Many little girls fantasize about a completely pink bedroom, a closet full of rose colored dresses, and an endless supply of bows in a rainbow of fuchsia and pale raspberry. So you can imagine my excitement at the prospect of seeing the famed pink city of Jaipur. While the color may be closer to terra cotta, (legend has it the city got its name from a certain British monarch who clearly didn’t have an eye for color) I was happy enough strolling down the sandy colored streets and enjoying the monochromatic buildings. My first stop was Hava Mehel or the Wind Palace, a giant, one-walled palace that served as a façade for the royal women. They were forbidden to show their faces in public, so this giant wall, almost completely covered in windows (165 to be precise), provided the perfect viewing balconies for ceremonies and parades.

Stifling a yawn, I continued on down the street. I had gotten up extra early that morning so that I could fulfill a tourist requirement and ride one of Jaipur’s painted elephants. Due to the heat, the elephants are only allowed to be ridden early in the morning, when it is still relatively cool. Clambering aboard Sasha, my elephant for the day, I settled in on her rough back. There was a metal cage surrounding me, and I held on tight as Sasha swayed dangerously up the steep hill. As the group of elephants formed a line and slowly followed one another up towards the palace, I looked around at the landscape. You could see the Amber fort snaking its way around the city, offering both protection and glamour to this already exotic city.

We finally reached the palace and I hopped off Sasha, leaving some banana money with her driver. The Amber Palace stood shimmering in front of me, its jewel colors shining brightly in the morning sun. The painted colors of the palace are actually made from crushed jewels, a nod to one of the larger industries in the city. My Compass guide gave me time to wander around the palace grounds on my own, exploring the Birdseye view of the rose hued city below. I lost my breath at the sight of the hall of mirrors, where the glass was both convex and concave to give more dimension to the room. The sun glinting off the reflective flowers made the walls shine as if they were embedded with diamonds.

After the Palace visit, I headed to the Pink City Gem Palace for a lesson on Jaipur’s renowned skill. I learned that there are four points to look for when assessing a gem, known as the 4 C’s: Clarity, Caret, Cut, and Color. After admiring a tray of brilliant emerald stones, I was surprised to learn that the trick to identifying a real emerald is looking for something inside the stone. Real emeralds aren’t perfect, and contain bubbles, cracks or a slight cloud deep inside. I wandered around the shop, taking one last look at the vintage style rings, each one set with a brilliant stone, before I made myself leave. India may be known for its cheap pricing, but I was already racking up quite a tally from the surplus of local handicrafts around me!

My final stop of the day was at the Jantar Mantar, Jaipur’s famed astrological observatory. The former Maharaja, Jai Sing II was an avid astrologer and founded numerous centers across India to help research and study the alignment of the sun and planets. The instruments found in this outdoor observatory can identify the exact time of day and month, based on the shadow and position of the sun. With the sun baking overhead, I hurried to a small patch of shade to examine the outdoor museum from a safe distance. The stone monuments were created before GPS and computer systems, but they provided completely accurate information that we still use today. It was an impressive sight, and if not for the sweltering heat, I might have lingered there a while longer.

Sadly, it was time to leave the pink city and head to the next destination on my Indian road trip, the city of Ranthambhore in the heart of tiger country.

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• A Clear Day in the Blue City of Jodhpur (anamericangirlintransit.com)

I arrived to Jodhpur with the rain, and the city smelled fresh and clean, scrubbed free of its desert sands. After settling into my hotel, I headed to Pal Haveli, a noble family’s home turned restaurant and hotel. The rain had ended and the sky was dark and dramatic as I walked up to the rooftop terrace. Spread out before me was a panoramic view of Jodhpur’s iconic fort, Mehran Garh, and the main city square. As fireworks lit up the night sky, I feasted on butter naan, chicken masala, and lentil stew. Heading back to the hotel, I couldn’t wait for the morning, and my official welcome to the blue city.

