To Pushkar!

We left Jodhpur at 7 a.m. in a rickety bus. I spent most of the six-hour ride watching scenes of hot rocky desert and rural villages. I saw a group of men wearing neon orange turbans leading an elephant painted in the same color. I observed a slight woman in a pink sari balancing giant tree branches on her head. I noticed advertisements painted on menacing boulders in primary colors. “Buy Ax Tires,” one said in yellow. Another one depicted a bar of blue soap next to a line of Hindi script. At the end of our journey I was unpleasantly surprised when a shower of human spit came through my window. Apparently a woman several rows up had decided to spew and the force of the wind had blown it back several rows down. My stomach turned as I wiped the foul substance from my arm.

Although our final destination was Pushkar, our ticket was to the nearby city of Ajmer. From the Ajmer bus station we intended to take a local bus 10km to the scenic town of Pushkar. Our plans were complicated when our bus driver decided to deposit us on the outskirts of Ajmer, far from the bus station. “You going to Ajmer? Get off. We are here,” he lied. Once we had been ejected, the bus abandoned us. A group of rickshaw drivers quickly smelled our vulnerability and crowded around, yelling their exorbitant rates. Alexander and I joined forces with a similarly unfortunate French couple and, after a short walk and several hostile interactions, jumped on a cramped shared jeep for the twenty-minute ride.

Once at the Ajmer bus station we purchased a ticket for Pushkar and immediately boarded the already crowded local bus. Alexander and I were forced to stand in the aisle, crushed between knees and our burdensome backpacks. The winding, hilly road took more than thirty minutes to traverse.

Pushkar’s distinctive vibe was discernible the moment we exited the bus. The main street was bustling with tourists and Hindu pilgrims. New age music blasted from boom boxes in shops selling hemp clothing, pipes, used books, crystals, yoga videos, earth-toned pashminas and posters of Bob Marley. Restaurants claimed to serve “organic” and “healthy” food. Barbers advertised dreadlocks. Most foreigners sported facial hair, baggy pants, tight tees and tattoos of the “om” sign; the similitude between their styles was almost comical.