Currently, it’s about 39 rupees to the dollar. You can get a small chai tea made on almost every corner for a couple of rupees. On a side street in Delhi, there is a samosa cart that sold a delicious potato stuffed pastry with a little bowl of sauce for four rupees. 50 rupees should get you almost anywhere in a motor-rickshaw-but we always end up arguing with the drivers over their prices which are extremely inflated for white people. At a nice restaurant, entrees are about 100 rupees. The first place we stayed in Delhi, Hotel Namaskar, cost 450 rupees for a double room - this gets you hot water in your attached bathroom but no window to the outside world. In Jaipur, where we stayed last night and plan to stay tonight, we splurged on a nicer guesthouse for 500 rupees. We have tile floors and a sit-down toilet, a small television, a clock in our room, and wide windows which look across the street onto a rooftop where monkeys play with discarded kites. Although everything is relatively cheap when you do the dollar conversion and compare it to US prices, it’s amazing how quickly one becomes accustomed to local economics and starts budgeting accordingly. On the other hand, it is also incredible the extent to which local vendors expect to screw travelers spending foreign money.

Preena’s wedding took place in a Fort Palace atop a hill in a remote area of Rajasthan called Neemrana, Bought for $6,000 about ten years ago, the ruins were “restored”/re-built and now functions as a hotel and a venue for weddings. The structure seemed to have grown upon itself, with steep staircases, narrow passageways, and endless plateaus and unbelievable vista to be found on every level. One would be hard pressed to suppress fantasies of life in the fifteenth century behind the walls of the lavish Fort. A man with the craziest moustache I have ever seen a woman who never kept her face under a veil played traditional Raj music, as the guests filed in wearing thick silk saris, bejeweled headpieces and brightly colored turbins. The ceremony itself was held under a marigold covered chupa (for lack of another word). The immediate family removes their shoes and sits on the small platform, while the rest of the guests spread out in an amphitheater style seating arrangement. With the priest inside the small tent with the bride and groom and his back to the audience, it was difficult to hear or see exactly what was going on, though it clearly involved a small fir-pit, a bowl of dry rice and various other symbolic objects. The bride, so heavily decorated in jewelry, floral garlands and almost a hundred metallic bells that had been tied to her bangles, could barely move under the weight of her costume. Read the rest of this entry »

1. Crossing the street is like a game of chicken. Rickshaws, ox-drawn carts, taxi cabs and bicycles come full speed ahead, in no particular lane and will not stop until they are until one foot from crossing pedestrians. Street signs or lights are not a variable.
2. Spitting is an epidemic. As a result of the chewing “pan” and probably the awful pollution, a consistent chorus of throat clearing and loogie spitting is always around. One must be careful not to get in the line of fire.
3. Cows are holy. One does not encounter beef on any menu, but they wander the street eating trash instead.
4. The “green movement” is a long way from becoming an Indian trend, but street food is served in tiny bowls made of compressed leaves and is completely biodegradable. Unfortunately they end up thrown all over the ground instead of buried in a compost bin.
5. Straight men hold hands when walking down the street.
6. Metal detectors are set up at some entrances to neighborhoods or bazaars, but when you set off the alarm, the guard just gives you a look of disapproval for making so much noise and motions to you to keep moving.

tried to get away from all the craziness that is delhi.
found respite at Humayun’s tomb
in the gardens that surround it and the cool caverrns within.
arched entries and high domes. interior tilework in mediterranean blue against red clay mortar.
a striking system of irrigation ran throughout the walled compound
and we enjoyed watching the gardeners attempt to siphon water out of the fountain.
as is the case in many developing countriers with a surplus of historic architecture, visitors are free to climb in and about the ruins (crumbling, restored, abused and worn) and we did.
stumbled into a nursery next door where the rows of wintering roses seemed especially appropriate as the foggy sky rained down ashes from trash fires unseen.