My tireless Compass guide Raghu met me bright and early and we began our day with a visit to the Royal Crematorium. Not yet ten a.m., the sun was already shining bright overhead and I blinked back against the glare. The crematorium is the sight where all the members of the royal family are cremated and memorialized. A small lake leads up to the gardens that surround the monuments, used only by the royal family for cleansing. Then begin the smaller monuments, used to mark the site of cremation for the wives, children, and close family of the King. Each marker is set in a lush, green garden, with views of the entire city behind it. Finally, the large building set at the top of the hill belongs to the kings of Jodhpur. Removing my shoes, I slowly walked up the cool marble steps and entered the chamber. With its open windows and doors the room was light and airy, rimmed with photos of every previous ruler in Jodhpur. At the center was a throne, set with an image of the current king’s father, and surrounded by flowers and silver ornaments. It was a quiet, peaceful space, where locals and visitors could come and pay their respects to the late kings of Jodhpur.

We then headed to Jodhpur’s crown jewel, the Mehran Garh fort. Towering above me, the fort offered two choices: walk up the staggering amount of stairs to the top, or take the newly added elevator. I decided to take the elevator up, and walk and explore my way down. The doors opened and I was let out onto a wide-open platform overlooking the entire city. Finally, a perfect view of the blue city itself. Originally painted blue to identify the homes of Brahmans, or priests, the rest of the city followed suit as a home remedy against mosquitoes, and in the hopes of cooling their houses down in the hot summer months.

The fort wove its way slowly down and I wandered through the different quarters. There was latticework so detailed it resembled a piece of lace carved right into the stone walls. There were rooms filled with Howdahs, the giant carved seat used atop an elephant, and then there was the hall of mirrors, a room so ornate, you would be hard pressed to find a bare patch of wall. I took my final steps down the stone walkway and through the elephant sized gate to the soft, tinkling sounds of the local musicians. I felt like I could stare out at the city view for hours, but when Raghu asked if I was ready to visit the local marketplace, I knew that no view could hold me back.

The central marketplace in Jodhpur is easily marked by its clock tower. Blankets and baskets overflowing with goods line the streets, and tuk tuks, scooters and bull-drawn wagons teem through the already busy area. If the sounds and sights were not overwhelming enough, the smells permeating the air from the spice stalls were enough to send my senses into overdrive. I wove my way from stall to stall, passing through the different sections of the markets. There were multicolored pashminas and bolts of fabrics, heaping bowls of saffron, rice, and dahl, and shimmering saris, embroidered with silver threads and jewels. I bought a golden pashmina for 80 rupees, less than $2, before I entered the Mecca of pashminas, Maharani Art Exporters, the holy grail of cashmere design. Utilized by some of the top fashion houses around the world, Maharani creates both custom pashminas and traditional Indian designs. With a showroom of eight levels, each wall crammed from floor to ceiling with carpets, scarves, embroidered shawls, and blankets; anything that you could ever imagine can likely be found here. I left with a soft as a cloud vicuña scarf in a pale white, and a bold red cashmere pashmina, perfect for the cold New York winters.

My arms bundled down with pashminas and spices I took one last look at the brilliantly blue city of Jodhpur. The scent of the marketplace still clinging to my skin, I stepped inside my car, ready to embark on the next stop of my journey through Northern India: the pink jeweled city of Jaipur.

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• Driving Through the Outback of Jodhpur, India (anamericangirlintransit.com)
• Road Tripping Through Northern India (anamericangirlintransit.com)

After the six-hour drive from Udaipur’s lakeside palaces, I arrived in the desert terrain of the “outback” of Jodhpur. Waiting for my arrival was Raghu, my Compass India guide, alongside an open-air jeep. My first afternoon in Jodhpur was spent in the company of a host of local families, as I learned about the traditions and skills passed down among the generations.

My first stop was the village of Salawas, where I met with a family of potters. In this village, the art of pottery, from the shaping of each piece, to firing up the kiln, and eventually glazing each item, has been passed down for generations, and each family’s subsequent children are expected to continue the tradition. Outsiders are welcome to admire the process, but are generally not invited to train in this craft. It is considered a proud lineage, and these craftsmen are expected to not only continue on with this skill, but to also marry only within their caste.

As the leader of the family took his well-worn seat behind the stone wheel, I waited in anticipation. Having taken a few pottery classes myself, I was familiar with the loud hum of the machine operated pottery wheels. Looking around at the dirt floor and the wandering chickens and goats, I wondered how this family would manage to create enough quality product to support themselves in such a rustic setting.

