"Oh, the places you'll go!" --Theodore Guisseul aka Dr. Seuss

Weaving through the traffic near the city palace of Jaipur on the back of a motorcycle, I clung to Harish's right shoulder and thought to myself, "we're going to hit that cow." We did brush up against the front wheel of a rickshaw wallah's (bike with seats on the back to carry people) front tire, but the cow was untouched. When travelling through India, you learn that the cow is truly viewed as the mother and that image resonated in my mind.

Perhaps I should backtrack a bit. Jaipur was to be my first solo travelling experience within India. I was taking the 7:15 express Shatabi train to Jaipur and was to arrive around 1pm. With Clayton's sound advice ringing in my ears (ears that were now much cleaner than I could ever imagine. See, the night before in the park off Connaught place I had decided to test my newfound confidence in Delhi by hanging in the park as the sunlight faded. While sitting and enjoying the hodgepodge collection of families, young children, and sleeping men, I was met by a man who asked me where I was from. I responded, "America" and we chatted for a bit. He then pulled out a tattered book from his pcoket and showed me a message from a fellow American. It said and I paraphrase here, "Come on you wus, let this man do his work. It is truly remarkable and you will not believe what he pulls out of your ears! Go ahead and do it!" Perplexed, I read on as he showed me about 20 other messages like this in English (there were many, many others in an assortment of laguages) and said that his job was to clean out people's ears. I had new confidence, sure, but this was a little much. While we talked, a cohort of his came beside me and started asking similar questions about where I was from, how I liked Delhi etc. During his inquisition, I felt a cotton swab enter my ear. The other guy pulled out some yellow gunk from my ear and proudly showed me. He then explained that his ear cleaning was better than any doctor's and that I should trust his "soft and gentle touch" (Irish guy's words). Before I knew it I had a tool in my ear and was periodically being showed some of the most disgusting brown gunk that I had ever seen coming from inside my quite clean (I thought) head. While he worked his magic, his compatriot took off my shoes and began to shine them. Since they were hiking boots, I protested, but to no avail. Before I knew it, I was being worked over a la the Hilton Spa and just laughing to myself. "Only in India" is an expression that I was rapidly getting familiar with.) I boarded the train. As I sat down by my window seat, prepared to look upon the beauty that would be the Indian countryside, I was promptly informed that I was in the wrong seat. The guy at the Foreign Tourist Office had apparently not gotten me the window seat that he had promised. I moved to my aisle seat and saw that I was seated next to a white, travelling, friendly looking couple a few years older than me. As the train pulled away, I looked out the window to catch my first view of the Indian countryside, and what I was met with was a side alright; it just so happened to be the backside of a man who was doing his morning business on the rail next to us. As I continued to look, I noticed that he was not alone. There were about twenty other guys out there initiating their day in the same way. The guy (Brent it turns out and his wife Elena) turned to me and said, " I've heard that alot of people use the rails as a toilet". Uh, yeah. This pleasant conversation starter was all the fuel we needed to begin a conversation that would last most of the five hour trip to Jaipur. I found out that they'd been traveling around the world for eight months and were on the last four days of their trip. We talked about travel, surfing, and what a steak would taste like at that exact moment, among many other topics. When we arrrived in Jaipur, I aked if I could tag along to see how they handled the onslaught of willing auto rickshaw drivers (whenever you arrive by train, there is an army of drivers willing to take you anywhere in the city for "very cheap". The problem is that when you arrive at the hotel you want, the rates for the rooms have doubled so that the hotels can pay these drivers a comission). After negotiating for a bit and upsetting at least 5 rickshaw drivers, we headed for a neutral street corner near the hotel we wanted to stay at. After checking out a few different options and asking to see the rooms before taking them (an unheard of practice in the US), we settled on a nice hotel with a lawn and patio. It was the most they had paid for a room since their trip started, but they were near the end and it turned out to be well worth the extra cost. Settled nicely in our tourist friendly hotel, I got ready to check out the sights of Jaipur with my trusty Lonely Planet in hand (actually these books are awesome, but it does certainly make you feel like a tourist).

How then, do you ask, did I end up on the back of Harish's motorcycle dodging cows. Well, I'll tell you. (Btw, if you haven't started a blog yourself, I highly recommend it. It's addictive and it makes you feel like you're writing to someone other than your own convoluded journal mind. At least I know my family is reading it.)

