Bhutan Tourism Board marketing gimmick, really. Bhutan is already a kinder, gentler place than any surrounding country, but that’s probably more because they are a small, Buddhist country rather than anything else.

Our time in Bhutan is nearly up – we’ll try to keep the blog up to date by posting shorter entries. Here goes.

We head east from Thimphu over the Dochula Pass.

There are always things to see along the way.

We stop to visit a market. Maria stocks up on fruit.

A pair of nuns walks from one village to the next.

We stay near Punaka in a town called Lobesa. We walk through rice paddies to the temple of Chimi Lhakhang.

This is the Punakha Dzong, located at the confluence of two rivers.

As we enter, we pass an aged monk pondering life’s eternal questions.

There are giant beehives hanging above the main door.

The interior is pretty neat, too.

There’s also a great suspension bridge over the river.

Sight or Insight of the Day – Punakha

The Chimi Lhakhang temple is known for its fertility-enhancing powers.

This means many buildings in the area are adorned with graphic paintings of phalluses.

What would Freud make of it all?

Happy Canada Day!

Can July 1 be here again so soon? Doesn’t seem like a year since we were raising a glass to the True North Strong and Free in Australia.

In tribute, here’s a link to one of my favourite songs about Canada – The Longest Road – from the underappreciated songwriter/guitarist Stephen Fearing. And just so our francophone frères et sœurs don’t feel left out, a lovely version of Un Canadian Errant.

We enlist some hotel staff for a photo opp.

So until we are once more in nestled in the bosom of the Canadian motherland, we wish everyone at home a great Canada Day/Bonne Fête du Canada.

Now, where were we? Oh yeah; from Paro, we drive to the capital city of Thimphu.

The Tamchog Chakzam (iron chain bridge). According to legend, ‘Drupthob Thangtong Gyalpo was the Tibetan man who built the iron chain bridges in Bhutan in the late 1300s, and is said to have built 108 of these bridges around Tibet and Bhutan.’ 

We stop for some fruit along the way. Wrapped in plastic are cubes of local cheese.

We arrive in Thimphu.

Among Thimphu’s sights is a giant seated Buddha.

Thimphu is sometimes describes as ‘the only capital city in the world without traffic lights.’ Not quite; we know for a fact that Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar, has no traffic lights. (Actually, they have hundreds left over from the days of French rule. They just haven’t worked in decades.)

We seek out the Bhutan Textile Museum. Unfortunately, you can’t take photos inside.

This is the Memorial Stupa, built to commemorate the third King of Bhutan.

Our guide, Tula, points out an interesting phenomenon. Some people who work in town leave their elderly relatives at the stupa grounds as a sort of ‘daycare for seniors’.

The photo below shows a killer fungus used as medicine in these parts. According to wikipedia:

‘O. sinensis parasitizes the larvae of moths within the family Hepialidae, specifically genera found on the Tibetan Plateau and in the Himalayas, between elevations of 3000 m and 5000 m. The fungus germinates in the living larva, kills and mummifies it, and then a dark brown stalk-like fruiting body which is a few centimeters long emerges from the corpse and stands upright.’

This is taken in a post office. Someone’s going to get a special treat in the mail.

Sight or Insight of the Day

We visit a fair-trade shop that sells Bhutanese textiles and other things at a fixed price.

Bhutan has a rich tradition in textiles.

These jackets – tegos – are worn by women.

An array of silk scarves.

We pick out a few things to send home.

We are happy to arrive in small, calm, Bhutan. We have a bias towards small countries.

We fly from Delhi to Paro in Bhutan. On the way, we pass the peak of Mount Everest (according to the captain.)

Landings at Paro’s pocket-sized airport are exciting. You descend close to the mountains, then bank steeply right and down a valley.

To no great surprise, it makes the list of ‘ten most dangerous airports in the world‘.

We are met at the airport by our guide, Tula, and our driver, Rinzin.

