Abhaneri: Some Surprisingly Astonishing Travel Experiences

Sometimes the greatest travel experiences are ones that come as a surprise.

On Gate 1's 9-Day Golden Triangle of India tour from Delhi to Jaipur to Agra, a stop in the village of Abhaneri--between the latter two cities--was only highlighted in the Day 6 itinerary details.

I think it's safe to assume it didn't much factor into anyone's reasons for taking this tour; certainly not a primary one.

As I am writing this, we are back on the bus heading from Abhaneri to Agra, and if not tonight, by early tomorrow morning I shall see the Taj Mahal.

More than any other specific sightseeing location, the Taj is the foremost reason for my traveling to India.

But as some may recall, in the days before booking my trip, I learned that the Taj Mahal is undergoing cleaning and conservation, and part of it will be covered by scaffolding.

I initially expected more of Taj--including its dome--to be obscured than it appears will be the case, but I truly wondered if I should postpone the trip until pristine pictures of this great wonder could be had.

I decided that aside from complete closure of the Taj, any other worst case scenario didn't justify delaying the trip to who knows when.

Much of my reasoning is that it would be silly to put off two weeks of phenomenal sights and experiences for a couple hours of seeing some metal, even if upon the sublime Taj Mahal.

And while seeing Delhi and highlights of Jaipur were fantastic, the past 3-1/2 hours alone have validated my thinking.

There could be thunderstorms tomorrow and I still won't rue having taken this trip.

And though the Chand Baori step well in Abhaneri is one of the coolest sights I've ever seen, remnants of a nearby temple date back a millennium and our tour group just had a delicious and unique lunch at an eco-resort in Abhaneri, even more phenomenal was seeing the smiles of relatively impoverished village schoolchildren.

The school is actually underwritten by Gate 1, whose founder grew up nearby,  so it's assumed the kids were long indoctrinated to American tourists stopping by and photographing them.

But I really loved interacting with the kids, and I can't help but believe the feeling was mutual.

Using a trick I hit on years back, likely in photographing my niece and nephews, whenever I would take pictures of the kids I would then show them the photo on the screen or my camera or iPhone.

This made them giggle exuberantly and clamor for me to take more pictures. Several kids also asked me--and other group members as well--to write my name in their notebooks.

At one point it felt like I was a Broadway star being being beseeched for autographs at the Stage Door.

Truly heartwarming.

I can't wait to see the Taj Mahal, and take photos I will likely treasure for the rest of my life.

But quite remarkably I doubt they'll wind up my favorites from this trip.

Jaipur: On an Elephant (and a Rickshaw), Atop a Mountain Fort and in the Pink (City)

Those who perceive a vacation as a chance to sleep in (past 6:30am) and relax a bit each day might find themselves chagrined by the trip I'm on, at least as facilitated by Gate 1 Travel.

Don't get me wrong. My typical idea of a great vacay is one in which I visit three museums in a day followed by a concert, ballgame or some form of theater at night.

I don't go on beach vacations or to resorts in part because I don't enjoy laying out or just sitting around.

So I certainly don't mind a whirlwind of activity and I respect Gate 1's efforts to fit in a lot of sightseeing in a limited number of days in order to keep lodging costs low--and the entire tour package surprisingly reasonable.

Our tour leader Sameer has been terrific in coordinating daily agendas, so I am not seriously kvetching, but even though Thursday was essentially dedicated to the bus ride from Delhi to Jaipur, we had a 6:00am wakeup call ahead of a 7:30 departure (sandwiched around complimentary breakfast). 

Our ride was broken up by a potty break at McDonalds--always interesting in terms of global variances; i.e. no beef in India--and lunch at a homey place midway to Jaipur.

After we got to Jaipur and checked in, 40 minutes later we were back on the bus to hit a local bazaar.

I don't mean to be disparaging to people having to make money any way they can, but the vendors swarmed like bumblebees, and though not dangerous,  their aggressiveness was aggravating.

Paolo and I bought merchandise mainly from a shop where an older, calmer gentleman didn't haggle and was never insistent. 

Depending on the exact environs being counted, Jaipur is a city of 3-5 million people.

To Westerners, it still seems rather ramshackle and chaotic--with cows, camels, elephants, monkeys, goats, sheep, dogs--wandering the streets amid cars, trucks, motorcycles, rickshaws, bicycles and tourist coaches.

But compared to Delhi, Jaipur seemed relatively organized, modern and calm.

And Friday was rather stuffed--yes, perhaps overstuffed--with superb and unique travel experiences.

