Gas Prices

It cost me $60 to fill up my gas tank this morning.

Why are gas prices going up so dramatically? Gas is a global commodity. It's actually a problem of the devaluation of the dollar, not the gas price going up. It takes more dollars since each one is worth less. Why is the dollar value crumbling? Because the US government is printing dollars to pay the interest on our debt. As they use worthless dollars, the market balances by making ALL dollars out there worth a little less each. This is also called inflation. This is not sound monetary policy.

Goodbye, Bhutan!

We are presented a grand finale performance by a local group of dancers. Twelve traditional dances follow one another accompanied by heart-felt local voices singing Bhutanese regional songs. The Black-necked Crane dance is particularly moving and we're reminded that we saw a lone Black-necked Crane left behind for the season. Perhaps he was injured and unable to fly? The cranes migrate between Bhutan, Tibet and India. Before they leave Bhutan in February they always gather in the Phobjika Valley where they perform a mating dance with the entire group and then take flight. As they leave, they circle the Gangten Gonpa Monestary three times. This beautiful dance is depicted in one of the twelve folk dances that we watch tonight.

Several days ago, we also circled the Gangten Gonpa Monestary three times at the behest of Tika.

Tiger's Nest

We've done the grand hike up to Paro Taktshang or Tiger's Nest. This temple is over 10,000 feet up and built on an almost vertical cliff. To get to it, we climb over 3,000 feet on a footpath interlaced with steep steps. At the very end, there are many places with no rail and steep precipice. The final approach requires 1400 steps to the temple (coming and going). Prayer flags blow vertically in the stiff, cold breeze. It's worth it. There are a number of temples within the Tiger's Nest complex and we quickly walk through six of them, leaving a little offering and spinning prayer wheels on the way out the door. Tika has gotten us here very early and there are very few other guests. Tika has been the best guide we could imagine.

Agricultural Efficiency

Bhutan grows about 50% of its rice requirements. We see rice growing all over the hillsides in Punakha. But Bhutan's biggest export is electric power which it sells primarily to India.

We trek out along well worn paths between rice paddies. We stir the dust from the feet of old grandmothers and young children alike who've shared chores along these same paths for generations when rice season starts.

Gakiling Guest House

Talk about your "cultural experience", the Gakiling Guest House takes us about four hours to find, deep in the heart of the Phobjikha valley in Western Bhutan. It has been modified from a traditional Bhutanese farm into a hotel under intense pressure by tourists to experience Bhutanese heritage. In my judgement this guest house is not really ready yet but it is certainly under construction.

No hot water in here - but at least the toilet wears the international symbol to indicate that it's "sanitized".

I struggle to avoid burning down this ancient wooden guest house as I crank up the heat with kerosene and a match.

Butanese Big Gulp

We spend a night perusing the town of Paro where Prabhakar and Lynne ham it up in front of an entrepreneurial little store. The storefront is small but there's a lot of stuff in there.

In Bhutan, everyone wears the traditional garb. The King ordains it. Here, three little girls in traditional garb spin the prayer wheels to help atone for sins. Every turn of a wheel eliminates one sin for all of humanity. You should say a little prayer as you spin the wheel clockwise. Even the roads circle Buddhist stupas clockwise. Bhutan has a lot of work to do! We see prayer wheels everywhere - and we spin them, too.

Blond Hair

What is it about blond hair? Everyone stares at Lynne - especially the kids.

Four Friends

Bhutanese legends contain a touching story about the "Four Friends" and we see paintings everywhere depicting the story. Our guide tells us the story. An elephant, a monkey, a rabbit and a bird are unable to eat until they work together. The bird plants a Mango tree, the rabbit waters it (by pissing on it) the monkey fertilizes it (guess how) and the elephant protects it and then they stand on each others shoulders to reach the fruit. Or something like that.

Behind us, a painted statue depicts the story in the courtyard of the National Institute for Zorig Chusum in Thimphu. We got a chance to enter each of the classrooms in this school and watch the kids work and cut-up. Ultimately, they must learn - in six years - to exactly recreate many intricate pieces of art from three millennia of Buddhist history.

Day Off

Buddhist monks play in the river while their robes dry.

Bhuddist Monks Everywhere

The deep-red robes of the Buddhist monks show up everywhere like Himalayan poppies. It's hard to get a picture of their faces. We ask permission and still only 3 of this group consent shyly.

Damaged Doctor

Dr. Pendse fell and cracked a shoulder bone late one evening. Paula and I hear nothing about it until we catch him wincing the next morning. Should we call the doctor?

Drukpa Kunley

Sometime in the 15th Century, Drukpa Kunley arrived on the scene in Bhutanese history. He's Everyman's mad man. His alcohol and sex crazed escapades are legendary - but only in Bhutan. Drukpa Kunkey is worshiped to this day and you find evidence of his giant phallus everywhere. Even today women from all over the world come and ask for blessings at his temple in hopes of fertility. Somehow, I'm reminded of Dr. Livingston apparently "lost" in Africa or Marlon Brando in "Apocalypse Now". Even in the temple, we see bottles of Ara, the locally made "moonshine" offered to this deity.

