dharamsala, mcleod ganj, bhagsu.

as optimistic as bryndia had been about their first overnight trip on an indian public bus, after an hour into the twelve hour journey, the pair was forgetting why it was they had decided not to wait for the private bus that would have left the next night. the public bus was oversold and overcrowded. men squatted in the aisle, pushing their shoulders against each others backs. the lack of air conditioning forced every window wide open, spilling huge amounts of sand and dust into every passengers face. (the experienced ones had brought bandanas, which they wore tied around their face as they slept.) the seats were small, sticky, and made of stiff plastic. and because the bus rode so low to the ground, the bags were hooked onto a bar on the top of the bus. at each stop throughout the night, bryn would cross his fingers and climb the metal ladder attached to the back of the bus to make sure his backpack hadn't been flung off during a sharp curve. as the sun rose in oranges and pinks, the bus chugged slowly up the edges of the kangra valley, the air cooled and filled with a familiar scent of coniferous trees, and at eight o clock in the morning, bryn & india stepped off the bus and into the mountain city of dharamsala.

they quietly followed a buddhist monk, whom they had been taking their cues from since delhi, and boarded a second, smaller bus that headed a few more miles up the mountain to the tiny community of bhagsu.

the town of bhagsu is built on a sharp incline. each sidewalk - and that's all there is, as cars are not allowed past the main square at the base of the town - is a direct upwards slant, so much that your calves ache after five minutes of walking straight. luckily, there are enough reasons to stop along the way. tiny stores selling tie dye tee shirts, handmade leather purses, spices and incense. there are dozens of cafes smelling of chai and charras, each boasting 'the original bhagsu cake' or 'delicious indian pastries', each filled with long haired expats from countries around the globe, coaxing you in with scratchy voices, dirty hands, gap toothed smiles. the town continues like this for a half mile upwards before you reach a fork in the road. a giant ravine in the mountain cuts the town quickly in half. climbing the stairs on the left side will lead you to bright guest houses and hidden garden terraces. ascending the hill on the right will take you to more dingy guest houses and hard floored cafes beside dense forests, each one piled with pillows to crumple up on casually.

and right in the center of the main strip stands the most elaborately gaudy hindu temple that bryn or india had ever seen. walking into the small open air building, your senses are attacked by smokey incense burning and towering brightly colored statues of snakes baring their fangs and two animals, a crocodile and a lion, with their mouths opened wide to reveal sets of staircases. stooping, you enter one of the animals mouths to be brought into a theme park like tunnel, of which you have to crawl through, to find caves holding electronic idols that sing and dance. when the maze ends, you are spit onto the roof of the temple where more colorful, larger-than-life statues join you in gazing down at the main street of bhagsu. 

bryn & india chose a guest house with a restaurant filled with israelis on the main stretch of road and set off in search of their friends from rishikesh, randy & avi. when they found them, strolling down the hill on their way to get lunch, they were accompanied by a tall, dark and handsome colombian named jose. and thus, the fearsome foursome became a fivesome.

bryn & india's first night in the mountains of india was spent sipping lemon ginger honey teas in a treehouse cafe built out of bamboo with randy, avi, jose, and an assortment of other international travelers.

the next morning, the five met at an open air restaurant which randy and avi claimed to have the best homemade yogurt and muesli in all of india. the place was packed with young israelis and a few south americans gathered around a table stacked with dirty dishes, banging on bongo drums and guitars and hand carved bamboo flutes. the five sat down and randy instructed bryn & india how to place their order. 'sansu!' he called back into the tiny kitchen. a squat, jolly indian man in a greasy white tank top stuck his head out from behind the curtain and smiled so broadly that his eyes squinted up into two small lines. 'yes, my friend,' he called back. 'can we have five fresh fruit mueslis please? and five chais too?' 'of course, my friend!' sansu called back loudly. and he ducked back into the kitchen. thirty minutes later, the group was digging into huge bowls piled with large cubes of curd, sweet almonds and shaved coconut, and juicy pomegranate seeds, bright slices of pineapple and plum, and crunchy apples.

the rest of the morning was spent idly being educated on the rules of backgammon as sansu ducked in and out of the kitchen, shouting friendly encouragement at whoever was losing that game.

that afternoon, the five friends walked the two kilometers down hill to the more major city of mcleod ganj, the headquarters and home for his holiness the dalai lama and his fellow tibetan buddhist refuge followers. in mcleod, the friends walked down the busy streets lined with tibetan women selling shiny silver and turquoise jewelry, each sitting modestly, quietly, on stools next to their husband, friends, or children. here was the first noticeable difference between tibetan and indian culture. every other market that bryn & india had been to in india was filled with people hawking their goods loudly. 'please, sir, come look here, at my scaves, my silver, my spices. no, no, please, beautiful lady, you must look here, best quality around, in my shop, now.' the tibetans barely breathed as bryn looked at their tables, smiled shyly and silently as india picked up their bracelets and earrings. the shopping experience was slower and easier than even one in america would feel.

