Pushkar

Sleeping at night in India seems somewhat problematic in general. Maybe earplugs would be a good idea. I'd set my alarm for 07:30 but was to tired to even see if the electricity was working for a hot shower. The lack of radio noise from outside suggested to me that there was no electricity in any case. Finally I get up around 9am and risk a cold shower (eek!). I finish packing and have some toast and honey and a cup of Chai for breakfast. Settling my bill and saying goodbye to the family, I catch a rickshaw to the bus station. To get to Pushkar, I first have to take a 4 hour bus to Ajmer, quite uncomfortable with my backpack between my legs, but the main annoyance being the constant beeping of the horn. The towns and villages we pass through now seem within the realms of normality to my now accustomed senses. Enough sights and sounds to keep me awake and alert (useful for keeping an eye on my day pack, stowed in the narrow luggage holds above). My bladder was thankful when we finally arrived in Ajmer.

The connecting bus to Pushkar was a trivial 30 minute journey, with scenic views over Ajmere from the hills dividing the two cities. On arrival in Pushkar, a multitude of touts were offering me their services, I manage to refuse them all, although one particularly persistent hotel tout insists on accompanying me on the 10 minute walk to my premeditated choise, Inn Seventh Heaven (Highly Recommended by Footprint). All rooms were taken, but I am offered a room in an adjoining hotel (Konika) for a modest 200 rupees a night, not negotiable.

I wandered through the streets and along the main bazaar, storekeepers offering their wares for tourists (bottled water, toilet paper, lonely planet books, tat, etc.) and pilgrims (mainly tat and trinkets) alikem in that pushy yet non-aggressive way they have. At sunset, I find myself at a Ghat (washing place) overlooking lake Pushkar, the spot a Lotus flower thrown by Brahma himself landed, allegedly. I was not alone. Hundreds of tourists sat on the steps of the Ghat contemplating the mystical moment, which rather spoiled it for me, although at least the photos turned out nice.

On the way back to the haveli, a couple of "priests" try to push their flowers into my hands for me to throw into the lake. I resist, insisting that if I felt the urge to do such a thing, I would do it at a time of my choosing. After wandering the streets a while longer, I find what appears to be the cheapest high-speed internet cafe on the planet, at 10 rupees per hour (about 2 cents). Feeling at home in front of the screen, I spend a couple of hours replying to dozens of emails, fruit of the previous days mass mailing and blogging activities.

For dinner, the fare at the hotel is more than acceptable, Baigan Masala (sautéed aubergine in a lightly spiced sauce). I´m still resisting the temptation of western food for the moment, although it starts to look more and more appetizing. Being in a Brahmin town, my urge for a beer wil also have to remain unsatisfied for a while longer.

I'm not quite sure what to make of Pushkar, my first impression being that it was a touristy hangout, but it seems to go deeper than that, a whole neo-hippie community living here, some for weeks, some for months, and some for years! This I discovered after walking around town aimlessly for most of the day, aghast with the "theme" feeling of the place. Today I perform the ritual of throwing the flower into the lake, and am rewarded for my piety with a red and yellow string tied around my wrist, my "passport in India" the Brahmin Priest assures me, in the little English he speaks.

I walk past a Chai Shop where I spot a chess board, and sit down awaiting for a Chai and await an opponent. Victory over two Indians, then a German guy, Gunther, manages a couple of draws. One of the onlookers, an Indian guy with stunted legs and dreadlocks, going by the name of Om Baba, invites me for a Chai at his nearby hostel. I accept his offer and spend some time there chatting with other visitors to Pushkar, and some Indians living and working here. Good banter.

Feeling a little grotty with a cold, and bites all over from these damn bed bugs, I employ an ayurvedic masseur, who leaves me feeling somewhat better. Plenty of hot lemon, ginger and honey, then a cheeky "apple juice" (codeword for beer, prohibited in the Brahmin city), before heading back to my lodgings, Inn Seventh Heaven. Before bed, I have one final game of chess with the owner of the Haveli, Anub, who Gunther had informed me was a keen player (I lose). Tomorrow there's a kite festival in the city, everyone competes to see can fly their kite the highest, and battle to bring down the kites of others. I haven't had much practice, but maybe I'll give it a go.

Heard some interesting Indian fusion music today, Kandisa.