Turkey - Istanbul

So .. I arrived at Istanbul airport and was initially pretty underwhelmed with my lack of welcome party - not a tout, a taxi or auto rickshaw driver in sight and no one yelling out "MADAM, MADAM, YOU WANT TAXI ... AUTO MADAM??" ... very impolite indeed Turkey! I realised as I was standing in line at the visa que in Istanbul customs, that my visa for Syria, which can only be issued in your place of residency was incorrect (rookie mistake, should have noticed when I first got it months ago), and that it expired 3 months earlier than it should have. Basically I had to decide to either risk sending my passport off to Canberra, have the Syrian embassy fix it and post it back, or I had to head to Syria immediately and then back track back into Turkey. I decided to post it via DHL courier, cost me a lazy $200 .. VERY unimpressed. Im still awaiting its return from Canberra, but I am assured it will return!

Anyway, first impressions of Istanbul - it is a very stereotypical European, cobbled stone pathways, a mix of designer and of local shops, women covered head to toe in Burqa and others in Lee jeans, healed boots and stylish jackets wearing makeup. I instantly missed India. I like the 'big bang' of a country, the stuff that makes you go "fuck thats amazing/ sad/ overwhelming/ interesting/ new/ full on etc" ... I was sitting on a local tram which could have been Yarra, no graffiti and not a peice of litter in sight. The quiet is welcomed, but missed.

I head to a backpacker strip in a place called Sultanahmet, check into a dorm room at the Sultan hostel for 30Lira a night (about $10 a night) ... I realised the belt's gonna have to be tightened since my budget for an entire day including all meals, accomodation, taxi's and entrance into sights was about $8 a day for India! I can only book in for a couple days because several groups were going to be rolling in any day from Australia for Anzac Day and head down to Galipoli. I toss up whether to head to Galipoli myself, its the 21st April and seems wrong not to. But I fucking HATE war and cant understand nor support it in any shape or form. I rang Grandad in the end to see if he would like me to go on his behalf. He instantly says yes, he would love it .. so without hesitation I organise a local bus to Eceabat, the nearest town to Galipoli and then book myself into a one day tour of Galipoli for the Dawn Service (its the only way youre allowed in the region on Anzac Day, with a tour group).

The 2 nights before Anzac Day in Istanbul were fucking disgraceful and worthy of a story of their own ... as tour groups aimed at 18-25 year olds (well outside my age bracket now!!!) roll into town, groups such as The Fanatics (those sports tour groups) and Contiki etc start filling the streets with board shorts, thongs, stubby holders and beer, boys singing sports theme songs and many an aussie flag .. this bizarre and mostly embarrassing form of patriotism was only just tolerable until the sun went down... then the boystrous fun turned into revolting inappropriate intolerable behaviour. 20 year old boys punching on in the streets, boys lying on the cobbled stone paths spewing up, copying and mimiking the call to prayer coming out of the local Mosque, girls vomiting everywhere outside the bars and general embarrassing behaviour .. I'm told they were celebrating Anzac Day .. Im sure the diggers would be reeeal proud. Fucking idiots.

Anyway after a few days of sight seeing, I head down towards Galipoli to pay my respects for Grandad and Gramps at the Dawn Service... and then will head down to see the ruins of Troy or Epheses whilst I eagerly await the return of my passport to the Istanbul hostel in about 2 weeks time.

Pictures - The first 2 shots are of the Spice Bazaar Market place, selling spices and tasty Baclava! Also spotted a really cool blue and green eyed cat! The next 4 shots are taken from inside the 17th Century Blue Mosque, really beautiful, the next one is a shot of the outside of the Blue Mosque and a black and white shot of me from inside too. The next one is of some traditional laterns from the Grand Bizarre Markets. The next one is of the Basilica Cistern, an amazing underground well measuring 140x70 metres, built in 527. Kindda spooky and really cold down there as you'd imagine! The last 2 are of Tulips which were part of the Tulip Festival in Istanbul .. they were EVERYWHERE and just amazing to see ... I'd like to thank Zyrtec and Claratyne for enabling me to be with 10k of them!

India-isms.

