Breathedreamgo » trip

The 1,001 tales of the Jaisalmer desert

Mariellen — Sun, 06 May 2012 15:55:18 +0000

Travelling to magical Jaisalmer in Rajasthan

At the western edge of India, in the middle of the world’s second-largest desert, the fairytale kingdom of Jaisalmer appears, as if by magic, like a golden mirage in a desolate landscape

Despite the chaos of unmarked coaches, the train left the sodden grey bedlam of New Delhi Railway Station on time. But it still took more than 21 hours to reach the far side of Rajasthan, India’s largest state. Stuck in a cramped compartment, with nothing to look at but flat desert terrain, I had plenty of time to think about the heavy heart I was dragging from Delhi; and wonder if the long journey to Jaisalmer would be worth the effort.

Traveling extensively on the subcontinent on two previous trips, I had fallen completely under India’s spell: both were like magic carpet rides. But now I was facing the end of a relationship with a man Delhi-born-and-bred and I was worried that my love affair with India might be over, too. An unaccountable longing for Jaisalmer impelled me to make the long journey.

moi in the desert

Finally, the train pulled into Jaisalmer station and I stepped onto the platform and into the light of a dazzling noonday sun. I was struck by the colours of this far-flung Rajasthani town – splashes of neon pink and orange fabric against a backdrop of pale red earth, golden sandstone and iridescent blue sky. I felt immediately refreshed by the sunlight and spaciousness.

The Fifu Guest House arranged for a jeep to drive me the short distance to their peaceful location on the edge of town, where Jaisalmer meets the desert. By the time I settled into the fourth-floor terrace restaurant, and beheld the ancient, mountain-top fort, with its 99 bastions, in the distance, Delhi and the arduous trek was already seeping out of me. And Jaisalmer’s magic was seeping in.

As a child, I was obsessed with the 1,001 tales of the Arabian Nights, and I painted huge, colourful murals on my walls – always something I considered Oriental and exotic like turret-topped palaces and stone fortress-like cityscapes. Imagine my surprise when I looked at Jaisalmer and saw my bedroom walls.

Haveli in Jaisalmer Fort

Sunset over the Golden City

Jaisalmer rises from the baked earth of the Thar Desert, the second-largest desert on earth, and culminates in an impossibly romantic fairytale fort surrounded by scores of intricately carved buildings. Made almost entirely from yellow sandstone, each evening Jaisalmer glows gold in the setting sun. In fact, it is called the Golden City.

Ganesh paintings adorn the entrances of many houses

I was attracted to Jaisalmer by its remote desert location and reputation for having a relaxed atmosphere that also manages to evoke the adventure and romance of the former kingdom’s fabled past. Although rich in art and architecture, Jaisalmer is a small town, with a population of only 78,000, and it really is in the middle of nowhere.

But it was not always so. Jaisalmer was an important stop on the caravan trade routes between Egypt, Afghanistan and India for more than 800 years. Jaisalmer’s rulers and traders became rich and hired the finest craftsmen to build sumptuous palaces, temples, cenotaphs and havelis (Rajasthani-style mansions).

After the disappearance of the overland trade routes in the early 20^th century, the town went into decline. Considered inaccessible only a few decades ago, tourism recently began to revive Jaisalmer’s fortunes. Now it’s the town’s chief commercial activity. However, while most visitors to India make it to Jaipur, one of the three stops on the “golden triangle tour” (the other two being Agra and Delhi), only the hardy venture as far as Jaisalmer. Which is part of its charm.

But it’s not only the setting that’s charming. When I arrived, tired and hungry, guest house owner Fifu Kewalia said, “Welcome to your home,” and he meant it. Fifu and his “brother” Jitu Bissa, restored me with their warm Jaisalmer-style hospitality. And then I wanted to explore.

My first wish was to walk the narrow lanes of the fort. I bartered for beaded wall hangings, puppets and silver jewelry, drank chai in outdoor cafes and fended off constant, though gentle, sales pitches. “Madam, just look in my store!”

In Jaisalmer Fort

Falling in love with the desert

One day, Jitu took me on a motorcycle ride through town, which spreads out in the shadow of the fort. Around every turn we encountered streets filled with museum-quality havelis and shops filled with local, hand-made crafts, textiles and jewelry. The women of Rajasthan look like a vision of Scheherazade – they wear the brightest colours and most elaborate jewelry in all of India and, so there are lots of gorgeous items to choose from.

In the desert

Then we rode out into the desert, to a tiny Hindu temple dedicated to the elephant-headed deity Ganesh. While there, I was suddenly and inexplicably overcome by a powerful feeling of tension-melting, life-altering bliss. In that moment, it was like my heart burst open, and seeing with my heart, I fell in love with the burnished beauty of the desert. I felt profound peace – and yet more alive than I had ever felt before.

I was still feeling the joy of that experience when I went on my first-ever overnight desert safari. About 10 guests, and our host Jitu, traveled by jeep to see Bada Bagh, the royal cenotaphs and a delicate Jain temple complex at Amar Sagar on our way to the Sam sand dunes outside of Jaisalmer.

We rode camels into the dunes, where a camp was set up. After a delicious meal of rice, dal, vegetables, chutney and rotis, cooked on an open fire, we rolled out our sleeping mats and I looked at the desert as the sun set and the dome of the sky turned indigo above us.

At first it looked like nothing. Then it looked like everything. The sand dunes rippled in a rhythmic dance. The night sky filled with more stars than I had ever seen before. The only sounds were the gurgling camels and the whispering silence of a warm breeze that brushed my skin and reminded me this wasn’t a mirage. Infinity stretched in every direction, including within.

I lay awake on the dunes the entire night, communing with the thrumming stars, feeling full of wonder and joy, and more attached to myth than time. Incredibly, I had found a place that matched my childhood imagination; a place with stone turrets, an ancient fort and tales of caravans traversing the desert. History, imagination and the profound present intersect in Jaisalmer, and the effect is stunning.

[NOTE: First published in Acura Style magazine, Summer 2009.]

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India. E-book version is now only $1.99.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! — e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Digg Digg

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Why I’m speaking at Meet, Plan, Go

Mariellen — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 14:45:56 +0000

Udaipur, Rajasthan, India

The power to make dreams come true

When I was 44 years old, I finally started pursuing my dreams. I had recently lost both my parents (mother to heart disease, father to cancer) and was floundering in a colourless depression. I threw myself into yoga as a way to recover, and the first dream I pursued was to become a yoga teacher — though I was the oldest and least flexible person in the training group. My second dream was to travel to India — to go on a real voyage of discovery, lasting six months, and with no real itinerary or expectations.

I had never really pursued my dreams before. I honestly didn’t know you could. It took years of therapy and yoga training and then a series of devastating losses (including the deaths of my parents) for me to finally wake up and realize: This is not a dress rehearsal. This is life. And life is meant to be lived, not feared.

So, deciding to go to India, and then going, completely changed my life. It started before I even left. The big change happened when I realized that anything in life is possible, including living your dreams; and that achieving them is based on making a decision and setting an intention. The power is not OUT THERE; it is within each of us.

Mysore Palace

Rediscovering a technicolour world

When I was a child, I use to practise sliding my neck from side-to-side, with my arms above my head, palms together, like an Indian dancer. I used to paint huge murals of maharajah palaces on my walls. I devoured books about mythology, especially the Arabian nights and anything from the East. I went out on Hallowe’en dressed as an Oriental princess, in flowing harem pants and a sequined top. I became a vegetarian in my teens, long before it was trendy. When I look back, I was drawn to the “mysterious East” basically from birth, and always wanted to go to India.

Dancer in Delhi

Somehow, though, I never thought it was possible. I never thought I could actually get on a plane and GO TO INDIA.

But then I did. And my life changed. And that’s why I’m speaking at Meet, Plan, Go. I want to tell people that you CAN live your dreams. It is possible to unearth them, dust them off, and manifest them.

