I smell delicious. Aside from being possibly the best opening line to a blog post ever, it’s also not entirely true. I DID smell delicious last night, after having a massage from a local woman with coconut oil. But, I’m getting too far ahead of myself for the sake of an opening line.
Nimaj Bagh is a beautiful little village in the centre of Rajasthan, which you would struggle to find on a map. However, this ‘little’ village has a population of roughly 25,000, 60% of whom are farmers. There are 41 schools in the town and they have a rough literacy rate of 60%. There’s your trivia for the day. Nimaj is only a 2.5 hour ride in the death-defying jeeps so a few games of an improvised version of Scattergories and we were there. We were warmly welcomed into the home by our hostess and a pair of women, singing in beautifully deep and scratchy voices whilst anointing us with a bindi each.
We were ushered to our rooms past the SWIMMING POOL (figures that I didn’t bring my bathers) where we were allowed to relax. However, there were too many things to do!! Two of the local girls came down to paint us in henna, which I wasn’t going to do but I thought, “What the hell”. They had such beautiful eyes and smiles, who was I to resist? Henna goes on much like chocolate body paint (had to resist the urge to lick it off!) and then dries. When it falls off (or you rub it off as I did) it stains your hand a yellow-orange-brown. It should pretty much be gone by the time I get to Australia. In theory (communism works).
We went for a short stroll through the village, and I am dreading going back to the cities. In the villages people are so friendly and genuine. The kids beam at you and shout greetings in both English and Hindi, following you with their curious big brown eyes. The local women mostly cover their faces with their saris though some only cover their heads. Many have nose piercings and ornate jewellery, particularly running up their arms and on their feet. The men look at you with a friendly and largely benign curiousity, except for the shopkeepers who beckon you into their shops with a large smile. It’s nice to be invited and enticed rather than hassled.
We wandered around and marvelled at the amazingly colourful houses which to me were quite reminiscent of Mexico. We also came across an old temple enshrouded in cascading branches of a tree (see photos). A quick look in the palace which had amazing colours painted around the edges of its pale walls, and we had to rush back to the homestay. That’s right, the massage. An hour of all over body goodness with coconut oil. I think I’m still a little dreamy. The head massage was a little strange though - rather than the slow, deep massage you might get from the hairdresser, it was kinda like they were trying to frizz your hair up – quick, sharp bursts of energy. Ah well, I got my face, feet and hands done, so I can’t complain. For all those wanting a little more imagery – I was mostly naked and oiled up in a room with Vanessa, who was also mostly naked and oiled up, and we were touched all over by local women. Yep, do with that what you will.
Dinner was fantastic – it was the first meal I’d had here without any heat in it. It was packed with so much flavour and I could actually eat it without having to work through it. Probably not good for my waist, but hey. After din dins our hostess helped me into my sari. They are so bloody complicated to put on! Shite! But it was fun and I felt like a princess. I pranced around for a little bit and people took photos, so I felt suitably spoilt.
Breakfast the next morning was sadly our last home-cooked meal for the trip L. We packed ourselves into the jeeps to take us to our last stop before Delhi, Udaipur. It took roughly 6 hours, but what an amazing 6 hours they were. The wind in our hair, the sun basking down, we really felt like the world was ours. We drove past beautiful hills, deserts and deciduous trees which were very muted in colour. This made the local even more splendid. Out of the desert colours you would spy a bright pink, a bright green and every colour you could imagine (as long as it’s vivacious). They carried water, sticks, children across the roads, paddocks; they tended to goats, buffalo, cows, donkeys; they looked up and smiled at the beaming tourists who really felt they were on top of the world.
We drove through so many villages, where the local kids would beam out from under their oversized rectangular school bags and wave, wave, wave. I think each time I left a village my cheeks hurt and I was halfway to an RSI in my forearm. The men even waved and looked quite gleeful to receive a wave and smile from the tourists; the younger men whispering amongst each other, eyes wide and congratulatory; the older men more accomplished and gracious but beaming nonetheless. I couldn’t take my eyes off so many of the men and their turbans – such beautiful, beautiful colours; the most common by far a bright tangerine orange. They stand out from the dirty white clothes that they wear and the aforementioned muted backgrounds. Oh, how I wanted to take a photo but couldn’t exactly ask permission as we were whisked through the towns.
I have now made it to Udaipur and will be seeing the Lake Palace tomorrow, so unfortunately only a few days more till the tour ends L.
Peace!!
Nimaj photos
