Here are the words to follow the Pushkar in Pictures post.* They are indeed about a month late, but I like to keep everyone guessing. This now becomes a test of memory as it was now a good three months since I was in the land of spice and excitement.
Where was I? Faye and I were a bit smug because we had a bindi on our foreheads. It did look a bit odd on us. Also, I was unaware that they stuck rice to your head as part of the bindi. Although at the time, we felt very important and all spiritual, looking at the photos and what with the random rice grains, we probably just looked like we had a big old whitehead that needed squeezing.
We pootled along to the hub of the festival where there was just row upon row of horse and camel. The sun was setting and the whole sandy paradise was covered in a beautiful orange glow. So there we were, basking in an orange glow, surrounded by a caravan of camels**, dodging rogue bareback horse riders, sand swirling up around us. And what did we want? A cold beer.
Now I think this is all psychological because we knew it wasn't possible. There were three rules in this sacred town of Pushkar.
1. No eating meat
2. No showing affection in public (apparently a newly-wed couple were arrested for kissing)
3. No alcohol
As Faye is a veggie and I was being a veggie for the duration, that didn't really matter. Obviously number 2 was of no relevance or consequence but rule 3 was quite frankly, a bit crap.
Furthermore, after trying to watch the cow stripping event (in which no cows were actually stripped, whatever that even meant), we went to get something to eat (casually stopping off to buy some moonstone earrings and rings).
The food was the worst food ever. It was non-food. Our oh-so-sought-after peshwari naan (actually hard to find in India) was just plain naan, our navratan korma was lukewarm and we had to sit on a dirty mattress on the floor to eat it.
I realise I have now put Pushkar into a bad light. It was honestly one of my fave places in the trip. When anything went a bit pear-shaped on the trip, Faye and I generally ended up laughing. As my wise mother always says, 'It's all part of life's rich tapestry'. I think my section of life's rich tapestry is quite extensive.
Day one of Pushkar had come to an end. And it was good.
*Note unsubtle alliteration.
** I prefer this term to herd. It is the collective noun for a group of camels by the way, for all of you sitting there wondering if there were also caravans in the desert. You can apparently also refer to them as a flock of camels, but I feel this has connotations of wings.
Camels are huge.
I can safely say they do not fly.
They lollop.
Where was I? Faye and I were a bit smug because we had a bindi on our foreheads. It did look a bit odd on us. Also, I was unaware that they stuck rice to your head as part of the bindi. Although at the time, we felt very important and all spiritual, looking at the photos and what with the random rice grains, we probably just looked like we had a big old whitehead that needed squeezing.
We pootled along to the hub of the festival where there was just row upon row of horse and camel. The sun was setting and the whole sandy paradise was covered in a beautiful orange glow. So there we were, basking in an orange glow, surrounded by a caravan of camels**, dodging rogue bareback horse riders, sand swirling up around us. And what did we want? A cold beer.
Now I think this is all psychological because we knew it wasn't possible. There were three rules in this sacred town of Pushkar.
1. No eating meat
2. No showing affection in public (apparently a newly-wed couple were arrested for kissing)
3. No alcohol
As Faye is a veggie and I was being a veggie for the duration, that didn't really matter. Obviously number 2 was of no relevance or consequence but rule 3 was quite frankly, a bit crap.
Furthermore, after trying to watch the cow stripping event (in which no cows were actually stripped, whatever that even meant), we went to get something to eat (casually stopping off to buy some moonstone earrings and rings).
The food was the worst food ever. It was non-food. Our oh-so-sought-after peshwari naan (actually hard to find in India) was just plain naan, our navratan korma was lukewarm and we had to sit on a dirty mattress on the floor to eat it.
I realise I have now put Pushkar into a bad light. It was honestly one of my fave places in the trip. When anything went a bit pear-shaped on the trip, Faye and I generally ended up laughing. As my wise mother always says, 'It's all part of life's rich tapestry'. I think my section of life's rich tapestry is quite extensive.
Day one of Pushkar had come to an end. And it was good.
*Note unsubtle alliteration.
** I prefer this term to herd. It is the collective noun for a group of camels by the way, for all of you sitting there wondering if there were also caravans in the desert. You can apparently also refer to them as a flock of camels, but I feel this has connotations of wings.
Camels are huge.
I can safely say they do not fly.
They lollop.
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