I was sorry to leave the lovely Water Palace Hotel in Udaipur: such a lovely setting and beautiful surroundings, such great service, such lavish attention. But it was time to move on, back to Delhi. Among other things, Udaipur is known as a city that has fostered the arts and because we had the time (and I suspect, as always, that our guide receives a commission on anything bought), we stopped at an art school where there was a demonstration of grinding minerals to make pigment, mixing that with sap and water and then applying the paint with brushes made from the eyelashes of camels. So romantic! The paintings were lovely in that ornate and extra fine way of so much art from this part of the world – my uncle was stationed in then-Persia during the Second World War and brought home many paintings on ivory – some of it on bone or marble so transparent that the light showed through. Although I valued the work, it isn’t my kind of art. I was more interested in the carved marble boxes and bought yet another box for my burgeoning collection.
Security at the airports here is very tight. One has to show a passport just to enter the terminal. Then there are several more security checks along the way to the plane, including a final showing of the passed hand luggage just before entering. The flight was routine and, thankfully, short. I always seem to be squeezed into a middle seat between two much larger travelers where the etiquette of sharing the armrest is uncertain or, more likely, first come, first served.
On the way in from the airport, Anil (who was still with us) got a cell phone call from William, the teacher of cinema from Houston, who was connecting directly to his plane back home. Anil thought he had managed everything for William and that he was safely on his way but William called to say he’d lost a briefcase. Some little time was spent on trying to solve this problem but the briefcase was finally found, there on the ground, where William had dropped it, an object so loaded today with terrorist possibilities that no one had picked it up. Poor William. So frail and delicate. I hope he made it home safely.
I was happy to make it to the hotel where due to a terrible cold, I couldn’t wait to lie down for a while. David and I had arranged to meet Shiba and Bobby Singh, friends of the Rosens, who were taking us for dinner. We sat in the lobby for over an hour, missing their message that they would be late. No matter. There was a wedding reception in the hotel and as we were waiting, we got a great view of the guests entering the lobby for the festivities. The women were dressed (mostly) in beautiful and colorful saris, many of them encrusted with stones, some so heavy that the wearer had to hold it up with both hands in order to walk. Most of the women were very chic, carefully made up and suavely groomed. Although I was tempted, as always, to take photographs, I thought it impolite so will have to only remember in my mind this beautiful parade.
Shiba and Bobby took us to Le Meridian Hotel, owned, as I understood it, by Bobby’s family. Shiba suggested that we have dinner in an Indian-fusion restaurant and not knowing exactly what Indian-fusion meant, how could we demur? I suggested that Shiba order for us and although she tried to tone down the spice, it was still a pretty hot meal. We had an interesting conversation about their family and their lives and learned something about Sikhism, their religion.
As our group scattered for their various flights back home, it was sad saying goodbye. We’ve been a mostly cohesive group, with no standout complainers, no one seeking too much attention, no fights. And we’ve made some new friends, particularly Ron and Chad who live in DC and who I’m sure David and I will see again.
I’m nursing my cold today and will stay around the hotel, relaxing, until we leave at about 8 PM for the airport and our scheduled 11:30 flight to Newark. When I finally get home, I’ll probably write a summary of the trip, which has not been a holiday but rather a rich and challenging experience. Stay tuned.
Security at the airports here is very tight. One has to show a passport just to enter the terminal. Then there are several more security checks along the way to the plane, including a final showing of the passed hand luggage just before entering. The flight was routine and, thankfully, short. I always seem to be squeezed into a middle seat between two much larger travelers where the etiquette of sharing the armrest is uncertain or, more likely, first come, first served.
On the way in from the airport, Anil (who was still with us) got a cell phone call from William, the teacher of cinema from Houston, who was connecting directly to his plane back home. Anil thought he had managed everything for William and that he was safely on his way but William called to say he’d lost a briefcase. Some little time was spent on trying to solve this problem but the briefcase was finally found, there on the ground, where William had dropped it, an object so loaded today with terrorist possibilities that no one had picked it up. Poor William. So frail and delicate. I hope he made it home safely.
I was happy to make it to the hotel where due to a terrible cold, I couldn’t wait to lie down for a while. David and I had arranged to meet Shiba and Bobby Singh, friends of the Rosens, who were taking us for dinner. We sat in the lobby for over an hour, missing their message that they would be late. No matter. There was a wedding reception in the hotel and as we were waiting, we got a great view of the guests entering the lobby for the festivities. The women were dressed (mostly) in beautiful and colorful saris, many of them encrusted with stones, some so heavy that the wearer had to hold it up with both hands in order to walk. Most of the women were very chic, carefully made up and suavely groomed. Although I was tempted, as always, to take photographs, I thought it impolite so will have to only remember in my mind this beautiful parade.
Shiba and Bobby took us to Le Meridian Hotel, owned, as I understood it, by Bobby’s family. Shiba suggested that we have dinner in an Indian-fusion restaurant and not knowing exactly what Indian-fusion meant, how could we demur? I suggested that Shiba order for us and although she tried to tone down the spice, it was still a pretty hot meal. We had an interesting conversation about their family and their lives and learned something about Sikhism, their religion.
As our group scattered for their various flights back home, it was sad saying goodbye. We’ve been a mostly cohesive group, with no standout complainers, no one seeking too much attention, no fights. And we’ve made some new friends, particularly Ron and Chad who live in DC and who I’m sure David and I will see again.
I’m nursing my cold today and will stay around the hotel, relaxing, until we leave at about 8 PM for the airport and our scheduled 11:30 flight to Newark. When I finally get home, I’ll probably write a summary of the trip, which has not been a holiday but rather a rich and challenging experience. Stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment