I have a few things to address.  I really am in India and I am not writing these missives from a cave near Washington, DC.   I will send photos to prove my whereabouts when I find an Internet connection that does not take years to upload a photo.  Also, I keep taking photos trying to conjure my friend Kevin McDermott’s talent, but I am either too far away or my third eye is blocked and cannot receive the signal so they are all quite ordinary.

It has been a week or a little less since my contact with the waters from the Ganges.  I was told I was a fool to get in because it is so polluted.  Well, I am happy to report, my feet and hands are not bubbling or marred by any oozing skin rashes and the water I poured on my head has not left a path of baldness.  I was hoping the toxic water would give me a super power, but sadly I am still the same clumsy oaf that started this trip.  Since cows are sacred, perhaps I should dive into a heap of cow dung and be cured of needing my reading glasses.  

The assassination of Pakistani Governor Salam Tasser of the Punjab region by his own security was in the news for a day, but it has been overshadowed by the shortage of onions in India.  Rain in the Maharashtra area was originally reported as the cause for damaged vegetable crops and the shortage, but the Competition Commission of India (CCI) has now reported that the problem is much deeper.  Onion traders are hoarding them to manipulate the prices.   Onion prices in India have raised 10-15% and the demand is growing.  Pictures of rotting vegetables have surfaced and fill the papers and news stories.  Also, the lack of planning and proper warehouses to store vegetables, especially onions, seems another problem.  The news shows are filled with talking heads pointing fingers of blame.  In the meantime, where to get more onions???  Pakistan has placed a ban on exporting onions to India by land.  It’s a crying shame.  I wish I could spin a good web of conspiracy and tell you that the murderers of Salam Tasser were actually an onion-crazed guerilla group from India, but that would be a terrible lie.  As India negotiates with Pakistan to peel away the layers of differences, teary eyed Indians are hopeful the Pak government will open the barrels and let the onions flow.     

I have not commented on how I am driving the local monkeys wild.  I have always fancied myself part chimp and now I know it is true.  When we were in Bandhavgar, the langur monkeys swarmed the lodge when we arrived.  They filled the tree in front to peak at me; they sat in the window watching me eat my lunch; and they became more aggressive stomping on the roof trying to scare me off.  I was told they were asserting their dominance.  I don’t think they knew what to make of me because they are not used to my smell.  As I am taller, they eventually ran off.  Now in every city we have been to thus far, the monkeys appear and stare.

On our way out of Jaipur we stopped at the Samode Palace Hotel on the way to the airport for lunch and a camel ride.  Veta and I, each atop a camel, strolled through the town.  I felt like Hanuman, the monkey god, because the macaques came out to watch me.  I swear they were waving palm at me as I rode through the village.  Three began showing me their pink bottoms.  If I had had better balance, I would have leaned over and shown them mine, but I was precariously perched on a hump and was too afraid to shift around.  About all I could do was take a few photos.  Pulling down my pants was out of the question.

We flew from Jaipur to Udaipur.  We arrived at night so we could not see much.  The next morning brought us sunshine and a beautiful view of Lake Pichola.  The city of Udaipur is known as the city of lakes, and it does not disappoint.  There are 5 man-made interconnecting lakes.  The city was founded in 1567.  The city is truly breathtaking and the weather is quite balmy.  With all the lakes and boats and immaculate architecture, I thought I was in Italy.  The James Bond favorite Octopussy was filmed in Udaipur.  Boats are used to transport travelers to different island stops or to the Lake Palace Hotel, which is amazing.  From the water it looks like it is floating in the middle of the lake.  It used to be the home of the Maharana of Udaipur, but he rented it for 100 years to the Taj Corporation to turn into the hotel. 

Our guide Manjeet (a young, thin, brown version of Peter Lawford) could not have been more pleasant or informative.  It was funny because he spoke with a distinct British accent.  When I asked him about it he said he usually works with British tourists.  The guides with American accents and Australian accents were booked.  Leaving the hotel, we were almost run over by a huge white SUV.  Inside was the Maharana of Udaipur headed out on what I am sure was official royal business.  He no longer has any power as it was handed over to the government years ago, but he does still have a lot of wealth.

We completely flipped the order of the tour because I was on a mission to go to a particular gallery for miniatures and commission two works.  We ended up going on a shopping spree afterwards because the owner of the gallery Mr. Gurani was such a joy and his brothers also had shops.  We bought saris, Punjabis, silver trinkets, and Rajasthan umbrellas (wildly colorful patch-work umbrellas that sparkle in the sunlight; I don’t know if they will keep me dry, but they do make me smile). Then we finally went to tour the Maharana’s palace and see his crystal collection, including the word’s only crystal bed. 

Later, we took a relaxing boat ride around the lake and watched women and men washing their clothes on the ghats.  The boat makes a short stop on Jag Mandir Island for tea and snacks.  As Veta and I were standing on the dock to wait for the next boat, we had a brush with royalty again.  The Maharana’s son and daughter hopped off a speed boat and regally strolled through the hordes of peasant travelers to go to their private residence.  The daughter was really chic, long and lean and dressed in a purple paisley Punjabi with white leggings, a matching paisley scarf was nonchalantly slung around her neck.  The son was in tight pants and sunglasses; he looked more like a Bollywood star than royalty.

After our sightseeing, we made plans with Manjeet to meet for dinner at a local restaurant near his home.  He met us at our hotel and we went for a thirty minute walk through the old part of the city – a series of maze-like streets and steps, all lined with merchants of all kinds.  I don’t think there is a thing you cannot find in their markets.  Udaipur is a lot cleaner than Jaipur because the local government does not allow camels and cows into the many areas of the city, although you will run across a bold cow or two daring to break the rules.  We even stumbled upon a sleeping cow in an alleyway, but his guard dog sounded the alarm to let us know not to come near.  We kept walking and finally found the restaurant, Food Club.  It was an open-air restaurant with a tin-roof located right on the lake.  It was quite lovely to sit and watch the reflections of the lights from the buildings and hotels dance in the water.  In the evenings some of the hotels set off fireworks.  The setting was delightful and so was the food.  I haven’t had a bad meal here, but I will never be satisfied with American Indian food again when I return now that I know what it should taste like.

In this restaurant Food Club the people working there were normal looking.  In all the hotels we have been, the staff is usually comprised of young, handsome, thin, boys with very subservient demeanors.  Occasionally, there are women, but they work the front desk or in the office.  However, they will be selected to deliver ladies’ products if you know what I mean. 

After dinner, Manjeet took us across the street to meet his family.  His mother and father are so proud of him and their other son who is attending university.  Manjeet is about to take his exams in a few months — he is studying the arts and history.  We could not stay long because we had to get up extremely early for our flight to Goa.  We said our good-byes and hopped in an auto-rickshaw and headed back to the hotel.  This was a great day and evening.