Tika manages to extract a bottle of Ara for us from a friend who lives just off a rice paddy. He says it's 60 Ru or $1.50 for a quart. We give him a 100 Ru note and a big "Thanks!"

Children's Toys

Gross National Happiness is a marketing ploy by the Bhutanese government - but there's not much government involvement in these two little boys joyfully playing in the path as we trek by.

In the Himalayas

We're going to be at altitude. Most of our stays are over 6,000 feet and we'll be as high as 12,000 in places. Luckily we all brought coats!

Welcome to Bhutan!

Our guide Tika Ram immediately starts the adventure as we enter this remote country. Bhutan - a country of 700,000 people - has had only 40,000 tourists since it opened doors for the trade in 1979. They say it's a lot like Nepal but much more pristine. Bhutan is extremely selective about who's allowed in and they make sure that it is a cultural experience for all who make the list.

Above, Prabhakar stands warily next to Tika on the bamboo floor of a suspended cable-bridge while milky glacial melt churns a hundred feet below.

A Flight to Remember

DrukAir flies once-a-week from Delhi to Paro, Bhutan. We make it. High in the mountains, I can see from the window that we are descending and get a glance at a little airstrip deep in a valley below. We descend below the ridges on both sides. Then the pilot banks steeply to the left and steeply to the right. At a 35 degree bank, we still see trees off both wingtips. At the last minute, the plane crabs to the left losing altitude fast. We touch tarmac and the pilot immediately hits the air-brakes. That's a landing like I've never experienced.

Later, I ask Tika Ram - our guide - about a private jet on the runway. "Does it take special training to land here?" "Most planes make three passes before they get up enough nerve to land." he states.

Last Day of Luxury

After a filthy jaunt through Old Delhi, we loaf for the afternoon here at the Radisson, Delhi. Tomorrow we fly to Bhutan. Gotta get up at 2:45 AM!

Cash Register

We get a chance to do a little shopping in the Tibetan Market on a street in Delhi. The cash register in the back of the store catches my eye and I get permission to take a picture. I tell the shop keeper that if he ever loses his cash register I have back-up evidence for him to give to the magistrate. He laughs.

Budha's Vegetarian Birds

Saurabh Sharma - our guide to the city of Delhi - asks if we want to see a bird hospital. Of course I do - both in honor of Rosie, and of the North Carolina Raptor Center. This was not what you'd think. Apparently the animals also possess the "Buddha Nature". This hospital specializes in vegetarian birds only. We get a chance to walk through the hospital but we must go reverently and without shoes. I'm praying silently that there are no abrasions on my feet as I gingerly step past bird droppings and spilled seeds in my bare feet. No pictures allowed inside. It feels like a tour of a Buddhist temple. And it probably is.

Home of the Veggie Burger!

Phone Call

There's a saying in India: "One man makes a call and another man pays for it." No one knows where the wires run. Yesterday morning, we took a wild ride through the alleys in Old Delhi teeming with commerce and life. The alleys are so narrow that only a rat, a dog and a rickshaw will fit. Our rickshaw driver knows which snaps to shoot. "Get Camera ready!" he shouts. He's about ten or eleven. Lynne is looking for hand-made stationery. I'm looking for excitement. This morning's Delhi headlines scream another story about a woman who was brutally gutted in these same alleys yesterday. The murder wasn't discovered until someone in a distant city became suspicious about a metal trunk. It was starting to stink. The trunk was sent from this same neighborhood in Old Delhi. It was sent by "B" and addressed to "self". We don't see the Delhi paper until this morning.

Blending in at the Mosque

We're begrudgingly allowed into this huge mosque in Old Delhi called the Jama Masjid but we are expected to show some modesty. We try to blend in. Instead, everyone stares at us bedecked in borrowed lungis available to the infidels. I have flashbacks of the tension felt during our short stay in Dubai. If I accidentally make a gesture with my hand will it be cut off? Religion may be the "opiate of the masses" according to Karl Marx but Islam takes the stage as "the scimitar of the Imam".

Trading Places

Our rickshaw driver allows me to trade places for a photo op. I think I'd be good at this... but I'm not going to mention it to him. He's a professional.

Hand Labor

Carving marble and inlaying precious stones is a specialty of this region. Up close, the Taj Mahal is covered in delicate handiwork of this type. Lynne tries her hand. We attempt to negotiate at least minimum wage for her. "200 Rupees-a-day!" says the instructor. At 44 Rupees to the dollar, that's about $4.50. Prabhakar intercedes.

Really at the Taj Mahal!

There are so many beautiful pics of the Taj Mahal that if you're a purist, just follow this link. Here's us.

