It’s a little confusing following our trip because the posts are in reverse order, so if you like, here’s our trip in chronological order with Dale’s tips at the end.

here we go

Last modified on 2010-02-02 05:06:48 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

The last two weeks have been a flurry, nailing down the last few reservations, deciding how to pack for all the different weather we face, making sure all the bills are paid. Now the chickens have moved to their lovely new home, Milton has started his vacation with my sister’s family, and our wonderful house sitter is here to wave us off.

Over the coming weeks, we’ll be posting our adventures. Also we’ll have tips on how to do what goes well and suggestions how to avoid our mishaps.

Oh, and if you haven’t heard, we are going to: China (Beijing), India (Delhi, Agra, Orchha, Khajuraho), Bhutan (Paro, Thimpu, Punhaka, Wangdue), Turkey (Istanbul, Gorëme in Cappadocia), Egypt (Cairo), Kenya (a safari to Lake Nakura, Mount Kenya, Masai Mara), Spain (Barcelona, Cadaques, Figueres), Morocco (Marrakech), Portugal (Lisbon), and Costa Rica (beaches, rain forest, volcano).  If you happen to have any tips for us, we’d love to hear them.

Nothing to do now but leave!

flying to China

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:44:49 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Bright and early one morning, we gathered the bags, put ourselves on BART and got to the airport.

  

Tom loves his business class, so here we are in the lounge.

At the beginning of our twelve-hour flight. United, by the way, is still as mediocre as it’s been for several years. Too bad. Still the flight was comfortable. The idea that these huge metal cans filled with people get airborne amazes me every time though.

After flying into the gorgeous Norman Foster-designed airport in Beijing, our trip officially began. Getting into the city is incredibly easy with the new airport train that matches up with the two main circle lines of the subway. Two transfers later, we left the station and walked the 150m to the place where we’re staying. It’s an old traditional courtyard house in a hutong (more on those later).  Quite pretty.

 

We wandered out into the cold Beijing night in search of food and for  an idea of the neighborhood. Immediately we saw old and new Beijing encapsulated:

Like picking one tomato off of a whole ripening vine, Beijing restaurants are just going to be good, no matter which one you choose. Okay, that’s probably not quite true, but it sure felt like it when we had our first meal. This place specializes in Shanxi food, a northern province whose hearty food suited the winter evening. Apparently English is uncommon here, and that was the case at this restaurant.

Still we muddled through the menu and had a delicious dinner of oily (in a good way) meat soup, Shanxi noodles with a very spicy garlic sauce and a Shanxi pork burger (which reminded me of vinegary barbeque I’ve had in Virginia).

Tucking into bed at around 10pm, we felt our first few hours in Beijing bode well for our visit here.

Beijing: the Forbidden City and roast duck

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:44:03 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

 

Bright and early we made our way to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden Palace. Going from the compact, closed-in environment of the hutong to the wide open space of Tiananmen Square was quite a jolt.

Our entire knowledge of the Forbidden City comes from the movies, most notably in Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor. Guess what? This place looks just like that!

A humongous place, I was dubious when the guidebooks said to allow at least three hours for a good wander around…no way could it be that interesting. Six and a half hours later, exhausted, we still would have happily spent more time if not for the closing bell.

The Forbidden City makes the most sense if you start at the most intimate of spaces, the Emperor’s home. There’s a progression of size whose effect is to inflate a man into the leader of an empire, and the space grows to reflect that.

 

 

Back in the royal residences, there’s a pair of  branch-interlocked cypresses with a lovely story. The last emperor, Puyi and the empress Wanrong had their wedding photograph taken here to show that "we wish to fly in heaven, two birds with one pair of wings, and to grow together on earth, two trees with branches interlaced."

 

My favorite building was the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Spring Seasons, a small cross-shaped building with a dragon playing with a pearl depicted on the inside roof.

I am not any kind of authority on anything, but looking at what was undoubtedly original and old to what had been recently painted and redone, what was new is awfully gaudy.

Here’s some old:

How they get from there to here is an unpleasant mystery:

Leaving the Forbidden City, we moved on to more important things: dinner. Tonight’s selection was Quanjude, a Peking Duck restaurant.

I suppose it doesn’t make any sense to call roast duck Peking here anymore than it does to call fries French in France. Correctness aside, it was a delicious dinner.

We started off with a curious duck liver pâté with garlic toast. The paste was almond-flavored and had a texture quite different from what we’re used to. Very yummy. Next were some greens topped with an unusually meaty mushroom sauce. Tom couldn’t stop eating it.

 

The main event, of course, was the roast duck. with the usual accompaniments of plum sauce, shredded scallion and very thin pancakes. The crisp skin is often served separately, as it was here. If you don’t already know, you make sort of a burrito out of everything with the astringency of the plum sauce and the sharpness of the scallions balancing out the richness of the meat. They have different ducks here so it was a different, very delicious change.