The other reason I’m speaking at Meet, Plan, Go is because I think travel is a particularly good way to get to know yourself and the world better. On my first trip to India in 2005/6, I very quickly developed an uncanny affinity for the country, the people and the culture and was very lucky to have the opportunity to stay with an Indian family in Delhi. I made their home my base for the six months I was traveling from one end of the country to the other.

I loved being a solo traveler, and I immersed myself in the culture. I experienced the difference between being a tourist and a traveler, and being alone helped: I had to engage with my surroundings for all social contact. I spent far more time with locals than with other foreign tourists; bought an entire Indian wardrobe; and really tried to understand the culture. I practised what I call “respectful travel” — in other words, when in Rajasthan, do as the Rajasthanis do.

I studied yoga for a month in Chennai; I volunteered to work with Tibetan refugee children in Dharamsala; I spent two weeks undergoing treatment at a beach side Ayurvedic resort in Kerala; I celebrated holidays and pujas with the family in Delhi; and found my spiritual home, right at the end of the trip, at an ashram in north India, near Rishikesh.

Jaisalmer, Rajasthan

Finding inspiration and perspective

I had gone to India at the tail end of a lengthy depression and my engagement with the culture, and the way it stimulated my imagination, especially my writing, completely revived me. I was never lonely, I never felt unsafe. I grew as a person, as a world citizen, as a yoga student and as a writer.

I started blogging, and the confidence I got from it gave me the boost I needed to seriously pursue a travel writing career, to launch Breathedreamgo and to publish my first book, Song of India: Tales of Travel and Transformation.

Thar Desert

The challenges of travel in India — which are considerable — taught me to let go, to surrender the illusion of control. I learned to have trust, and my faith in both myself and the universe sky-rocketed. One day, after being in India for about five months, I was walking in Connaught Place, the commercial centre of Delhi, and realized I felt completely comfortable. I noticed the touts who prey on tourists were ignoring me. They took me for a local. I had attained my “India legs,” and felt it was one of the great accomplishments of my life.

I have learned so much from my travels. I have learned to see better — to see myself, the world, and my place in it, a lot more clearly — and I gained a perspective that I would never have developed if I’d stayed in my middle-class Canadian “bubble.” I have leanred to be grateful, less judgmental, and more humble. Perhaps most of all, I’ve learned that we each have a lot of power: we have the power to choose our response to life, and our experience of life. In other words, it’s up to each of us to decide if the glass is half full or half empty.

Since that first trip, I’ve been back to India four times, and I’ve spent now more than 14 months altogether traveling across the country and living in Delhi. To hear the rest of the story, and how I achieved my travel dreams — and crossed the cultural divide — come to the Meet, Plan, Go event in Toronto on October 18, 2011!

Meet, Plan, Go

Meet, Plan, Go is the leading career break movement in North America; encouraging and teaching others how to travel the world and have it be beneficial to your career. Each year, they hold events on the same day in numerous cities across North America; this year it is October 18, 2011. I will be speaking at the Toronto, Canada event. For more information and tickets, please visit the Meet, Plan, Go website.

Mariellen Ward in Karnal, Haryana, India in 2006

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! — e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Help the street kids of Delhi — and send me to India

Mariellen — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 15:11:45 +0000

A street corner in Delhi

Donate to Deepalaya / Intrepid Foundation

I have spent more than a year traveling in India, and months living in Delhi. I love India, and I love Delhi. In fact, I think Delhi is one of the most under-rated cities of the world. It has incredible richness of culture, layers of history in the form of monuments, gentle foggy mornings and iridescent pink sunsets, a jungle of greenery, great food, a treasure trove of shopping … and children, living on the streets. You see them at traffic lights, skinny bodies, huge eyes, wearing shabby clothing, sometimes no clothing at all. They turn somersaults, cling to their mothers, sell toys, flowers and magazines. They sleep under bridges, on the railway platforms or in blue-tarp juggis.

The street kids of Delhi always tug at my heart strings, and I sometimes find myself dreaming of finding ways to help them. I dream of giving them proper food, clothing, health care and shelter, and of educating them and giving them a fighting chance to rise above their status and at least earn a living making handicrafts, driving an autorickshaw, selling chai … and who knows what else. There are stories of former street kids who, after earning an education, had successful careers, made money, and seriously challenged the stereotypes.

What would it feel like to know that you helped a child beat the odds? You can help by donating to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation before October 26, 2011.

Boy selling flowers in Pushkar

You can make dreams come true

The other thing I dream about is traveling in India. You can help me achieve both dreams by donating to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation before October 26, 2011. Whoever raises the most money, wins Intrepid’s 15-day Classic Rajasthan trip to India, generously donated by Intrepid Travel. The winner will be announced at the Toronto Travel Massive meetup on October 29, 2011.

If you’ve enjoyed my blog, if you want to help out street kids, if you believe in dreams and dreamers …. whatever your reason, I will be eternally grateful to everyone who gives any amount to Deepalya through the The Intrepid Foundation. You can learn more about Deepalaya below, and donate directly to the Deepalaya project here, on my personal fundraising page.

Deepalaya means “light house”

Rajasthani girl

It is estimated that Delhi alone has over 100,000 street children. Deepalaya started in 1979 to help these children for whom the street is their place of work and home. The sad reality for most of these children is a life of hard labour and work in environments that no child should be exposed to, such as prostitution and drug trafficking.

Deepalaya social workers counsel these children and place them at the Home for Boys in Deepalaya Gram in a village called Gusbethi, 60 kilometres from Delhi. Deepalaya has educated more than 44,000 underprivileged children from the slums of Delhi and rural areas in Haryana. At present the Home for Boys has 52 children staying there. The school in Gusbethi imparts formal schooling to the boys and children from the surrounding villages of Tayru. The school has more than 250 children.

Deepalaya is also involved in a Vocational Centre which provides technical training for the boys and for girls from the surrounding villages of Mewat. They learn skills in tailoring, computer hardware and software, electronics, air conditioning and refrigeration. Construction of a girls’ hostel is nearing completion. The hostel will accommodate 60 girls.

Your support for Deepalaya will help to provide food and board, health care, meaningful education and vocational training, counselling and career guidance, understanding, friendship, warmth and solace for these children.

The Intrepid Foundation

All funds donated to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation will be matched by The Intrepid Foundation, which also covers all the administrative costs. That means, 200% of the money you donate goes straight to Deepalaya. It’s not only a win-win, it’s a give-give situation. Which has just got to feel good!

DONATE HERE.

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! — e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Celebrating the women of India

Mariellen — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 13:52:50 +0000

Sri Mata Amritanandamaya Devi

India, sexism and the media

On May 27, the Globe and Mail, Canada’s National Newspaper, ran an article by the paper’s India correspondent Stephanie Nolen entitled, Female face of power reflects change in India. The story is about how Nolen sees it is a paradox that five of India’s leading political power brokers are women. Nolen says, “…it is startling in the context of the intense discrimination against women and girls that permeates every aspect of life across class, communities and geography here.”

I find “sweeping, ethnocentric statements” like this depressing. Nothing against Nolen, who is a top-notch reporter and an excellent writer; and I realize that there’s lots of evidence to support this charge. Here’s my problem. This statement makes India sound like a bleak and dismal place, full of gloomy women chained to their stoves. It dismisses the MANY cheerful, accomplished, successful and outspoken women in India. It overlooks the strengths and advantages of traditional culture, such as strong family bonds. It’s written by a western reporter (from Canada), which makes it sound as if the west is free from sexism. It fails to understand the diversity, complexity and fluidity of India. And it reinforces the worst stereotypes about India.

It’s also not my experience. This is the reason I’m not working in mainstream media (though I have a degree in journalism). I don’t believe in so-called “objectivity” and I don’t want to write “sweeping, ethnocentric statements.” I like to write in a subjective genre — creative non-fiction or personal narrative — because I believe truth is in our subjective experience of life.