when the group walked into the huge buddhist temple, the official home of the tibetan government in exile, in mcleod ganj, the sight flushed them with an unshakeable happy feeling. hundreds and hundreds of tibetans of every age all kneeled facing a platform of maroon robed monks, singing their prayers loudly. dozens of temple attendants weaved their way throughout the crowd, pouring sweet smelling tea and savory broth into chipped cups in the hands of the tibetans who smiled and bowed their heads in thanks before taking small sips of each. the alters that dotted the edges of the temple were stacked high with gifts for buddha. cookies, cakes, sweet juices, were offered to their gods in piles five feet tall. and behind all this was the breathtaking view of the deep valley covered with thousands of tall green cedars leading up to the staggering peaks of snow covered mountain tops.

after wandering for hours, the group was just about to leave, when a massive rain cloud covered the mountain and unloaded sheets of hard rain on them. with the rain pounding in time with the monks singing, the moment seemed perfect.

the following day, and every day after that, the group would meet in the morning at sansu's place for breakfast and backgammon, and spend the afternoons wandering throughout the towns, the deserted sides of the forests, and the loud but relaxed cafes.

after a few days of this pattern, and in need of a change, the five decided to tackle the steep hike up to the top of the mountain to visit the tiny community of tents at the summit called triund. setting off early one morning with light backpacks filled with heavy sweatshirts and socks, randy, avi, jose, bryn & india ascended the mountain slowly, stopping frequently to wander off the trail, discover hidden, breathtaking views, and share a chillum and cookie break sitting in a circle on the grass. tiny tarps would cover ancient looking fireplaces along the way, where a quiet sherpa would offer them chai or chips to fuel their energy and promise them, 'not too far more.' after five hours of tree climbing and trekking, the group reached the summit, sweaty but happy.

the view... well... it speaks for itself.

after only minutes of sitting on the chilly ground did the group of them realize how cold it was up there! therefore, the couldn't disguise their worry when they discovered that the tents being offered to them were either expensive or full. piling on their extra clothing, the five mountain climbers set off through an endless herd of mountain goats and fuzzy sheep to find a cabin on the edge of the summit that they rented for a few hundred rupees. with no bathroom, no electricity, but a plethora of blankets, the group played cards by candle light before randy, avi & jose curled up together on the bed while bryn & india cuddled close in a corner on the floor.

the sunrise woke them early, and the group set off in the light rain, through the herd of baaing and bleeting, for a breakfast of toast and tea at one of the two roofed stoves on the mountain. as they climbed down the mountain, the rain stopped, the heat returned, and the group arrived back in bhagsu feeling like conquering kings.

the next day was a return to the routine. only with a stealth mission run by avi to secure surprise whiskey for the following day's party, and a lazy afternoon learning how to poi from a group of sweet british girls on a shaded grassy terrace.

the next morning bryn woke up to a pile of presents. black linen shorts! a hand stitched fanny pack in lakers colors! jack daniels whiskey! happy golden birthday, boy. twenty four never looked so good.

breakfast at sansu's was accompanied by off key celebratory singing and hugs from everyone. the rain set in on the mountain early, and the group, joined by israelis who (of course, of course) shared mutual friends with india in new york, set up camp around the hammocks on the roofed platform balcony at their guest house. tea was drank. backgammon was taught. music was played. books were read. card games were learned. chillums were passed. and the rain poured down around them, creating a wall of water. that night, the group took their new friend guy up on his invitation to a mysterious concert he had heard of in town. braced with umbrellas, the group headed down the hill and followed a small crowd to a large carpeted hall. the group clustered themselves against the back wall and watched in awe as a tiny portuguese girl performed original interpretative dances to two african drummers and a guitarist slash dj. the music was international, thumping, beat banging. by the last song, the crowd was up and shaking along next to the performers.

it was the next morning that the group decided it was time to move on. randy, avi, jose, bryn & india had decided to rent a car to drive them the eight hours across himachel pradesh to the village of kasol in the parvati valley. but first, there were things to take care of. the group headed back to mcleod ganj, where jose had met an indian teen running a shop of godly statues and detailed textiles. taking a liking to him, and his products, jose had proceeded to buy out half his stock for his friends and family in colombia. the group joined jose at the store and sat while the fifteen year old boy told them the story of how he was single handedly supporting his family and wrapped jose's gifts to be shipped to south america. bryn & india, after traveling for so many months, had also accumulated a large amount of goodies, and so the three of them were taken to a dhl by the young boy and helped in the difficult and nerve racking task of sending a package home to oregon from india.

while the others remained in town, bryn & india headed back up the road to bhagsu. but before they were past mcleods boarder, they were stopped by a thick crowd of children rushing across the street shouting. intrigued, the two turned around to see a gorgeous pink and grey elephant lumbering down the road towards them. sadus were walking around his large legs, shaking their tin cups filled with coins, offering a picture with the elephant for a donation. bryn swapped stories with a sadu as the two joined the slow crowd around the elephant for a while before tiring of the countless kids stepping on their heels and picked up their pace to hit bhagsu before a similar chaos would erupt.

that night, the group met with their big backpacks, bryn & india's both considerably lighter, and ate their final sweet slice of bhagsu cake while watching world cup matches. at midnight, their old suv showed up at the front of the cafe, and the fearsome fivesome braced themselves for the dark and bumpy ride to the parvati valley.