 

Rolling out of the restaurant, we found ourselves on Wangfujing Walking Street with its colorful street stalls selling everything from candied plums on a stick to fried scorpions and beyond. We opted for one of our guilty pleasure travelling abroad, the extinct-in-the-US McDonald’s fried pie. Once again, yum.

Beijing: Drum and Bell Towers, jiaozi, and a show

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:43:17 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

We had meant to take the train out to Badaling to see some of the Great Wall, but the scene at the station was chaotic and the train came and went while we still hadn’t gotten our tickets. Eventually getting to the front of the line, we were trying to make ourselves understood to the ticket agent despite the language issue when her computer monitor broke. All hell broke loose behind us with lots of yelling. It was actually pretty funny. We managed to get out of there with our heads intact and tickets in hand for another day.

Plan B sent us to visit the Drum Tower and the Bell Tower, both ancient, and both used to tell the time.

The Bell Tower:

Said to be audible for miles, this large, large bell marked the time in olden days. There’s a legend: when the Emperor ordered the bell, craftsmen gathered from all over. They tried, but no one had ever cast such a large bell before and it kept cracking. Losing patience, the Emperor set a date certain for either a bell or the beheading of everyone involved. At the last moment, when the master craftsman despaired of success, his daughter drew his attention to gathering colored clouds in the sky. Why he looked away, she threw herself into the molten metal. The bell miraculously set and her spirit is forever its sound.

Getting up there to see it was another matter:

A similar set of stairs faced us across the way at the Drum Tower, another medieval time-telling contraption.

Here, the drums tell the time. We were treated to a brief, loud performance. Each drumhead is composed of a single cowhide. Eek.

Beijing used to be covered with hutongs, neighborhoods of narrow alleyways of compactly spaced short buildings. They were coming down like an endangered species in favor of modern office blocks, but outcry from in and out of China has slowed their destruction. They are very atmospheric and most are functional spaces. A few have been officially preserved, but, attractive as they are, to me those look over-polished and too much like a shopping mall. Today’s hutongs, like where we were staying, are the real thing.

 

Temporarily leaving the hutong, we made our way to Xian Low Man, a reputedly first-class place to have Beijing dumplings, jaozi. These have thicker skins than the dumplings we see at dim sum. Perhaps the reason is because the fillings are larger and very juicy. The restaurant had no one to communicate in our direction and or course, we’re completely  and ashamedly incapable of Chinese. It seemed that things were at a bit of an impasse when someone remembered an old English-language menu at the back of the top of the refrigerator.  We had a fantastically delicious dish of fermented tofu with fresh soybeans:

 

The three kinds of jaozi were filled with vegetables, pork and then lamb. The other dish was an overgrown chive-filled fried pancake.

We ate a surprising amount and had a little left over for a snack back at the hotel.

Finally, we went to an acrobatics show. Delightfully cheesy, it had the usual acts, most would be  familiar to anyone that’s been to Cirque du Soleil.

That last one was a very exciting thing with two guys on a spinning amusement park contraption climbing, running, jumping and even skipping rope as it went around. Still, the best moments came at the end when the whole thing erupted into a frenzy of disco music.

Beijing: Mao, Temple of Heaven, KFC and even better roast duck

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:42:14 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Tiananmen Square. This was the main reason we were reluctant to come to China. Being in the square on our way to Mao’s Mausoleum we had to stop for a moment to remember the awful occurrences that summer of 1989. Looking around at Imperial and Communist China throwing their weighty edifices around the ring of the square, you can get a sense of what it meant for those students to stand up and challenge the powers of the day. Hopefully China will be able to see sometime the lives and freedom that were lost in those summer days.

Visiting the Mausoleum of Chairman Mao is a strange, grotesque experience. We were shepherded in for a ten or twenty-second viewing of the corpse, preserved since 1976. Apparently every night it’s lowered to a refrigerator in the basement, rising every day to meet the sun. The visitors are mostly reverent, not merely curious as we were, and that’s a good thing I guess. The line moves along and before you know it, you’re in, of all things, the Mao Mausoleum Gift Shop.

Moving on, we went through the city gates, Qianmen. Funny story here. the Ming and Qing dynasties were “foreign” rulers, governing the ethnic Han Chinese. From the city gates northward was the Tartar city, inhabited by the rulers. Southwards were the ruled, living in the Chinese city, or…Chinatown.  Who’d have thought? Here’s what we found at the entrance:

It has a familiar look, don’t you think? We went a few feet in, saw the Swatch, Starbucks, Haagen Dazs and H&M and promptly fled in horror.