I am only a traveler, I have only spent about 14 months in India, but when I am there, I live in an Indian household. The women in that household are strong, expressive and, in my experience, rule the roost. I found the same to be true when I lived in Japan. Women have power, but it is largely private, not public. And I have met many strong, independent women all across India. So, in response to the statement that sexism permeates every aspect of life, I would like to celebrate the women of India.

Women I admire

Kuchipudi dancer Shobha Kormabil

I would like to tell you first about Geeta, who I live with in Delhi. She is small-boned, fair-skinned and beautiful, was married at 17, (in an arranged marriage) and had her first child on her 18th birthday, 45 years ago. She has a relaxed yet firm way of keeping her family together and on track, and of organizing and running the household. She doesn’t interfere unless necessary. But when she issues a command, everyone obeys. Geeta carries the keys to the store room; she is the only person who can access the room with the locked door, behind the silk curtain, that contains all the family treasures. Until about two years ago, Geeta wore a sari every day of her life. Recently, she started exercising, going for walks, wearing pants and even jeans, and going on vacation without her husband. At 63 years of age, Geeta has raised her children, and is now coming into her own, and no one is stopping her. She’s a strong woman, yet very feminine. I adore her.

Freya

In Bangalore, I met Freya, a young Muslim women who breaks all the stereotypes. She wears western clothes, has short spiky hair and drove her motorcycle across India on an eight-month odyssey. And blogged about it. She works in social media, has a photographer boyfriend and pursues a modern and creative lifestyle. I bonded with Jaya in Bundi, and called her “sister.” Jaya is a late-20-something young women from a very traditional family and very traditional culture who is fiercely determined to live her own life and is not the least interested in getting married. She speaks freely and is a refreshingly unselfconscious person. Her family owns and runs a haveli hotel, and she works hard and takes responsibility for the management.

In Mumbai, I stayed with Jasmine, a writer, who is as strong, as confident and as sure of herself as any man could ever be. She had a successful career as a banker before she quit to become a writer. She has tackled her career as a writer with strategy, ingenuity and absolute determination. She is very inspiring. Shobha Korambil, in Chennai, is a married woman, with a daughter, who devotes a very large amount of her time and energy to her dance career. She is a beautiful woman and, I am sure, an exquisite Kuchipudi dancer. Also in Chennai are the women teachers at the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram, past and present — who are remarkably intelligent and strong.

Dr. Vanadana Shiva

I also want to mention a few women in India I admire, and haven’t met. Dr. Vandana Shiva is a world-renowned environmentalist, eco-feminist and author, educated in Canada (Ph.D in Philosophy) and founder of Navdanya, a research facility, seed bank and centre for environmental activism near Dehradun.

Arundhati Roy is a novelist who won the Booker prize for The God of Small Things. She is also an outspoken activist who often finds herself mired in controversy, but she never backs down. Whether you agree with her often controversial views, you have to admire her courage and conviction. For example, she donated the $30,000 in prize money she received for The God of Small Things to the Narmada Dam protest.

Sri Mata Amritanandamaya Devi, known the world over as Amma, “the hugging saint,” is an inspiring spiritual leader who seems to have super-human control over herself (she can give darshan to thousands of people, by hugging them, for many, many hours on end without a break and without tiring). She has attracted legions of followers, and uses the money they donate to help build hospitals, schools and provide relief for tsunami victims, among other worthwhile projects. (I was hugged by her at her ashram in Kerala in 2006.)

To judge or not to judge

So how do writers and travelers approach social inequity and other issues in countries that are less developed, or less materially rich, than the ones we come from? I try to be very careful when I am in India and when I’m writing about India not to be too ethnocentric, not to practice what I call “cultural imperialism.” I wrote a blog about it called Sub-continental divide: How to write about about India.

I know that India has many social problems, but I also know it has many challenges compared to my country, Canada — such as a population of 1.2 billion. (Canada has only 30 million. But not to suggest that Canada is perfect. I don’t write about it, but my comfortable, middle-class upbringing in Canada includes abuse and neglect. I have experienced firsthand the downside of western culture, the break-up of families, alienation, anxiety, depression.)

The "ladies who lunch" in Bangalore

India is also a very, very different culture compared to Canada — it’s a very old culture with deeply embedded traditions (such as the caste system) and a very different philosophical and spiritual foundation — and a difficult place for westerners to understand. I’ve been trying for years and my Indian partner Ajay reminds me daily about the things I don’t get. I think Mark Tully, former BBC bureau chief in Delhi, expressed it best in his book India’s Unending Journey. He said that after 30 years in India, he finally learned to be certain about uncertainty — that is what India taught him.

India is the wrong place to look for certainty. Contradictions are the order of the day. The chaos, the diversity, the Hindu religious tradition, the ancient wisdom — all of it expresses the flow of life, the fluidity; the duality, and the non-duality behind it all. It’s what I love about India. I can turn off my rational brain — the side of my brain that always wants to know, that likes things to be black-and-white, that wants to know the “truth” – and just go with the flow. I can experience the full spectrum of duality, opposites existing side-by-side, without judgment or reservation. And if I’m lucky, I can get glimpses of the divine non-duality underneath the play of opposites; I can experience the spiritual truth of advaita Vedanta.

So for now, I will try and avoid “sweeping, ethnocentric” statements and stick to describing my own experience.

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! — e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Bundi Vilas: The perfect haveli hotel

Mariellen — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 09:56:29 +0000

Dining on the rooftop terrace, under the shadow of Garh Palace

I had great expectations for Bundi Vilas. It is the highest rated hotel in Bundi on Trip Advisor, Lonely Planet gives it an excellent write-up and I had met owner JP Sharma in Delhi — and knew him to be an intelligent, professional man with excellent taste and a deep-seated commitment to tourism in Rajasthan. I was not disappointed. From the moment I came out of the twisting narrow alley leading up to the heveli and saw the soaring archway that marks the entrance, I sensed something special. Again, my intuition and India’s magic led me to a very special treasure, the kind of accommodation that is itself a destination.

And, of course, it helps that Bundi Vilas is located deep in the heart of the old city of Bundi — a town filled with fascinating architecture, exquisite art, elaborate stepwells and an ambience that is reminiscent of medieval Europe. You can read about Bundi in my post, Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing.

Traditional haveli brought back to life

Arched entrance to Bundi Vilas

Bundi Vilas is small, only seven rooms, in a rescued haveli. When JP bought the ruined building, his friends and colleagues thought he was crazy. But it appears he knew what he was doing. He restored it, bringing it up to modern standards in places where it matters — lighting, air conditioning and bathrooms — but otherwise decorated it in a tasteful, inspired and authentic Rajasthani haveli style.

But the ingredient that transforms it from a lovely place to stay into a home-away-from-home is the management: Anita, Jaya and Arun Sharma — JP’s mother, younger sister and brother. They are a sweet, refined and caring Brahmin family who originally hail from a nearby village. I felt very cared for while I was there, and spent time with all family members, as you can read in my post Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing.

The perfect writer’s room

I went to temple on Navaratri with Anita and Jaya, and shopping and to see an ancient Shiva temple with Arun. I watched the India Team win the Cricket World Cup with Arun, and ran down to see the Gangor procession with Jaya. I never felt alone in Bundi; onthe contrary, I felt I had met friends.

Jaya and me

Jaya and I decided we felt like sisters – funny because my real sister’s name is Victoria, which is essentially Jayaa in Hindi — and I told her when (if?) she gets married, I will come to her wedding.

The rooms are each unique and as I was the only guest the day I arrived, I had some trouble choosing. One room, the largest made me feel like royalty; but in the end I settled on the princess-in-the-tower room, which seemed to me to be an eminently suitable writer’s room. It had many small windows in three directions, a sturdy desk, and was on the roof, facing the rooftop terrace. A quiet spot, and I did my yoga practise ont he terrace in the morning before breakfast. Quiet, that is, except for the squeal of monkeys.

