Friday, November 17 Shekhawati Region in Rajasthan

I caught the first Metro of the morning to Central Secretariat, where I walked on Rajpath mall, past white tourists, homeless people sleeping on the grass, and joggers in Spandex wheezing from the horrible pollution. I took a 270 Rs charter bus from India Gate to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan. It took forever (aka 8 hours), since there was a lot of traffic and construction on the highway, which, when completed will be an enormous 10-lane superhighway. I got to Jaipur, which was surrounded by desert, scraggly dry hills, and slums. I quickly transferred buses to a rickety overcrowded public bus to the Shekhawati region. It’s funny because I really don’t care where I go, I just want to see that region as a whole because the guidebooks say it has some of the finest undiscovered scenery in the subcontinent. The ride there was boring because it was dark. It took three hours to get to a main town, Nawalgarh. I missed the stop because I don’t know what the stop’s supposed to look like. Everyone was looking at me and laughing. The only English-speakers were three girls, who were on their way to an Engineering college. I got off the bus and walked with them, but when we got close to the college I wasn’t allowed to be seen talking to them because it’s so conservative. I ended up talking to a group of guys, who I told I had no place in particular to go. People in India just don’t understand the concept of wanderlust, and they kept saying, “So you want to go to Nawalgarh, right?”. It was useless, so they finally got tired and left me in the dark, at the junction of a railway line and two main roads, with some small tea stalls on either side. There were maybe 20 people around, none of whom spoke English, and barely spoke Hindi. And all 20 were looking at me, puzzled. It was pretty awkward. I walked around aimlessly in the dust, until some guys started talking to me in Hindi. They took me to the private boarding school, where I was surrounded by a group of uniformed boys from age 12-18. They all wanted to speak to me in their limited English, and I entertained their questions, as they giggled and whispered to each other. Then a guy took me to dinner at a roadside dhaba, but it was just me eating, some oily dal fry and cold sabzi. Then he took me on his motorcycle to the bus stop, where I caught a bus to Nawalgarh (even though I had no compulsion to stay there in the first place). I got out of the bus and stayed in Mitu Dharamsala, a guest house in a Hindu temple, where pilgrims and other visitors (supposed to be only for Indians) can stay. The room was simply a room with a bed, but I was tired.