Rounding the corner, we found another reminder of home, the world’s largest Kentucky Fried Chicken. It sounds like an urban legend, a KFC being on a street where Tiananmen demonstrators were killed, but it really is there, all three floors of it. You know we had to see what it was like…

The verdict? Pretty good. A lot less greasy than what’s usual back home. They even have dun tot, Chinese egg custards which were actually very good.

I should say, this was the first time we saw chubby people and they were eating here at KFC.

Enough of that and we headed over to Tiantan, the Temple of Heaven park.

I had to pull Tom away from his badminton pickup game so we could visit the Temple of Heaven. Here is where emperors came to celebrate the solstices and to perform rites to encourage good harvests. Judging from the different spaces here, it must have been quite a show. The roof of the Temple of Heaven is one of the most recognizable symbols of China over here.

Since our arrival, the temperature has been hovering around the mid-20s, which was fine with us since winter travel is easier than suffering sweltering heat. Today, however, it dipped down into the 10s, which let the cold work its way through all our layers of clothing. Sadly we couldn’t spend as much time here exploring as we’d have liked to. Here’s a lovely sight as we were leaving:

Liqun Roast Duck restaurant, is really hard to find and once you do, you might not think you’d want to eat there. You’d be wrong. On this grey wintry day, the hutong where it’s located looked desolate, war’s aftermath  The only signage visible from the road looks more like graffiti than an invitation to dinner.

The decor hasn’t much changed over the years apparently, but with food this good, there’s really no need to get dolled up.

Thi meal began with  unusual eggrolls, a cucumber salad, and deep-fried peanuts in a sugary-vinegary sauce. A plate of bok choy with mushrooms rounded it out.

Chinese roast duck is air-dried for a day and air is blown into it so the skin dries away from the body.

Then it goes into a brick oven where roasts until done and finally dipped into the flames to give it that mahogany color.

It’s always carved at or near the table with at least a little bit of flourish and served:

Tom says at a really great meal I have a look like I’ve reached Nirvana. This was definitely  one of those nights.

Badaling: The Great Wall, then xiaolongbau

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:41:29 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

I had been hoping for snow and overnight it came dusting things nicely by the time we woke up.

Bundling up, we hit the train station for the trip to Badaling, to see some of the Great Wall.

The train ride was itself great fun. Going through the countryside was certainly a welcome change from the bustle of the city. We even saw flocks of sheep grazing tended by their shepherds and sheep dogs. Very bucolic.

Bits of the wall gradually appeared through the train window. Soon after the train pulled in we founds ourselves actually standing on the wall itself!

The climb up this section of the wall was surprisingly strenuous and for the first time all week, I broke a little sweat. Taking my hat off to cool down, Tom noticed that I was icing up!

(You know how they say the wall is visible from space? It isn’t: like a length of thread isn’t visible from ten feet away, the wall isn’t visible from so far away.)

Back in Beijing, we strolled the Dazhiling Dajie, a street with many of old Peking’s legendary shops.

		<<— a pickle shop
where Mao got his shoes->>

		<<- a famous silk merchant, run by a eunuch
the first cinema in China ->>

Din Tai Fung, where we went for dinner, specializes in Taiwanese dumplings, xiaolongbao. Compared with the Beijing dumplings we had the other day, these are much more delicate with thinner noodles and impossibly bursting with juices when bitten into.

Besides the dumplings, there were hot and sour soup, fried rice with fried pork chops, and sticky rice stuffed with roast duck.

 

The main event here is,of course, all about the dumpling. There were mini dumplings that you eat with chicken noodle soup.

We ordered two more kinds: filled with shrimp & pork, and with Shanghai hairy crab roe, crab meat & pork. Our eyes grew wide with each bite. The crab and pork dumpling was one of the most amazing things we’ve ever eaten. This food was so delicious that finishing these dishes, we ordered more. Tom said this was a second nirvana meal night.

Beijing: Olympic village and farewell to baozi

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:40:48 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Before our flight this evening, we headed over to the site of the 2008 Summer Olympics. Beijing’s infamous smog has appeared, so bad that you had trouble making out buildings two blocks away. We thought we’d just have a quick look and duck back into the subway for other sights, but it turned out there was a snow festival in the Bird’s Nest and we were able to go in.

For our last meal in China, we decided to throw a dart on the street near us and wound up here:

Name of restaurant? No idea. English spoken? Nothing beyond hello. Delicious? Absolutely.

The first page of the menu featured jaozi, Chinese dumplings, so we went for those. The basic dumpling of chives, shredded mushrooms and eggs was done two ways. Steamed as usual and also pan-fried and turned upside down on the plate. We also had a stir fry of cauliflower, pork and hot peppers.

So with full stomachs, we bade farewell to our little hotel (where we were the only guests), loaded up the taxi and left China.