A word about the monkeys of Bundi. Yes, they are a nuisance, but I never felt in danger, I never felt threatened. At Bundi Vilas they have really though of everything. They even employ a young man with an air rifle to chase them off the roof, because the rooftop terrace is also the open-air restaurant. And it is one of Bundi Vilas’ best features.

Bundi Vilas lies in the shadow of Garh Palace, right up against the mountain the supports it. This is the gothic castle that Rudyard Kipling said was “made by man in uneasy dreams …the work of goblins.” At night, when darkness falls, golden spotlights light up the facade of the Palace, and monkeys clamber across its surface. It is truly macabre, and spooky … and wonderful. I have rarely been anywhere with such ambience!

My writer's room on the roof

They serve delicious food, family style — so you don’t get a choice, but there is enough variety to keep anyone who likes north Indian food happy. As they are Brahmin, the food is completely vegetarian, but they will serve you beer or Indian wine if you so desire. When they realized I actually like spicy food — unlike many foreigners it seems — they spiced up the food for me and it was perfect.

shopping with Arun

I felt so comfortable in my rooftop room. I felt I could write a book there. I pictured myself a kind of modern day Georges Sand, scribbling away with a feather tip pen, inpsired by the ghost of Kipling who spent some time in Bundi.

Bundi Vilas is definitely on my list of favourite places to stay in India.

NOTE: I was hosted by Bundi Vilas for my stay — but only because I pursued this request. I wanted to stay there for the reasons listed above, and the Sharma family’s kind offer to host me in no way influenced my assessment or description.

Bedroom at Bundi Vilas

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing

Mariellen — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 11:47:42 +0000

Bundi's "goblin built" Garh Palace

Bundi’s shine is dulled by neglect — but magic is intact

Driving in to Bundi from the train station, through the flat, dusty unpromising outskirts, did nothing to portend charm, beauty or cultural significance. But then the road veered around a mountain and the valley bowl that holds the ancient town appeared. Nawal Sagar, the artificial lake, lay at the centre, dotted with shrines, covered in leaves, and surrounded by crumbling palaces and havelis. On the far side, an improbable gothic palace – made by goblins, according to Rudyard Kipling – hung from the far mountain, providing a dramatic backdrop, and a medieval fort ran across the top. I was instantly fascinated.

We drove right into the heart of the old town, parked, and began walking up a sloping, narrow lane. As the lane twisted and turned, and the walls and protruding, carved balconies of decaying havelis closed in around us, I got the distinct feeling that I had entered into an altered state – suddenly I was in medieval Europe, perhaps walking up a Venetian alley. Finally, the alley led up a ramp to a very, very high arch: the entrance to my hotel, Bundi Vilas. Read about this wonderful place Bundi Vilas: The perfect haveli hotel.

Lane leading up to Bundi Vilas

I was beginning to get a sense of Bundi’s history and allure. And over the next three or four days, as I toured the town and the outlying area, met the people and enjoyed the hospitality of the charming Sharma family – who own and run Bundi Vilas – I developed a deep affection for this small, almost-out-of-way and not-quite-forgotten Rajasthani town.

On my first evening in Bundi, I had dinner on the rooftop terrace of Bundi Vilas, which is right under the shadow of the Garh Palace. This is the building that Kipling described when he said: “It is such a palace that men build for themselves in uneasy dreams; the work of goblins rather than men.” As darkness fell, gold-coloured spotlights lit up the exterior, revealing the shadow-black gangly frames of rhesus monkeys crawling across the macabre facade. It was a gothic and spooky sight – and reminded me of the flying monkeys and the witch’s castle in the Wizard of Oz.

This was the night that the India Team won the Cricket World Cup. I watched with hotel manager Arun Sharma, and some employees, in the lobby, and we all danced and cheered when M.S. Dhoni hit the sixer to win the game. We went up on the rooftop and watched as Bundi celebrated – people lit fireworks and a din and roar was heard coming from the direction of the market. And we knew people all across India were similarly celebrating. One billion hearts beat as one that night. What fun.

One of many courtyards, Bundi's Garh Palace

The next morning, the first order of business was seeing the Garh Palace and the Taragarh Fort, and the Sharmas had arranged for me the best guide in Bundi. Billoo Guide is all business. I have rarely seen a more professional and enthusiastic guide in India. He trotted ahead of me, arranging everything, unreeling the same spiel he has used for 20 or more years – and yet, I felt he was genuine, and I grew very fond of him. He made the experience special – which, actually, would not be difficult because I was really impressed with the Palace. The building itself is interesting -– it was built in three parts, over a span of hundreds of years, and is a rare example of almost pure Rajput architecture. But what’s really thrilling is the art. The Palace is filled with exquisite wall paintings. I may do an entire blog post about this Palace; it deserves it. It also deserves better care. But more about that contentious issue later!

Another Wizard of Oz moment came when Billoo led me up a staircase with a metal trapdoor at the top (he called it the VIP entrance), to Chitrashala. He opened it and I beheld a lush, bright green garden, dotted with tropical blooms in red, pink, fuchsia. It was a gorgeous site after several hours of touring dry, dusty, stone rooms.

Chitrasala, Garh Palace, Bundi

And at the back of the garden was the piece de resistance: a large, airy room filled with paintings of Maharajas, Maharanis and other royals rollicking in this very garden. This is the magic I come to India for!

Chitrasala painting of garden, Garh Palace, Bundi

In the afternoon, I walked around Nawal Sagar, the artificial lake, and was so disappointed to find, up close, that it is muddy and smelly, and the lakeside Moti Mahal going to rack and ruin. I love Bundi, it is a special place, but it’s heart-breaking to see so many treasures so badly neglected.

That night was the start of Navratri, and I went with Mrs. Anita Sharma and her feisty and fun 20-something daughter, Jaya, to a very old Durga temple, out of town, in the countryside. It was dusk when we arrived and it was a very atmospheric place. The temple was obviously in long use, was covered with the grime of ages, and seemed to be growing organically from the ground. I was, of course, an object of fascination – while I was fascinated with the ancient pooja. We got there right at the right time: we stood in the dark centre of the temple enclosure while all the men started clanging bells and making a lot of noise, and the pandit came out from the inner sanctum and blessed us all with fire and prasad. Wow, it was another stepping-back-in-time moment; a moment that evoked the ancient mysteries, powerful beliefs and lurid rituals of Hinduism.

Sukh Mahal and temple on Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

On my second day in Bundi, I met Billoo in the morning and we walked through the old town, through the market, to the bicycle rental. After choosing two of the better bikes (they all looked like they’d been around since the dawn of independence), we started cycling out of town to Jait Sagar Lake and the Sukh Mahal, otherwise known as “Kipling Palace” – the former Maharaja’s hunting lodge, on the edge of the lake, that played host to Rudyard Kipling for a few days in the 1880s. It is said he wrote part of Kim here. And as Kim is my all-time favourite book, cycling out to the “Kipling Palace” was a kind of pilgrimage for me. It was also the day my disorientation and re-entry ended, and I reconnected to the India I love.

Cycling in rural India

If you haven’t experienced it, how can I tell you what it’s like to cycle out of the charmingly dilapidated town of Bundi into the countryside, past the busy commercial fringes of town where tradesmen are engaged in an array of road-side activities, past temples of every size emitting joyous devotional music and the evocative scent of incense, past old women sitting in the dust pounding rocks, past chai stalls shaded by abundant banyan trees, past men in colourful turbans sipping chai and women in neon-bright saris balancing large brass water jugs on their heads and walking with a sensual rhythm?

How can I tell you about the decaying beauty of Rajput architecture dotting the arid landscape and the undulating Aravalli hills? Or about the freshness of Jait Sagar Lake, partially grown over with bright green lotus pads, in readiness for the gorgeous blossoms? How can I express how refreshing I find these scenes, the people, this culture?

Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

All the health spas and medicines and treatments and luxuries in the world could not give me what a morning’s cycle, with my guide, Billoo, gave me: The beauty, friendliness, cultural richness and sunny skies of Bundi revived me after a long, hard year of work and a cold Canadian winter. Being in Bundi refreshed my spirit and re-sparked my imagination – and the spark rekindled my deep love for India.

