Hariyali Dhani Glamping
Thursday 1/3
Today we left Jaisalmer and also the Western front of our Indian adventure and began to head back East and on our way had a special Patti experience, glamping! We were on a great road out to and back from Jaisalmer, smooth, wide, lightly traveled, but dangerous, according to Himraj. Not because of twists, turns or cliffs but because the road surface was near perfect, even by American standards. You can actually go the full speed limit on this road. But speed kills when cars don't own the road but share it with four legged grass munching machines and other less then road careful creatures.
We told Himraj that we did not want to stop at the expensive lunch spots all the time. Today we stopped at something more affordable (I should say that more affordable means $2-$3 per dish rather than $4-$6. One thing they don't ask at these (more affordable and really geared toward the Indian tourists) places is about the level of spice that you want. I think they just assume that you will eat like all the rest. I do have a built in spice meter, my nose. Depending on how quicky it starts and how voluminously it runs, that is how spicey I know the dish is. As it is a lagging indicator it is not of much use in avoidance but it does help me gauge what the ensuing gastrointenstinal distress level will be. Todays lunch gave me a heavy nasal drip almost immediately and my mouth was pretty warm for a while time will tell about the results.
I guess we are still settling in to Himraj style driving. I am pretty sure that where he drives fast (for instance when we pass through the little enclaves that are named by the cooresponding highway mile marker number), I would go slow. Where he drives slow (for instance after already commiting to a pass on a blind corner), I would drive fast. Another thing to note, everywhere it is a dashed center lane which we are used to as an indicator that passing is allowed. Everywhere in India, passing is allowed, almost expected.
It is fun when Patti outdoes herself and this is one of those times. She booked us into a luxury camping experience in the desert outside Jodhpur. Glamping, glamorous camping, is the new rage for city folk. We always teased our glamping friends, but now, in a developing country, we see the appeal. Even though we are in a tent, this is by far the best bathroom we have had on the whole trip, it is also the only bathroom in a building that is not centuries old, and it is not even in a building.
Going glamping in the dead of the Indian winter has its advantages, of the 24 tents, only ours and one other was occupied. For some reason they put the other occupants into the tent right next to us when they had 21 others to choose from. No biggee, maybe they thought that we city folks always need to have someone right next door. They were a nice family from Dehli with whom we chatted with over dinner and breakfast.
The girls had their first experience riding camels and soaked it in like they were on some Arabian adventure. As the wind blew through their hair and the occasional camel spit blowbank gently misted their faces they reveled in the good life of a nomadic existence in the desert.
We took in a cultural music and dance demonstration where traditional drums and wooden clickity clackers (likely not the the technical name, maybe) were accompanied by some variant of the accordian. There was also an elaborately dressed dancer who pulled Patti and the girls up to dance. We have 3 kinds of dancers in our family: 1. Patti who never gets embarrassed and could care less how closely her Indian dancing resembles the lead dancer or the zombie apocolypse. 2. Riley who can be deathly shy out in the middle of the desert with really no one watching and could not even must up the courage to do The Floss. 3. Tara who categorically denies that dancing in front of her parents is even a sport found a way to quickly get out of it by claiming an old football injury.
Our food coach for this trip, Patti, has been helping us make good choices and was gifted a prime example this morning at breakfast. She is blessed in a way so as to be so restricted that it drastically cuts down on her risk of foodbourne illness. Not much can be transmitted on steamed rice which is her compulsory dish of choice ;-). Anyway, the children of the family from Dehli next to us had picked up something along the way and now were not eating much and missed out on the appetizers and dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Patti has been telling us to avoid such things as cut fruit, juice, cheese, non-cooked foods, ect. As Tara was gulping down a spectacular glass of tangerine juice the poor boy was throwing up on his plate. Nothing like a graphic visual to drive a point home.
Images will be in 2019 Glamping...someday. Our current connection takes the i out of internet.
Images: You might have to access the images in a different way depending on the size of your screen. For full size monitors the links should appear on the left, for phones and tablets you will need to select the menu drop-down icon on the upper left corner.