The moment the potter began his process; all my inner judgments and questions were silenced, and replaced by a quiet awe. He selected what looked to me as an arbitrary amount of clay and began pounding it into a cube to remove any air bubbles. Then, he prepared the stone wheel by poking a wooden stick through a drilled hole and manually spinning the wheel faster and faster, until it spun on its own. In a matter of seconds, the potter had the clay cube on the wheel and was molding the top of the mound into a perfectly shaped dish. Repeating this series two other times, it became evident that the exact amount of clay he had chosen, was the perfect size for three individual items.

You can see a video of the potter and his stone wheel here.

After watching this process in amazement, I took some time to walk around the family compound and admire the display section where the potter’s work was showcased. While the family spends the bulk of its time creating large white pots used to hold water and keep it cool during the hot summer days, they also create a variety of pots and containers. Typically the men are trained in pottery, while the women are responsible for mixing colors and painting the pieces. After gazing through the pile of spice containers, candleholders, and painted tiles, we were shown the piece de resistance of the collection: the genie lamp.

The potter held up a tiny lamp and poured in a handful of water. He then turned the lamp upside down, had me place my hand over it three times, and repeat an incantation after him. He then up righted the lamp and poured it over the parched ground, but no water came out! Turning the lamp upside down once more, he had me repeat the hand waves and chanting, and then poured the lamp over the ground. This time, all of the water spilled out of the container and was thirstily swallowed up.

I waved goodbye to the potter and his family from the back of my jeep, and left with a hope to visit them again, and perhaps one day be granted a rare lesson or two.

As the jeep chugged along the bumpy dirt roads, Raghu explained that Jodhpur had once been a stop on the legendary Silk Route, and was now known throughout India as a key force in the weaving and textile industries. We were now on our way to visit a family that was part of a government funded weaving cooperative, and would get to observe the rare process of ambidextrous weaving.

Still in the village of Salawas, we came to the home of the Parjapaji Brothers, experts in the craft of weaving, or more specifically creating rugs known as durries. I observed the complicated ambidextrous weaving process, and saw how it produced the exact same pattern on both sides of each carpet. The process involves an interlocking of threads instead of knots and uses a variety of camel and goat hair, silk, and cotton. One carpet can take two people over three weeks to create, working 8-10 hours a day.

Suddenly, the rain began to lightly fall, a rarity in this desert climate. Instead of feeling frustrated at having to quickly cover their prized creations, the weavers offered up a prayer of thanks. They turned to me and explained that visitors in their village were quite rare, and rain in the summer season even more so. The combination of my presence and the rain were an unexpected double blessing and they thanked me repeatedly for coming.

Blinking back tears at the emotional and kind welcome of these strangers, I stepped out into the refreshing rain and back onto my jeep. I had one more stop to make before I left the outback and entered the actual city limits of Jodhpur.

During my six-hour drive from Udaipur to Jodhpur, my driver had previously explained the meaning behind the colors of the turbans worn by the village men. As my jeep rattled onto the dirt road to Mogra, the Bishnoi village where we would meet with our last local family, I grew excited at the prospect of seeing these turbans up close.

After accepting some delicious home brewed chai tea, my host showed me his multi-colored turban, and gave me a lesson on how to properly wrap one. He then performed a traditional opium ceremony, where the nut from the poppy seed is ground up into a fine liquid and used as both a gift for the gods and as a relief from the hard work in the fields. The Bishnoi elder looked pretty relaxed after he drained the contents of the opium dish, and much to my disappointment we were not offered to join him. When in Rome, right?

Finally, as the light faded into the pale oranges of a desert sunset, I hopped onto my jeep for the final drive to my hotel. The day had been a nonstop ride through the different castes and traditions of the Jodhpur outback and I looked at my hands with newfound respect. If these families could create such works of art, many without the use of electricity, than what was I capable of doing?

I made it my new mission to find out. 

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• Road Tripping Through Northern India (anamericangirlintransit.com)

One of my favorite aspects of travel is observing the real day to day life of the local residents. Seeing a country’s monuments and palaces are impressive, but I prefer getting a taste of the real local culture any day. Compass India arranged for me to journey through Northern India on a three-day road trip to Jodhpur, Jaipur, and Ranthambhore.  While some of the driving would require six hour stints in the car, my guides assured me that I would be constantly astounded at the scenes outside my window.