I loved “Kipling Palace.” I sat meditating for some time in his room (though I know this could be a fiction), and I loved cycling around the lake, imagining it covered in lotus blossoms (they bloom in late April). On the road, we met Rajinder Singh, the nephew to J. Singh, who manages the properties for the Maharaja and I asked for an interview. On the way back, we stopped at the vegetable market and the Rani ki Baoli – the number one stepwell in Asia, according to Billoo. It was indeed a marvel – and I was olstered to see the archaeological society actually working on it, to repair and restore it (I hope).

Sari loom, Bundi

My second-to-last day in Bundi I went shopping with Arun in the morning. Though he was busy with his management duties, he took time out to show me the best shops, selling genuine and good quality merchandise. I had the most fun with the very modest and gentle artist, Soni Gopal, Bundi’s number one painter. Bundi has a unique painting style that features lots of blues and green and nature motifs. I bought four paintings, as many as I could afford. I know a good deal when I see one! I also bought handmade bangles, studded with rhinestones – a specialty of Bundi – and a Kota Doria sari, handmade on a loom right there, in the store, by the man I bought it from. I fell for the delicates shades of green and turquoise that shimmer in the light. None of these things were particularly pricey. In Jaipur or Delhi, they would have been four times the price. Another reason to love Bundi. I had a great time with Arun, who walked me through side streets that normally tourists never see. And another great thing about Bundi: no one pesters you, no one tries to get you to buy anything, children don’t follow you saying “school pen,” men don’t plead “just see my shop, madam.” It is very liberating to just walk the streets almost anonymously.

Soni Gopal, Bundi

Though Bundi is a modest town – not an architectural wonder like Jodhpur, Jaipur, Jaisalmer or Udaipur – it is nonetheless filled with small, exquisite buildings, many of them private homes, that have seen better days. Everywhere you look, in the old city, you see intricately carved balconies or painted facades or other charming features. There are also more than 50 stepwells, many of the quite impressive, and an uncountable number of temples. Someone told me Bundi was like a small version of Kashi (Varanasi).

My last day in Bundi was to start with a program arranged by Rajinder and J. Singh. I had met with them the day before and talked to them about Bundi. They manage the lake, the palaces and the fort for the present-day Maharaja. Many of the treasures of Bundi are privately owned so the government cannot simply undertake to restore them, even with a will. I tried to diplomatically tell them that I thought Bundi was very special, but would be even better if restored. The Singhs offered to show me some of the other treasures, usually unseen by tourists, but they had to cancel at the last minute due to some emergency. Somehow, I was not surprised. Their hearts didn’t seem to be in showing foreign travel writers around. I found them to be cordial, but reserved and inscrutable. The situation in Bundi is quite complex as the former Maharaja died in January 2010 and there is a dispute over the will and the priceless properties he owned. So, I guess everything is in a kind of “lock-down” until the dispute is settled. I just hope nothing is ruined, spoiled or lost until then.

Kshar Bagh on Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

So, I hired an auto to take me to the Kshar Bagh, the cenotaph garden on the edge of Jait Sagar Lake (which was closed the day I cycled past it). Another evocative place! I sat and meditated – while keeping an eye out for monkeys and snakes – and could barely believe I was in such a scene. It really was something out of Kipling or Merchant and Ivory! Elegant old, crumbling tombs, overgrown with vines, on the edge of the lake, with the rolling Aravalli Hills in the background, and a complete sense of peace, otherworldliness and the dull patina of a glorious former age. Very much an “it and I have decayed together” scene.

Finally, on my last evening, Arun took me out of town to a very, very old Shiva temple. It’s really just a cave, with a concrete bunker built around it to protect it from rock fall. You have to walk a long way up a gully to get there, which would be beautiful in monsoon, as it is beside a waterfall and pool. Inside the cave I got a feeling of intense energy; very hard to describe, but unmistakable. Dark, powerful, mysterious. Coming out with prasad in my hand, a big, tall langur – the gentle grey monkeys with the black faces – put his hand lightly on my arm. It was a not-unpleasant, very novel feeling – to have a monkey in the wild gently place his hand on your arm. I immediately threw my prasad on the floor for him to eat.

Gangor Festival, Bundi

That night, as we were eating dinner on the rooftop of Bundi Vilas, the Gangor festival (part of Navratri) procession passed by the lane to the hotel and Jaya and went running out to see it. It was a joyous, wonderful, colourful way to end my four days in Bundi. All the women in town get dressed up in their finery and parade various murtis (statues) through town to the raucous sounds of a live band.

I left Bundi feeling intensely satisfied – with the town, with my experiences, with meeting the Sharma family and with staying at Bundi Vilas. I took the night train to Delhi – and slept soundly the entire way!

Nawal Sagar, Bundi

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! – e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Looking for India’s tigers in Ranthambore

Mariellen — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 13:08:51 +0000

Spotted deer at Ranthambhore National Park and tiger reserve, Rajasthan, India

Tiger Tales: A species in danger

My first night at The Farm Villa, near Ranthambore National Park and tiger reserve, I pointed out the constellation Orion to owner-manager Satish Jain. The hunter was highly visible in the night sky over rural India, his belt of stars particularly bright. I told Satish that my father, Douglas, taught me about that constellation and I have associated it with him ever since — and especially since his death seven years ago.

The next night I walked out onto the rooftop terrace of The Farm Villa and, though the night was clear, Orion was nowhere to be seen. There was a hole in the sky, a hole that mirrors the hole in my heart, where I am missing my father. Likewise, there is a hole in Ranthambore since the March 1, 2011 death of legendary tiger protector Fateh Singh Rathore. And there is a hole in the effort to save India’s tigers from extinction. Though the 2010 census figures show an increase in the tiger population in India from 1,411 to 1,706 over the past four years, the habitat — and especially the all-important corridors — have decreased significantly. Tigers need a lot of land to hunt, roam, and mate, and without it, it is unlikely they will be able to survive and thrive in India. For an excellent article that captures the complexities and challenges of the situation facing India’s tigers, I recommend reading The failing fight to save India’s tigers by Stephanie Nolen of the Globe and Mail. For the rest of my story about visiting Ranthambore, read on.

Ranthambhore National Park and tiger reserve, Rajasthan, India

I had longed to go to Ranthambore park for many years — to meet Fateh Singh Rathore and, of course, spot a tiger in the wild. I finally went at the end of March 2011, just a few weeks after Mr. Rathore’s death. It is impossible to over-estimate what this man has done for Ranthambore, for the Indian tiger and for all the other species of flora and fauna, as well as the human community, in and around Ranthambore in southern Rajasthan.

The desk of Fateh Singh Rathore, Tiger Watch Office

Mr. Rathore’s presence is palpable at the Tiger Watch office, an organization he founded and housed at the back of his home in Sawai Madhopur. His photograph is propped up on his chair and his desk undisturbed since his March 1 death from lung cancer. I met Dr. Dharmendra Khandal, a conservation biologist and passionate champion for the ecological diversity of Ranthambore, at Tiger Watch. To find out more about what a modern-day superhero Dr. Khandal is, read this exciting, dramatic and fascinating profile in National Geographic Adventure: The War on India’s Tigers.

Dr. Khandal showed me a slide show, called A vision of greater Ranthambore, about the organization’s efforts to stop poaching, rehabilitate poachers and their familes and offer a strategy for tiger conservation.

Dr. Dharmendra Khandal, Tiger Watch

He believes that all the species, as well as the landscape, in Ranthambore need protecting, not just tigers; and he argues for the creation and maintenance of corridors, especially along rivers. Click the link to learn more about Tiger Watch and to donate to this worthwhile cause.

I asked Dr. Khandal about tiger tourism. “I’m pro tourism,” he said. “Tourism supports the local economy and it helped create a lobby for tigers. It’s only a menace if badly managed.” But he admit, there has been no study to date on the effect of tourism on tigers.

