December 17 - 20, 1998

We took an afternoon train from Delhi to Jaipur, and booked a room at the Sweet Dreams Hotel. It was a pretty nice place featuring hot water and, more importantly, cable TV.

Several major events affecting our country were headlining CNN the night we arrived. The Clinton impeachment had been coming to a head the week we were in Delhi, and a few days before heading for Jaipur, our country had begun dropping bombs on Sadam. It was a strange feeling to be so far away from home and yet be so on top of up-to-the-minute news. But what really struck us as odd, as we watched CNN, was realizing that most people in India were not even aware of and/or did not even care about what was happening. Presumably, they were too busy trying to feed their families. We spent a long time that night watching both of these historic events take place via live coverage (the impeachment proceedings on one half of the split screen and the bombings on the other), and wondered what might be the end result of it all. "Was impeachment fair?" "Would it mean big changes for the world, or would everything just go on - business as usual?" "What did Clinton's impeachment mean to us as Americans, and, more importantly, Americans abroad?" and, "Why was the bombing happening at the same time?"

Unlike the impeachment, the bombing had many Indians disgruntled. They would ask us, "Why is your country bombing Iraq?" Unfortunately, we had no answers for them. In fact, we started to feel very unsure about telling Indians we were from America. And so, we started telling most of the many Indians we met daily that we were from Winnipeg, Canada. To complement this lie, Jeff pinned a Canadian flag to his bag. And, of course, thanks to Herzl Camp, Mike and Jeff knew the Canadian national anthem. In case you’re wondering, the capital of Canada is Ottawa, not Toronto. What we still don't know is who the Prime Minister and/or President is? If someone can fill us in, it would be much appreciated. Telling people we are from Canada has more than one advantage. Not only does it protect us from angry Muslim backlash, but it also prevents incredibly tiresome questions such as: "How is India different than the U.S.?" "What do you think about Lewinsky?" and, "Why are you bombing Iraq when you sanction us for 'testing' bombs?"

Although much time in Jaipur was spent watching the happenings, the majority of each day was spent touring the city, which is known as the ‘pink city.’ The reason is that in the old part of the city, where our hotel was located, all of the buildings are made from stucco and plaster that has been painted a rosy shade of pink. Any new buildings built in this part of town must be painted pink, or the owner could go to jail.

The first day, we visited the Palace of the Winds, a large pink palace, which housed one of the former maharajah’s five wives (that must have been a headache), followed by another palace that was completely submerged in the middle of a lake. After taking in the two palaces, we went to a factory where we saw sheets, wall hangings and blankets being made completely by hand - from the dying of the cotton, to the weaving of the fabric, to the printing of the cloth with vegetable dyes, to the embroidering. After a tour of the factory, according to the traditional laws of tourism, we were coerced into the showroom where we sat and drank tea and were shown the hundreds of styles, quality and designs. Although commenting as we walked in, "We're not buying anything!!" we wound up spending several hundred dollars between the three of us, and shipping a large package home.

After the textile plant, we left for what we thought would be a jewelry factory. Upon arrival we discovered we had not been taken to a factory, but to a store. We were quickly ushered into the owner's office where we were offered an unusual business proposition. The owner assured us his plan was perfectly legal. All we had to do was take $45,000 (US dollars) worth of jewelry to the post office in India, send it to ourselves back in the States, and then turn it over to his "associates" who would, in turn, give us $20,000 in cash (all in 10 dollar bills if we wanted). He only required a copy of our passports and credit cards! We thanked him, told him we would sleep on it, and never went back to see our new "friend."

The next morning our Bijaj (auto-rickshaw) chauffeur, Muhammad, picked us up at Sweet Dreams and drove us out to the impressive Amber Fort. This fort was constructed in 1592, and it is situated on a hill side overlooking a lake, which reflects its massive ramparts. The hike up to the main gate was a rather harrowing experience, as we were kept busy avoiding the elephants bearing tourists and wild, angry monkeys, which were not afraid to snatch potential food items from our hands. The Amber Fort was especially interesting, because it was large, open and completely unlocked. We got lost in a maze of corridors for about three hours.

On our way back to town, Muhammad taught us each how to operate a rickshaw - not so difficult until you throw in the Indian traffic factor. We were driving down a crowded street (or rather, thankfully, Muhammad was now driving) when we happened to pass Marc "The Frenchman" Lauriac. On Josh's insane adventure to meet us in Delhi, he had been part of an international crusade, including a Norwegian, two fellow Canadians, an Englishman, the Frenchman, and, of course, himself "the Josher." When Josh finally split from the group to head for Delhi, he told the Frenchman, who was also heading to Rajastan, that they should try to meet up in Jaipur. As we passed by on the crowded streets we decided it was a sign that we would be traveling together.

That evening, we went to see the current big hit Indian movie "Kuch Kuch Huta Hai", or loosely translated: "Something Something Happens in Your Heart." We don't think we've seen a better musical movie in 20 years. The reason we can't be sure is that the film was in Hindi, barring a few phrases like, "cool!", "best friends, yah?!" "Raoul is a cheater!" and oddly enough "I love you." Even though it was 3.5 hours long we all enjoyed it thoroughly.

It is hard to explain the experience of going to a movie theatre in India. First of all, the Raj Mandir, which is the venue where we took in "Kuch, Kuch", is the largest movie theatre in all of Asia - according to the Frenchman (we should mention that the Frenchman is full of all sorts of interesting, though sometimes questionable, facts). At a nine o'clock Sunday evening showing, scheduled to end around 12:30 am, the film looked as though it would surely be sold out. At first, we went to the "students only" line, because it looked to be the shortest. The local students in the line told us, "Tickets? No problem!" The tickets didn't go on sale until 8:40, and the lines had been building since approximately six. When the window opened, the lines surged forward like The Who concert in Cleveland circa 1979, in which a number of people were trampled to death. Josh, the only guy with a student ID, surged with the crowd while Mike tried to hold off the swarms offensive-lineman-style and Jeff and Marc sat back and laughed. Finally, Josh battled his way to the window, threw down the money, and asked for four tickets.

Ticket Guy: "Not possible!" He then proceeded to sell a few more tickets to the guy next to Josh.

Josh pushed his hand back into the window as 15 people wedged against him and slapped Mike into submission, forcing him out of the fray. Josh demanded 4 tickets.

Ticket Guy: "Tickets 'Finis'!" and slammed down the window on Josh's arm.

Feeling rather defeated we walked to the front door and watched forlornly as hundreds of people entered the theater. Hundreds more stood in line waiting for tickets that we naturally assumed were ‘finis.’ We suddenly decided that if this many people wanted to see this film on a Sunday night we were going to get tickets. With renewed vigor, Jeff and the Frenchman were sent to woo a woman in the quiet, orderly, and short "ladies only" line in an attempt to obtain some seats, which they did adroitly. In doing so, we gained access to 3.5 hours of singing, dancing, amazing, western-fashion merchandise plugs, some highly mediocre acting, lots of crying and a crazy plot line. We loved every second.