Revolving Tower of Om

I wrote this last night in the revolving restaurant atop Om Tower: Even after travelling all over the world, I sit atop a revolving Om and my mind revolves in time. I miss home, community, companionship and oddly enough - the wise Sufi wisdom of my persian friend Reza. I think he'll be a good friend to me for a long, long time. He has been. He is the one who reminded me that Rum wrote about the few people that hear the call and the fewer still that heed it. Many have done the spiritual journey before me. Is this a spiritual journey or a cop out? It's up to my attitude to decide. I am growing tired of a life without purpose as I sit here surrounded by Indian families who look at me sitting alone in a nice restaurant with curiosity and pity. So, I'll make this a purposeful journey - an exploration of other cultures infused with my spiritual journey. I'll really delve in to the taste and the culture. So, I ate a Rajasthani Thali that had seven types of local dishes (mostly made of spices and dahl). When I lauged to the waiter that I heard westerns lost weight in India, he balked: no, madam, you must get fatter in India - it shows you have been enjoying the food properly. Sometimes, I just love Indian logic.

I started today with a new mission: to melt into the cultures - less tourists, more locals. Ironically, I started the day with a full-day tour from the rickshaw driver who drove us into Jaipur on Day 1. His name is Chandra, which means Moon in Hindi. When I said this, his green yellow eyes grew huge and a smile sprung across his face. I knew he'd be a great tour guide. Raymundo decided not to come and is heading out of town tomorrow.

So I went out alone - day 1 with a local, even if this is his job. I threw on a blue headscarf to avoid the exhaust and fit right in with the veiled ladies - although still terribly shoddy looking comparatively (except for my fancy orange reflective designer sunglasses, of course). I went to the City Palace which was ornate and lovely. I sat with a painter for five minutes and watched him paint miniature stills of royal life. He painted a portrait of me and gave it to me. When I passed the shops, I was reminded of aggressive Kashmiri shopkeepers vying for my business all the way across the courtyard. I kept walking - this is not the culture I want to immerse myself in. I then paid a local guide to tell me how the neighboring giant observatory functioned back in the 1500s and was firmly reminded that I am not scientifically inclined, even if I am a modern woman - at all.

I asked Chandra to take me to a real Indian thali place - cheap and spicy - and he takes me to Venus. Across the park is a temple for a water god, like Poseidon. He is surrounded by durga, ganesh, vishnu, parvati, ram, sitta, hanuman...the shiva clan..everybody is in the house. I sing little songs to all of them as I wander around the temple and feel very at home.

At Venus, the owner sits across the table from me and when he gets up, the waiter sits down. Men from the kitchen come out and just kinda hover around the table. I decide that I'm just going to be myself and chat away amiably. After the meal, the owner invites me out for the night. I tell him that "being friends" means no touching, okay? He looks taken aback and says "I understand, madam." Was this too far or necessary? Who knows? I just felt the need to let him know a woman could be friendly, but that doesn't mean she's a benefits package. The thali was terrific and I left with a few more friends shaking hands and wishing me well as they commented on my positive energy. Groovy.

We next drove 11 kms from town to sprawling Amber Fort. Along the way, men stared at me from the streets and the women that passed smiled from beneath their gloriously bedecked veils - I smiled back and loved being a woman in this place. As I looked around on the street, I realized that there really weren't too many westerners out on the street. As this was Sunday, all of the shopping stalls were closed, so the shopping tourists were gone. It was just me buzzing along blue eyed and light haired through the pink city in the ever smiling Chandra's rickshaw. This was a prelude to celebrity status...

Chandra dropped me at the bottom of Amber Fort and I started to walk through the beautiful garden. Families were sprawled out en masse b/c Sunday is the most popular time for villagers to come to the Fort and enjoy a picnic all day long. Of course, the ladies were dressed in their finest saris and the golds and oranges and yellows billowed resplendent in the bright green gardens of the palace grounds. One of the lovely ladies approached me in my rag tag skirt, black shirt and blue scarf (and fabulous glasses) and asked if I would take a picture of her family. So I did. Lovely. As I walked up the path, an intrepid youth named Raj tried to sell me pictures that his sister painted. Rather than take no for an answer, he agreed that I would meet him there later. Fine. A group of elderly ladies, thin and poor, but radiant in their bright saris sat in the shade of an ornate entryway. We smiled at eachother and I greeted them with 'Namaste,' to which they invited me to join them. I almost sat down, but saw one of the ladies gesturing that she wanted money for food. I kept walking and declined with a 'Danuvad,' then wondered if the lady was actually using sign language to invite me to eat with them. Next time, go a little slower Kyra. Every fourth man said 'hello' or something synonymous and every second woman exchanged a smile with me. I finally made it to the entrance of the fort and bought a head set.