How right they were.

As soon as we left the city life of Udaipur behind, the dusty desert roads stretched endlessly before me. Fields full of the seasonal wheat crops were peppered with grazing cows, goats, and a few mischievous dogs. The landscape was dry and brown, as we were heading into the peak of the summer season, and the only color came from the saris of the local women, dotting the fields with their bright blues, oranges, and reds. The women in India work just as hard, if not harder than the men, and I was amazed at the sight of young girls carrying cement bricks on their head with no sign of distress.

Every fifteen minutes or so, the farmland would give way to a small village, and there the real show began. Men sat in circles, their heads wrapped in swaths of bright fabric, and clothed in loose airy shifts, while small children gathered round the water pumps, cooling off from the morning heat. The streets were clogged with traffic, ranging from brightly painted trucks and rickshaws, to regal looking camels pulling wagons full of grain. While the cows wandered as they pleased, revered by the Indian communities, bulls were put to work, pulling carts and transporting heavy loads. The air was filled with a cacophony of sounds, from the shrill piercing of car horns and the soft mooing of the cows, to the happy squeals of playing children. Then without warning, we returned to the quiet fields, with the long stretch of desert road ahead.

As we drove, my driver, a local Indian man named Menu, gave us some insight into the local customs of these villagers. He explained that the color of the men’s turbans signified their place in the caste system, still in use today. A red turban was a symbol of the sheparding caste, while a multicolored turban meant a warrior lineage. The caste system helped regulate not only which profession a person would follow, but also whom they would marry. It would be very unusual for someone to marry outside their caste, Menu explained.

After Jodhpur I said goodbye to Menu and met Rajesh, my Compass India driver and new friend who would accompany me for the remainder of my trip in India. We drove down Highway #8, the road that connects New Delhi to Mumbai, and I continued to be amazed at the scenes just outside my window. Families rode on the roof of trucks with ease, large bundles of grain spilled over from the back of their transport carriers, threatening to explode on the cars behind, and camels, elephants, and cows were a common roadside spotting.  As the horns around me exploded in a series of sounds, Rajesh explained that cars in India have two types of horns: regular horns emitting a standard beep, and pressure horns with over 11 song options. Cars were only permitted to use the pressure horns on the highways, as a signal that they wanted to pass you. Otherwise, a standard beep was used to alert other cars to your presence.

Driving in India is a very unique experience, one that I have heard likened to a racecar video game. Nothing is enforced on the roads, from the speed limit, to the lane lines, to even driving on the proper side of the road. It is quite common to drive straight towards oncoming traffic, only to switch lanes at the last minute, weaving in and out of the vehicles around you. While I had many moments of “Oh my god, that truck is going to crash straight into us,” the drivers all handled their cars with a practiced skill that amazed me.

Finally, as I headed for the last leg of my road trip, driving the three hours from Jaipur to Ranthambhore, I noticed how the landscape changed once again. Tiger country was noticeably drier than the previous cities, and the women tended to favor bright orange saris, perhaps as a nod to their beloved mascot, and also to scare away any predators from their fields.

In the past three days I had drunk in more local culture than I could have imagined possible. With my head whipping back and forth between windows, I had not wanted to miss a colorful moment. City life is exciting, and I was eagerly awaiting my visit to the iconic Taj Mahal, but for now, my thirst for Indian culture had been satiated.

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• An American Girl in…. INDIA (anamericangirlintransit.com)

After leaving the bustle of New Delhi’s city life behind, I was ready to experience the India I had always imagined. Bright, colorful fabrics, cows roaming the streets, and domed palaces dominated these visions. I took a commuter flight from New Delhi to Udaipur, the land of the lakes in the state of Rajasthan. Known for being the most colorful state in all of India, I peered out my plane window, eagerly looking for my first sight.

The drive from the airport to my hotel proved rewarding in itself with mountain views and bright bursts of color from the local women’s embroidered saris. Much smaller than Delhi, the city of Udaipur is perfect for wandering through the small, winding streets while making your way towards the royal City Palace.

