A while back, just before my birthday, I made a brief excursion south of Pushkar to a slightly larger city called Bundi. I had heard from another traveller that it was his favorite place in Rajasthan and I wanted to see for myself.
The journey by bus took about 6 hours. Mind you, that's 6 hours on a bus in the desert with no air conditioning, and roads that are bumpy as hell. After the first few hours I wondered if I'd been crazy to make this trip only to have to board another bus after just two nights.
But there I was:
windows open to let the air in (and the dust, and smog, and sounds and smells),
praying that I wouldn't have to pee before we stopped,
staring (with admiration) at the ladies with bangles up to their shoulders and huge gold nose rings,
watching the desert go by.........
Amazingly a big dark cloud approached on the horizon and I witnessed a surpising summer storm (complete with actual hail) grateful for the cool air it carried with it.
When we arrived in Bundi I had a flash of fear. Not knowing where I was, where to go, what would happen. Please please let me make it to somewhere nice and safe and good. I got off the bus.
It worked. I was delivered easily enough to a nice little family run guest house.
Bundi in the hot season felt a little like a ghost town to me, atleast in the touristy section where I stayed. Lots of the restaurants and shops had closed down for the season. The benefit is that prices drop, though it also means that the shop owners' calls for attention sound more desperate than usual.
I visited the Bundi Palace and found it spectacular. When I bought my entrance ticket I politely declined to carry a stick to ward off the monkeys at least three times before I thought to myself: Ok Julia, do you really want to have to write a blog post about how you got attacked?! So I took the stick. Black monkeys=friends. Red monkeys=bad! Wave the stick threateningly. Got it.
I was practically alone in the palace grounds, aside from a couple boys who checked my ticket and a scant few other tourists. It was eerie, derelict and beautiful and I felt lucky to have free reign to explore. In India the atmosphere of many of the old monuments is so different than what I've experienced back home. There are no red rope barriers or explanatory placards. Everything is just there (and often not in the best shape) for you to experience for yourself.
I spent time in a dim corridor watching a little flock of bats, upside down and chattering, while they watched me. I peeked in the weird little doorways and imagined the way things might have been.
The best part was the Chitrashala: a set of elevated rooms whose every surface is covered in incredible old paintings. And I had it all to myself. I can only imagine all of the stories they tell. I felt like I could spend years looking.
Bundi itself is a painted town. So many of the and walls lining the streets, the bridges and temples and houses boast colorful images of Gods and ladies holding birds and kings sitting on carpets. It's fabulous! Why don't we do more of that in the U.S.?
Just a day and a half later seemed far to soon to get back on the bus. But I did it anyways, looking forward to seeing pretty little Pushkar again.
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| Bundi Palace | |
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| Chitrashala (picture gallery) |
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| Check it out: flying elephants and magic carpets. yes! |
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| the view |
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| blue blue blue |
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| I snapped this during the day and got to see it in action later that evening. It's basically a boombox on wheels. They use them for the little processions that seem to happen pretty often no matter where I go. Sometimes they play canned music but the best is when it's hooked up to a guy jamming on a keyboard. |
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| Rajasthani menswear is seriously cool |