Including, before 8:30am, riding an elephant up to the huge Amber Fort.

From a horde of elephants lined up like taxis at the airport, ours was named Mala. And he (or perhaps she) got us where we needed to go.

With a huge complex of building ornately painted or otherwise lavishly adorned, Amber Fort made for some incredible sightseeing and snapshots.

Later we took a rickshaw ride around the part of Jaipur with structures whose pigmentation gave rise to its Pink City moniker.

Especially as the bike peddler charged with lugging Paolo and me around continuously avoided impending collisions, the Hawa Mahal didn't seem quite as luminous as it had in photos.

The afternoon touring continued at Jantar Mantar--a centuries old collection of huge astronomy/astrology apparatus--and ended with a visit to the City Palace complex, which had some attractive buildings without being all that astonishing.

We did get 2 hours of downtime back at our hotel but then were back on the bus for a group dinner excursion. 

This was at a restaurant within an ornate hotel in a posh part of Jaipur, it was a cool choice, it was fun hanging out with our tour mates and we were treated to a woman dancing while balancing 5 bowls on her head.

But a glass of wine made me even more tired and tour weary than I already was, and I felt it best not to indulge too heavily  in the Indian buffet.

That basically covers the last two days. It could probably use some editing or even more writing but it's nearly 11 and of course I have to be up at 6 AM for the ride to Agra.

A Chaotic Couple of Days in Delhi

Namaste.

I've visited many of the most populated--and consequentially congested and chaotic--cities in the world:

New York, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Rome, Madrid, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Cairo, Jerusalem, St. Petersburg (Russia), Vienna, Budapest, etc.

But never before have I opted for an air conditioned tour bus as my means of sightseeing.

In Delhi, I'm quite glad to have done so.

I've never been to a city where the streets were more immensely clogged with cars--and tons of tuk-tuks (mini electric vehicles)--and the driving, at least to a foreigner, so completely insane.

After arriving at my hotel on Tuesday afternoon--and the cab ride from the airport was quite an adventure, as I'll explain shortly--just trying to take a brief walk to get my bearings was rather daunting.

It was stifling hot with crazy humidity. I couldn't take a step without a street hustler showing up alongside to chat me up. There were dogs lying on sidewalks. The incessant honking of car horns made midtown Manhattan seem like a library. Red lights were apparently mere suggestions and with cars, cabs, tuk-tuks, motorcycles and bicycles all constantly jockeying for position, merely crossing the street--even at a crosswalk--seemed like a game of Frogger I best not play.

Coming after a 15-hour flight on which I didn't sleep nearly enough, a leisurely stroll held considerable theoretical appeal, But it quickly seemed best not to bother with. (I returned to my hotel and had dinner there.)

And this came after a somewhat harrowing, rather exasperating experience on the cab ride from the airport.

I really don't know if the driver was duplicitous, incompetent and/or worse. As recommended, I had prepaid for a taxi at an airport counter and went where I was instructed. But I'm pretty sure the guy who took me was bootleg as he instantly asked me for more money (under the ruse of my only having paid a "parking fee," which is BS).

I told him no, and eventually yelled at him to "just drive the damn car!" He soon stopped to pick up somebody who was said to be his brother.

The brother actually seemed like a better guy than the driver, but between the two of them they couldn't find my hotel--The Park--although I'd given the driver a Google Maps printout. And I'm not sure if I should be impressed or incensed that the driver narrowly missed about a dozen accidents, without a seat belt available for me.

Fortunately, they didn't seem to be taking me to a nefarious lair in the middle of nowhere, but once in the vicinity of the hotel they wouldn't turn where the Maps app locator seemed to suggest they should. 

They took me to a nearby--but steadily further away--shopping area (Connaught Place) under the guise of stopping at a tourist information center for instructions. The brother wanted me to get out of the car with him and I said hell no, not without my suitcases. 

And I then did get out of the car with my suitcases and essentially said, "See ya."

I knew where my hotel should be and was just gonna walk there. I started to do so but then was convinced that a tuk-tuk driver could get me there, which he did.

Though I was dead tired by the time my friend Paolo reached the hotel (he had visited Mumbai first), the time zone difference didn't allow me to fall asleep quickly or much of the night.

So today, Wednesday, I was glad to be reliant on an air conditioned coach with a knowledgeable tour leader named Sameer and nearly 40 tour companions.

Even at 8:30 AM when we started our journey around Delhi, the heat and humidity were rather sauna like.

