There is a sign over one bus stall for Osian, but we had trouble
finding a place to buy tickets. Someone directed us to the Enquiry window,
where we found out that the buses run every hour and the last bus back was
at 8:30 PM. We were directed to window 9 to buy the tickets, but couldn't
find window 9. Finally we found something that looked like a ticket window
stuck in among a bunch of food stalls and away from the other windows. It
had had a number at one time, but that part of the sign was rusted away.
This was indeed the infamous Window 9 and we bought two tickets for Osian
for Rs12.50 each. Yes, a two-hour bus ride costs 40 cents. (Actually it
was more like an hour and a half because we took an express bus.)
As Evelyn says, Of course, when you see the bus you realize why it is
so cheap. It looks like an old army bus. It's good to be able to see the
road, but it's not so good to be able to see it through the floor of the
bus. I could see the road through the floor of the bus. At least we got
to sit down. Some people had to stand, at least for the first part of the
trip. But on a bus like this, you are away from the tourist routes and the
people are decent, friendly, and curious.
The conductor made sure we got off at the right stop, which has been
our experience most places where we are clearly tourists on a local bus:
Hong Kong, Thailand, Malaysia, even Belgium. He even pointed in which
direction to walk to get to the main temple. That might have been
unnecessary, since the main temple was at the top of a very big hill and
visible from quite a distance.
Between the 8th and the 12th Centuries, the Jain Buddhists thrived in
trade. The Hindus tolerated them and their different beliefs because they
could pay for their stay. They built fancy temples for themselves in the
trading community of Osian. Hindus also built their temples here. Where is
left is a poor little town with a lot of temples to bring in tourists. The
centerpiece is a very high temple which is supposedly Jain but seems to have
stonework nearly identical to the temples of Khajurao. Just no *** figures.
Inside were individual shrines clad in aluminum with religious symbols
pounded in, and decorations of mirrors, glass, and brightly colored pieces
of metal. (Oh, Evelyn is allowed back in temples now.) While many of the
temples are now owned by the government as archaeological monuments and have
some signs in English, this main temple was still a private (working)
temple and the only sign in English was one asking foreign tourists to fill
in the guest register. We climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed.
From the top was a great view of the town, including some of the other
temples. Most of the buildings in the town are painted blue, giving it a
very cool look, though it didn't make it feel any cooler. The huge sand
dune at the edge of town also served as a visual clue to the heat.
Unfortunately, you pretty much have to figure out what kind of a temple
you are in on your own. The guidebooks mention the town but not the
individual sites. Evelyn writes, We had hoped to wander around a little,
maybe see some of the other temples .... No such luck--we immediately
acquired our usual entourage of women with babies begging and children
saying, 'Hello. One pen. One rupee.' This was something none of our trip
advisors had warned us about, but then, they're all Indians. This probably
doesn't happen to them. To us, it happens constantly, making a walk down
the street or a rest in a park a strenuous task. We find ourselves sitting
in our room or outside on the hotel lawn instead of in a park or even
walking around because it takes too much energy to get rid of the hangers-
on, and you can't completely ignore them, because there is always the
possibility that they will try to grab your bag or pick your pocket. Maybe
that sounds paranoid, but having been through the pickpocket experience once
has made us cautious. (See our Peru logs for an elaboration/explanation of
this.)
Anyway, a local boy latched on to us and led us around; then he was
joined by two more but he could only point out where the temples were. At
one of them there was a caretaker (priest?) who showed us around and
explained a little bit about the differences between Jainism and Buddhism
and in particular how to tell the difference between a statue of Buddha and
a statue of a Jain thankar. Soon our young guide was joined by two more.
By the time the tour was over we were surrounded by a bunch, and while
waiting for the bus back, the number swelled. At one point Mark counted
thirty-five but even more showed up after that. Most were in one of two
school uniforms. A woman also waiting for the bus said something to them in
Hindi at one point and they did back up a bit, putting about a foot of
distance between us and them. Whether we would have wanted to stay longer
in town is unclear, but it was impossible to enjoy it with this entourage
(and one kid kept hitting Evelyn with his plastic-ball-on-a-string toy).
Eventually a teacher came out and said something angrily in Hindi and a
bunch scattered. Finally the bus came about 1:30 PM, and we thankfully
escaped on it, having covered the sights of Osian (as well as serving as
one) in an hour and a half.
Evelyn says, On the bus out, I had the oddest feeling of it being nice
to get away from the group. Then I realized--there was no group. Or
rather, we *were* the group. There was an organized tour group at Osian
when we arrived. They were Germans, of course. See our Mexico logs for an
elaboration/explanation of this.
You don't have to move far in India to see that while the country does
not have money for much, it does support an active and healthy army. We
passed a military train for carrying armored tanks and there were about ten
tanks on it. On the way back we saw a procession of about fifty soldiers on
camelback.