The morning sun was already baking the streets as I started my day. Grateful I had the foresight to pack a hat, each step fell slow and languid as I wandered through the local marketplace. Old and young women, dressed in bright pinks and brilliant yellows, sat along the steps of the Jagdish Temple, braiding rings of flowers for sale. With wedding season officially in full swing, the streets were full of vendors selling everything from fabrics and jewelry, to painstakingly hand painted invitations. As the market streets pulsed with the energy of the city, my guide pointed out the settings used for the James Bond classic, Octopussy. The movie came to life with each step, and I continued down the main road, towards the City Palace.

Udaipur, or the Venice of the East, is so called due to its numerous man made lakes. The primary lake, Lake Pichola, was created in 1553 and runs an average of 11 meters deep and 3.5 kilometers in length. The local residents of Udaipur use this lake as a Ghat, or a designated waterfront area, for religious ceremonies, bathing and even swimming. On any given day you can find women scrubbing their daily buckets of laundry, girls washing their hair, and little boys squealing as they splash in the shallow waters. The City Palace is built on a neighboring hill and provides  panoramic views of Lake Pichola, the surrounding mountains, and the legendary Lake Palace.

After exploring the City Palace, I walked down to the lake to experience Udaipur in true Venetian fashion: by boat. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the canopied 24-seater chugged slowly towards the tiny island containing the Lake Palace.  Created as a  summer residence for the Maharaja, the Lake Palace of Udaipur draws crowds of visitors, both Indian and foreign, to admire its beauty. The white stone made a beautiful contrast against the blue waters and the air was silent, save for the call of the local birds. I climbed the winding stairs to the rooftop of the building and was rewarding with a panoramic view of Lake Pichola and the city of Udaipur. Pausing for a moment to reflect on the beauty around me, I breathed in the sweet air. Local musicians serenaded my reverie from below, using a medley of flutes and drums.

Not ready to say goodbye to the peaceful lakeside atmosphere, I finished my day with dinner at the Ambrai Restaurant. Enjoying the outdoor terrace on the banks of Lake Pichola, traditional Indian food, and musicians playing softly in the background, I felt happy and relaxed. The next day would be the start of my three-day action packed road trip across Rajasthan, and I savored my last moments of simple reflection.

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• Welcome to India: Day One in New Delhi (anamericangirlintransit.com)

This was the start of a two-week trip throughout Northern India accompanied by Compass India Inc., a luxury touring company specializing in unique and highly detailed tour packages. As I waited for the Compass representative to collect me from the airport, I prepared myself for what has been referred to as the scent of heaven and hell combined. As soon as I took my first steps on Indian soil however, I was thoroughly surprised. Not only was the air scent free, but the weather was warm and balmy, with a light breeze gently floating around.

The ride to the airport provided a brief introduction to the city, as I was thrust straight into Delhi’s famous rush hour. Fortunate to be moving at all, cars in the opposite direction were gridlocked as far as the eye could see. I craned my neck out the window to get a better look at the transportation in this city and was rewarded with a monsoon season advertisement. “Plant a tree this Monsoon season,” it urged, and I couldn’t help but picture the tiny saplings being washed away in the heavy seasonal storms. The noise from the road jerked me back to the present as we wove our way through the highway. From the buses, cars, mopeds, tuk tuks, and a few brave pedestrians, each road created a vibrant slice of city life, always changing and very much alive.

Situated in the south of Delhi, the ride to the Crowne Plaza Hotel seemed to take just under an hour from the airport. My jet lag felt threateningly close to taking over as we pulled up to the hotel. After proceeding through a variety of strict security measures, including checking the hood of each car, and body scanning every guest, I was ushered inside to the reception lounge. A sip of some invigorating rose infused ice tea and I was shown to my room.

Not wanting to waste the few hours left of my first day in India, I took a quick catnap and then headed out for my first taste of Indian cuisine. The city seemed quieter at night, and the streets were virtually empty, a nice change of pace from the frenzied traffic just a few hours ago. I arrived to the Mantra Amaltas Hotel and Restaurant and was shown to a private outdoor dining terrace. The few dining tables were ringed by lush tropical plants and the sky was spread out before me, providing the perfect opportunity to enjoy a pre-dinner heat lightning show. As the bolts lit up in the air, I dug into my meal of piping hot naan bread, dall makhani, and buttery chicken. The sauces mixed together and created the perfect blend of sweet and savory, with just a touch of spice. Ending with the decadently sweet gulab jamun, a warm cheese bun with a side of vanilla ice cream, I headed back to my hotel room, full and happy.