Though Sameer pointed out several sights, such as the India Gate and Indian Parliament Building, from the bus--not ideal for photography but I can't really complain given the relative comfort amid the heat, a big of brief but heavy rain and the ceaseless mind-boggling traffic crunch--we had five main stops:

- Humayun's Tomb

- Jama Masjid mosque

- Lunch at an Indian restaurant within the Hotel Broadway (adorned with American thester posters)

- Gandhi Smitri - A residence where Mahatma spent the last few months before being shot and killed on the premises

- Gurdwara Bangla Sahib - Sikh temple

All of these rather impressive; I've become too tired to go into detail but you should be able to Wikipedia them. I put a few pix on Facebook.

And though I don't perceive making any lifelong friends, the tour seems filled with nice people. An end-of-day briefing by Sameer included some enjoyable interaction.

Others, including a man from Mexico City, echoed my perception that Delhi seemed more intimidating that other huge cities.

Obviously it's less Western than anywhere I've ever been--literally, excepting Australia--part of the appeal is that it doesn't feel American or European.

Other than the cab driver duo and a few pushy hustlers, I have high regard for people living with dignity in such a chaotic, relatively impoverished place.

If there are sections of Delhi with glass office buildings, stately old museums/theaters or vast tranquil parks, I have not seen them.

So I'm really not sure if a more gentrified, user-friendly Delhi exists (I haven't seen a Starbucks). But without meaning to disparage anyone or suggest that I'm not thrilled to be here, I can't deny the city has seemed more daunting than acutely delectable.

Onto Jaipur in the morning. Another reason I'm glad to have taken a tour.

Mexico City, Day 4: Frida Be You and Me

Today I spent a good deal of money to enjoy the company of a young Mexican woman for several hours.

And she showed me things I wouldn't have seen otherwise.

Sure, if I tried I probably could've gotten to the Frida Kahlo Museum--a.k.a. La Casa Azul, where she was born, grew up, lived many years with Diego Rivera and died--via the subway and walking a good ways in unfamiliar territory.

And I certainly could've taken a cab from the hotel to the museum in Coyoacan, about a half hour south, and most likely found one that would've got me back without incident.

I also could have asked the hotel to arrange for a cabbie to take me to the museum, wait for me, perhaps show me around a few other places and bring me back.

Actually this is what I did, but paid a premium in requesting an English-speaking driver who might tell me about what I was seeing.

The cost still wound up being something I could readily live with, and similar to private driver/custom tour guide experiences I've had in San Francisco and Rio de Janeiro, being able to talk to someone who really knew the city added a great deal to my overall experience.

I didn't ask for nor was expecting a woman, but my driver turned out to be a nice young Mexican City native named Norma, who normally drives small bus tours around the central area for an outfit I believe is called Brisa Tours.

So beyond rote "look over there" conversation, she was able to help me better understand Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Leon Trotsky, the history of Mexico City and Coyoacan, while also showing me a church, park and vibrant public squares that I really enjoyed seeing for the sense I was seeing locals, not tourists.

As I discussed with Norma, my perception is that in the United States, Frida is probably more famous, certainly more iconic and likely more artistically revered than Diego.

Norma, who has never been to the U.S., concurred that that is likely the case, but conveyed that in Mexico, both during the artists' lifetimes and now, Frida is seen for having gotten famous because she was Diego's wife, and that Rivera is considered the far greater painter, but in subject matter and output.

I am fascinated enough by Frida's legacy to be enthralled by seeing her longtime home, including the rooms in which she was born, painted and died. And though there were several paintings by her, nothing was as famous as "The Two Fridas," which I saw at the Museum of Modern Art here.

I like Kahlo's paintings, but not only was Rivera's art much more dominant in terms of what I saw in Mexico City, but even at the Frida Kahlo Museum, in terms of hanging works I think my favorites were examples of Rivero's Cubism period.

It's easy to forget that Diego was hanging out in Montmarte with Picasso, Modigliani, etc. long before he met Frida.

I'm not saying my driver/guide convinced me that Frida Kahlo is overrated--nor even tried to--but I can see in terms of artistic legacies that Diego Rivera probably outranks her.

Further illustration of that was provided at the Palacio de Bellas Artes--Norma and I parted ways there--where two massive Rivera murals hang, including one that he re-created after having it commission and then decommissioned for New York's Rockefeller Center. 

The beautiful building also has multiple murals by Siqueiros, Tamayo and other notables. 

After a nice stroll through Alameda Park and an early dinner at a homey place called El Torreo, I went to the Diego Rivera Mural Museum.

This holds just one of his murals, albeit a huge and great one, and unbeknownst to me before I arrived, I got to hear a highly enjoyable concert by a Latin jazz(ish) band called El Kato Club.