So, leaving India was a mixed bag of emotions. I really didnt want to leave this time, and claimed that I didnt want to go to Turkey anymore and wanted to stay. If I think about what I love so much here, what draws me here, I find it really hard to articulate. I think its partly the tragic Social Worker in me, partly how challenged I am by it (the poverty, the generosity, the differene, the shit that does ya head in), but mostly because I think India has all the things that our country (and ones like it) have lost. Their sense of community, family, culture, respect for elderly and their pride in their country are things that we just dont have in the same degree. I feel inspired here, I feel at home... In fact I 'feel' more here in general.

However .. it can be fucking frustrating ...

Some of the things that make people love or hate or love and hate India equally is the irony, the Indian 'way' and the frustration at the way some things are done ....

Setting - Bikaner, a small western style cafe cause Im chasing something homely!

Waiter: Can I take your order please madam?

Brook: You can call me Brook if you like .. (thanks to the British, most people refer to all white people as Madam and Sir .. I hate it).

Waiter: No problems Frook ... what would you like Frook?

Frook: Can I please have the Veg Pizza but with NO CHEESE, NO PANEER, NO EGGS, could you make it like for a Jain? (A sect of Hinduism that is purely vegan and takes no life).

Waiter: Pizza with no cheese madam?

Frook: Yes please, just as it comes but please dont put the cheese on top.

Waiter: But Madam, this is not a pizza.

Frook: Thats ok mate, I dont mind if its not a pizza, is it possible anyway?

Waiter: No not possible as this is not the real pizza experience.

Frook: ummm, Im happy not to have the pizza experience ...

Waiter: No .. not possible to make like this.

Example 2 - Restaurant in Delhi - Sam's Cafe.

Brook: Could you please tell me what is on the Veg Burger?

Waiter: Veg cutlet and salad washed in filtered water on bread.

Brook: Does it have egg or cheese in it?

Waiter: No.

Brook: Are you sure? I am Pure Veg (their version of vegan).

Waiter: well it has a little cheese in the sauce we put on the burger.

Brook: Perfect, Ill have the veg burger without the sauce please.

Waiter: not possible.

Brook: why not?

Waiter: because it will not taste so nice without the sauce, you must have it with the sauce or not at all.

Brook: I dont mind if it takes bad, Ill have it anyway.

Waiter: please order something else madam.

India - the only place in the world where there are seperate ticket lines at train and bus stations for men and women, but all the women are lining up in the men's line and all the men are lining up in the women's line .. and I stand at the back of the line where all the women are, and a man points to the sign "Women's Line Only" and directs me to the back of all the men ... Sorry? I should stand behind the sign for the women's line, where all the men are lining up, and not behind the one where all the women are actualy lining up?? .. I .. dont .. know !.

India - the only place where cows are given right of way.

India - the only place where a traffic conductor was fired to introduce more modern stop signs, traffic lights and give way signs - and then reinstated a week later because everyone complained that they missed him (probably didnt help that all the signs and lights were completely ignored and treated as optional anyway). But they actually missed seeing him every day.

India - where no means yes and yes means no ... and both mean maybe.

India - the place where someone who has made a cave dwelling out of a pile of rubbish will come running up to you and ask "madam, how do you like my India" and when you reply "I love your india", they run off beaming with pride and smiles.

Indida - where subkuch milayga - everything actually is possible, even some Rajisthani shoes at a Juice bar ... everything ofcourse, except pizza without cheese. (Pictures - some shots of Delhi from a roof top restaurant, the night before I left for Turkey, a couple shots of an adorable baby, and a shot of a Jalebi stall in Delhi - took that one for you Nat!, and finally a shot of a very typical sign in India).

Udaipur - The mystical city of Lakes.

So from Mt Abu it was on a bus to Udaipur, the mystical city of Lakes in south western Rajisthan. Mystical and fucking hot. I first checked out a hotel that I went to 6 years ago, which was nostalgic but also far more expensive now. Ended up staying in a smaller cheaper hotel with no lake views (Udaipur is built around an amazing lake, with a couple of Palaces sitting in the middle of it, like islands - see attached photo), but suited my frugal travellers budget. Was there for 2 nights before the frugal traveller in me lost to the 'I CANT STAND THIS FUCKING HEAT AND NEED SOME A/C" in me. So I went around to another hotel which boasted a swimming pool which you could use for the day for 100 rupees ... however when I got there, the hotel desk worker said only guests could use the pool - I begged, bribed and pleeded with him to let me in, but no ... this lack of flexibility even with a baksheesh bribe is very rare so I knew there was no moving this very straight down the line fella ... so I checked in to the hotel! Was a really beautiful mid-range hotel (mid-range here is about $20 a night - totally plush!!), Ive attached a picture of the pool, hard to resist huh?!

