… arrival at the surrealistic Sujan desert camp – the high point of the India trip for UD.
For a dark sky type like UD, the nights were … indescribable.
UD‘s buddy Peter Galbraith strolls in a Mughal garden. Peter lived in India as a young boy, when his father was the American ambassador.
Palace musicians.
Sarah Peck tells a cow to smile for my camera.
Birds, breakfast, fort.
At Samode Palace, as an absolutely insane Indian wedding gears up.
There’s so much, and I know so little.
Even if I knew somewhat more, I’d venture little, because there’s so much to know.
The main impression is the impossible city streets, whose cows motorbikes kiosks trucks pedestrians ruts and speedbumps our driver honks/slices through at an impossible speed. There are no traffic lights, no stop or speed signs. Small children on bikes carry in one hand whirls of cotton candy for sale. The other hand steers through the chaos. Piles of old tires, and piles of old garbage, line the road; half-built houses and mounds of stone lie with them. Everyone seems to be trying to mend the world one burdensome inch at a time – transferring this stone to that place, herding three goats some steps along the road, flicking a shop’s scarves to make them a little more noticeable. The view is at once frenzied and sisyphean.
I told this crowd of Indian students to flash the peace sign. They did that AND gave out a big group cheer.
In Jaisalmer. India continues making me love her.
… but UD had had enough climbing, so she sat in a dusty nook and watched this woman lug stones on her head. In seconds, she and two other women put down their work and excitedly gazed at UD and came over and talked to her, though she and the women shared not one word in any language.
Americans are attractive exotics round these parts, and UD was several times at the fort stopped by families who asked if they could take her picture. Whole families crammed into the picture, arms around UD…
Who is UD, she thought, as exuberant, curious people rushed her, that Indians art mindful of her?
To the three ladies’ manifest questionings, UD passed her hand against her forehead: I stopped walking because I am tired. Yes, yes, they signaled, and then talked with me some more. Eventually I closed my eyes and leaned against the pillar, and they went back to work.
A man seeing me with my eyes closed approached. “Are you ok?” “Just waiting for my husband; thank you for asking,” and he smiled the sweetest smile.
The acoustics were good, and one of the ladies was singing; so UD sang. She sang Ella Fitzgerald’s version of Mister Paganini; she sang Sarah Vaughan’s version of Speak Low. She sang – natch – Music For A While. The ladies seemed to like all of this, though it sounded not at all like their songs.
… who look like they’ve stepped out of the pages of Vogue.