Oh, and one more thing. I’d say that 90% of the time, the Beijing subway looked like this:

This afternoon, at the end of the Olympic line, we had a rare sight, an empty subway train:

Parting thoughts? Beijing works. It’s clean for the most part, I never saw anything that was broken down or out of service and the people we met were unfailingly pleasant and tolerant of our language disability. The history that’s here is fascinating to see up close and in person. The whole week went much better than we thought it would.

And did I mention the food is delicious?

India – arriving

Last modified on 2010-02-09 12:40:26 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Well, this is a jolt to the senses…flying in at 2am and everything is totally, utterly different.

This should be something.

New Delhi: memorials…and then room service

Last modified on 2010-02-09 17:30:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

To be honest, between our middle-of-the-night arrival, the startling different-ness of India plus the fact it was raining last night, we both considered staying in our room and hiding our whole stay.

But that’s not why we’re here, so we picked ourselves up, tried the very good hotel Indian breakfast buffet, Amongst the local food, there was a surprising doughnut.

Heading out the door, our first two stops were a precursor to our visit to the Taj Mahal tomorrow.

 

PURANA KILA

 

Also known as the Old Fort, Purana Qila was built in the early 16th century by Hamuyan, a Mughal emperor. I read that earlier settlements of this first city of Delhi go back to 1000 BC which may make it an actual historical site in the Mahabharata. To be someplace with so much much history amid the bustle of a modern city is pretty cool.

Here’s the first mosque of the trip, Qalaikhuna. Actually it’s the first mosque we’ve ever entered. The interior was truly beautiful.

The principal reason for visiting Purana Qila was to see Humayun’s library, where he tripped on the steps and died. Humayun was of the second Mugahl emperor, whose empire covered the modern-day Pakistan, Afghanistan and northern India. The fort was one of his creations, in the tradition of great Mughal archictecture.

 

HUMAYUN’S TOMB

 

After Humayun’s untimely death, his widow memorialized him with a tomb in 1562. An amazing sight, it was an inspiration 70 years later for Shar Jahan’s Taj Mahal. It’s an impressive final resting place.

 

Some people making one of those catchy Indian music videos were using the tomb as a backdrop:

Nearby was another lovely tomb, Isa Khan’s, a nobleman in Humayun’s court:

 

SAFDARJANG’S TOMB

 

Keeping with the theme of the day, we visited the mid-18th century tomb , another obvious model for the Taj Mahal.

INDIRA GHANDI HOUSE

 

Finally, we visited Indira Ghandi’s house, which is now a museum. Not only her house, but also the living quarters for her son, Rajiv, and, of course, the place where she was assassinated, it showed a mix of her political and personal lives.

It was a very moving visit, although to be perfectly honest, we thought we were on our way to the Mahatma Ghandi memorial. It was good to be reminded of this great woman’s life and career. And the fact she liked to play Scrabble.

ROOM SERVICE

 

Frankly, we were exhausted from the 4am arrival, so back to the hotel it was for our first ‘official’ Indian meal.

Five different kabobs (the fish was delicious), pappadam, raita, garlic naan, and cilantro chutney.

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The thing that we liked most about the day was how friendly and quick to smile everyone was. From couples in the park to passersby on the street, it was obvious that besides an amazing history and great food, India has wonderful people.

 

India – the train, another tomb…and dinner

Last modified on 2010-02-14 17:39:02 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Early in the morning, we boarded the train to go Agra, location of the Taj Mahal. The coach we were supposed to be on was nowhere in sight, so we hopped onto a sleeper car. It turned out to be a good move because the windows open there and we got the chance to have a few nice chats.

Along the way, we got to see sad trackside slums, all kinds of barnyard animals and, eventually, opening countryside.

We got into an emphysema-inducing tuktuk to go to today’s destination: the tomb of Ititmad-ud-Daulah, the “mini-Taj”, built in the early 17th century. To get there, we got into an emphysema-inducing tuktuk, a three-wheel taxi.

Built of marble, with fabulous mosaic and inlay, it’s very pretty.

Much as the picture in the above right might look like painting, it’s not. This kind of painstaking inlay is done with precious stones. And, as a final resting place, it’s pretty good too.

On our return trip, through the thickening smog, we caught a glimpse of tomorrow’s big event:

Wandering down the street from our hotel, we found dinner at another hotel.

On tonight’s plate were naan, rice, pineapple raita, dal, and tandoori chicken. Oh, and a dish that is sure to become a favorite, mutton rogan josh or red lamb, incredibly tender lamb with a thick sauce heavily and variously spiced like most Indian dishes and fragrant of cardamom.