In Ranthambore, there are for more beds for tourists in the many hotels and resorts in the area than there are seats available in the gypsies and canters that enter the park each day in search of tigers. (The number is restricted to manage the impact on the park’s eco systems.) Unfortunately, VIPs are allowed into the park above the maximum allowed.

Usha and Goverdhan Rathore

After meeting Dr. Khandal, I had the pleasure of meeting Goverdhan Rathore, the son of Fateh Singh Rathore. I was delighted to meet him, and traveled with him to Khem Villas, the beautiful property he and his wife Usha own and manage.”It’s impossible to fill his shoes,” Goverdhan said about his legendary father. He spoke about his father with immense reverence, and sadness, in his voice.

Goverdhan and Usha were charming hosts, and showed me around the eco-friendly property and treated me to lunch in the open-air dining room. Khem Villas is a pitch-perfect “luxury jungle camp.” Spread over 20 acres, and located near the park, the camp features a choice of rooms, villas and luxury tent accommodation. Everything about Khem Villas is lovely, from the room decor, to the spa design; from the lotus pond to the private, outdoor soaking tubs. But the great selling point, aside from the charm of the owners, is the hotel’s location on the edge of the park. Water holes on the property attract many species, including the big cats, and walking trails allow for intimate interaction with the landscape (you are not allowed to walk inside Ranthambore, except to the fort).

The spa at Khem Villas

After my lunch at Khem Villas, I ventured into the park for the first time, but just to go to the crumbling and evocative fort. Ranthambore Fort is one of those many, many impossibly romantic places in India. Founded in the 10th century and seething with history, the fort is a photographic aphrodisiac, plus it affords panoramic views of the national park and houses several temples, including an important Ganesh temple.

Ranthambhore Fort

I finsihed my first full day in Ranthambore with an obligatory stop at the Forest Office, where I was hoping to catch up with one Mr. Gupta and book my tiger safari in a gypsy (the smaller of two vehicles available). After a typically prolonged Indian scene, whereby several people looked at my credentials and I had to wait, inexplicably, I was told Mr Gupta was not available and I would have to call him that evening. Finally, with Satish Jain’s help, my booking was done and I was all set to go on my first tiger safari the next morning at 6 a.m.

The morning dawned clear and cool, and I woke up as excited as a child going to a birthday party! To defray costs, I shared my gypsy with a family of four from Chennai; and Satish came along with us. He is now the owner and manager of The Farm Villa, but previously he was a Ranthambore guide for 15 years, so we were really lucky to have him along. Satish and I sat in the back of the open-air 4WD vehicle, and I got my Nikon D80 ready. At the park entrance, we were allotted our zone — one of five in the park — and off we went.

Moi with "weapon" in hand -- Nikon D80

The park is open from 6 to 9:30 am, so we had only a couple of hours to track our “prey.” We drove throughout our zone, often coming across other gypsies or canters — the ungainly, 20-seat vehicles that reminded me of motorized hippoes. I can’t believe canters are good for the park. They were obviously created to maximize profit, not experience or forest preservation. We kept following clues, and tips from other guides, and came across many beautiful scenes of dry, deciduous forest, and the sight of spotted deer and sambar grazing, kingfisher birds darting and graceful white egrets soaring over a small lake, monkeys chattering in the trees and — the highlight for me — an enormous crocodile stretched out along the bank of a lake.

It was a wonderful morning, and though we didn’t see a tiger, I was not disappointed. I enjoyed the entire experience and felt captivated by the search for tiger. It has only bolstered my desire to visit some of India’s other tiger reserves — such as Kanha, Bandhavgarh and Corbett — and to continue to admire this magnificent creature and support efforts to protect it, and the landscape it inhabits.

Spot the croc

NOTE: The tiger in India incites both admiration and respect, and also fear, loathing and greed. On the one hand, it is idolized, and on the other, poached, hunted and not as well protected as its dire predicament would suggest is prudent. Below is some copy I lifted to give you a sense of the tiger’s position in India:

Shera was chosen as the official mascot of the 19th Commonwealth Games in Delhi. Shera is a Royal Bengal Tiger, and as the true representative of India, Shera embodies values that the nation is proud of: majesty, courage, power and grace. He is also a reminder of the fragile environment he lives in.

The Royal Bengal Tiger is the national animal of India. It is also an endangered species because of its vulnerability to habitat loss, poaching and environmental degradation.

Langurs, the black-faced monkeys, abound in Ranthambhore

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Get updates and read additional stories on the Breathedreamgo Facebook page.

Buy Song of India, a collection of 10 feature stories about my travels in India.

Subscribe to the free — and inspiring! — e-newsletter, Travel That Changes You.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Peaceful, authentic stay near Ranthambhore

Mariellen — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 17:32:51 +0000

The Farm Villa, Sawai Madhopur

Best budget hotel in Ranthambhore

The Farm Villa in Sawai Madhopur, near Ranthambhore national park, Rajasthan, is peaceful, authentic, friendly and clean — and a unique budget accommodation option for exploring the area and visiting one of India’s most famous tiger reserves. It’s brand new and hasn’t been advertised or marketed as yet… so how did I find out about it?

From a friend of course, in typically Indian fashion. Here’s how it works: you tell your friends you want to go to Ranthambhore National Park to see a tiger and they immediately launch into helping you. Before you know it, you have an appointment with the director of Tiger Watch in Sawai Madhopur, to find out about the real tiger situation in Ranthambhore from someone who is on the ground — and you get an invitation to stay at a new guest house.

The Farm Villa front lawn, Sawai Madhopur

So, off I went by train to Sawai Madhopur, the town adjacent to Ranthambhore. It’s an easy four hour trip from Nizamuddin station in central Delhi, and it was fun to be on the train while India was playing Pakistan in the Cricket World Cup semi-finals. Most of the men in 2AC were following the game by mobile or by laptop with Internet stick. (It is now possible to get a high-speed Internet stick in India. That’s new since my trip last year.)

The Farm Villa owner Satish Jain met me at the train station and welcomed me as if I was an old friend. We traveled a short distance outside of Sawai Madhopur — in the opposite direction of Ranthambhore Road and the “tourist strip” of hotels and tiger camps — out into real, authentic rural India. The simple, two-storey guest house was built in the middle of a real working farm owned by Satish Jain’s family. It is an absolutely peaceful place. The road is quite a distance away, so the only sounds you hear are from cows or birds, the occasional motorcycle and, once, a truck blaring Hindi dance music.

Rural India right outside The Farm Villa gate

I chose an upstairs room and was served tea on the terrace in front of my room. I sat in a teak chair, with my feet up, and watched the birds on the lawn and the unfolding rhythms of the peaceful countryside. I saw people driving goats and cattle on the earthen road that runs beside the farm; I saw women in bright saris balancing gleaming brass water jugs on their heads, and I saw the staff tending to the vegetable garden in the back and the flower garden in the front. And that’s about it! It spent a lot of my time at The Farm Villa similarly — and very happily — composed.

me and my Tilley Hat

The Farm Villa is my kind of place; it is exactly the kind of accommodation I look for in India: it is small, owner-operated, reasonably priced, clean, friendly and gives you an authentic experience. It is like staying at someone’s home, and in fact I met Satish’s family — wife and three children — several times. The first night, we had dinner together, like a family — which is what I am used to in India, and what I prefer.

All of the staff are from the local village, and they are well-trained and very sweet. The food, cooked by Mukesh, a local man, was fabulous: absolutely fresh and flavourful and not at all oily. Like home cooked food, but even better.

All of this is by design. Satish is carefully creating The Farm Villa to offer guests a very specific cultural experience. He is very particular about ensuring that people feel at home, and that they experience the local culture. Satish was a Ranthambhore guide for 15 years and he knows the park inside and out. He has seen tigers hundreds of times, and can provide guests with any and all information they need — but he is just as quick to offer me a tour of the old city of Sawai Madhopur and his village; and to show me around the farm and the traditional farming methods.