They played right in front of the mural and it was a treat to be able to soak in the art accompanied by great music.

This evening I went to a performance by the Ballet Folklorico in the ornate theater within the Palacio de Bellas Artes.

While probably a bit longer than I needed, this was impressive in every way as a variety of Mexican folk dance and musical styles were deftly demonstrated.

My flight home tomorrow (Monday) is at 2:19pm and I'll probably leave for the airport at 11 at the latest. It'd be perfect if the National Palace re-opened to the public, but word is that they won't until February.

I was considering going to the La Merced market, but think I'll just stick to strolling around the Zocalo, if even that.

It's been a really good 4 days. I've had a lot of fun and enlightenment, with no problems. 

Obviously, there are worthwhile places I didn't get to--besides the National Palace murals--but I saw most of what I really wanted to see and enjoyed everything I did.

And the weather was beautiful; once again, no rain. 

Probably not real soon, but I enjoyed Mexico City enough to want to return and think it's a place many more American travelers should visit.

I'm glad I did.

(See QuickPix.me for several iPhonetographs; will alert about a proper photo gallery when I get one done.)

Mexico City, Day 3: Teotihuacan and the Sounds of the Streets

Know thyself.

It's a pretty good adage for life, and particularly travel.

I know how much I enjoy--and have derived from--journeying to different places, predominantly cities but not just.

And with certain precautions, limitations and sacrifices--or at least trade-offs--I am comfortable and content to travel alone.

I am certainly not the fittest person in the world, and may occasionally need to take respites or find benches where others may not.

But though my legs and feet can grow rather sore, I largely soldier on, and even those who have no trouble taking 10-mile hikes for fun may be challenged to keep up with me on a day like yesterday where I toured 4 museum-type attractions in roughly 6 hours.

If you knew how much walking and climbing was involved in seeing the Diego Rivera murals at the Secretaria de Educacion Publica, the huge Museum of Anthropology, Chapultepec Castle and the Museum of Modern Art, you may more appreciate that I'm not such a wuss when it comes to making the most of my tourist adventures.

But in taking a guided tour today to see the ruins of the ancient city of Teotihuacan--about 30 miles north of Mexico City--unlike several other members of the group, I opted not to climb to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun nor the Pyramid of the Moon.

I make no apologies for this and I don't even regret it. 

First of all, the tour leader didn't climb either. So it wasn't like climbing to the apexes was essential for learning more about the ancient city that existed--if I have it straight--from roughly 100 BC to 750 AD, topping out at a population of 175,000.

Sure I would've taken a few more photos I didn't get a chance to, but particularly in the case of the larger Pyramid of the Sun, I'd have been standing atop the most photograhically impressive structure on the grounds.

So although I've--admittedly in younger years--climbed to the top of the Statue of Liberty, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Leaning Tower of Pisa and Palazzo Vecchio, the effort/risk-to-benefit ratio precluded me from even trying.

I really have doubts I could have made it to the top even if I tried, and getting down would have scared me even more, as these were steep, rocky steps with no railings.

Even on several smaller structures I had to climb, and from the lowest tier of the Pyramid of the Sun, I often opted to butt-slide my way down.

No point risking a heart attack, tumbling down the stairs or even great discomfort--then and later--especially out in the middle of nowhere where there weren't even rest room facilities.

But the tour otherwise--booked through Viator.com and led locally by Amigo Tours, with an archaeologist named Lise--was quite good and I'm glad I went on it.

Even if I didn't hit the highest heights.

Getting back to my hotel about 3:00, I took a nap and then wandered the streets, which was rather wonderful.

I heard drummers, saw dancers, heard a violinist and watched a damn good jazz band, all out in the streets.

Then I went to the famed Cafe de Tacuba, where I had dinner and heard a Mariachi band for part of it.

I'm back in my room now but feel comfortable enough to walk five minutes to the Zinco Jazz Club in just a bit.

But traveling by myself--other than to New York and London, where theater presents built-in evening plans--I often find myself not doing much with my nights.

Without a categorical for either, I really don't drink or dance, so even if you told me I could get to and fro the hottest club in town--here and elsewhere--without any problems, worries, risks or even undue cost, I still wouldn't go.

And intrepid as I like to be, I've decided trying to get to Plaza Garibaldi, with its many mariachi bands, or the much further Floating Gardens of Xochimilco, isn't worth any theoretical discomfort I may feel.

But there are many undoubtedly enjoyable things prudence--fully justifiable or not--would preclude me from doing even in Chicago.