new delhi.

as many of bryndia's buses in india, the uncomfortable ride from rishikesh to delhi was, in fact, a completely different length of time than they were told. anticipating a full nights sleep with an appropriate morning arrival time, the pair wasn't surprised when they were shaken awake roughly by their toothy driver at four thirty in the morning. delhi, delhi, delhi, he chanted as he wagged his head smiling. up, up, out, out. the two jumped off the bus and into an empty dark street.

here were multiple bare bed frames made of bamboo and stretched fabric set up on the sidewalk. each one held a family of at least four, all fully clothed, crunched together, snoring loudly. bryn wished aloud for a similar bed.

instead, the two slowly shuffled their way towards the inter state bus terminus, a gigantic building made up of a barren open floor plan, the walls filled with tiny windows where bus tickets would be sold to various locations around the country. of course, each window was sealed up tightly then, each employee, and dozens of dirty children, slept soundly in jagged rows of newspaper matresses on the tiled floor. here, bryn & india squatted, sleepily, kicking away cockroaches as they snuck up upon them and their bags, until the only other building in site, a bright mcdonald's, opened it's doors at seven am.

mcdonald's breakfast in india is a wonderful thing. a prodominantly hindu country, eating beef is mostly forbidden, and definately frowned upon, and mcdonald's has created a completely vegetarian menu for it's fast food loving customers. egg mcmuffins and grilled cheese sandwiches and garden burgers. the two tried not to fall asleep in their hashbrowns and, at eight o clock, rode a rickshaw the thirty minutes across the city to the american embassy.

here, the two surrendered every piece of electronic they had in their large backs, and entered the stark white building. despite the early hour, the embassy was flooded with people, almost exclusively indians awaiting approval for american visas. bryn & india made their way to a back room where they met sam, the most american man you can imagine, who listened to india's sob story patiently while he looked up her information on the datebase. well, sam said, i would ask you to prove yourself but there's no doubt in my mind that this is you. he swung his computer monitor around and displayed three archived passport photos of india, ranging from age two to age twelve. apparently, those ears are really recognizable.

two hours and one hundred dollars later, india had a brand new united states passport.

easy as pie became a bit more difficult when sam told india that she would have to then proceed to the indian foreign residents registration office, otherwise known as the frro, to obtain a new exit visa. bryn's hope of catching a bus that night was shattered upon their arrival to the office. startling different than the american embassy, the frro was dirty, sticky, loud, harsh, and unorganized. india waited in a long line of sweating foreigners for two hours, was thrown from one employee to another to another before finally being told that she would have to return tomorrrow to collect her visa.

frustrated and grumpy, the pair spent too many hours wandering in the capital city's smog trying to find a cheap hotel. when they finally did, the two fell on to the bed, sleeping through dinner and through the night.

india awoke the next morning to the hotel door slamming loudly. stomping into the room, bryn began shouting. india's six am wake up call had been caused by first the hotel, and then the corner coffee chain, both failing to have the sports network channel that would be playing the nba finals. it goes without saying that bryn loves basketball. but game seven in a serious rivalry with his team going for their second straight championship? it was unthinkable that he would miss it. the two loaded up their backpacks and walked into the early morning, determined to find a television with the game.

walking along a wide boulevard filled with luxary hotels, the two entered five requesting the channel. each time, they were turned away. beginning to panic, india said a tiny prayer to the nba gods, and entered into the glossy lobby of the ramada plaza. after asking the receptionist, she was ushered back to the restaurant, where two large flatscreens hung above the buffet. clicking quickly through the remote, about to lose hope, kobe bryant's dripping face flashed across the screen. success! elated, bryn sunk into a plush chair halfway through the second quarter. for the next two hours, bryn & india cheered for lamar, derek and kobe, spent all together too much money on a fancy fruit and pastry buffet breakfast, and watched the lakers win the 2010 nba championship.

that afternoon, the two returned to the frro, where india, again, waited in a long line and bryn made friends with one boy from afghanistan whose father was a jet pilot in the army, a swede who had been in the country for 7 years & now was desperately trying to get out, and a young student from tribal africa who dreamed of visiting new york.

after sitting and talking to a wide variety of foreigners who were interested why two very white americans were at the frro, they learned many interesting things... afghani's had their own room due to the large number who came legally (or illegally) to get better medical attention at a cheaper rate than in their home country. that many people from africa came to india to get a better education at english speaking schools. and that some people who overstayed their exit visa struggled to get out of the country, while others fought to get extensions to stay as long as possible.

hours later, india's visa was ready, and the two returned to the inter state bus station. the building had transformed from ominously empty to packed full of shouting travlers. lost among all the hindi signs, bryn scanned the windows on the wall for anything indicating dharamsala. out of the dark crowds walked two sweet faced monks, their maroon robes a light of hope in the chaos. bryn & india followed the tibetans to a corner window and booked two tickets for a government bus to the mountain city of dharamsala.

rishikesh.

rishikesh is another part of india that had a particular special meaning for the female counterpart of bryndia. it is the town where her parents met. the moment that india stepped out of the rickshaw and stood on the steep hill overlooking the rushing ganges, she felt it: the romance. the reason. the meaning behind her parents falling in love with each other, with this place, over thirty years previously. the feeling overwhelmed her.