Woman working in the field, harvesting wheat, at The Farm Villa

I watched women working in the fierce sun with simple tools harvesting wheat by hand. In the old city, I walked through the market, and people greeted me with calm curiosity and friendliness. I felt very relaxed and took loads of pictures (not always possible in Indian markets, where usually people are pestering you to buy something). I bought Rajasthani-style bangles and had chai in a shop owned by Satish’s uncle. When we stopped in his village, all the local children started screaming and following me. I felt like Bono.

In the old city market, Sawai Madhopur,

I loved my stay in rural India, and found it hard to leave! The bed at The Farm Villa was THE BEST I have slept in during my year+ in India — thick mattress, fluffy pillows, light duvet — and I was able to sleep, rest and recover from jet lag and the busyness of Delhi. (The shower, however, was lukewarm and somewhat ineffectual; and as the guest house is new, there are some finishing touches needed, especially in the way of decor.)

Most importantly, The Farm Villa gave me the perfect base from which to go to Ranthambhore — but more about my tiger reserve adventures in my next blog!

Satish and The Farm Villa sponsored my stay and I continue to uphold the integrity of Breathedreamgo by ONLY writing genuinely and honestly about my experiences. I can honestly recommend The Farm Villa if you are after the same type of experience that I value. If you want a glitzy, five-star palace with cool, polished staff, expensive decor and stiff formality, The Farm Villa is NOT for you.

Satish in chai shop, old city market, Sawai Madhopur

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Arriving in India – for the fifth time

Mariellen — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 17:20:57 +0000

The newly refurbished Connaught Place in central Delhi

My fifth trip to India started, as they all do, at the Delhi airport. This time, though, I arrived at the new airport, which looks like any modern airport. I was almost missing the “old shed” – my nickname for the old airport – until I arranged for a prepaid taxi and was met with the usual chaos and confusion of finding my taxi, and the usual scenes of Delhi street life and traffic on the way to my “home” in South Delhi. My driver was caught behind an autorickshaw and when he finally pulled up beside the auto, my driver let out a stream of abuse at him in Hindi. Nothing really changes in India, though a lot of Delhi was improved and refurbished for the Commonwealth Games.

My first few days in India were spent reuniting with my Indian family, seeing some friends, experiencing synchronicity and suffering extreme jet lag. During those first days in Delhi, I also met India’s most highly esteemed Vedantic scholar / teacher, Swami Parathasathy, attended the National Tourism Awards and the Tiger Conference, shopped, had an Ayurvedic treatment and had tea at the Taj Mansingh Hotel with PR director Kirti. It was a busy week and I was dog-tired – but Delhi is such a happening place, it is hard not to get caught up. It’s the political centre of the country, of course, and a cultural hub. Mumbai may have New York-like frenetic energy, but there’s enough going on in Delhi to keep just about anyone very occupied indeed. And it’s so much more pleasant to be in Delhi this year, with all the construction of last year finished and the new metro system operating.

Central News Agency, a 90-year-old book store in Connaught Place, Delhi

I also found those first few days a bit disorienting. I could see I was in India, but I wasn’t feeling it yet, so everything had a slightly unreal quality. But a series of coincidences and chance meetings helped to make me feel more at home. I felt a sense of familiarity, of course, because I have spent probably five months in Delhi, in total, and because I have been going back to the same places over six years; but more importantly, I felt part of a network, a web of friends, colleagues and connections created over the years. I felt welcomed by India, even as I was suffering jet lag and disorientation. I just allowed it all to happen, all the riot of feelings, sensory overload, tiredness, confusion. I connected to the Indian notion that I am not in control, that there is a bigger force, a destiny, at work. I find India creatively stimulating, spiritually inspiring and a great place to just BE! In other words, I just decided to go with the flow, which is by far the best thing to do while in India. You can figure it all out later if you must.

In the new and improved Delhi

On my second day in Delhi and India, my friend Venkat told me that the esteemed Vedantic teacher Swami Parathasathy was giving a series of five lectures, over the course of five nights, on the last chapter of the Bhagavad Gita. I first heard about Swami Parathasathy in 2006, on my first trip to India, from a man at Shinshiva Ayurvedic resort in Kerala. He spoke so highly about his “guru” that I felt I must one day find out more about him, and – though it took five years – it was effortless when it finally happened. Though I was tired, I decided to go and meet Venkat at Kamani Auditorium in the centre of Delhi. In the past, my decision may have been different because getting around entailed expensive, dusty and unreliable taxis, battling gridlock traffic and inhaling noxious fumes. But the shiny new metro now runs through South Delhi – it was one of the last lines to open – connecting it with the rest of the city, and travel is now seamless, smooth, inexpensive and comfortable. I was delighted to discover there is a metro stop quite nearby, just a short autorickshaw ride away, and a Ladies Car leads every train.

Women enjoying the comfort of the ladies car on the Delhi metro

The Ladies Car really is a godsend because the trains get crowded, overwhelmingly with men, many of whom stare mercilessly. It can be unnerving. Men are not allowed in the Ladies Car – they are subject to a 200 rupee fine – but of course that does not stop the odd one. One day, I asked a man to move so I could sit down. He sullenly left, due to the social pressure, but it seemed he did not want to give up his seat. Some Indian men are very courteous and some are very not. There are also seats on every train reserved for the elderly and physically challenged. Taking the metro system many times over the first few days I was in Delhi, I was bemused to see many people are not really accustomed to the modernity of it yet. They jam the doors, pushing in before people get off, and I have seen quite a few people have trouble getting off the escalators.

On my way to the lecture, I was changing lines at one of the busiest metro stops and bumped into a Canadian woman I used to work with, years ago. It was the first of a series of surprising and serendipitous meetings.

I found Swami Parathasathy to be a very compelling, charismatic, likeable speaker and obviously extremely learned. He knows the entire Bhagavad Gita in Sanskrit backwards and forwards, but what makes him such a good teacher is that he is entertaining and uses real life examples to make points. He takes both a serious and light approach to his subject – which really is a winning combination. He said that god is like the fuel in a car. And he used pole-vaulting as an analogy for increasing spiritual awareness. I liked his explanation for Namaste: he said when you bring two hands together, you are saying we are one, and I salute our oneness with god.

Swami Parathasathy at Bhagavad Gita talks in Delhi

Listening to him, and to the four women who were chanting each of the verses, I was again reminded of the spiritual truths that I find so comforting and invigorating – and that I so often forget when I am home in Canada.

Frankly, I think it must help to have a spiritual sense when you are traveling in India. It seems to me it would get tiring to constantly feel self-righteous and judgmental about the poverty, social inequity, street kids, sickly animals, mounds of garbage and everything else you see. But understanding that “god knows what’s best,” that we are all part of one god-consciousness, and that the locus of reality is not rooted in our sensual and temporal experience of life all helps to let the experience flow as painlessly as possible. Which is not to suggest resignation. Personally, I feel I have a duty and obligation to increase my consciousness as much as possible.

Swami Parathasathy founded a centre in Maharashtra that offers a three-year Vedantic course that runs without any breaks. The claim is that the program is structured so well that you don’t need a break.

Tiger Conference 2011, Delhi

A tale of two media circuses

On Monday, March 28 I found myself at the centre of Indian political life. In the morning, I attended the Tiger Conference, thanks to my friend Ananda Banerjee, at Vigyan Bhavan in central New Delhi, the leafy spacious city built by Sir Edwin Lutyens to house the British Raj. The first session was open to the media, and I registered on my way in. The small room was absolutely packed with people, which made me wonder whether the government takes tiger conservation seriously. Or perhaps they had underestimated the interest in this issue. It didn’t seem like a good sign. The first order of business was to release the 2010 census figures for the tiger population in India. The census is taken only every four years so it was a big deal. The news was good and bad: the tiger population is up, but habitat has decreased significantly. (I will write much more about this news and about my visit to Ranthambhore tiger reserve in an upcoming post.)

