Getting the Glow from the Golden City

The desert climate agrees with me. 35 degrees for early March seems just about right. An audio guide says 7 year-olds in Jaisalmer may never have seen significant rainfall, although monsoon? Jodhpur has an average of 18 days overcast per year. That’s not rain nor snow, merely overcast. The rest of the time it’s sunny. Are the white people whining about the heat? Oh yeah... that’s my climate. 

As we travel Rajasthan we see the same foreigners again and again. “Hey, didn’t I see you in Udaipur or Jaipur?” It’s like we’re all on a desert circuit. After a few cities we all chat wherever we run into each other. That’s probably going to end after this stop. Most people don’t go on to Bikaner; they go back to Jaipur or Jodhpur. I’ve only met one person who’s been to the rat temple in Bikaner and he found it freaky. I don’t care, I’m gonna meet some divine rat descendants and get rat blessings.

Jaisalmer is amazing. Much of the city lives inside the fort with its tiny winding roads and gorgeous intricately carved sandstone buildings. All of Jaisalmer is made of carved sandstone, which makes it glow golden against the desert.

Aside from the hawkers and fort guides, this town is pretty laid back. Everyone invites you inside their shop, of course, but beggars aren’t pinching your arm. In Jodhpur, we sat down in a lassi shop and a large, very dirty, gypsy family followed us in. We initially thought they were looking for seats so we offered to scooch over. It seemed strange to me that a group of people showing obvious signs of malnutrition were coming into a lassi shop. Then it became clear they expected we were buying. The pinched fingers to the baby’s mouth let us know what they thought was our obligation. Uh, no. We’re not buying milkshakes for the whole clan, sorry. Jaisalmer is a nice change from those awkward interactions where you feel as though you are seen as nothing but a walking wallet. Yesterday we were followed by little girls chanting, “I love you.”

India is at its best when you get to sit down and connect with people. Shopkeepers will bring in chai while you sit. They tell me I look Indian, I have an Indian name, why am I not Indian, they try to guess my relationship with my travel friends and have insulted the hell out of them by assuming my friends are my mother. Neither looks remotely older enough to be my mother but people can’t figure out why an Indian looking girl is travelling with 2 white girls. 

This week we have been hanging out with the owner of our guesthouse and had lunch at his home with his family. He is a super attentive fellow who exhibits traditional Indian hospitality and previous guests have felt so touched by his attention and care that one couple named their baby after him. I will be doing no such thing and have told him so.

There is a powerful amount of cow in this small city. A proportionally massive amount really, and those tiny roads are full of cow land mines. Housewives will make sure there is a chapati for god, the cow, the dog and the sweeper’s wife. After lunch at my new friend’s house I took the leftover chapatis to the cows in the alley so they could eat and I would get good luck. This is the first city where I have seen the cows go up to doors and insist upon receiving their chapati. They stick their heads in doorways, hoof up the front step, practically scale the front gate. “I am the cow and I demand my chapati!” They are adorable and completely serious in their demands.