3.30.2008
India Journal: Part 3
Exhausted from cities and palaces and trying not to be swindled, we nipped off to the small town of Bundi. The bus ride to Bundi was another small adventure, me almost getting left at a bus station as I struggled to repress a bout of nausea. When I finally lost that battle loudly into a plastic bag, the driver, who I was sitting directly behind, and the other passengers took little notice and the bus continued racing forward, swerving sickeningly around slower vehicles.
The town itself was a lovely jumble of light blue houses in a small valley overlooked by an old, delightfully ruined fort, and we were warily led to a lovely guest house, the walls painted with dancing women and warring gods. Once I had recovered, we explored the town’s delights including huge step wells, dozens of decorative temples, the fort, the old palace with faded but intricate paintings, a small but serene lake, and a concoction called a Saathi Lassi. Creamy yet spicy with cardamom and studded with cashews, raisins, and flecks of cinnamon; heaven in a cup.
At the unfortunately named Elephant House Hotel, we met some fellow travelers; French, Argentinian, Spanish, and Swedish who had been on the road for 5, 6, and 8 months, mostly in India. To be honest, I can’t imagine it. It was week 1.5, and we were already catching our breath. But maybe it gets easier with time, maybe you can relax more when the months of traveling stretch out before you. For us, each day was a precious gem, and perhaps that made them harder.
The town itself was a lovely jumble of light blue houses in a small valley overlooked by an old, delightfully ruined fort, and we were warily led to a lovely guest house, the walls painted with dancing women and warring gods. Once I had recovered, we explored the town’s delights including huge step wells, dozens of decorative temples, the fort, the old palace with faded but intricate paintings, a small but serene lake, and a concoction called a Saathi Lassi. Creamy yet spicy with cardamom and studded with cashews, raisins, and flecks of cinnamon; heaven in a cup.
At the unfortunately named Elephant House Hotel, we met some fellow travelers; French, Argentinian, Spanish, and Swedish who had been on the road for 5, 6, and 8 months, mostly in India. To be honest, I can’t imagine it. It was week 1.5, and we were already catching our breath. But maybe it gets easier with time, maybe you can relax more when the months of traveling stretch out before you. For us, each day was a precious gem, and perhaps that made them harder.
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