Pushkar
The city of the creator god's temple and shopping
Pushkar is an important centre of Hindu pilgrimage. It has hundreds of temples, everywhere, the most important of which is the Brahmā temple, one of the few in the country dedicated to the creator god.
As in most temples in India, you can't take pictures of the gods, but in this case it's also forbidden to do so from the outside. Admission - obviously - is without shoes, so the endless stream of shoe-keepers stuns visitors, while the sale of worship offerings does the same.
Those who travel to India must know that they are required to go barefoot at all times, as each temple demands it, often without a specific place to do so, so it is enough to find a stone, full of dust, that serves as a bench to be able to take off your shoes. Sometimes it is more tiring than others.
At this sacred site, the number of vendors and shoe-tenders offering their services was somewhat annoying and at the same time attractive, as each of the stallholders not only offered their services but also sold their super-coloured goods.
Steep stairs gave you access to the scene that is repeated in all the temples of India, in which people bow and gesture with their hands over their faces to pay tribute to their gods.
We continue to wander through narrow alleys, dodging cows, motorbikes and vendors, strolling through the city of temples, also known as a good place to shop.
There is one vendor after another offering you dresses, kimonos, saris, shoes, notebooks, handicrafts, precious, semi-precious or quasi-precious stones and every other fairground trinket imaginable.
Naturally, I was tempted, and while black and white were always the predominant colours in my palette, I was encouraged by the colourful prints of Indian textiles.
Pushkar is the place where many hippies stay for several days. There is plenty of budget accommodation on offer, so we passed many Europeans, some perhaps under the influence of hallucinogenic substances. For some reason, we spotted a lot of Italians.
Our travel agent, Helena, had recommended the pizzas at La Pizzaria, so we didn't hesitate to search the alleys for the small restaurant to indulge in Western food after several days of Indian cuisine in all its variations, including breakfast.
Eating a pizza fresh from the oven with an ice-cold Coke Zero was just what we needed.
While we adapted quite well to the flavours of India, by then we were beginning to miss the unseasoned food.
And in truth, beyond the desire, the pizzas were, to our surprise, of a very high standard.
After that early dinner, we got lost again in the alleys full of shops and vendors stubbornly trying to convince the tourist to buy something.
Priests everywhere were also offering the pooja or Hindu blessing in exchange, of course, for a tip.
We continued until we reached the view point for the sunset in front of the sacred lake.
A bar just in front is the one recommended by every blog, but we chose to sit on the steps, where we also followed every street vendor imaginable, as well as musicians offering their mini serenades with ancient and exotic instruments or a drum show accompanying the sunset.
We had already seen and been told about two in particular, a beautiful-sounding predecessor of the violin called the Ravanhatha, and the harmonium, very traditional in North India.
Around the sacred lake are the ghats, the stone steps leading down to the water's edge, where pilgrims perform ablutions.
As the sun soon set we hurried back the same way to the meeting point with Birmaram, the driver. It was already getting dark, but the orange flags guided us along the main road, passing - once again - motorbikes, cows, bulls, dogs and the same vendors as on the way out.
Helena had also advised us not to go out after 9 p.m., the cities close and become empty. So the suggestion was always to wake up early and enjoy the day.
That night, we slept at the very proper Brahmā Horizon Hotel on the outskirts of the city.
The next day we had to say goodbye to Birmaram as his mother was in Jodhpur very ill and he had to go back to see her.
He introduced us to the new driver Mahindra.
His car was not as clean and comfortable as Birmaram's car. He also did not give us water every morning and on top of that we had a couple of awkward situations, when he ran out of the highway pass or when we had to wait for him on the road from Fatehpur Sikri to Agra, which did not happen with Birmaram, whom we somehow missed for the rest of the trip. But we did recognise Mahindra that he was friendly and liked to ask us about our lives in Argentina... I don't know if it was out of curiosity or to decode our economic status with his tip in mind.
He told us that he was a farmer, that he had three cows and four goats. That's when Mr @tripticity_ ironised about the smell of the new driver. He was not as clean as Birmaram for sure but the ride at his command was tolerable.
He asked us if we had been to the temple at the top of the hill. At our refusal, he immediately made a U-turn and set out to take us to the place where the cable car takes you to the top, to Savitri Mata. On the way up there is a stop for a few minutes, during which you are supposed to appreciate the view of the city and its lake, but my anxiety was screaming for the trip to continue because, unlike when we flew in a balloon in Segovia, it didn't feel at all safe to float in the air inside that cable car, especially not with the movement of the breezes that were blowing that morning.
At the top, it wasn't the temple or the view that caught our attention, nor the funny monkeys stealing food from anyone who approached: it was the skinny worshippers who had climbed up the steps to thank their gods. They were happy to take photos and even sing with us. Smiling and cheerful.
That's what India is all about. Its people always give you a smile.
The colourful women, their dark and wrinkled skins, the men with their turbans and their white clothes. When I thanked them with "dhanyawad" (thank you in Hindi) they smiled even more and replied "ram ram". The experience was so gratifying, even though we didn't understand each other at all, that we shared complete happiness. They held my hands and looked me straight in the eyes as they kept saying "ram ram".
Thus we learned a new greeting almost equivalent to "namaste".
And so, bidding farewell from the heights, with our shopping well done, we left the millenary city of Brahmā forever.