but sometimes, one has to take some hard hits before they can full appreciate the wonders of the world. sometimes, one must learn a lesson the hardest of hard ways to understand the meaning of this kind of romance, this kind of reason.

five minutes after exiting said rickshaw, india discovered that she had misplaced her wallet. in which was her drivers license, her debit card, her credit card. and her passport.

after the initial panic had worn off, the search party for the rickshaw given up as a lost cause, the worthless police report filed with the unhelpful police, india made a call to the american embassy in delhi who assured her that it would be taken care of quickly and easily, but a visit to that embassy was required. 'but don't rush here,' the man on the line said. 'spend your time in rishikesh, enjoy it, relax. and come here after you're done, and we will help you.' god bless the united states.

bryn & india walked down towards the water as the morning turned to afternoon. the two crossed a modern suspension footbridge packed with indian tourists and painted cows, who all stopped to stare at the family of monkeys dangling from the wires, screeching for attention. in lakshman jhula, the east side of rishikesh, the chants from the ashrams could be heard from blocks away. incense and charras mixed in smoky clouds over their heads. babas, or holy men, all thin as pins, their loose orange robes hanging from their shoulders in giant loops, twirled their fingers around their grey dreadlocks and smiled at bryn & india toothily, bobbing their heads slowly, side to side. the bathing ghats along the river were never empty. men stripped down to their underwear, women remained fully clothed, and they all submerged themselves in the holy river, whooping and laughing, splashing the cold water over their shoulders, onto their faces.

bryn & india walked and walked until they couldn't walk anymore. the paved road that followed the river disappeared into a maze of rocky paths and barren fields. the two followed their feet until they hit a tall iron gate extending from the river bank up into the surounding mountains. the white paint was chipped, with an intimidating sign posted in big red letters: do not trespass. shrugging their shoulders, about to turn around, a tiny but clear voice was heard from behind the gate. would you like to come in? bryn & india turned to find a small, straight backed sadu with a short grey beard and big eyes staring at them through the bars. smiling and twirling the whispy hair surrounding his left ear, the sadu swung the gate open, and bryn & india stepped into the maharishi ashram.

in the 1960s, the notorious meditation guru maharishi built up the largest meditation ashram that had yet to exhist on the ganges. a place where one could enter with an intent to gain complete enlightment through emptiness. to remove yourself from the outside world and focus all your energy on becoming a trancendental meditator. a compound big enough to hold hundreds of people studying, and hundreds more to teach and serve those students. it was, in fact, a city within a city. cafeterias. lecture halls. apartment buildings. private houses. post offices. all connected through a weaving paved path surrounded by colorful flower beds, mosaic sculpture, and wrought iron lamposts. but. in the late 1990s, when the guru lost a lot of face for various public scandals, including some tricky tax evasion, the ashram was siezed by the government, shut down, and left for ten years to become overgrown with ripe indian vegetation.

for bryn & india, stepping into the ashram was like stepping into a scene from the jungle book. a famed city made ancient and mysteriously romantic by the thousands of vines, flowers, and brush that had overtaken the area.

bryn & india's sadu shuffled along beside them, barefoot, finger constantly twirling, spitting off every fact about the ashram, the celebrities who had studied there, and the maharishi himself. the sadu had lived in the ashram since the mid 1970s, and when the government had shut it down, had deemed himself the unofficial and illegal tourguide. he took them throughout the maharishi's private home, showed them the turquoise tiled bathtub where the guru had washed. he took them down into a windowless basement, pitch black and cool, where he struck a match and pointed to a corner and breathed that this was the corner where the guru had done his private meditation. and he walked them to the highest point in the compound, up six flights of decaying stairs, out onto a flat roof decorated with large egg shaped meditation huts, and told them to breath in the energy of the ganges. don't you feel, he said, that you are truly on the lap of nature here? they did.

and just like that, it went from the worst day ever, to the best day ever.

the next morning, bryn & india sat in a crowded german bakery overlooking the ganges, drinking hot coffee, eating toasted bread with thick slices of yaks cheese, when they were asked to share their table by two nice looking jewish boys from toronto. since bryn & india love everything jewish, and most things canadian, they obliged. thus began the start of a fantastic foursome.

randy and avi had been traveling india for a month. the four shared stories of their respective times in israel and their shared appreciation for all kinds of thali. they seperated after their meal with a promise to meet up that afternoon so bryn & india could guide them to the overgrown ashram. throughout the day, the group grew larger, and as the sun began to sink into the river, bryn, india, randy, avi, two brits from london, two girls from new york, and a hippie from north california, all sat in a circle on the highest roof in the hidden ashram and watched the sun set.

the next day, bryn & india decided to explore outside of the city, and the two headed five kilometers up river to find some waterfalls. after walking in heavy heat for an hour, the two were about to give up, when a car with two boys pulled up, gesturing for the two travlers to get in. though they didn't speak a word of english, bryn managed to communicate their want of a waterfall, and the two boys not only delivered them to the start of the hike but (what could be assumed as) spontaneously decided to join them. the four walked up a damp, steep ledge, the path growing more obscure with each climbing foot, until the two boys led bryn & india completely off the path and into the dense forest. just as the pair was starting to get apprehensive, the thick brush gave way to a gigantic jutting cliff where a thin mist of water poured out over a series of dozens of small caves carved into the wall. staring up, gasping, bryn & india dipped their feet in the pool and, again, felt to be on nature's lap.

