jodhpur.

bryndia's bus ride to jodhpur, though a short six hours, and during the afternoon, turned out to be the most bizarre of their entire time in india. what they were told was a 'direct, quick speed, good good' bus stopped more often than not, allowing dozens of screaming adolescent indian boys outside to climb on each others shoulders and bang on the windows, shoving their bottles of water and ice cream cones into the windows, yelling 'buy this! buy this!' when the small cities gave away to the expansive rajasthani desert, the bus would continue to halt for long periods of time, but because an elaborately decorated delivery truck had been rushing along the steep sides of the road too quicky, and had tipped over. here, every man on the bus, bryn included, would troop off, and either attempt to tip the truck back the right way, or stand around, looking perplexed, shrug, and reboard the bus. finally, at the final stop before arriving in jodhpur, a large wedding party, with a shy bride in a bright red sari, joined bryndia and the rest of the passengers on the bus. they sat, crammed tightly on each others laps in the aisle, pinching at india's arms and laughing. finally, when the bus pulled into jodhpur, bryn & india exited the bus where the entire wedding party was waiting to shake the pale skinned foreigner's hands in a line. overwhelmed with attention, b & i hopped in a rickshaw and took off, exhausted.


jodhpur, as it turns out, is a place that meant a lot to india's parents. it was a city where they spent a lot of time, and a city where, maybe, ahem, they decided to, maybe, try to have a baby, or whatever. india felt the importance of this place from the constant emails from her father: 'when are you getting to jodhpur? what will you do there? it's my favorite, you will love it.' he was right.

because of his affection for the city, india's papa generously offered to put bryn & india up in a nicer hotel during their stay there. the two arrived at krishna prakesh heritage haveli and discovered, omg, that they were staying in the suite. the walls were hand painted with elegant designs in deep blues and pale greens, each diamond and square bejeweled with small glass circles. the bedspread was stitched with yellow flowers, burgundy swirls. the furniture smelled of oiled wood. and the shuttered windows opened up to reveal a sharp view, one which you had to crane your head back, of the massive mehrangarh fort.


that night, the two ascended the spiral staircase from their patio up to the roof of the hotel, and ate curries and drank beer and continued to stare, dumbfounded, at the size and strength of the five hundred year old fort.

but, as it turns out, that curry wasn't the best thing for india's stomach. and, defeated by the indian food gods, she spent the next twenty four hours whining in bed, clutching at her middle. bryn was a good doctor, brought her ginger ale, pet her head, and the two watched movie after movie on hbo.

after no food and no sunshine for over a day, india awoke feeling restless so, despite the weak knees, she and bryn ventured out for their first day of adventure in jodphur.

obviously, they headed straight to the fort.

in sticky heat, the two walked for hours. through the maze of stone walls, along the ramparts lined with cannons, the blue city sparkling in indigo below them. they walked on carpets woven especially for the maharaja man singh two hundred years before. they saw rooms painted in gold, decorated with alternating glass and pearls stuck into the wall. and they stopped, listened to three men in yellow turbans sing and play flute, drenched in their own sweat, but smiling.



that evening, bryn & india turned to their trusty lonely planet guide, and set out to find the books pick for best restaurant in jodhpur. after an hour of winding through the streets that were clogged with rickshaws, cows, men hammering bamboo into ladders and baskets, they found the building, only to discover the restaurant was closed. not a pair to be easily discouraged, the two backtracked to the internet cafe that they had been frequenting to ask the owner, their new friend gucci, where he would suggest eating dinner. 'oh,' he said, 'any man who comes to jodhpur and does not go to 'on the rocks' is truly not coming to jodhpur.' well then! bryn & india jumped in a rickshaw. 'on the rocks!' they requested. 'the best!' their driver responded. their dinner began in a large garden, their table illuminated from under the table cloth, fountains spurting in giant orbs all around them. but the wind picked up, and a sand storm began, and the two were ushered inside to a dark corner table that overlooked a small, but crowded, disco floor where men danced jerkily, proudly, and their female counterparts laughed and swayed against the wall.

the next day, feeling drained from too many whiskeys, too may tom collin's, bryn & india wandered around the clocktower in the old city of jodhpur, a market that was packed with men selling mangos, women selling scarves and saris, tiny boys peddling denim shorts and plaid handkerchiefs. they bought fat packages of tea from a man who proudly showed them photos of himself posing between owen wilson and adrien brody when he met them during their filming of the 'darjeerling limited'. they bought fruit and tye dyed scarves and drank lassi as thick as tar, dallops of curd thrown in on top. on their walk back towards their hotel, a dark rain cloud moved over their heads, and the first rain of the monsoon began to pour. children ran out of the windowless blue houses screaming and dancing, hands up towards the sky, stomping their bare feet in the dirty water.

their last full day in jodhpur, bryndia decided to play tourists again and took an expensive rickshaw ride out to the umaid bhawan palace, the massive modern residence of the current king of jodhpur. the art deco building is the largest private residence in the entire world, with over 350 rooms catering to one family. though, as bryn & india discovered when they arrived, the family had decided to rent out 90% of the place as a five star hotel. sweet as that was, it meant that the two travelers, as non guests, were allowed in a very limited area of the grounds. they took a short tour of the kings furniture collection, oohed and ahhed over fading photos of the king in professional polo gear, and then left, feeling a bit jipped and a bit down. their exit made up for it when a family with two memur children asked to pose for pictures with them. the two kids smiled tentatively while bryn taught them how to high five.

bryndia returned to the market around the clocktower and headed straight for bryn's favorite food stand. all of the couple's previous enstated rules about avoiding street food went out the window with this place. the smell of hot spicy oil sucked them in from 50 meters away. big green chili peppers were hollowed and stuffed with bread crumbs, potatoes, spices, and deep fried in a big black pot. today, a fat mustached man sat back behind the half dozen sweaty young men wrapping the peppers in loose newspaper and shoving them into the crowd. he laughed loudly, clutching his belly, when he saw bryn's recognizable red hair in the crowd. 'i see you every day!' he called out, pointing. 'today, you eat back with me.' so bryn and india rounded the counter and took their places on makeshift seats and ate stuffed chilis until they thought they would pop. pulling out cash, their new friend refused. 'you send me that photograph of me and your wife,' he said to bryn, 'and you eat for free for always.'

that evening, bryn & india sluggishly made their way through the brightly lit curving streets of the old city towards the modern train station in the center of town. here, they drank beers, and spoke with a large bearded man about the differences between rajasthan and the rest of india, and boarded their night bus that would take them to the capital, jaipur.