When we got back to Jodhpur, the bus didn't pull into the station, so
we overshot a bit before we realized we had to get off. Unlike Hong Kong,
though, there was no interesting market to walk through on the way back,
just a boring railway overpass.
India is a marked contrast to Singapore. In Singapore there are very
heavy fines for littering. Here, everyone throws banana peels, pan
packages, etc., onto the street. (Pan is the herb/spice mixture that you
get after an Indian meal to freshen your breath. It's sold here like
chewing gum, but it seems as though all the mixtures here have tobacco. At
least they all have warnings about it.)
We took an auto-rickshaw to book a tour for the next day. We also
asked about what time a theater we saw was playing a movie. Almost all the
theaters have four shows at hours divisible by three.
We were back at the hotel about 3:30 PM and Mark offered to take Evelyn
to dinner and a show. At 4:30 PM we went to the railway station for dinner.
Maybe that sounds weird, but the Lonely Planet guide recommended it as a
good place to get a meal. Service was slow, but we'd left ourselves plenty
of time. We each got a veggie thali and sweet lassi. The thali came with
three vegetable dishes in sauce, raita, rice, bread (three chapatis), and
salad. (The latter we had been warned to skip--not for here in specific,
but in general.) Very filling, and with tip the bill came to under US$1.
Actually it was closer to ninety cents--Rs28.
We took an auto-rickshaw to the Darpan Theater (or maybe the movie was
DARPAN; Evelyn wasn't sure). We got there about forty minutes before the
film. We walked around, then waited by the theater attracting a crowd.
People started arriving for the film, but not one woman. We were wondering
if we'd picked wrong. When no women showed up, we gave up. It looked like
it could be a violent drama, but probably no sex. We hailed an auto-
rickshaw and asked if there was a theater nearby that women went to. A
passerby got involved since we were having a hard time making ourselves
understood. He suggested a cinema nearby. The Girdhar Mandir is not as
fancy as the Raj Mandir and it has ineffective fans rather than air
conditioning, but it was a theater and it had a film. (It is also a little
cheaper, at Rs13.50 for the best seats.)
Now, when we got the cassette for KHAL-NAAIKAA we also got a cassette
with a particularly garish jacket. The film was AAJA MERI JAAN, or A KILLER
CALLS. The poster shows a hand holding an ugly serrated knife, and a bloody
female corpse. Well, we didn't know what we were getting as our film that
women went to, but that is what it turned out to be. Since it is unlikely
that most readers of this log are likely to see the film, we will say that
Until the last twenty minutes of its two-hour-and-forty-minute length, it
appears to be about a psychotic serial killer. Then it takes some
unexpected turns in the direction of a James Bond film with two small armies
shooting at each other, boat chases, and explosions. It was a bit more
difficult for non-Hindi speakers. The songs were not well integrated into
the story, but were mostly just nightclub acts grafted on to the film.
Evelyn says, It was sort of like a 'Beach Party' film, set at a resort in
Goa, and the songs were all production numbers staged by the entertainers
there. The hero is a singer there who also apparently works with the police
on special assignments. In addition to be just grafted on, the songs were
not as good as those in KHAL-NAAIKAA. (Don't you just love this sort of
intellectual criticism of a film by someone who can't even understand the
language it's in?) One of the songs was a sensuous snake dance. Mark
asked Evelyn if she's ever heard the chorus before. She could not identify
it, but when Mark pointed out that it was almost note for note Scarborough
Fair, she recognized it as very nearly a direct steal. The theater was
*not* air-conditioned and it got very hot, particularly since all the
tickets were sold with reserved seating in one little zone of people. At
the intermission we got Pepsis and wet down kerchiefs to keep us cool. It
was an enjoyable night, but not as good as the Raj Mandir.
Back at the room we wrote and watched the last half-hour of The
Crystal Maze. Then we wrote more and listened to the cassette of music
from the film.
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Evelyn writes, I would just like to say that this
is without a doubt the hardest 'vacation' we have ever had. Southeast Asia
was not as oppressive (and we had more people to divide the work up). Egypt
and Africa was on a group tour--it had its problems, but was also less work.
And we're staying in the nicer hotels and getting a reasonable rest at
night. I would *not* want to do this with budget hotels with string cots
and no hot water. But then again, most of the people doing that are a lot
younger than us.
She continues, One reason this was as unexpected as it was is that we
got most of our advice from Indians. But they aren't chased after by every
beggar, child, rickshaw driver, and shop owner who sees them. About the
only advantage we have is that we can use the foreign tourist railway
booking window--if there is one. This all sounds terribly negative, so I
must reiterate that I'm glad I came: India is unlike anywhere else we've
been. But I can't think of any of our (non-Indian) friends who would enjoy
it.
We got up early as usual and packed our luggage. Mark took a shower
and found that both the hot and cold water taps gave room-temperature water.
You stay in India long enough and you see just about everything. We
had a disagreement with the desk clerk over the bill. We claimed we'd
stayed two nights; he said we'd stayed only one. |
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