that night, bryn & india shared oven baked pizza with randy and avi in a treehouse restaurant, little buddha cafe, and strained to stay up for a midnight world cup game.

bright and early the next morning, bryn was up to watch the nba finals at the only coffee shop in rishikesh. and, a few hours later, despite india's aching stomach, bryn followed their plan to do a morning yoga class, and returned in the early afternoon with water, and soup, and stories of hard breathing and big stretches at sai yoga. determined to feel better, india slept off her stomach ache all afternoon, and bryn joined randy for a third visit back to the jungle ashram. that night, feeling better, india joined the group back at little buddha cafe, and shared a chillum and stories of home.

the rest of bryn & india's week in rishikesh passed in an easy routine. the two would awake for morning classes at sai, where they practiced their sun salutations and standing on their head. randy and avi would join them for lunch, and then again the group would seperate, and bryn & india would take the kilometer walk upriver to goa beach, where the two would swim in the cold ganges, read their novels, build sand castles, invent improvised beach games, and share himalayan cream with other beach bathers.

after basking in the good energy of the holy river for a week, bryn & india reluctantly booked their bus tickets to delhi, where they would face the daunting task of replacing india's passport and indian exit visa.

on their last night in rishikesh, the two were invited over to a uniquely bizarre iranian's hotel room to watch a world cup game. the long bearded balding student, who had entertained bryn & india that afternoon at the river by frolicking in playboy printed underwear and relaying stories of his alien encounters, was earnest in his attempts to convince the pair to come visit him in iran, which, he assured, was the safest country in the world. two spaniards, who he had also picked up on the river that afternoon, joined the three in the small hotel room to cheer on their home country in the football match. whenever a silence took over the group, their iranian host would begin to laugh obsessively. cracking up with him, bryn & india made their exit with awkward goodbyes and headed towards their night bus.

waving goodbye to the village in the valley, bryn & india's love for the subcontinent was confirmed.

agra.

arriving in agra, the duo had new standards when searching for a place to stay. 1. A/C to battle the uttar pradesh heat. 2. decent location. 3. private bathroom. 4. price. and 5. (the most important!) television with star sports for the nba finals. the lakers had just lost game two while bryndia was in jaipur & bryn felt he needed to glue his dome to a television halfway around the globe to push them to a win in game three.

after getting comfortable, showering, unpacking, and jotting down thoughts of the journey to agra in their journals in their five-dollar-a-night hotel room that claimed to have star sports, bryn came to the realization that it was all LIES! star sports was unavailable & the A/C wasn't even that good.

the deep hunger after the long journey did not help this problem. bryn was heated. but a beautiful view & a tasty meal can change anyones mood and as the two indulged in some thali, big kingfishers, and washed it down with a rooftop view of the taj mahal, it was all smiles from then on out. they made friends with their server, who seemed to work every and all positions in the hotel, and played crazy eights while the sun fell behind the taj.

the next morning, bryndia awoke at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise shine down on the taj mahal from their small window & prepared urgently to beat the crowds into the holy mausoleum. packing books, journels & snacks, they were surprised when going through security that they were told not to read, write, or loiter inside. you would think that paying foreigner prices, 750 rupees instead of the 20 indian citizens had to pay, would grant you these liberties. apparently, they don't.

the taj mahal was everything it promises to be and, surprisingly, much larger in real life (that's what she said). even as a haze and drizzle of rain passed by, the two could feel the magic that is the taj mahal. after seeing so many pictures in school, on postcards, in movies, the two were skeptic as to how the historic structure would live up to its reputation. the purest glossy white marble, the rare green grass that covered the gardens, & the intricate fountains leading up to the entrance were breath taking.

visitors are required to check their sandals & shoes or place a white shoe cover, the ones that doctors wear, over their nikes before entering tomb. inside the taj, a large room is found where photos are not allowed. this large room holds the remains of emperor shah jahan and his wife. emperor shah jahan built the enormous structure after his wife died while giving birth to their 14th child. yikes!





after circling the tomb and visiting the two mosques on each side, and befriending a small dog who was getting picked on by a bigger wolfpack, and sitting on a park bench and marveling at the awesomeness that is the taj mahal, and posing for, literally, fifty seperate photos with indian tourists, bryndia exited through the east gate, weak in the legs and fulfilled in the heart after a wonderful morning that carried over into the afternoon.

walking down the street on the outer wall, bryn snapped back to reality when spotting a cafe coffee day, india's starbucks, which always house a flatscreen with satellite television. "maybe they'll have the laker game on tomorrow morning," he shouted with glee! india hurried to catch up as he upped the pace to the coffee conglomerate.

the two enjoyed some processed food, iced coffee & jotted down thoughts in their journal inside the cafe, bryn with a smile after finding out that they would open at six am the next morning for him to watch kobe get buck wild on the celtics in game three.

