Update 3

After lunch one group departs to shop; Susan and Tim are off to find the street where Susan's great aunt once lived; and John, Gopi and Anne decide to walk back to the hotel. Rama, head of the shopping group, talks her way into the studios of Bridgette Singh, who sells only to top star hotels and to wholesale. How does she do it? Perhaps with the language barrier she may have come off as a buyer? Anyway, all come away with fabulous designer linens. Susan and Tim find the street they are looking for and get a photo for Susan's aunt. Gopi, John and Anne get lost but do eventually make it through the back streets to our hotel.

For our last dinner in Jaipur, or rather outside of the city, we drive an hour to the Samode Palace, the vacation home of the family whose town home we have been staying in. The countryside is beautiful and when we arrive we see that this palace, now converted to a hotel needs no restoration. The first revelation is the beautiful entry garden. Then we ascend a series of staircases, each of which leads to its own interior courtyard. Our guide leads us to the mirrored reception room of the palace. The walls of this many chambered room have the feeling of being quilted with hundreds of small mirror panes and all remains in perfect condition. Rama shows us how we can stare into the tiny tiles to create multiple refracted images of ourselves. The tile work is stunning as are the frescos. We eat dinner on the pool deck under Venus rising but need to request blankets to wrap ourselves in.

January 21...

Rama and Gopi depart for Kolkata (they need a vacation from us!) while the rest of us head to Udaipur, the hometown of Suru our guide. Suru sings the glories of Rajasthan and Udaipur. Here as in other parts of Rajasthan, the native dress is particularly colorful. As is other parts of India, the women wear saris in glorious colors but in Rajasthan, the men join the show with brightly hued turbans. Suru explains that each caste wraps the turban in a characteristic way.

The flight goes well and we arrive in time for some sightseeing. John, Anne, Tim and Susan head out for the City Palace. Dorothy and Joanne who are not feeling well must crash. The majarana (king) has split his huge palace into two hotels and a museum and still been able to retain a spacious wing for his own family's use. Highlights are the beautiful blue tiled peacocks whose breasts and heads jut out in bas-relief from the walls of one courtyard. We manage a short walk through the market that sells foods and wares to locals and purchase some gifts to take to our planned school visit. We also see the famed Lake Palace that seems to float in one of the city's series of connecting lakes. Sadly, monsoons of late have been scanty and the lakes are no longer at full glory. We will have to imagine the scene as it was meant to be.

Suru invites us to lunch with his family at his sister's hotel the next day and promises us real home cooked Rajasthani food.

January 22...

Out to the countryside this morning for a visit to the ruins of a 10th century temple complex and a village visit. The first temple we see is a ruin partially submerged in a small lake. The others are more accessible and beautiful, partially because of the peaceful, lush, rural setting. The temples were defaced centuries ago by Moghul invaders but some of the wonderful sculptures survive. Tim and Susan finally have a chance to see a few Khajuraho-style erotic carvings.

Next we follow small winding roads through farms and fields to visit a small village. The trek yields photo opportunities galore of women in bright attire with milk pots and bundles of sticks balanced on their heads, children herding goats, and men in colorful turbans. At the village the men are mostly away working in the fields but the women and children are welcoming. The one older man who is at home for the day invites us into his house where his wife is busy making corn flower roti (bread) over a fire in their courtyard and two delightful children (his grandchildren?) smile at us shyly. We visit their one room residence and are amazed at the neat and orderly way they make it all work. I know that my own home would not be nearly as presentable if I was to find myself showing it off unexpectedly to drop in guests.

The children follow us through the village paths to the school demonstrating home made toys. At school, we visit the first and second forms. One class sits on the verandah; the other inside a classroom and the teacher's desk is perched in the doorway overseeing both groups. The kids sit on the floor in their neat uniforms writing in their notebooks. The walls are brightly painted with murals of Hindi and roman script, colors identified in English and Hindi, etc. The children sit quietly in place during our visit even when we distribute our little presents of crayons and drawing books and say a polite "thank you" as we leave. Then we hear the babble of delighted voices as they break into their little gifts. We dodge cows and head back to the bus where the little boy we first encountered is busily sketching our vehicle with his new crayons.
Back to town for lunch with Suru's family. The family hotel is in the middle of town and we have lunch up on the roof deck. The home cooking is wonderful and we get a chance to meet Suru's wife, delightful five-year old son, sister and nephew. We have three different kinds of bread, (dahl bati, corn and some other type of chapatti), chicken masala, vegetables and dessert. Most of the dishes are flavored with ghee (clarified butter). No wonder we love it! Suru's wife and sister have overseen preparation of the meal and have toned down the spices for us. Although we love Indian food, we find the flavors overwhelming at times. Suru shows us old photos of himself dressed traditionally (for his wedding). He is a proud member of the warrior caste, second only to the Brahmins. Many of his caste have made the transition to jobs in the tourist industry.

