Pushkar - a sacred pilgrimage site

Pushkar is one of the five sacred pilgrimage sites for Hindus and one of the oldest existing towns in India.  Situated on the shores of the lake Pushkar and surrounded by a desert it is one of the most beautiful and extraordinary places we visited.  A dip in the waters of Pushkar is a holy ceremony and thousands flock to this sacred lake every year.

The streets of Pushkar are filled with camels, locals selling bohemian memorabilia and Indian delicacies.

Holy Cow!  Trying to get into a temple...

Holy Cow!  Trying to get into a temple...

After being showed out...

 

Stephan trying to "holy-cow-door"

Pushkar Village life

After embracing the streets of Pushkar we went to the outskirts to a village situated in a total rural area which can only be found by a dirt road.  We visited a farm which produces vegetables for the village and provides work for the locals.  We walked past the school which was a proper building with a court yard.  All the children had proper uniforms and waved and screamed "Namaste, namaste" when they saw us.  Two boys came asked us to take a picture of them.  This seemed to be a common practice in India. 

Seeing village life in India was a humbling experience but also gave me hope.  The truly happy smiles after showing the children their pictures gave me such warm and satisfied feeling I felt I could keep on doing this forever.  Thank you Pushkar for showing us how the world should be.

Exploring Ajmer

After a six hour drive from Agra we arrived in Ajmer, the 5th largest city in Rajasthan.  Ajmer is surrounded by the Aravalli Mountains.  It is a pilgrimage centre and also a base for visiting Pushkar which is situated 11km northwest of Ajmer.

Ajmer

Exploring the streets of Ajmer became a challenge.  There seemed to be no sidewalks in India and as cars, tuck-tucks, bikes, camels, dogs, cows, pigs, buffaloes, bicycles, rickshaws and trucks all try to pass each other, the pedestrian is at the bottom of the food chain.  The golden rule:  do not hesitate at any moment in time, be decisive and cross the street!

We love exploring parts of a town or city where the locals live and tourists seemed to be non-existent.
We ended up in a beautiful neigbourhood with old colonial buildings with rusty colourful doors.  Narrow, winding alleyways with women hanging laundry on balconies and men catching up on the latest chit-chat.  Cows lurking around every corner, seemingly ready to pounce. Women in beautiful saris carrying water buckets and eager to engage in conversation. 

 

 

 

Nelson Mandela / Tata Madiba

I wanted to dedicate a special post to Nelson Mandela, our Nation’s hero, today, but the words elude me.  No words can describe the appreciation, the true admiration and love South Africa (and the rest of the world) feels for the late Madiba.  The bridge he built for a divided nation overcame hatred, fear and instability.  We are a proud nation today and yes, there are still a lot to overcome and learn, but the long walk to freedom bears proud emotions in South Africans today.  Thank you Madiba! 

I could not help but to be reminded of the famous poem:

Do not go gentle into that good night

  by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.PrE7Syb4.dpuf

RIP Madiba 

And then there was the Taj...

In the late afternoon heat we made our way to the Taj Mahal, situated on the banks of the river Yamuna (which is the largest tributary river of the Ganges).  Not expecting it to be so extraordinary and magnificent (as I've seen many pictures of it), I was blown away by the pure white marble work of art. 

One of the true wonders of the world, the Taj Mahal commemorates the love of Emperor Shahjahan for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal who passed away in childbirth.  It took 22 years to build and was completed in 1653.

Plucking the grass by hand...

The view of the river Yamuna