I started walking towards where I thought the city palace was, item number one on the Lonely Planet to do list. As I walked I got lost, then loster, then a bit panicked and then befuddled. How had my impeccable sense of direction let me down? I asked someone which way it was and they kindly pointed in the opposite direction from where I was headed. Nice. So, back in the other direction I went and entered into the marketplace outside the City Palace. As I was walking, I noticed a few boys stirring some large cauldrons with some yellow and red dyes, respectively. I asked them if they were making those for the saris and they said, "Yes". I asked for a picture and they readily complied (as all of the people I've met do. They love the digital camera with an instant image of themselves!) One of the guys wrote down his address for me and asked me to send him one. I'm planning on doing it. I then asked him if they made the saris there and he took me to his shop. The owner showed me one, which was beautiful, and then proceeded to pull down just about every piece of clothing in the shop for me to see and feel. I mean there were literally 100 different saris on the bed when he was done. I really liked them, so I picked out a few for a lucky couple of folks back home (to remain anonymous for the time being) and headed back down the street feelin good about the personal nature of the transaction that had jsut taken place.

That was when I almost walked into a giant hole. As I stepped forward, a guy grabbed my arm and said, "Look out for the hole!" Little did I know that this was to begin my friendship with Harish. I thanked him and we started chatting a bit. One of the first questions he asked me after he found out that I was an American was why so many Americans were rude to Indians. He was the third person from Jaipur to ask me that question that day. I told him that I thought it was because the rickshaw drivers and market sellers were so often so in your face, that they probably supposed that everyone had an agenda. (I have found that in my travels, Americans can be some of the worst interactive participants out there. We are all so comfortable in our own worlds that we seem reluctant to break out and talk to people openly and in a friendly manner. Everyone here wants to say hello and alot of times, I feel as though I have an almost celebrity status. Children and men will come up just to say hello and shake my hand. It's quite nice and I'm always eager to comply. Could you imagine doing that to a foreigner in the US? Think about that..) He seemed to see where I was coming from and we talked a bit more. I found out that he had studied at University in Jaipur, learning English and French so that he coudl pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. With my Logan Circle bias in mind, I thought that maybe he was trying to pick me up, but soon realized that this was far from the case. He had a true passion for his work and a spirit that was immediatley apparent. To say we hit it off is an understatement.

He took me across the street to see his factory. (He was a Rajput. Rajupt warriors had once dominated the Rajasthan region, protecting the vast wealth of the Maharajas from various invaders. The pride that he and his family took in this history was evident, though not arrogant) From the rooftop, I could see the marketplace, the minaret and...there was that damn city palace! We continued our talk for about an hour or so, past the time of the closing of the city palace and into the late afternoon. He took time to answer all of my questions about Hinduism and then asked me if I wanted to see the Birla Lakshmi Narayan Temple outstide the city. We were to take his motorcylce. As we walked down to the street, a voice called out to him and he stopped. It was his friend Daniesh. Daniesh as it turns out was a Brahmin, a member of the highest class in Hindu society. (The caste system was outlawed at the time of independence, but it is most definitley still there in practice). Daniesh asked me what I did and I explained. He told me that he had studied all about the chakras, the ancient energy fields of the Hindu mystics. What happened next, I cannot explain in words. I will gadly offer to tell any and all of you of this experience at a later time over a beer, cup of coffee or a liter of bottled water (my new fav), but I cannot do it justice in this format. Suffice to say, it had a powerful impact on how I percieve the world around me and involved bananas, 10 rupees and some monkeys for starters...

I finally did get on the back of Harish's motorcycle and he skillfully weaved me out to the temple. I had a few of those "my God if my Mom knew what I was doing she'd freak out" kind of moments, but it also brought me a great sense of peace. Here I was in India, being given a private tour of Jaipur with a guy with rajput blood in him and I am completely happy. This was NOT in the Lonely Planet. We watched sunset over the temple in alternating converstaion about the different statues and artwork and comfortable silence. He drove me back to the hotel and said he'd see me in the morning (we had decided to get a Rajastani breakfast of Lassi and naan and I also had to see Daniesh again. See above note.) I tried to explain to the Canadians what my day had been like, but it was too hard. After all, that experience had been for me, not them, and there was no way to describe it. I fell asleep happy.

The next day Harish showed me some sights, we had our breakfast, I met with Daniesh, we shopped at some of his friends shops and we continued our conversations. As he dropped me off at the train station that evening, I realized that the end of a chapter in my life was coming to an end. But, what a chapter it had been. Harish has offered to have me come back whenever and stay with his family and also said that if I need anything in India ever, to give him a call. I've had alot of friends in my life, but I doubt any initial experience will ever match that one.

As I said before, India feels like home now. Instead of being one of those Americans who walks by too busy to engage in conversation, I will remember my experience with Harish and stop to talk. The places we'll go indeed...