the rest of the afternoon and night was spent exploring agra and all that the city had to offer. on the way back to their lodging bryn & india bought a few kingfishers at a beer market and enjoyed them on the rooftop of their hotel while watching monkeys attack a group of sorority girls who thought it would be funny to feed them. monkeys don't mess around when it comes to food and our server friend had to bring out the gun to scare them away.

the next morning, bryn took a cold shower to wake up every inch of his body for the lakers/celtics game & tried to persuade india to tag along but she wasn't having it. he stumbled past goats, cows, and bicycle rickshaws all waking up to start their day. bryn slapped hands with his homie from the day before and flipped on the game while his iced coffee was being prepared. about two minutes into the game he had food, drink, basketball, and a new friend to share a laker win with. a further two minutes later, he had one more friend, the second employee who popped out of the cafe coffee day bathroom after taking his morning shower using the cafe sink. if the water pressure is good, why not? beats a cold bucket shower.

india met bryn for the second half and, after the victory dance bryn does after most wins, the two wrote some post cards, scanned over the lonely planet and took off for a hotel pool to enjoy the hot afternoon.

at the hotel pool, bryndia met a couple from the states, randy & melanie from texas and cali, who had been traveling india in the opposite direction but were more then happy to spend the rest of the day with another english speaking couple. they gave bryn & india insider tips on the north part of the country and took turns on the rickety water slide before all taking off to find a "well known secret" taj mahal viewing area from the opposite bank of the river. they found where all the tourists were but wanted to get closer then the barbed wire fence & soldiers allowed. following a natural path deeper into the forest, the four found a large group of water buffalo being herded back from grazing by the river. following that path further, they found a hole in the barbed wire fence and a boy pointing and directing them under, holding the barbed wire out of harms way. soon they were in the most surprising, beatiful, picture perfect scene they could imagine, surrounded by empty land, and looking up across a river at the giant taj mahal. the sand crept between their toes as they all looked up in amazement on the opposite shore. the needed pictures were taken and the moment was deposited into the section of your mind were you hold things that you will never forget. and that's when the gaurds began shouting angrily & the group concluded their adventure.



that night, bryn & india ate a dinner of twenty five rupee thali with hot chapati and cooling yogurt and rickshawed to the bus station where they would catch a ride north to the start of the ganges in the holy city of rishikesh.

jaipur.

so i haven't officially made a post from my own account in awhile or ever (too lazy to go back and check). i think every time i've been behind the scenes of the creative genius that is bryndia.blogspot.com or posting on india's blogspot account... so here it goes.

bryndia arrived to jaipur early in the morning around 5:30 or 6am but the early hour didn't stop the natives from flooding the streets of the overpopulated capital of rajasthan. bryn & india were attacked by rickshaw drivers all of whom shouted their price...."do you even know where we're going?". after some (always) much needed haggling, the two got their price down to 50 rupees for a ride to their lonely planet hotel pick which would have been reached easier walking, only 2 minutes away.

after finding their #1 pick was full, the two crossed the street to bargain for the same price at two more upscale spots. finding the first (another lonely planet pick) would not budge on price, they walked five steps next door to find air conditioning and multiple english movie channels for a few hundred rupee less. boom.

(note: you will find new hotels that aren't in the lonely planet guide opening up near or in bryndia's case next too posted hotels for considerably cheaper.)

showers & naps were necessary before attacking the "pink city" & once rested, the two jumped out of the AC and into the desert heat. early on in the walk they were approached by an english speaking indian who seemed to be harmless & nice but took a turn for the worse by asking, boarderline harassing, bryn numerous times if he could touch india's feet ('a custom of good luck!') or kiss her hand, upon which bryn turned to ask india, "you wanna let him?" "hell no," india explained with her eyes. the two walked away quickly, repeating, 'nice to meet you, too.'

bryn & india trekked all the way to the old city & checked out the market & the small back allyways filled with trash & treasures. bryn got cleaned up at a fresh little barbershop which ended with a face massage that was very aggressive and, after, the two even found a goat attempting to drive a rickshaw. after being surrounded by young children, shoved at with handshakes, and greeted with hello literally 100+ times, as this was the only word the youngsters knew, the two headed back to the hotel, fullfilled but drained, by the four hours they had spent cruising the capital.

india and bryn plopped down at the hotel restaurant and ordered anything and everything on the menu, attempting to refuel their tanks. once they regained their consciousness, bryndia realized that a couple of other foreigners were situated at a nearby table in the outdoor dining area. an introductory conversation began & shortly after india, bryn, foo chee chang (singapore), & matijs (holland) had created the jaipur crew. the crew planned to meet up around seven, after a rest, to embark on a walkabout to a lonely planet recommendation for dinner called "little italy".

once downstairs bryndia met a third member of their group yusuf (also from singapore) while the fourth, yan liang lim stayed in his room recovering from a stomach bug that had previously plagued the rest of the group.

after going in circles for a minute or two the group found little italy which was far fancier than lonely planet made it out to be, but very good none the less, & had filtered drinking water, which is always a plus in a third world country. the walk back was much easier and bryn realized to himself that you get harassed much less being in a group of guys then when walking just as a couple.