As I crawled into bed and gazed out my window at the panoramic cityscape below me, I realized just how lucky I was to have such a travel fantasy finally become my reality.

Drinking coconut water on a beach in Koh Samet, Thailand

As the winter finally ends and the weather is (slowly!) starting to warm up again, I find myself fantasizing about the summer beach days to come. With spring cleaning in full effect, its time to pull out those summer dresses and strappy sandals and get ready for a tropical adventure.

Where will this American girl be spending summer 2012? In Spain, of course!

And I can’t wait to share it all with YOU! From Madrid to Barcelona to Ibiza, I will be sharing the best in food, nightlife, culture, and of course fashion.

Where will you be spending this summer?

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• Seven Super Shots From Around the World (anamericangirlintransit.com)

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I’d like to thank Jenny Neill for introducing herself to me through email and connecting over our shared love of travel, blogging, and photography. She has also invited me to participate in the latest travel blogging meme, Seven Super Shots.

As photography is one of my favorite ways to share the sights and feelings of a place, I am happy to share with you all my Seven Super Shots from traveling to over 15 different countries around the world.

1. Takes my breath away

Sunset in Huanchaco, Peru.

This photo was taken in Huanchaco, Peru without any filters or special settings. I did not edit it at all. I am constantly astounded by the amount of natural beauty in this world. This sunset was so warm and inviting, and watching the golden orb dip lower down was truly a magical moment I will never forget.

2. Makes me laugh or smile

Sophie (right) and I enjoying a lazy day in the beach town of Koh Samet, Thailand

While vacationing in Thailand during a particularly harsh NYC winter, my friend Sophie and I escaped to the tropical paradise of the Koh Samet island. I have the very best memories there, and love how in this picture we are just lazing about on a warm dock, with not a single care in the world. For me, it is really all about the simple moments of being with good friends in a beautiful and warm place. Thanks to Aim for taking this photo!

3. Makes me dream

The Japanese Bridge and Water Lilies at Claude Monet's home in Giverny, France.

Claude Monet has long been my favorite artist, ever since I was a little girl and developed a love for everything French. But it was the paintings of his iconic Japanese bridge throughout the seasons, surrounded by waterlilies that really pulled me in. I longed to one day visit his home in Giverny, France and experience the real thing. Finally, one beautiful day in October I took the train from Paris and headed to Monet’s tiny hometown. I felt like I was living out one of my favorite dreams as I wandered through the floral lined paths, brushing away the curtains of weeping willows to reveal the bridge in all its glory. It was truly a special moment, that  I still relive to this day.

4. Makes me think

The Swiss Alps in Interlaken, Switzerland

The first time I laid eyes on the Swiss Alps, my mind simply went blank. I was so awestruck by its beauty that it took a moment to take in. Once I got over the initial shock, I was able to experience an extreme level of clarity, that to this day I have not repeated. I had such a clear view of myself and my future, that it felt like, for just one moment, the earth had actually stood still.

5. Makes my mouth water

The infamous Churros from Manolos in Lima, Peru.

While the food in Peru was so unbelievably delicious that it seems impossible to choose a favorite, I have always had a weakness for dessert. Even with its hyped up reputation as the best Churros in town, Manolos in Lima, Peru lives up to its name and beyond. I couldn’t decide which flavor to get so I decided to splurge on one of each: vanilla, chocolate, and dulce de leche.

6. Tells a story

A man selling boiled eggs on the beach in Koh Samet, Thailand

Whenever I travel and cross the paths of locals, I find myself always wondering about their back story. This man was carrying two baskets full of boiled eggs and roasted peanuts for sale along the beach. I never learnt who he was, but I did try his food. Delicious!

7. I am most proud of

The Duomo in Florence, Italy

This photo is not the best one I have ever taken, but it represents a shift in travel and photography for me. During my six month stay in Florence I learned the Italian quality of La Bella Vita, or simply just slowing down. My photographs went from a quick snap as I ran from place to place, to standing and waiting in one spot for that perfect take. I am constantly trying to improve my images, but I felt pretty good when I captured this image of Florence’s Duomo from the shadows.

Passing along the challenge:

risingontheroad

TheBlackTwig

afixoflovely

lesleycarter