So I've been having a great time in Mexico City the only way I know how.

By knowing myself.

Mexico City, Day 2: An Exhausting Exploration of Extraordinary Art & History

If you read yesterday's recap, you noted my being a good bit miffed that the National Palace--and its Diego Rivera murals--was closed to tourists, although that this was in response to protesters burning down its front door makes it somewhat understandable.

Today almost began with that chagrin doubled, as the guest services desk at my hotel informed me that the Secretaria de Educacion Publica--with a far more extensive treasure trove of Rivera murals--was also inaccessible today.

I whined to the one lady vehemently enough--while assuring I wasn't vexed at her--that she called the National Palace, which verified it remains closed until February.

But her partner took it on herself to call the Secretaria de Educacion Publica and learned that it actually was open, right then. This was quite pleasing, even before I went there, because I knew it wouldn't be open on the  weekend and wasn't sure if getting there Monday morning before my flight would be feasible.

But boy am I glad I got to see it. With Rivera murals wrapping around all doorways on two floors of the courtyard building plus some works on a third, it was one of the most impressive displays of art at a single location by a single artist I've ever seen. Really mind-blowing stuff.

So were all the amazing artifacts at the National Museum of Anthropology.

I'm kinda running on fumes here and so is my phone, so I think I'll cut this short.

Also seen today:

Chapultepec Castle

Museum of Modern Art

Dinner at Puyol, supposedly the best restaurant in Mexico. It was excellent, if not quite as good--but also not quite as expensive--as Chicago's Alinea or Las Vegas' Picasso, to which it might compare.

Off to Teotihuacan bright and early tomorrow.

Mexico City: Day 1 - A Fine Start Despite the Missing Jetbridge Driver and Other Minor Inconveniences

Whenever one travels, you have to almost plan to encounter a few "Oh, darn!" moments while hoping to avoid the "Oh, damn!" and even "Oh, fuck!" variety.

Illness, injury and theft would probably find most feeling a bit damned, and I won't even surmise episodes of the even worse kind.

But things like getting somewhat lost if not desperately so, finding world-famous structures sheathed in scaffolding and discovering a museum you really wanted to visit closed for renovations are the types of things travelers can find really annoying but far from disastrous.

Five non-inflight or at-the-airport hours into my Mexico City trip, I have had one "Oh, darn!" moment and a couple of "Hmm, that's odd" ones, but really enjoyed my initial impressions nonetheless.

My flight out of O'Hare was on time and really smooth, right until we pulled up to the gate and found that there was no jet bridge waiting to allow us to deplane.

This wasn't even an "Oh, darn!" moment just a minor annoyance that turned almost comical as the pilot announced--during what became a 20-minute delay--that he could see workers on the jet bridge but was being told they had to find the guy who could drive it. I guess eventually they did.

I got through passport control with no problem but it took an oddly long time for my suitcase to come 'round the baggage carousel. But again, no real problem as was the gridlocked traffic jam my taxi became ensnarled in.

My hotel, Zocalo Central, seems perfectly situated and rather nice.

But the first thing I wanted to do in Mexico City--see Diego Rivera murals at the National Palace--became "Oh, darn," as I learned that Mexico's principal government building is now closed to the public indefinitely due to some recently rather charged protests on the Zocalo square.

I'll check if anything is different tomorrow or Monday but though I still plan on seeing many Rivera murals--at the Secretaria de Educacion Publica and elsewhere--I would somewhat rue not seeing the glorious ones that adorn the palace.

But that's life, even on vacation.

And it's not like my day was really ruined, as I really enjoyed seeing the Templo Mayor--the excavated ruins of an Aztec temple in the heart of Mexico City--and many striking artifacts in its accompanying museum.

I took a good gander--and tons photographs--within the huge old Metropolitan Cathedral that's on the Zocalo just steps from my hotel.

And after getting to the point of truly starving after having only had a croissant this morning at O'Hare, I found my way to a restaurant I had read about called Azul Historico.

It was really outstanding, and not even that expensive. I had a fish dish I can't exactly describe but it was terrific as was a preceding soup and a following chocolate tamale.

Now I'm back at my hotel, a little sheepish to be in for the night so early but feeling it probably for the best. The hotel staff has assured me this area is very safe and I should have no problem if I want to walk a few blocks to a jazz club.

Maybe tomorrow as the performers listed tonight don't seem worth getting out of bed for. And there doesn't seem much point wandering the streets aimlessly as much as I enjoy it.

So good night and I look forward to checking in again tomorrow. I did put up some pictures you can find at QuickPix.me.