once back at the hotel the group crammed in bryndia's nicely ac'd room & chilled out watching whatever they could find on hbo or star movies while passing to the left. the night ended with the group agreeing to meet bright and early at 8 am to jump the city before it got to hot out.

the group exited the hotel on a beautiful sunday morning with everyone in attendance, all having recovered from the stomach bug that had plagued them days before. it was early, a much earlier hour then bryndia had grown accustom to waking, but they soon realized that it was necessary when dealing with the rajasthan heat.

the best part of meeting new people is that you pick up tricks, tendencies, and different ways of dealing with situations & people that you encounter on a daily basis in india. the first tip bryndia took away from their new travel buddies was to bargin harder, much harder. once on the street, the six were greeted by the usual rickshaw drivers quoting their prices & before bryn or india had a chance to jump in the bartering circle, Chang shook his head very sternly & stated to the drivers, "give me a better price". when the group of drivers laughed and responded with similarly ludicris price, he shook his head once again, turned around, and motioned for the group to walk away, telling the driver while leaving that the group of six would pay only 30 rupee per rickshaw to reach the old city about 10 minutes away. they laughed at the price as the group slowly walked & only when the group was far enough away for the drivers to take the threat of no business seriously, they conceeded from 150 per rickshaw to 30. (that's from about three us dollars to about 60 cents.)


the rest of the day was much more relaxing, very little haggling by street vendors, & the streets seemed baron compared to the day before when bryndia had traveled through old town. after all it was a sunday & it was very early. the sole life on the streets was a large pack of tiny, tough talking boys pitching cricket in an empty corner lot. bryn, ever the athlete, stepped up to the plate for his first try at the national sport of india. his first swing sent the bat flying out of his sweaty palms, over the heads of his fans, and into the empty street. once reclaimed, the bat held firmly this time, bryn knocked the fast pitch out of the park, and the dozens of boys went wild with screams of support. 'i'll quit while i'm ahead, i think,' bryn said.

the first stop on the groups tour of jaipur's famous architecture was the hawa mahal, the "palace of the breeze", or the beehive, as it was built with a intricate honeycomb design around all the windows, not only for obvious ascetics, but also so the royal women could look out on the main road to view everyday life, or, sometimes, fancy royal processions, as they passed by, thus avoiding having to wear a face cover, which was strictly inforced when women went out in public. the group peaked through these holes trying to imagine what it must feel being a woman of such high social stature and having to resort to peeking out a hole onto daily events.


after the tour and photo shoots, the group was parched and all decided to grab a drink on the way to jaipur city palace and were excited to run into a snake charmer/magician on the walk. the group stopped and gathered around the circle to watch the man & his son as they toyed with the snake, but didn't really do any charming. after not doing much, the man lead the little guy back into a bag, (the snake, not the son), and the show was over. in an attempt to keep his audience, the older man quickly proceeded to do terrible magic tricks, all of which he either gave away or messed up. the gang carried on.

after missing the city palace the first time on foot, the group all hopped onto bicycle-rickshaws and were peddled to the front door. bryn was amazed at how hard these drivers work for a few rupee. anyone who is looking for a good calf routine should just hit india as a rickshaw peddler.

the city palace was overwhelming, so much indian culture stuffed in to one royal area. the mubarak mahal, chandra mahal, the pitam niwas chowk, maharani palace, & bhaggi khana are amongst the many that interested the group.

bryn's favorites: the pitam niwas chowk, which are four small gates facing a tiled courtyard. each gate represents one of the four seasons and are painted with gold leaf, bright blues and yellows, giant images of ganesh and other good luck gods. and the maharani palace, where weapons used by royalty are housed, including a scissor action dagger that after being plunged into an enemy is said to disembowel as it is pulled out. sick. cannons that would rest on camels back. t.i. seriously needs to hit up india for some artillery.

out in the center courtyard, the team saw two giant silver jugs taller than bryn, cited in the guiness book of world records as the largest objects ever made out of pure silver. these jugs were created for a ballin' king who feared the unholy waters of europe during his first visit westward. he had the giant jugs built to be carried overland filled with water from the ganges for his baths.

after hours of circling the palace grounds in the hot sun, bryndia and their four friends, exhausted, exited the giant gate and searched for a rickshaw. as each driver requested more and more money, and bryndia's new friends became more and more insistant on how little they would pay, a scrawny barefooted man pulled up in his horse drawn two wheeled wooden cart and offered them a ride. bumpy as it was, the group enjoyed their farmer's journey back into the center of the city. it quickly became clear the driver had no idea where he was going, and the group abandoned ship, or, cart, and walked the rest of the way back to their hotel, where they sat in the shaded garden and ate fruit salad and milky chai.

their last night in the capital was spent in a circle again, learning about singapour, about oregon, and about holland, their differences and similarities. a cultural fusion, six new friends brought together by the rajasthani desert.

the next morning, breakfast was eaten, newspapers were read, the group parted with hugs and promises of future contact, and bryn & india boarded a hot and sticky bus for agra that was practicially empty. apparently, they were the only people in jaipur interested in going to see the taj mahal.