Agra: the big event – the Taj Mahal

Last modified on 2010-02-14 17:43:47 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

We had the idea to see the Taj Mahal in the early morning light, so we got up at 6.30am and walked the 250 yards from our inn to the eastern gate. Except we were turned away! Security is everywhere in India, certainly understandable in the wake of last year’s Mumbai bombings. Even so, it was puzzling to have our inflatable world globe declared contraband. Not a big problem, so on to the Great Gateway.

Finally, we were here, face to face with one of the world’s most famous buildings. I thought it would be bigger:

Just kidding.

It’s every bit as monumental as we thought it’d be, no picture does it justice.

As you probably know, it was built by Shah Jahan in the 22 years after his favorite wife, Mumtaz, died in childbirth in 1623. The sayings about “_____ not being the Taj Mahal”, are kind of silly considering that this place is a tomb.

The marble is inlaid with precious stones and jewels.

The emotion of the building becomes evident looking at two marble caskets, lying side by side, as they say, for all eternity.

In the afternoon, we travelled over to the Red Fort, an impressive citadel. Among other things, we found the seraglio where in legend, Nur Jahan, a queen in Shar Jahan’s father’s reign, was fond of rose petal baths here:

One day, she was noticed and liked the oily residue of the roses and this became attar of roses, the rose perfume.

Agra Fort was also where Shah Jahan spent his final years after being deposed by his son, who wanted the kingdom’s money to build his own edifices. Imprisoned in these rooms for the last 8 years of his life, he could look from this tower across to the Taj Mahal.

Romantic legend says that he died of a broken heart. Modern research says it was probably too much viagra and opium. Hmm.

Rounding out the day, we returned to the Taj Mahal, where we sat on a bench for 90 minutes to watch the marble glow and transform with every moment of the setting sun.

Sitting there then, every romantic legend seemed true.

Orchha, India

Last modified on 2010-02-15 18:09:04 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Another day, another railway station.

Our train rides in India have been unforgettable, but they’ve also been long and uncomfortable and, today, very crowded. The schedule is very informal, like many things in India, a suggestion more than anything else.

We checked into a great place on the banks of the Betwa River which has tents put up for part of the year. Not a camping tent by any means, these are regular rooms, which just happened to be in a tent.

Besides the fun of it, they sit in the shadow of these cenotaphs (monuments) of Bundela emperors. (The spired towers are reminiscent of the Buddhist stupas of Southeast Asia, aren’t they?)

Not much on the usual tourist route except as a stopover on the Agra-Khajuraho route, Orchha is a laid-back and relatively hassle-free. In and out of Mughal domination, the Bundela were the native rulers here.

Going up to the citadel, we clambered around the ruins of Raja Mahal, which looks nothing so much like an M.C. Escher print:

This 17-century palace is certainly well-aged, but in places, under eaves and in some interior spaces, you get some idea of how brilliant they must have looked back in the day.

The views across little Orchha and it’s handful of other monuments is great:

Coming down, we saw a very site very familiar once we left Delhi, cows and tuktuks:

The festival celebrating the marriage of the Hindu gods, Vishnu and Parvati, the parents (sort of) of Ganesh, was starting its 10-day run and we chatted with these guys who were setting up as djs.

While this temple was relatively quiet right now, it would explode with music and fireworks and people later.

Dinner was an unventful tourist buffet of Indian food at the hotel.

Orchha, then Khajuraho – the bazaar & more old buildings

Last modified on 2010-02-13 17:29:00 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

 

You know you’re in a different place when you walk out the front door to see some cows lazing riverside.

It being a Saturday morning, we went to watch people go about their errands. Our first one was a trip to the post office, and it is the post office here. Inside are a bunch of guys smoking like chimneys, an old beat up desk, a motorcycle lounging in the back room, and about a dozen cubbyholes for mail.

A barber shop:

A tailor shop. He invited me in and we chatted about sewing (which I also like to do). He offered to have me help and cut out patterns for fun, but I was afraid of the scissors they were using, which are the size of garden shears.

The bazaar was a fantastic, colorful, full of people … a great show:

There we saw a man beating a drum:

A goat on a roof doing yoga … “downward facing dog”:

Wild makeup we don’t usually see back home:

There were still old buildings to see, so we headed back to the Betwa River to look at the cenotaphs, aka chaatris. They were built to memoralize the Bundela kings during the 15th and 16th centuries. We gave a guard a little tip money and he unlocked a room with a marble portrait of Shiva and Parvati. These places have an Indian Jones-vibe going inside.

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Leaving Orchha, we were driven by car to Khajuraho, a trip whose trip takes more than twice as long as it should because the road is about 20 feet wide and one long pothole from beginning to end.