(In an effort to avoid overwhelming numbers of visitors, Bhutan practices ‘high-value, low-impact’ tourism. This means most foreign visitors must travel with a booked package, at a substantial daily rate, including a guide and a driver.)

Paro isn’t the biggest town in Bhutan, but it is where the international airport is located.

On our way to the hotel, we pass groups of young monks.

Our hotel is a training ground for a local hospitality college.

The view from our hotel.

Our first stop is the Rinpung Dzong. A dzong is a fortress/temple.

It’s an ‘auspicious day’, so the monastery has many visitors. These local girls and women wear the kira, the national garment for women.

This lone girl dances to her own inner rhythm.

Up the hill is a national museum, currently under repair for earthquake damage.

The grouping of white prayer flags are a memorial for a deceased person. According to Tula, they should be ‘high up and overlooking a river.’

We hike up into the surrounding hills.

We drop in on a small monastery. Tula discreetly checks if anyone is home. The resident monk is in town, running errands.

We visit Kyichu Lhakhang, one of the oldest monasteries in the country.

Tula works the prayer wheels. He wears the kilt-like national garment for men, the goh.

In the courtyard of Kyichu Lhakhang. We are not used to having a third person to take our photo together.

I get a lesson in spinning prayer wheels.

Rooftops in Kyichu Lhakhang.

Local truck carrying logs.

Another day, we hike to the Taktsang monastery.

In truth, we cheat slightly: we ride ponies halfway up the trail.

Lots of prayer flags along the way.

My pony, Tinka, is a good little horse.

Nearly there. We are hardly alone – Western visitors are few, but Indians can visit visa-free and travel independently. They are abundant.

Last image of the day is the Rinpung Dzong lit up at night.

Sight or Insight of the Day – Paro

A thing in Bhutan is a ‘hot-rock bath’. This involves heating rocks in a fire.

Next, you drop them into a tub of water. The client-containing part of the tub is protected from the rock-containing part.

Meanwhile, the client on the other side luxuriates in the steamy brew.

From Tokyo to New Delhi, via Bangkok. Not surprisingly, we find ourselves in a different world.

• Because of India’s location on the planet, flights often arrive and depart in the middle of the night, including ours.
• We book one night in a hotel near the airport and arrange for a pickup from the airport.
• Because our luggage takes an hour and a half to reach the baggage carousel, our scheduled driver is gone.
• We are forced to take a ‘metered’ cab. The driver has no idea where our hotel is.
• We finally find it. The driver charges us over twice the official fare.
• Because we are exhausted, (and because we’re grateful not to be simply dumped off in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Delhi), we pay up.

However, none of this is totally unexpected. Next day, we make our way to our ‘real’ hotel. We have a balcony that looks out onto the great street carnival of Delhi life.

Our hotel is in the Paharganj area.

The traffic is intense.

The noise of a thousand horns honking is indescribable.

It’s close to a metro station, which is probably the easiest way to navigate around Delhi.

We are in New Delhi for a few days before we leave for our next destination.

Around the corner is the Imperial Cinema.

One afternoon we go to the Red Fort.

Lots of stuff to see inside.

Across the street is the Sri Digambar Jain temple.

They have a bird hospital. We are interested in visiting – our favourite charity in Ottawa is the Wild Bird Care Centre – but visiting hours are over. Next time we’re in town, perhaps.

We struggle through the Brueghelian chaos of Chandni Chowk to get to the Red Fort.

Not far from our neighbourhood is Connaught Place, with its faded colonial glory.

It’s 45 degrees Celsius. Everyone – including us – is trying to conserve their energy.

Another day we visit the neighbourhood of Hauz Khas. Among other sights are these 15-16th century mausoleums, the Dadi – Poti (‘grandmother-granddaughter’ ) tombs. We wander around and soak up the antiquity.

Sight or Insight of the day

As we mentioned, it is 45 degrees Celsius in Delhi. A local temple hands out free cups of liquid refreshment.

Apparently in Canada, we want to ban single-use plastics. That’s not really an issue in India yet.