Afterwards more shopping! To the tailors for fabric, shawls and even John buys something -- a couple of ties.

January 23...

John and Anne escape to walk to the lake on their own and on foot. They are followed through the streets by an auto rickshaw driver who first offered them a ride at the hotel. At every intersection where they might make a wrong turn, he carefully directs them to the correct route. Finally, they agree to meet him at the viewpoint on the lake and accept his offer of a quick tour of town. He takes us to his favorite spots and through the narrow streets of the old town. Lots of fun!

Off to join Rama and Gopi in Kolkata. It takes pretty much the rest of the day to get there with airport security, transfers and two flights. On both flights (each about an hour) we are served a full meal and the food is delicious and free! How will we go back to air travel American style? In Kolkata, we are at the Oberi and the security is tight. Perhaps this is an opportune time to talk about the logistics of traveling in the age of terror.

Everywhere we go, we are told that they tourism is down by 50% or more. Many cancelled after the incident in Mumbai and the spiraling downturn of the economy has also contributed. I admit to checking my travel insurance policy in December. I learned that we were not covered for a cancellation unless we were visiting the city where an attack occurred (and we were never scheduled to go to Mumbai). In reading over the fine print of the policy, I also discover we are not covered for assault if it is perpetrated by a member of our own party. (The insurance company must have some interesting stories to tell!)

We are glad we did not cancel because we have most of the tourist attractions here in India to ourselves. The security is indeed tight everywhere. In Delhi, we had an announced search of our rooms by security staff with metal detectors and bomb sniffing dogs. Does that make us feel safer or freaked? At every hotel, our van is checked with mirrors and hatches opened to check luggage or even the engine. We pass through metal detectors and are wanded at nearly every monument. At the Kolkata Oberai, we are individually searched every time we enter the hotel. Airport checks are tight as well. Later, in Bangalore, even our luggage and handbags will be x-rayed every time we enter the hotel. But everywhere we go, people are unbelievably friendly. They want to know where we are from and smile broadly when we say "USA." The welcome mostly overcomes the worry.

January 24...

Some of us do a historic walk through colonial Kolkata in the morning and then we join everyone for brunch at the apartment of a local art collector. The apartment is in a heritage building that was the original British department store. We walk up some dingy stairs to the fourth floor (the elevator is broken) and privately develop a few qualms about brunch. We walk down a long, dilapidated hallway and ring the bell in front of a set of old double doors. Our host answers and lead us into a gracious flat. The ceilings must be 10 feet or more and have plenty of room to display an amazing collection of Bengali art. Fascinating objects are displayed artfully on every table. We definitely get a taste of how well-to-do intelligentsia can live graciously in the center of a busy, noisy city.

John and Anne want to see the statues being constructed for the upcoming celebration of the festival of Saraswati, the goddess of learning. Gucci, one of our brunch hosts, agrees to take us on an excursion to the neighborhood where the statues are made. Craftsman here practice a skill handed down from father to son; their only occupation is making statues for festivals. As we walk through, we see literally thousands of statues of the goddess in various sizes and poses. Each statue begins with a base of straw that is tightly bound to the basic shape of the goddess. Then the sculptors cover the straw with layers of river mud and fashion the serene face of the goddess. Fingers and feet are mass-produced and added to a row of statues in assembly line fashion. Statues in various states of development line the narrow lanes to dry and fill every workshop. After the mud dries, the artisan paints the face and body, adds fiber hair, and dresses it with cloth and handmade ornamentation heavy with sequins. We see a few finished works being hauled to trucks for delivery. On the day of the festival, the owner will take the statue to the river for a blessing and then float it out onto the water where it will sink into the river and return to the mud.