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.

udaipur.

cited by their fat lonely planet guide as 'the most romantic city in india', bryndia stepped off their bus and into the warm early morning of udaipur, groggy, but ready for the romance. they instructed a rickshaw driver towards the lake front and were taken to a fancy hotel where they padded into a hot empty room and immediately fell asleep for four hours. as convenient as the overnight bus rides can be, comfortable is a thing they are not.

upon awaking, bryndia found that the hotel room they had found was, ahem, incredibly out of their price range. they apologized and made a hasty exit to find a new place to stay. stepping into the street, the two were met by a scrawny indian teen wearing thick glasses. my name is krishna, he said, and i know a cheaper place you can stay. how could they refuse? krishna led them through the winding streets of ganjaur ghat to a bright room with a wrought iron bed, bejeweled mirrors, and an inlet leading to the window, padded with a bright pillow.

bryndia's first afternoon was spent exploring the old city, often referred to as 'the venice of india.' the cobble stoned streets were lined with closet sized shops with men sitting barefoot, spitting red tobacco, coaxing them inside to purchase sparkling jewelry and brass statues. they walked hand in hand, refusing custom made suits, accepting melting chocolates, and headed towards the large lake pichola. stepping through a sand stone archway and onto a rickety wooden bridge, bryn & india found that, of course, there was very little lake to be seen. the monsoon was weeks away, and the dry heat of june had sucked most of the water right up. there was the famous floating lake palace, not so much floating, as standing, in the middle of an expansive muddy dessert, puddles of mucky water dotting the horizon. but the pair was not phased! they followed the example of a group of indian boys, slipped out of their flip flops, and descended down into the basin for a walk.


here is where a monumental indian moment occured: bryn & india saw their first elephant. the gigantic female swung her trunk back and fourth leisurely as her owner (driver? master? human homie?) snored loudly from atop her back. more walking revealed this as the dry lakes primary purpose: an animal grazing ground. herds of buffalo and goats, cows and sheep, were wandering in groups around the lake palace in the center. women in bright saris followed, bent on their haunches, picking and packing dung into cow patties.

that evening, bryndia met up with their new friend krishna, who hooked them up with some bizarre indian herbal massages at his spa. after an hour of being rubbed at by stale smelling but sweet indians, bryndia emerged dripping with oil, feeling relaxed. that night, they ate stuffed tomato curry on a candle lit patio overlooking the lake, the city palace and lake palace spotlighted like two nightclub singers on stage. as their dinner ended, fireworks erupted out of no where, and a lengthy show of exploding colors completed their night.


the next morning, bryndia put on their tourist faces, and walked through the entirety of the city palace, the most elaborately decorated maze of mirrors and courtyards. here, they saw panoramic views of all of udaipur, and learned about the long line of kings, their favorite of which had been in cripple, his extravagant wheel chairs and complicated toilet system on display. hours of walking and the heat had gotten to them, so bryndia crossed the lake to find a hotel with a rooftop swimming pool, where they lounged in the sun, alone, and bryn taught india how to do a handstand under water.




feeling refreshed (and bronzed!), bryn & india chose one of the many rooftop restaurants that advertised 'octopussy' showings over dinner. being in the city where the famed james bond was filmed decades ago, it seemed wrong that neither had ever seen it. they watched the sun set, they ate dinner, and they drank kingfisher beer that was served to them, discreetly, in a tea pot, as the restaurant did not have a liquor license. here, they met an australian couple who shared their appreciation of the 'special tea' and the four compared travel stories and dished out advice. bryndia's walk back to their hotel was spent dodging cows in the dark, the animals wandering everywhere, without care, without any sign of ownership.

the next morning, the two ate muesli and drank cappuccinos and wrote and wrote and wrote in their journals because, even if the frequency of their blogposts doesn't show it, writing is IMPORTANT. they had a lot to process. plus, they wanted to be well rested for their big adventure of the night: their first ever cooking class.

sashi, a tiny, beautiful indian woman with the most endearingly simple english, welcomed them into her two room home to teach them how to cook an indian feast. and what a feast it was. bryndia learned how to make everything from fresh paneer, to hot garlic naan, to complex masala curry, all from scratch, all the while listening to sashi's intensely tragic but inspiring life story. throughout the five hour class, sashi's mother, sister, children, nieces and nephews, were rushing in and out of the kitchen, rinsing the dirty dishes, bringing bottles of fresh water, bundles of fresh vegetables, and feeding sliced tomatoes to their large pet turtles who crawled slowly along the connected balcony. with the entire house smelling intoxicatingly of cinnamon, pepper, and onions, bryn & india sat on the couch with a meal fit for six in front of them. 'now,' said sashi, 'if you can finish all that, your class for free!' bryn made a valiant attempt and the rest was shared with sashi's young nephew. they hung their flour covered aprons up and hugged sashi goodbye. she stuck a bindi on both bryn & india's foreheads and tied a red bracelet with bells around india's wrist. 'a bracelet of friendship,' she said, 'that you must never take off.'

the next morning, bryn and india left udaipur reluctantly, romanticized to the extreme.

ps. are you going to udaipur? you must meet sashi! check out her blogspot and make sure to give her hugs for us. http://shashicookingclasses.blogspot.com/