GALTA/SURYA/MONKEY TEMPLE

Verdict: though vastly superior to the Karni Mata rat temple, the Galta monkey temple has nothing on the as-yet-unrealized-but-for-in-my-dreams panda temple. Will someone get started on that please?

PEACOCKS CRY LIKE GIRLS

What the heck do you think you're doing peacock? Do you think you're going to get on that train? Well I hope that works out for you cause it's not like I want to hang out or anything.

To be perfectly honest peacock, I'm starting to lose my patience. We've hung out a few times now, strolling the grounds of the very pretty hotel where so many of you live and yet you've been keeping your tailfeathers all bunched up like you don't feel safe with me or something.

Sure, The Taj at Rambagh Palace has more than a little of the colonial nostalgia feel to it but it's not like your life isn't good. As the beach boys might have put it, there's two peahens for every peacock and you surely seem to enjoy chasing tail.

(Don't even let me get started on the peahens. Do you think you can skulk away and hide little ladybird? Most of your kin would kill for that crest.)

I doubt that you have any complaints about your diet. Just look at that colorful, nutritious selection of flowers and herbs. What the hell would you prefer peacock? Fairies? Garlic naan dipped in glitter? What a loser.

I bet your father was nothing more than a common pheasant.

For shame, peacock. I was willing to overlook the fact that you sound like a freakish hybrid of a chicken and a cat but I've already given you one too many chances to spread 'em. It's over. Yeah, go ahead and jump over that hedge. I'm not coming back.

This post shamelessly inspired by fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

SHARING IS CARING

I am in India to see my dear friend and colleague Carrie, aka "the care bear", who is working this year in Jaipur at a research institute looking at women's reproductive rights. Five years ago when I came to India to visit Carrie for the first time she was living in a village outside of Ahmedabad in the very conservative state of Gujarat. This time around care bear is living it up in Rajasthan: renting a gorgeous high-rise flat with an impossibly chic French jewelry designer roommate, hanging out with polo players and intellectuals, having haircuts at the Taj and dinners in the courtyards of old havelis, and waking up to sunrises like this one:

In the morning, bear swaddles herself in anthro-tastic fashion to make coffee and porridge in the kitchen...

and we open some doors to let some fresh misty air in.

Her flat is on the 9th floor of a modern building in an upscale area not far from the old city.

Though you can't tell much from these pictures, the place is furnished with all sorts of lovely wood furniture, natural fiber rugs and shades, and traditional block print bedding and decor. The tuk-tuks honk and rev noisily from below but it still feels peaceful and serene inside.

But hoo boy, that's not all! The very best part of the apartment has got to be the balconies: one off the living room (pictured above), one outside of Carrie's room,

and off Juliette's room, an enormous sun-drenched terrace with climbing stalks of bright pink bougainvillea. We ate dinner here my first night and then remained outside for a few hours drinking gin & tonics, eating pomegranates and banana, and enjoying the warm desert air. Heavenly.

I've spent the last few days wandering around Jaipur on my own but this morning I left the house with Carrie, meeting her usual rickshaw driver downstairs and tagging along in the morning to her meetings at the UNFPA and Rajasthan Family Planning Association. In between we stopped at her local chaiwallah for some tea.

Later she showed me around her office...

and we went to the canteen for veggie thalis with potato dosa, pappadums, and another round of chai (grand total for 2 = $1.50).

I love this girl and all her smarts and charm and thoughtfulness and wicked ways. I love that when I, freshly arrived, pulled a bottle of duty-free gin out of my bag she cackled and told me she had just stocked up on tonic water. I'm perfectly happy just hanging out in her living room or listening to her chatter away in Hindi with rickshaw drivers and shopkeepers but I do wish we had the time and money to go on more adventures around and outside of town together (not that chatroulette.com wasn't quite the adventure). But I'm not complaining - things could hardly be better! We'll be off to Delhi this weekend for sightseeing, shopping, and the festival of Holi and it will all be over much much too soon!

THE DOORS (AND WINDOWS) OF PERCEPTION

I don't know a thing about photography, travel-related or otherwise, but have always remembered my mother's advice that images framed by doors and windows almost always turn out nicely. I was thus excited by the opportunities presented by Hawa Mahal, the "Palace of the Winds" (below), Jaipur's most iconic building.

The palace, painted salmon pink like most every other structure in the old city, was built in 1799 by King Sawai Pratap Singh. Five stories high but only one room deep, its 953 latticed windows allowed the Singh Queens to observe parades and daily city life while maintaining purdah and remaining hidden from the eyes of commoners.

Views from inside:

There are some lovely views as you ascend and move around the exterior, though I imagine these weren't available to the Queens once sequestered here in purdah. Still, the place was awfully romantic for a prison.