From the Train Window

A sea of humanity surrounds us and accentuates the difficulty of the task faced by India to support the elderly and non-productive. We see signs of this everywhere. This scene faces us from our train window. We realize the importance of keeping our shades drawn. The contrast between "us" and "them" is painfully stark.

License and Registration

Proud of his license, Mangal Singh has had to memorize thousands of bird names, habitats, migration patterns, nesting and description in multiple languages to get the opportunity to pedal a rickshaw through the Keoladeo National Park. He's a little man and I'm a big rider. We give him a good tip.

Krishna Juice

Sidarthe Keeps the Street People Happy

Our Palace on Wheels director pays tips as we go... to a LOT of people. If we take a picture of someone, he quietly hands them 10 Rupees. We catch him doing so inside a castle gate.

The Whole 9 Yards

For a few rupees, these guys show us how to wrap a Pagri or turban. More interesting than the process is the quantity of fabric!

She's a Man, Babeeee!

We are invited to a cultural evening of traditional dancing and music. The presentation is excellent. One of the two dancers dressed in saris can really shake some booty and is also quite the Amazon. With bulking forearms and prominent jaw, she performs balancing acts while standing barefooted on a pile of broken glass. I turn to Paula and whisper, "She's a man!" Later we learn that most of our fellow travelers agree.

Hijras are physiological males who adopt female gender identity. We Westerners might call them "gay". Who knows if Hijra has the same connotation. Wikipedia says of this behavior that it is "part gender-liminal, part spiritual and part survival". It appears to have originated with the Moguls and reminds me of the dark-sided underbelly of the movie, "Kite Runner".

Public Restroom

India apparently has no qualms about defecation. This open-air toiled on the side of the road is a significant step up from most facilities where there usually is no seat. We see men pissing on everything in public and find more solid evidence all over the place.

Desert Photographer

One of the camel drivers snaps a photo from a borrowed camera. Maybe this will help with the memories - and the tips.

Camel

Another item off our bucket list, Paula and I prepare for a trek into the deep dunes on a dromedary. These camels appeared to be happy and well cared for. If I return as an animal, India's definitely the place to be. In addition to being highly revered, these animals also make money.

Cholesterol

Peeking into a kitchen in a back alley, we spot 15 liter boxes of ghee. An Indian staple, ghee is in everything. It's actually clarified butter and is almost entirely fat. At eight mg. of cholesterol per teaspoon we will need to detox when we get home.

While India Starves...

Children hawk loaves of bread. We wonder why. Stepping over to the water, we find some young Indian men - on tour from college - feeding the fish. Lynne asks if I brought my swimming costume.

Maharajah and Maharani

Evenings on the train, we play royalty. Lynne and Prabhakar step up to the challenge!

Tashie!

Everyone's got a mustache. I guess I'd better grow one too.

This guy says, "I've got four mustaches. One on each upper lip and one on each ear!"

Sitting Like an Indian

Waiting in the shade.


Two men drink morning chai on the station platform. Some Indians call it "Tea Masala". Everywhere we see limber people. It seems to me that this would stretch your knee tendons too much. Dr. Pendse says, "You get used to it."

Udaipur - The Lake City

Udaipur is an ancient city high in the oldest mountain range in the world. Several beautiful lakes remind us of Lake Tahoe, ringed with beautiful white hotels, palaces and homes. When we get close, we see that the lake - like most other things in India - is a cesspool of flotsam and diesel slick. Too bad. This was home to kings and Maharajah's. Gravity feeds lake water to water fountains throughout the city.

Chittorgarh

This mountain fortified city encapsulates many threads of the romantic and terrible Indian heritage. These almost impregnable walls have housed nearly 100,000 people at various times in the last 15 centuries. Chittorgarh sits in the path of clashing and mighty religions and marauding civilizations. But it has changed hands relatively few times because of it's defensible position. "There are eleven water reservoirs within the walls" says our guide. As it turns out, these reservoirs are as big as lakes and more than 22 meters deep. There are hundreds of temples within the walls - Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and Jane. Great gods out-stare each other across the reservoirs. One in particular looks out of the Hindu temple to Shiva the destroyer. The dark visage stares through fresh paint and burning incense. The temple is very much alive today and we line up with sari-wrapped women to pay homage. This city is home to tales of valor and romance that dwarf the poor bard Shakespeare. Here is where Sultan Allauddin Khilji laid siege to the city for many months in order to capture the beautiful Rani Padmini. Eventually, he offered a truce if he could only see her face. A complex system of mirrors was built to bar him from seeing her face but to allow him to view her reflection. What he saw moved him to treachery. Ultimately, this city is the site of three massive immolations in which women threw themselves into fire rather than be violated by conquering armies. In Rani Padmini's case, 13,000 women joined her on the funeral pyre.

Rani Padmini sat on the steps of this harem in the middle of a lake within Chittorgarh for Allauddin's pleasure. We test the viewing mirror and there sits a sari-wrapped woman in the exact spot!
We watch a beautiful light show at sunset from the Chittorgarh ramparts.