Posted by Trott

From PalaceFamilySteakHouse.Com correspondent Adam Klein:

Dear All,

I’ve just returned to Bangalore after a few weeks of touring northern India and Nepal. My friend Alan, probably as avid an Indophile as I, joined me on his first visit. And it was great to see the country through his fresh eyes, though I must say, he’s a trooper, and never once fell into discouragement. In fact, he seemed to delight in the mix of palaces and slums, magnificent art and piles of trash, that make this country so hard for first-time visitors to reconcile. He practically clapped with glee as we rounded the corner on a rickshaw in Jaipur only to be confronted with one of its medieval, ornamented pink gates, and at the foot of it, pigs rolling in monsoon-soaked garbage and mud.

Animals are always an experience here; malicious monkeys in Pushkar were slamming temple gates like pissed-off teenagers, and the wild peacocks displayed themselves magnificently in the flat, brown fields of Madhya Pradesh. We visited obscure but lovely places there: the old walled city of Mandu and the peaceful ghats of Maheshwar. We also palace hopped through Rajasthan, staying in accommodations that could take your breath away for the price of a Motel 6. These hand-painted havelis, painted in ways that expressed both whimsy and precision, make one long for a return to an artisan culture – a place where craft is valued and passed down.

In fact, it dawned on me how easy it is as an American to look upon craft-making and see it as a lack of options, the child weavers and painters and sculptors as somehow stuck in time. But then I contrast it to the dull-eyed cashiers of the West, unable to darn a hole, or paint a card, or make a puppet to entertain their children with, and I can’t help but think we’ve lost quite a bit. In Rajasthan, ten-year-old kids can discuss the variety of gemstones and their specific qualities, or variations of pashmina, how it’s dyed and valued. Since life has changed so little from the feudalism of the past – in fact, it seems like more people are sliding closer to slavery these days than ever before – I couldn’t help but wonder if restoring Kingdoms isn’t a good idea. At least these obese rulers, lovers of harems and roasted goat, could figure out the difference between a palace and a mall.

After Rajasthan, we visited the austere Buddhist monasteries strung along the haunted, mountain deserts of Leh. The land reminded me of the stunning images I’ve seen of Afghanistan, and the life of the Ladhakis, just as ragged and cold. But my experience here was frustrating to say the least. A new breed of hippie – one that has morphed with “Just Do It” and Sprite advertising, were buying up North Face mountaineering gear from the few retail outlets on the square. Unwilling to spend a few rupees on a meal, but anxious to dole out what must equal the monthly earning of a typical Ladhaki on a windbreaker or a pair of socks, these rough and tumble, “Free Tibeters” (meaning – they want the services of Tibetans free while they purchase American brands), actually ruined the place for me. Suddenly the mountains were reduced to a hiking range for dirty old boy and girl scouts.

We managed to change tickets and get to Kathmandu a day early. And here is where the original hippies got it right. It’s an utterly exotic valley, with enough architectural intricacy to renew your faith in faith. The temples of Durbar Square were so alive with activity and detail, with the colors of crushed flowers and wet, bright puja powder, it could dazzle one to distraction. And here again, the comfortable press of human devotees and the slow, oblivious grazing of goats and dogs, suggested that faith is really nothing more than the chaotic gathering of communities, all momentarily obliged to find shelter in the same place.

Adam