Postcards The incredible adventures of Madame Putrid and Rotten

Along a dusty road and tucked behind some buildings lies the Pushkar post office.  We have just come from there now.  If not for the sign out the front it would be difficult to identify the building as a post office, particularilly when one is inside.  The rooms are filled with men busying themselves, washing clothes, smoking cigarettes and counting money.  Finally we enter a small room with a sewing machine and a few stools.  I ask if it's okay to film.  "No problem" they say, they are more concerned with how they look on camera than with security measures.  A man enters and takes a piece of calico and commences hand sewing my goods into a tight little bundle, all the while directing "here maam, yes maam, very good maam", as I hold it tightly in the requested places.  We smell something burning and a man pops his head through the doorway which is bellowing with smoke.  "Chai is burnt", he says.  Matt is told quite bossily that he must read the post cards and greeting cards in the draw.  One from a happy customer, the others blank pop out cards with random greetings.  We politely show interest, maybe too much.  The hand sewing man is pleased we like his work and the Chai man is so excited he takes down my Australian address and places the blank greeting card into an envelope, telling me it will arrive first class soon.  Now we are all drinking good Chai together.  We fill in the same form 3 times and write on the calico parcel with Nikko pen.  45 minutes later we leave comparing the experience to posting from Australia, it usually takes just as long but is not half as enjoyable. xo