Jarred and jangled, we checked into the Radisson Jass, certainly the fanciest, nicest Radisson we’d ever seen. The town is in full-tilt festival mode, and a much bigger fair than Orchha’s was going on, complete with rides:

We were a little dismayed to see another hotel buffet with food dumbed-down to tourists with meek stomachs. In what was to be typical nonstop service, the restaurant sensed our dismay and made us fresh dishes, spicy the Indian way. It was absolutely delicious and I got the idea they were glad to have people eating food seasoned the way it should be. It’s not fiery hot the way Thai or Lao food can be, but a lingering heat which highlights the profusion of spices it seems are in every dish.

Khajuraho – “those” temples with a peep show

Last modified on 2010-02-15 18:11:45 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

When Tom mentioned to someone in Delhi we were visiting Khajuraho, with its temples built by Chandela kings, they laughed and called it the “exercise palace” and made a mildly lewd motion with their hips.

The reason is because among everything else that’s impressive about them, there is their depiction of everyday life, accompanied by a selection of recreational positions from the Kama Sutra. But more on that in a moment.

As we set out this morning, the fog was very thick. Although we’re not visiting Varanasi with its steps on the holy Ganges, this scene gave us a taste of the scene we were missing:

Built during the 10th through 12th centuries, Khajuraho’s temples are dedicated to various Hindu gods. I won’t bore you with my guidebook history today, but these are fantastic things to see. Reminding us a great deal of the temples at Angkor Wat in Cambodia, their stupa-like spires are supposed to suggest the peaks of the Himalaya mountains. The architectural and mathematical achievement is stupendous and it’s worth repeating the fact that no mortar was used, just the weight of the blocks and carved joinery.

What’s inside are small-ish devotional rooms for the deity in question. In one case, all that’s being worshipped is Shiva’s lingam, which, truth be told, doesn’t look like any lingam I’ve ever seen. Often there’s an ambulatory wall around the vestibule. Otherwise there’s always a dancing platform and little cubbyholes off to the side for the musicians. (If you’re curious, I shot all of this in natural, ambient light so, yes, it is that dramatic.)

If anything, these temples are famous for the sculpture on the outside, which seems to cover every inch of surface. Like I said, there are plenty of depictions of everyday life, down to one of a sculptor sculpting an elephant.

The sculptures can be ornate and delicate. Also unusual in their subjects: a woman with a thorn in her foot, presenting it to a servant to be plucked…a woman in her bath.

What causes all the titters and giggles however, are the famous sensual subjects, with their very frank depictions of intercourse. Not in any way proscriptive against anything, these can still be induce blushing. So here’s the peep show. To see any image, you’ll have to click on the tiny one first. (Actually that works with any image on the website.)

As if anyone needed reminding, today is Valentine’s Day. For the exchange of gifts, I got Tom an Ayurvedic massage and he gave me a bath of milk and honey, with rose petals. Ain’t love grand?

Khajuraho (India) – the old village

Last modified on 2010-02-15 17:00:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

 

Leaving the sensuous world of the temples, this morning we went to the old village of Khajuraho. Without a beggar, hawker or tout in sight, we were able to stroll about hassle-free.

Definitely not a place tourists go, our new pal Nittan, who is studying history in school so he can become a guide someday, took us. Life here is very basic with its own kind of beauty.

 

 

Indoor plumbing is nonexistent and water comes from wells. Due to a long drought, we saw wells that were nearly empty.

Visiting a school, we were surprised to learn that school uniforms try to level the playing field where the caste system holds sway.  Despite best efforts that began with Gandhi, the untouchable caste exists even now.

Near the center of this little village, Nittan pointed out a neem tree. Useful for many things here like cleaning your hair and teeth, I use it at home as a fantastic garden antifungal and insecticide. It was pretty neat to finally see a tree in person. I think the useful part of the plant is the leaves.

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We left the space pods of the Radisson Jass, where we had the most wonderful hotel service and headed for the airport.

We should have been a little suspicious when a farm tractor rolled up to take the luggage out to the tarmac.

 

The Air India flight itself was, well how to put it? : horrible. The cabin crew were surly and what passed for food was disgusting. The state of the plane was appalling with tray tables that constantly fell and the only ones who didn’t had already been duct-taped closed. Even worse were the exposed electrical wires dangling off many of the seats, including the ones right in front of us. Worst of all was the flight itself: in perfectly clear weather the pilot weaved from side to side down the runway, seemingly take off using first one wheel, then the other. Landing, he just dropped to the ground in a most alarming way.

Thoroughly rattled, we somehow wound up eating at, of all things, an chic little Italian restaurant. Actually my fettucine with a lamb sugo was pretty good.

Delhi – Dilly Haat, Gandhi museum and Jama Masijd

Last modified on 2010-02-16 17:00:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

With one last full day in India, we hit a few final sights.