The world’s media seemed to be at this event, and a lot of Indian media too, of course. I finally met Canada’s Stephanie Nolen – she is the Delhi correspondent for the Globe and Mail, Canada’s national newspaper, and a very fine writer. Here is her report on the Indian tiger crisis, The failing fight to save India’s tigers.

Dancers at National Tourism Awards, Delhi,

Later in the day, I went to the Ashok Hotel where the home ministers of India and Pakistan were meeting. There was a lot of media there, too, though all of it Indian; and a lot of militia. I was at the Ashok for the National Tourism Awards, a normally sober event that became a media circus because one of the guests of honour was the house speaker and the other was Bollywood queen Priyanka Chopra. She is lovely, but the highlight of the evening for me was a spectacular dance performance that combined six dance troupes, dancing in six styles, from different regions of the country. It was a tour de force, and I found it completely captivating. It’s also very nice to be in a large room full of people who are trying so hard to promote tourism to India and highlight the beauty of the country and the culture. This event had more than double the media of the home ministers and the tigers put together. There is nothing like Bollywood to whip up excitement in India. Okay, there is one other thing: cricket.

I landed in India just in time to witness the final games of the Cricket World Cup and watch captain MS Dhoni and his team battle their way to victory, beating arch rivals Pakistan, and then Sri Lanka on April 2 in Mumbai to win the cup. It was a thrilling moment when Dhoni hit a sixer to win the game. All one billion Indian hearts beat as one. Congratulations, team India. You deserved to win, and India deserves to feel on top of the world.

Royal Enfield motorcycle, Delhi

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Flying to India on Qatar Airways

Mariellen — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 18:50:51 +0000

My fabulous seat - a home-away-from-home - on Qatar Airways

Flying in comfort on my fifth trip to India

Everytime I travel to India, I have a completely different adventure and experience. I always learn something, I always change in a big way — but I never know ahead of time what’s going to happen, what I’m going to learn, or how I’m going to change. This time, my fifth trip in six years is no exception. In fact, moreso than ever before, I feel I have “beginner’s mind.” My itinerary is up in the air, I have no real idea of what I’m going to see or do or learn or accomplish, and I’m at a very new place in my relationship with India.

Good news for me — and perhaps a sign of things to come — my trip got off to a good start with a flight on Qatar Airways. I have never flown QA before, but many people told me they loved the airline, and had the best flights of their life on QA. Now I know why!

The sky’s the limit

Moi with one of the many friendly people at Qatar Airways

I had never flown to JFK in New York before and I was a bit worried by the size of the airport and the intense security checks. So when I reached the Qatar Airways counter and was greeted by name — “Passenger Ward?– by a young man with a big smile, I felt so relieved and so welcomed. It was instant. I knew everything would be okay and that I would have a great flight, and I did.

I was lucky, I was upgraded to Business Class — and Qatar wins the award for best Business Class every year — but I honestly don’t think it matters. The great thing about Qatar is the people. I loved the staff. They were friendly, genuine, helpful. I talked to several different people and they all said the same thing: Qatar is a great company to work for. You can tell by how relaxed the staff are that this must be true.

But of course the ability to lie flat and sleep on a 12-hour flight is a truly great thing, and I really appreciate that I was able to do that in Business Class. Also loved the service, the fresh food, the multimedia options. I watched Avatar and ate seafood and salad and felt very content.

A fellow passenger from Calicut, Kerala with our friend from Qatar Airways

I landed in Doha at night and therefore didn’t see much, but I could discern desert sand and scrub by the side of the runway, which contrasted with the modern, glittery skyline in the distance. Downtown Doha is only 5 kms from the airport. The airport is very modern and slick, and seeing women in black burquas and men in traditional dress (long white robes) in that setting also offered an experience in contrasts. I had Qatari sweets in the lounge and watched Al Jazeera (in Arabic) — which I though was very cool as Al Jazeera is based in Qatar.

So finally after about a day of travel I landed at the new airport in Delhi — which I was really looking forward to, but was too tired to notice. All I can tell you is that when I came out of the gate a young man suggested I hop aboard the golf cart that was waiting — and oh boy, am I glad I did. It’s a LONG way from the gate to the baggage pickup.

Waiting for the baggage pickup, I was amused (and bemused) to see that most of the bags trundling down the conveyor belt were lumpy bundles wrapped in blanket and string with huge homemade labels attached. They looked like they belonged on an ancient camel safari, not in the modern setting of a first-class airline and a new modern airport.

And of course leaving the airport I was met with India. My driver’s rattling taxi got stuck behind an autorickshaw, and when he finally pulled ahead, he opened the window to release a stream of abuse at the auto driver. Tarp covered “homes” lined the side of the road, and many tiny stands selling chai, fruit and who knows what else were manned at 4:30 in the morning. When I arrived at the house, the guard was sound asleep with a Delhi dog curled up at his fight. Home sweet home.

Delhi's pink sunset

Through the looking glass: Travel in India

So now I am starting my fifth trip to India, feeling tired from a long winter in Canada and a hard-working two years behind me. My relationship with India has entered a new phase and I feel both very at home here and also very out of place. I feel excited about the five or so weeks ahead and also tired and a little disillusioned. I’m not sure what to expect or what to try and accomplish. Part of me just wants to go to Kerala and lie on the beach; or do a yoga training course in the Himalayas. Everything beckons but nothing quite fits. Part of me doesn’t want to do anything at all. I am living with the dualities of being — and hoping to find the unifying middle.

Children in the park, South Delhi

So I have given myself a quest — an inner quest. With the mantra “humility and surrender” I am going to fight the urge to control and make things happen and let the experience happen instead, trusting that the right thing will happen. I am going to let India come to me. I am going to fight the urge to judge everything (I like this, I don’t like that) and surrender to the flow. In short, I am going to try and put into practise what I’ve learned from studying India’s wisdom.

P.S. I just learned on Twitter that the word dromomania means the compulsive urge to travel. I have Indromomania — the compulsive urge to travel in India.

NOTE: My flight was sponsored by Qatar Airways. However, I would have said the same things even if it wasn’t. Urooj, Ricky, Natalie and all the rest of the Qatar staff I met were exceptional.

Thank you for reading. Please visit Breathedreamgo or stop by my Facebook page at Breathedreamgo.

Breathedreamgo » trip

The 1,001 tales of the Jaisalmer desert

Travelling to magical Jaisalmer in Rajasthan

Sunset over the Golden City

Falling in love with the desert

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Why I’m speaking at Meet, Plan, Go

The power to make dreams come true

Rediscovering a technicolour world

Finding inspiration and perspective

Meet, Plan, Go

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Help the street kids of Delhi — and send me to India

Donate to Deepalaya / Intrepid Foundation

You can make dreams come true

Deepalaya means “light house”

The Intrepid Foundation

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Celebrating the women of India

Women I admire

To judge or not to judge

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Bundi Vilas: The perfect haveli hotel

Traditional haveli brought back to life

The perfect writer’s room

Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing

Bundi’s shine is dulled by neglect — but magic is intact

Cycling in rural India

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Looking for India’s tigers in Ranthambore

Tiger Tales: A species in danger

If you enjoyed this post, you can….

Peaceful, authentic stay near Ranthambhore

The Farm Villa, Sawai Madhopur Best budget hotel in Ranthambhore

Arriving in India – for the fifth time

In the new and improved Delhi

A tale of two media circuses

Flying to India on Qatar Airways

My fabulous seat - a home-away-from-home - on Qatar Airways Flying in comfort on my fifth trip to India

The sky’s the limit

Delhi's pink sunset Through the looking glass: Travel in India

The Farm Villa, Sawai Madhopur

Best budget hotel in Ranthambhore

My fabulous seat - a home-away-from-home - on Qatar Airways

Flying in comfort on my fifth trip to India

Delhi's pink sunset

Through the looking glass: Travel in India