As I listened to number 1, I noticed a group of small children wildly gesticulating at me from a nearby turret where they were having a picnic with three lovely sarie'd ladies. I smiled and waved and they broke into fits of giggles. When I got to number 2, the kids were alongside me and the mother explained they are an entire family that lives together and would I please take their picture. So I did, we shook hands, exchanged smiles and they all left in fits of giggles. When I was at number 5, one woman and five men approached me and again asked me to take their picture. THEN, everything shifted - they asked if they could take a picture with me. Sure, I said - only to then have each of them take at least two pics each with me with various cameras. I told them it would cost 500 ruppees each and they laughed and kept swapping people to sit next to me. As I walked under the Ganesh gate, number 7, I noticed several Indian tourists pretending to take pictures of eachother or the gate, but actually zooming in on me. This was weird. I checked my skirt to make sure it didn't have a giant hole or something. All well.

As soon as I walked through the Ganesh gate, I was bombarded with Indian tourists at every step, literally, asking to take my picture and asking me to take theirs. Here was a beautiful fort and palace over 500 years old with intricate carving and mirrored moghul ceilings, and the Indian tourists were gawking at me! None of them spoke much English and I only new my happy yoga words, so it was a postive exchange again and again and again. I moved on to the ancient queen and women's quarters - naturally hidden out of public view - and had an entire family of men with one matriarchal lady follow me down the corridors and into a chamber overlooking the lake - just to ask me to take photos. What?!

I decided to ditch all the Indians as well as my idea to assimilate cultures and I took a turn away from the path. One hour later, I'm in awe of the Escher (sp?)esqueness of the place b/c I STILL can't figure out how to get the hell out of the Red Fort maze. I hear music and people's voices and laughter echoing through the corridors, but can't find anyone. I finally find a group of teenagers who tell me to come with them. We all stumble around and find two security guards - both of whom have three different directions for how to get out of the place. They have no idea and join our reality show team from "Lost" as we stumble through endless stairways and pathways. I wondered if Sarah Winchester was a reincarnated lady from these days and places.
Finally, we find our way out and I take a few more photos and pose or a few more before slipping out of the Red Fort. All the Indian tourists I had seen that day shook my hand and smiled as I left the Fort. It was a very welcoming departure.

It got a little too welcoming as I descended as Raj and a bevy of young men were waiting outside. I felt like the pied piper as they all shouted "madam, madam, you buy this..." Just when I thought I was going to go nuts, I saw a group of people carrying a Ganesh statute while walking through the shallow lake below and singing joyously. On the edge of the lake, two giant elephants were on their sides receiving a bath. It was soooo sweet! I automatically smiled and stopped walking. For whatever reason, the boy swarm melted away from me - was this Ganesh's removing of obstacles or did I suddenly seem like a weird hippy westerner to them or did someone more lucrative looking come along? I don't know. It just changed - everything - in an instant and I felt very bonded with India again. Ganesh, you see, is my favorite deity to whom I sang every day before leaving San Francisco. And elephants! My god, I love elephants! They've been my favorite animal forever. I love India!

I rejoin with Chandra and ask why I got so much attention. He explained that there aren't many westerners here and many of the Indian villagers are tourists seeing a westerner for the first time. I am so used to being an "American" that everybody knows and sees, yet here I was: one of the only white people these people had ever seen in the flesh. Reality check! Whoa. We head to the floating water palace called Jal Mahal. I stop to take a stroll, hear singing from the lake and peek my head over the edge. A family is having their own little puja to Ganesh as they drop the deity in the water and watch it sink. They invite me to join them and I sing a Ganesh song with them: "Gung guna pataye namo namah..." They give me a red and yellow tikka on my third eye and I rejoin Chandra.

It starts pouring down rain and Chandra and I go to a bar for cover. This is completely taboo as drinking with a driver is a big no no in the Lonely Planet. I have one drink. He has one. I show him how to play the card game 'shithead' and we play until he finally wins - round 3 - so that he is no longer "the shithead." He's 39 and not married. This gives me a red flag. He tells me I have a nice figure. Uh oh. Then he buys me a rose. Here we go... We leave - it's still light - and he asks what I want to do this evening. I say go home unless he has a better idea for a tour. He says, "we have another drink" to which I earnestly explain that I don't drink much and I don't want an Indian boyfriend. I say we are friends - no touching - no expectations - can he understand? He has the same shocked look which then softens into understanding and agrees. I hope that I have righted the situation.

Tomorrow, Chandra will pick me up for the continued tour that got rained out and timed out by my celebrity pace and lost hour in the Red Fort. We will see whether it is possible to befriend an Indian man as a western woman and actually NOT have to deal with sexual expectations. Perhaps all it takes is simple communication, rather than not saying anything and hoping it will all magically be understood. I believe that's all it will take. I'll continue to be cautious, but as part of the cultural immersion, we'll have to understand eachother. I'd also really like to meet some Indian ladies...THAT would be great!

October is the beginning of tourist season. Until then, I'll continue to be a celebrity westerner to Indian villagers visiting special places, i.e. all the tourist forts, palaces and parks all around Rajastan. I'll do my best to be open and maintain my sense of humor about India and the ever-revolving sense of Om...