Dilly Haat, a government-sponsered fair of rotating artisans and crafts people, is a nice peaceful place to shop and a popular destination. We were a little wary of buyng stuff in India only to return home to see it at Cost Plus. Tom bought a small painting from the Rajasthani artist which hopefully won’t be at the mall down the street.

 

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We visited the moving Gandhi Smitri, site of the Gandhi Eternal Museum and, most importantly, where Gandhi spent his last 144 days before being assassinated on January 30, 1948. It provides a comprehensive view of his personal and public life, I’m not ashamed to say it moved me to tears.

Is it well-known  that he played the violin as a young man? It was news to me!

Here’s the bed where he slept:

 

It was from here that he took his final steps, memorialized today ending at the spot where his life ended.

 

Among his very few personal effects were the famous glasses:

 

 

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Jama Masjid mosque, like much of the great Mughal architecture in India, dates from the mid 16th century.

 

One of the continual, if minor, hassles we’ve encountered is this little scam: someone invites you, the snap happy tourist, to take a picture of them, the picturesque native. Picture snapped they then demand “picture money”. A good example was this little twerp who invaded my frame, completely uninvited.

 

Moving on, we climbed the 130 steps of one of the spires for the excellent view of surrounding Old Delhi and beyond. The warmer weather today meant that the fragrance of what is a crowded, dirty, littered city became very pungent.

streets of Old Delhi		bazaar leading up to Jama Masjid

 

Most impressive was the massive square where Jama Masjid, as India’s largest mosque, can accommodate 30,000 worshippers at once!

 

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For our final dinner here before an early depature tomorrow we had: Laal Mass (a Rajasthani spicy lamb dish), Dalk Mahkini (lentils and kidney beans finished with cream and butter), Subz dum biryani (rice and vegetables), garlic naan and a vegetable raita. Delicious and almost the best food we had here in India.

For a lovely end to the evening, we passed by and watched an Indian wedding celebration with the bride and groom done up in full maharajah attire.

Bhutan – Land of the Thunder Dragon

Last modified on 2010-02-17 17:00:00 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

Boarding our early morning flight on Druk Air, Bhutan Royal Airline, with The Lark Ascending playing in the cabin, I had a feeling we were in for something special. While the flight was comfortable, clean and with impeccable service, the scenery stole the show. It was spectacular. I don’t know the last time I was so excited about flying, nor the last time I bothered to take pictures through a plane window. This time was the exception as our flight path took us over Nepal and about half an hour into the flight, the Himalayas hove into view.

Truly, I never thought I’d see this magnificent mountain range. Thoughts of Valhalla crossed my mind as we travelled further north and closer. They really should have broken out the rainbow bridge music from Das Rheingold at this point.

 

As this weren’t enough, our eyes widened even more when the pilot announced that we were passing K2, the 2nd highest mountain in the world.

 

Making our descent, a valley filled with terraces for rice and mustard came into view.

 

And so two passengers disembarked, ready to see what there is to see.

That’s Bhutan’s one and only terminal in its one and only airport and that is in Paro. Druk Air has only a few flights a week servicing a few places in India, plus Kathmandu and Bangkok. Our Airbus A320 was only half full, which meant there would be only a few hundred other tourists in the entire country during our stay. Bhutan, after watching the tourism disaster that is Nepal, decided to limit the number of tourists able to visit to 50,000 a year. In fact, the total is around 18,000. The idea is to have high value, low impact tourism and I think it’s a great one.

To back up: why Bhutan? It wasn’t one of those places we’d always wanted to see, but with choices limited in the Himalayas (China is behaving shamefully in Tibet, and Nepal has reputedly become a backpacker hell), this little known country became a logical choice. Of course, a wonderful exhibition of Bhutanese religious art last year at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco helped inspire us as well. The name of the country in Dzongkha is Druk Yul, or thunder dragon.

In the southern side of the Himalayas, Bhutan is bordered by India, Nepal and China. (I think that’s right.) Elevations range between high and incredibly high. A Buddhist country with a constitutional monarchy, the population numbers around 700,000, a little less than that of the city of San Francisco. The fourth king famously set up a goal of not necessarily increasing gross national product, but rather gross national happiness. And then in 2007-2008, after 30 years of preparation by the third and fourth kings, the country converted peacefully to democracy. If you go a little further, you’ll see that Bhutan was opened up to the outside world less than 20 years ago. No wonder some thing that it’s the real Shangri-la. The current king, the fifth king, is quite young (29), handsome and single.

 

Just about our first view in Bhutan was of the Paro Dzong, or fortress, with the watchtower above now the National Museum dating from 1645. This defense was for what? Tibetan invaders, intent on recovering a valuable Buddhist artifact. That would be a sculpture the size of a grain of rice, found after the cremation of a Buddhist saint. It was brought to Bhutan by Guru Rinpoche, the second Buddha.