The lake here is amazing - last time I was here it was a couple months after the monsoon season (around Nov/Dec) and the 4km by 3km lake was completely full, lapping up the sides of the building and temples built along it. This time, I've come about 2 months before the monsoons are due here, and it is sooo dry, the locals say that in about a months time it will be empty and you can walk across it. One fella told me that some years ago, everyone went to sleep at 10pm and the lake was dry and you could walk across, they woke up in the morning at 7am and the lake was full and flooding into peoples homes. That's monsoon rains for ya.

Definitly got my shop on here! Did all my present shopping and spent a mammoth day in the post office sending them all off. Indian Post is somethin else. Just to give you an idea on what getting and posting gifts is like here, I'll give a brief run down. Shopping - buying things is not as easy as you'd think. Yes its fun, but its also extremely exhausting. After walking down a shopping strip constantly saying "no, no thankyou, no, no thanks, no not shopping today, no sorry, no no no" to everyone wanting to sell you their goods, you then have to decide which of 6 IDENTICAL shops in a row you'll chose to go in to, all with their shop workers standing out the front trying to coax you in .. you're also expected to have a chai with the shop owner whilst you peruse the goods, even if youve had 48 chais that day. You will be shown things that you dont actually want to look at and before you know it youre literally standing in a metre high pile of clothes, bags, shoes, scarves, aladin pants, salwas and saris, all the while saying/begging "Please dont show me any more stuff, pleeeaaase", he or she (normally a he) will reply "just looking madam, looking is free" ... you cant argue with that really ... so the entourage of 10 year old boys this owner has working for him continues to 'just showing' you things. Once you've selected what you want to buy, you then have to negotiate a price. It starts with him saying a REDICULOUS price, normally about 6 times what they would actually be prepared to sell it for. I laugh and pretend to walk out the shop, he says "ok madam, how much" .. I say, 'I've been to India many times, and I know that this cotton scarf is NOT 4000 rs, but its about 250 rs', then he laughs and says "not possible madam" .. I say "ok well I'm prepared to pay 250 for it" .. says "ok, good price, 2000". I collect my things and act outraged, he laughs and he knooows that I knw .... after going back and forward we decide on a price that doesnt break my purse or his "not for you and not for me". So ... off to the post office .. well not quite. First, its off to find a tailor who also does parcel packing. In India, you need to post ur items inside cloth fabric and then have the sides stitched and seeled with wax. Once youve found a tailor who will make parcels, you need to negotiate a price for the packing with him ... you wait sometimes 20 mins, sometimes he'll ask you to return the next day for your parcel. You come back to get ur parcel and hope that your item is still inside this stitched up parcel, and its not now filled with newspaper while his wife is now wearing the scarf you thought was inside headed to your mum! You take ur parcel, negotiate to pay him and head off to find a newsagent that sells Lac - a wax stick that you use to seal the sides of your parcels, you find some and then go about the task of lighting a candle on the side of the road to melt your wax stick and make your seels on the parcel. From there, you find a waterproof black texta to write on your parcels and head to the post office. This 'government office' will generaly open when it suits the staff, and the weather. The day I went in Udaipur, the post officer manager was out to lunch ... for 2 hours. So I waited and I waited, in an office with no a/c on a 45 degree day.... she returns. Your items are weighed, and you think youre just about ready to pay when 3 identical forms are put in front of you to fill in. There is no photo copier, so you have to fill in the exact same form three times with the same information ... no one can explain why you have to fill in 3 fucking exact same forms, they just wiggle their heads and say 'this is the process madam' .. so I do it ... as sweat runs down my face. I finish the forms, 3 forms per parcel and I was sending 6 of them (so 18 bloody forms!), and pay them the postage fee. I think its nearlly over when I see my 3 smallest parcels being put inside A3 yellow envelopes, I ask why did I need to get them all tailor packaged then? The postal worker states "it is a small parcel" .. 'yes' I reply, 'but why did you say I needed it to be material parcel packed and how you are putting it inside a paper envelope??" ... she replies "because it is a small parcel" ... oh my god ... I stop asking questions and resolve myself that this is just the way it is .. suck it up Brook! So .. I leave the post office looking at my parcels sitting on a dusty concrete floor among manual weighing aparatis, other tourists parcels, local mail, a heap of blank forms and the postal worker's lunch .. the 18 papers I had just finished now in a pile about 12 inches high on a desk which looked rarely cleared .. and I wonder, a) will my parcels ever actually get home, and b) did I just fill in those forms because it is 'procedure' but will they sit in that pile and never be looked at again? I strongly think so. This whole process from shopping, buying, packaging, waxing and posting takes daaaays .. literally days.

So ... I really hope my stuff and gifts Ive sent arrive safely! Please let me know if you receive them! As my time in Udaipur extends longer than I'd expected, I start getting ready to leave India. I need to head back to Delhi from here on a bus, and get my flight on the 20th April to Istanbul, Turkey. I give away a heap of clothes I dont want anymore to people who need them, send home my India Lonely Planet and start reading my Turkish one. I love India so much, I am starting to feel sad to leave already.

Could I live here? Would bringing a baby here work? Would I get lonely? Hmmmm!?? The pull is so strong for me here, its hard to ignore.

PICTURES - The first 14 pics are from a cultural show I saw one night near the Lake. It was really beautiful demonstration of different cultural art forms in Rajisthan. Puppetry, traditional dance and this spooky ceremony where this fella gets into this crazed trance like state and puts burning coals in his mouth and drops them onto a copper plate (thats the pic of the man with a white ball coming out his mouth, its a coal that just came from the fire). The first shots are of this woman who I just loved, she started this dance with a single pot on her head, and as the dance continued she had someone stack more and more pots on her head until she ended up with 9 on her head .. all the while she was dancing (bollywood style belly dancing), she was in her early 50's too I might add! She also stood and danced on glass with all the pots still on her head, and was also able to bend down and get onto her knees then onto her stomach then back up again! Was really amazing.

Another part of the show is the pic with the woman in blue sitting down - there was a group of 6 of these women who did a traditional sympbol bell performance - basically if you can imagine those brass symbols that they bang together in like marching bands (like the one you have in a drum kit), and imagine them about 1.5 inches small. They have one half in each of their hands tied onto a string that they have gathered up in their hands. Then they have about 30 little ones the same (so making up the other half of the symbol to what they have already in their hands) sewn onto their clothes, up the shins, their shoulders and their arms, on the soles of their feet and on their backs ... really quickly, the use the half in their hands to tap at the halves all over their body ... so they are flicking the ones in the hand all up their shins, behind them to the backs, on the soles of their feet etc. It is soo amazing to watch and is really beautiful to listen to aswell. Its hard to explain in words, hope this and the picture together gives some indication of what I'm talking about!

Theres a pic of the Monsoon Palace in the middle of the Lake, a pic of the pool in my hotel, and lastly, one of the sunset which you can see the massive fort on the top of the hill to the right, and a wedge-tail eagle flyin around too .. there were heaps of these eagles fying about, was really amazing to watch. Grandma and Gramps would have looooved it!

Ashamed to be Australian …

So something that isn’t reflected in any of my blogs at the moment is that I have been travelling as a Kiwi. I had decided to do this before I left because I was travelling on my own and was a little concerned about the impact of the Indian student bashings in Melbourne. I have tossed up between admitting Im Australian and being able to have a conversation about racial issues in Australia, and talk about the media’s reporting of it etc, and saying that I’m a Kiwi and play it safe and easy. In the first week that I was here, I was in Kolkata and someone asked me where I was from (this happens about a dozen times a day), I said Australia, when they asked where I told them Melbourne. The woman and man replied “oooh Australia is very naughty, they are not liking Indian people anymore” … I tried to explain that a few bad people were making Australia very embarrassing to me and that I really loved India and the people, and that most of Australia was grateful for the students coming to Australia. As I started to explain, I had this horrible moment where I realized that in fact I wasn’t sure that the ‘majority’ of people in Australia WERE happy that Indian students wanted to come to our country to learn. I was reminded of when I was here as a student in 2003. I was treated with so much respect, gratidute, familial kindness and was truly made to feel at home in India and in the community. I don’t remember a time where I asked an Indian student sitting on an Australian tram if they were enjoying Australia, if they needed any help while they were here, if they needed help with their English, if they were missing home and would like to come and eat with me in mine, or to thank them for coming to my country and I hope they feel at home … all of these things were asked of me or offered to me DAILY when I am here in India. So … I travelled again as a Kiwi .. to hide my embarrassment and humiliation and even to avoid confrontation since I was at that point travelling on my own.

Amritsar – We are in a Sikh family-run and owned guest house. Myself and Nadia have both been really sick – one morning one of the sons knocks on our doors to bring up tea because he is worried that we haven’t been eating enough, another morning the Father leads us across to the nearest doctor and explains our symptoms and waits to see we are attended to asap, when I told him he didn’t need to wait, he says “you are a guest in my hotel and in my country, this makes you my family”. On the last day we were there, I was feeling much better but Nadia was still ill. We had to check out of our hotel at 10am and our bus to Bikaner wasn’t until later in the day. The eldest son took Nadia to his room within the hotel for her to lay down and rest until our bus. He offered his room, his bathroom, his shower and made sure no one went near the room so it was as quiet as possible. While Nadia was resting so generously in the family’s private room, myself and Stacey sat and read in the lobby. The Manager (the father), Kuku (a HUGE Sikh man with long silver beard and moustache, he was atleast 6ft and VERY solid like most Sikh men), who we had befriended over the days we’d been there came out to introduce us to his wife. She sits down with us and starts talking, very excited and keen to chat to her guests. She asks where we are from … I cant say New Zealand because Kuku had our passports and knew we were Australian. I say Australia, Melbourne. She says “oooh dear, the people there are liking to punch punch our people” … we find out through her broken English with her son filling in the gaps, that their other son was sent to Australia to study Accounting .. he came home for his school holidays and while he was home in India his flat mate was badly bashed and put in hospital. His mother and father did not allow him to return because they were so scared he would be hurt while in Australia. Kuku explains that he wanted to open a hotel in Australia, or a restaurant but would not put his family at risk and so has decided not to. I feel the tears welling in my eyes .. these amazing people who have looked after us while we are sick, have opened up their private quarters to let a sick friend rest, who have considered us guests in their hotel, in their state, in their country .. have had to bring their son home from Australia because they were afraid for his safety. The embarrassment and shame was overwhelming. What can you say?? Im sorry? Hardly cuts it. That was about the 6th time that I had had a negative reaction to saying I was from Australia .. the figure would have been far higher had I been telling people that I actually was from there. I am drafting a letter to newspapers at home about this … to share both my experience as a student in India and the embarrassment and shame I feel being here now. In one of the poorest places on the planet, the people have more kindness, courtesy, dignity and respect for family, community, education, culture, health and well being than our fucked up country has in its racist little finger. I know New Zealand doesnt have it quite right either, but they are a hell of a lot closer than we are.

So, I've decided ... when I am speaking with someone who I can have a conversation with about Australia and it's people, I will tell them I am Australian. Other than that, I'm travelling as a Kiwi - to atleast hold some level of self respect.

Australia ... you are a great shame to me.

On a lighter note ... I have attached a few pictures from the Matta Temple in Amritsar. It is an absolutely spectacular maze of mirrored images covering walls, ceilings, staircases and alcoves, with brilliant goddesses at every turn .. people come here to pray for children and fertility. Mostly women come to this very busy temple to offer flowers and treats to the goddesses, but men also come to wish for children. It was a really beautiful and special temple .. you could feel the strength of woman in the air and the togetherness was really obvious - knowing everyone was there for the same reason was really something else. Thank god I am woman or I may have no pride left at all!!

Jaiselmer, Jodhpur and Mt Abu ...

After the mega trip post-camel safari, I arrived in Jaiselmer, the golden city. I have actually been here before, 6 years ago now. The place looks much the same, last time however we stayed inside the fort walls (the first six pictures are of the fort or from inside the fort), there are many restaurants, cafes, markets, shopping and hotels inside the fort and its always 'the place to stay'. However when I was looking at where to stay in Jaiselmer in the Lonely Planet, I realised that they were no longer advertising any hotels from within the fort walls because the water usage and drainage is ruining this ancient fort. So, although i reeeeaaally wanted to stay inside the fort, I opted for one just outside the fort walls.

In the 4 days in Jaiselmer, we hired motor bikes and kicked around a bit, had an interesting time trying to hire them since the 2 local bike-hire places were rival enemies and had punched on only a couple days earlier. I told these grown men that I didnt want to get involved in their petty little boy fights but wanted to hire a fucking scooter and not get ripped off and fucked around .... was a little entertaining if nothing else. Did quite a bit of shopping for leather stuff here, went journal crazy!

We met this gorgeous woman called Rama at a little restaurant inside the fort walls. Her husband Jags had dual citizen ship (Australia and India) so spend 6 months in India and 6 months in Australia while is wife is his accountant, restaurant manager, cook, cleaner, business manager, financial advisor and fuckign mother really! She was so gorgeous, truly like everyone's mother. We told Jags off several times for not helping Rama, which he took quite well, and she LOVED! What a gorgeous woman, so generous in talking about gender roles, the role of woman and her position in her marriage in regards caste and her being born into a wealthier family than his ... really learnt a lot from her. Inspirational really.

Jaiselmer is a mystical and beautiful city, you feel like Aladdin or something here .. like a you might ACTUALLY be able to purchase a magic carpet! Got a much needed post-camel safari massage too ... she had bigger guns than me and I tipped her generously for her very vigorous massage! Fern you would have LOVED it.

After a few days of 45 degree heat, we headed off by train across the desert to Jodhpur. Purchased 3 icecreams called "Dollys" from the train station and headed off on the train. The train was fucking full on with dust across the desert, the entire train floor was literally covered in a not-so-fine layer of dust from the desert, including our stuff, our bodies, hair etc. Was not the most comfortable 6 hours I'd ever spent! Lucky I had 3 Dolly's or I would have been wild!

Jodphur was really a stop over before Mt Abu, again I got a bit crook in Jodphur (India is really fucking me over this time!!!) so checked into a nicer hotel with A/C - it was 43 degrees and rising so I didnt feel too oppulant! Jodhpur is called The Blue City for a reason - last two pictures are in Jodphur, one of the city itself and one of me with a security guard inside the Jodhpur Fort, which was really beautiful. He tweeked his moustache and spun the ends in his fingers so the stood out properlly before the shot was taken, he took the whole photo shoot very seriously!

After a couple days in Jodhpur it was off by bus to Mt Abu - mainly because I knew it would be heaps cooler there and I was chasing some relief! Winding up the hill to the top of Mt Abu, the temperature dropped by a few degrees which was greatly appreciated by all! Mt Abu was pretty uneventful, had a love affair with fresh tomato on toast (desperate for a salad or something fresh and uncooked with NO CUMIN, TUMERIC or CURRY), had some VERY STERN words with about 4 blokes about a horse that was injured and left starving to death with a fly-blown sore on his neck and you could see every single bone in his body ... I really hope he is dead now because it was fucking horrible.

In Mt Abu there is a University for this religion called Brahma Kumaris, which I knew to be a religion which basically centred on beleiveing ALL religions were true. This really interested me because I like to beleive that for myself, that Christians do go to heaven or hell, that Buddhists are reincarnated, that Muslims go to heave etc etc and that people get what they beleive in. However, after visiting the Univeristy I realised quickly that they are just like all other religions in my eyes - that they have their own faith which is just as rigid and hypocritical as the rest and at the end of the day, their priciples rely on faith. It was really interesting though to talk about a religion that beleives that through meditation, people are given the answers of life and that we are about to head into the "Golden Age" where pure peopel will be able to procreate without men and woman having sex (havent they heard of lesbian familys???!!) but rather through the power of the mind. Interesting ... but definitly not for me. It threw me back to Jehovah's Witness days ... not ones I remember fondly.

Visited some amazing Jain temples, which unfortunately I couldnt take pictures of, but were absolutely brilliant - temples made from marble and carved as intricate as the most detailed lace you've ever seen. Really amazing.

From Mt Abu it was off to Udaipur by bus. I'm still here in Udaipur now, so will blog about it tomorrow when I arrive back in Delhi and get ready to head off to Turkey on the 20th, in a few days.

Re pictures - the first 6 photos are of the fort in Jaiselmer, named perfectly the Golden City. The next shot is of a classic looking street in India, cows, bikes, motorbikes, vendours and fucking heap of people everywhere! The next shot is of a group of young Rajisthani women in Jaiselmer celebrating Rajisthan's anniversary of becomming a State of their own. Really gorgeous. The next 2 shots are taken in Jodhpur, the Blue City.