Today we left Jaisalmer and also the Western front of our Indian adventure and began to head back East and on our way had a special Patti experience, glamping! We were on a great road out to and back from Jaisalmer, smooth, wide, lightly traveled, but dangerous, according to Himraj. Not because of twists, turns or cliffs but because the road surface was near perfect, even by American standards. You can actually go the full speed limit on this road. But speed kills when cars don't own the road but share it with four legged grass munching machines and other less then road careful creatures.
We told Himraj that we did not want to stop at the expensive lunch spots all the time. Today we stopped at something more affordable (I should say that more affordable means $2-$3 per dish rather than $4-$6. One thing they don't ask at these (more affordable and really geared toward the Indian tourists) places is about the level of spice that you want. I think they just assume that you will eat like all the rest. I do have a built in spice meter, my nose. Depending on how quicky it starts and how voluminously it runs, that is how spicey I know the dish is. As it is a lagging indicator it is not of much use in avoidance but it does help me gauge what the ensuing gastrointenstinal distress level will be. Todays lunch gave me a heavy nasal drip almost immediately and my mouth was pretty warm for a while time will tell about the results.
I guess we are still settling in to Himraj style driving. I am pretty sure that where he drives fast (for instance when we pass through the little enclaves that are named by the cooresponding highway mile marker number), I would go slow. Where he drives slow (for instance after already commiting to a pass on a blind corner), I would drive fast. Another thing to note, everywhere it is a dashed center lane which we are used to as an indicator that passing is allowed. Everywhere in India, passing is allowed, almost expected.
It is fun when Patti outdoes herself and this is one of those times. She booked us into a luxury camping experience in the desert outside Jodhpur. Glamping, glamorous camping, is the new rage for city folk. We always teased our glamping friends, but now, in a developing country, we see the appeal. Even though we are in a tent, this is by far the best bathroom we have had on the whole trip, it is also the only bathroom in a building that is not centuries old, and it is not even in a building.
Going glamping in the dead of the Indian winter has its advantages, of the 24 tents, only ours and one other was occupied. For some reason they put the other occupants into the tent right next to us when they had 21 others to choose from. No biggee, maybe they thought that we city folks always need to have someone right next door. They were a nice family from Dehli with whom we chatted with over dinner and breakfast.
The girls had their first experience riding camels and soaked it in like they were on some Arabian adventure. As the wind blew through their hair and the occasional camel spit blowbank gently misted their faces they reveled in the good life of a nomadic existence in the desert.
We took in a cultural music and dance demonstration where traditional drums and wooden clickity clackers (likely not the the technical name, maybe) were accompanied by some variant of the accordian. There was also an elaborately dressed dancer who pulled Patti and the girls up to dance. We have 3 kinds of dancers in our family: 1. Patti who never gets embarrassed and could care less how closely her Indian dancing resembles the lead dancer or the zombie apocolypse. 2. Riley who can be deathly shy out in the middle of the desert with really no one watching and could not even must up the courage to do The Floss. 3. Tara who categorically denies that dancing in front of her parents is even a sport found a way to quickly get out of it by claiming an old football injury.
Our food coach for this trip, Patti, has been helping us make good choices and was gifted a prime example this morning at breakfast. She is blessed in a way so as to be so restricted that it drastically cuts down on her risk of foodbourne illness. Not much can be transmitted on steamed rice which is her compulsory dish of choice ;-). Anyway, the children of the family from Dehli next to us had picked up something along the way and now were not eating much and missed out on the appetizers and dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Patti has been telling us to avoid such things as cut fruit, juice, cheese, non-cooked foods, ect. As Tara was gulping down a spectacular glass of tangerine juice the poor boy was throwing up on his plate. Nothing like a graphic visual to drive a point home.
Images will be in 2019 Glamping...someday. Our current connection takes the i out of internet.
Images: You might have to access the images in a different way depending on the size of your screen. For full size monitors the links should appear on the left, for phones and tablets you will need to select the menu drop-down icon on the upper left corner.
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