The dzong is a grand affair, well fortified with a typical tower surrounded by the four walls of the fortress.

 

We knew this coming in: photography is not allowed in any temple in Bhutan and not in some other important places as well. So apologies in advance for missing  photo images of our visit.

While visiting the temple, we received blessing threads, which you wear around your neck, from these two improbably young monks.

We also visited Pichu temple (7th century) – one of 180 temples built to pin down a demoness living in the ground underneath Tibet and Bhutan. This one covers her left foot.

For resting, we had a room with a lovely view.

And for food we had, among other things, a typical Bhutanese dish: fiery chilis with yak cheese. It was quite delicious:

We were also served a bowl of what looked like dishwater, but turned out to be surprisingly good mushroom soup.

As we retired for the evening, there was a folkloric presentation going on and we heard some Bhutanese music. Here’s one of their instruments:

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Tips

tip: getting from the Beijing airport into town

Last modified on 2010-02-08 01:06:34 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

If you have a ton of luggage or if your hotel isn’t close to a subway stop, move on. Be warned, there are a lot of stairs in some stations.

Leaving customs, you’ll turn right (passing an ATM). Immediately look behind you for the airport train sign. It’s right there at the terminal. There’s a ticket window at the station. Tickets are ¥25 ($3.66).

Don’t be alarmed when he train will go to the other terminal first, The first station is Maizidianxilu, which connects to the #10 line. The second and last stop is Dongzhimen, connecting to the #13 line and, most conveniently, to the #2 line/loop line.

tip: using the Beijing subway

Last modified on 2010-02-09 00:38:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

The subway system in Beijing is fantastic: cheap and it works. It is almost always faster than taking a cab. However, it can be amazingly crowded. Personal space is reduced to a couple of millimeters if that. It is never considered rude to push your way in or out.

Tickets to anywhere on the system cost ¥2 ($0.30). There are touch-screen ticket machines everywhere. Press the English button at the lower left of the screen and the press the line you want to wind up at using the buttons at the top of the screen. A map of that line comes up on the screen and then you choose the stop. Make sure you’ve put in some money (the machines won’t take anything higher than a ¥20) and the press the “confirm” button on-screen. Even though all tickets are ¥2, don’t think you can stock up: they’re coded with your entrance and destination. There are multiple-day tickets available, but we didn’t use them.

If you have any kind of package or backpack, you’ll have to send it through the security scanner every time you enter the station. Take your ticket, and wave it over the turnstile and go on in. Everything is clearly marked. If you transferring lines, don’t head for the exit, but look for your next line. It will be a long walk. When you exit, insert (don’t wave) the ticket into the turnstile.

Trains are frequent. We never had to wait more than a couple of minutes for the next one.

A note about those guidebook maps. If yours doesn’t have at least nine subway lines, it’s out of date and less than useful. Check the internet or get a more recent guidebook.

tip: taking the train to Badaling

Last modified on 2010-02-09 00:22:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Badaling is the developed-for-visitors section of the Great Wall closest to Beijing. I’ve read it’s the most crowded and to be avoided if you can opt for one of the other Great Wall sites, but on the winter day that we went it had a very light crowd.

You could book a tour through your hotel, the most expensive option. Cheaper and probably more fun is to take one of the Chinese bus tours that leave from a couple of different points in town. That was our intention until…

The best way, and one that hasn’t made it into any guidebooks I’ve seen, is the new-ish train between Beijing and Badaling.

To use it you need to go to Beijing North Railway Station (Xizhimen stop on the #2 subway line). The station is to the right of the three huge oval-topped office buildings. Go to the ticket office on the right side of the building as you’re facing it. It will be a noisy madhouse. Forget about showing up at the station a half an hour before the train. You probably won’t make it. And you can’t buy a ticket on the train since you can’t even get into the departure hall unless you already have one.

If, like us, you don’t speak Chinese, it will help immensely if you can take a list of the train numbers and times to show the ticket agent.  The trains leave about two hours apart. The schedule will change so get latest by googling it. It takes about an hour. One way, first class is ¥17 ($2.50). Second class is ¥2 less.

The Badaling train station is 800 meters from the entrance to the Great Wall. You can probably buy your return ticket just before leaving. If you know what time you want to leave, then just buy it on arrival before you leave the station.

tip: bag storage for Mao’s Mausoleum

Last modified on 2010-02-09 00:00:00 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

When you visit Chairman Mao’s Mausoleum you’re not allowed to bring in anything besides yourself and, oddly, a cellphone. Bags need to be checked. It’s not at all obvious, the bag storage place is to the south of the Mausoleum and across the street, that is, the side away from the Forbidden City. I bring this up because there are plenty of “helpful” people who will “assist” you with your stuff unless you know better. Here are some pictures to orient yourself: