Karin Finds A Good Spot To Read At The Taj Mahal

Indian Lavatorputer Room, Police Roadblock, Automobile Repair (Using A Roof)

I wish to introduce to you the office that I created for myself, out of necessity, at Amanbagh (patent pending). I have yet to name it but leading contenders are: The Indian Lavatorputer Room, the Post-Curry-CPU-o-Potty, and the Internet-Where-and-When-I-Need-It Facility. The pictured office has the following benefits: 1. Extreme multitasking, 2. Instant relief from Mahatma's Revenge while blogging, 3. No need to leave the office for any reason ever again.

And now a story that I previously neglected to include: During the drive from Jaipur to Alwar (the one during which Karin was horribly ill), we had been following a Jeepish car that had about 14 people inside and at least eight others on the roof. I had been marveling at how this mob of people was managing to stay on that tiny vehicle on a highway when we suddenly came upon a police checkpoint. The police waived the overloaded car over to the side of the road. I found myself pitying the poor driver who was obviously about to receive the fine of his life (or, more likely, pay a small bribe). The Jeep driver pulled over to the side of the road and, much to my surprise, beckoned for more people to get onto the roof. Apparently there was a bus stop next to the police roadblock and the police were just helping to get people where they wanted go - regardless of how insanely dangerous the mode of travel.

And one last story: While being driven in an Ambassador through Agra, our driver announced that he was having engine trouble. He pulled over and popped the hood. He and the guide messed around under the hood for a minute and then walked over to a stall at the side of the road. The driver then climbed up on a small platform and started ripping things off a makeshift roof that he found. He was, of course, fixing his engine. In India nothing goes to waste. Even a crumbling roof can be used to fix a car engine, for example. The picture below that of our driver creating car parts out of a roof is of the "engine" of his car. Do you see an engine there? To me it looks like someone made off with his engine and left the battery, some cooling hoses, and a water-bottle. But that, ladies and gentlemen, constitutes the entire propulsion system of this fine automobile.

D E L H I ( f i n a l e m e n t )

Delhi became our hub in the north. Karin had flown into Delhi and had returned to Delhi following her stint in the Himalayas. I had flown to Delhi from Mumbai to meet her there. Our itinerary together ended up being Delhi - Agra - Delhi - Varanasi - Delhi - Jaipur - Alwar - Delhi. That looks like a lot of Delhi but a good portion of the Delhi time was spent either traveling or relaxing. I now present to you Jaime and Karin's Daring Delhi Diary:

On February 28, we had arranged for a “half-day tour” of Delhi through the Oberoi Hotel. They had told us that we would have a guide and driver for 4 hours. We met the guide and began our trip to Old Delhi to see the Red Fort. Forts are a big draw in India. These are enormous structures that housed small cities. They were built to protect against the constantly-marauding armies that traveled through the region in the 15^th, 16^th, and 17^th centuries. They were constructed to the specifications of an emperor who would preside over the population that lived within. The Red Fort was built by the Moghuls in the 1600's. When it was originally erected, many of the structures were inlaid with gold and precious jewels. After centuries of plunder, every last bobble has been torn from every wall, floor, ceiling, and adornment. Many of the original buildings are still standing although the British Army took it over for decades and built unsightly barracks and other buildings within.

We also visited the largest mosque in India and various Ghandi (Mahatma and Indira) and Nehru memorials (there have been a lot of assassinations in India). The tour was going very well…. Then, after almost 2 hours, the guide announced that they were done. We politely reminded him that we had arranged for a 4 hour tour of Delhi. He informed us that 4 hours was based upon the time it takes when there is normal traffic in Delhi. Because it was Sunday there was no traffic at all. Our position was that we had arranged for the tour on a Sunday to avoid sitting in traffic for 2 hours. But he was adamant – and even refused our offer to pay him extra to show us the rest of Delhi. Apparently he had to be somewhere. After protesting briefly we decided to go our own way and to take it up with the hotel later on.

We had him let us off at The Imperial, a nice, centrally-located hotel. After a quick perusal of the hotel we made our way to an enormous Sikh Temple called Gurdwara Bangla Sahib. Five minutes later, we were among thousands of Sikhs. We were directed to an office where we were told to remove our shoes and to don bright orange headdresses . We then were directed to the main temple area. There was an enormous throng of people walking barefoot on wet marble. This was not pleasant for me. While interesting to see the wild rainbow of colorful turbans making its way around the compound, I could not stop thinking that I was now sharing fungal intimacies with 10,000+ people, many of whom may possibly live in less than ideal hygienic environments.

Once we were done appreciating those local customs, we made our way back to The Oberoi and complained about our guide and driver. Two minutes later, after apologies from the hotel staff, we were set up with another guide and driver for the rest of the day. We had a leisurely lunch and headed out. This time our guide was interested in showing us as much as possible until we had enough. Unfortunately we did not head out with him until almost 4:00 PM and most sites close at 5:30 PM. We rushed to the Lotus Temple, a Bahai place of worship, whose design symbolizes nine religions. The temple itself is quite nice to look at but the operation that brings thousands of people through the structure each day is really impressive.

From the temple we made our way to the Parliament Houses and the home of the President. The buildings are enormous and impressive and are overrun by monkeys. There were at least a dozen monkeys milling about when we got there. Apparently the powers that be have decided to co-exist with what are generally regarded as nuisances (the monkeys) rather than do anything drastic to be rid of them.

One amusing Delhi episode: Karin had two enormous bags from the Himalayas trip that we did not want to lug around India. We asked at the Oberoi if they would hold them for us and deliver them to us at the airport when we were leaving. The concierge suggested we use a service by the airport and gave us the details.

Thus, on our way to Varanasi, we packed the extra bags and took them to the Delhi airport. Upon arrival at the airport we went directly to the baggage check. It was in a small building to the side of a parking lot with zero security. I walked into a decrepit room with about 10 bags on shelves and no one at the wide-open door. I couldn't believe the Oberoi had suggested this. I thought to myself: A. Is someone really going to take our dirty laundry? B. If someone does take our dirty laundry, it will probably be put to very good use, and C. I am not lugging these two enormous bags around India for the next week. And so I paid the 22 Rupees (fifty cents) per bag, took the laughable receipt, tipped the guy who had shown me what to do (lest he decide to help himself to his own tip), and wished for the best.

Upon our return to pick up the bags 6 days later, almost everything was intact. In fact, we fared significantly better than I had expected. In case you are considering leaving any fine jewelry or electronics at the Delhi bag-check, I am going to go out on a limb here and suggest you find something more secure.

Fascinating Varanasi, Awful Restaurant Experience, "Dead Body Burning", No People's Court

I loved the Holy City of Varanasi. Had I been a back-packer with plenty of time I would certainly have stayed there to take in the multitude of cultures, traditions, and it's unbelievably diverse population. Varanasi is extremely important to Hindus, Buddhists, and Jainists (whose priests go naked or wear masks to avoid inhaling organisms of any kind). One million Hindus make pilgrimage to Varanasi each year. And thousands come to die in Varanasi. The River Ganges is at the center of it all.

After arriving in Varanasi on February 28, 2007, we made our way to the site of Buddha’s first sermon in Sarnath. That Buddha first taught in the area is part of the reason that it is so revered. We witnessed Buddhists from all over the world chanting in diverse languages – often right next to each other, drowning each other out. Holy Buddhist sites are tranquil. While many religions preach peace, love and friendship, many also find ways to justify aggressive war, intolerance and, on occasion, violence. I don't pretend to be an expert in theology but there do appear to be some basic differences among major religions when it comes to how quick they are to resort to aggression and war. And for my next trick, I shall cut this thought off before it gets too controversial.

Following the visit to Saranath we made our way to the Holy Ganges River. Our guide and row-boat captain was an 18 year old Varanasian by the name of Babu – a good looking and very good-natured guy. Babu rowed us up the Ganges, pointing out the various Ghats that line the waterfront for miles. It’s an amazing sight – temple after temple high above the river, each with steps leading all the way down into the water. The steps are steep and continue deep into the water so that the water remains accessible regardless of tides, monsoons, etc.

That first evening we rowed up to the area where bodies of the dead are brought down to the water, wrapped in brightly colored materials. We witnessed the bodies being dipped into the Holy Ganges prior to their burning. Once the bodies are purified in the water, they are burned on pyres that rage by the Ganges. It is an unbelievable site to see the bodies being brought down in front of the families of the deceased (photography is forbidden so my pics are from afar). As with everything in India, nothing goes to waste. For example, we saw dogs gnawing on something in the smoldering remnants of older pyres - and I don't think they were rubber chew-toys. Our guide was narrating in his broken, yet charming, English: "Dead body burning take 3 hours."

After watching this incredible scene for a while we rowed back down to the Ghats and witnessed an Aarti, which is also performed along the Ganges. An Aarti is a Hindu fire ritual signifying devotion to god. In this particular Aarti, 7 men did their fire-ceremony in unison on stages about 40 feet above the Ganges.

It was a fascinating evening and was topped off with a walk back to our car through one of the busiest and most colorful markets I have ever seen. This is a market that deserves serious attention but we took it in quickly as our guide rushed us to the waiting car.

Back at the hotel (Taj Ganges), we decided to try the Indian restaurant. We ordered the Thali - a group of dishes that enables one to taste 6 or 7 of the specialties of the region. Much to our surprise, it was terrible. After tasting each of the dishes and figuring out that we didn't like a single one, I approached the maître d' and told him that the food was inedible. He apologized profusely and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later the chef came over to our table. He also apologized and then asked what was wrong. Talk about unpleasant confrontations! "Well you are a terrible chef. I can't believe Taj hired you. You should find another profession." That's what went through my mind. Out of my mouth came a whisper in Karin's ear: "U-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e."

We retired early that evening as we were scheduled to be up at 5:00 AM so that we could make it to the Ganges for sunrise and the morning bathing and meditation that takes place every day. And make it, we did. We were back on the Ganges with Babu early the next morning. As we rowed by each of the Ghats, we witnessed people bathing, dunking, praying, meditating, washing, shmoozing, and drinking (Ganges water). Yes, drinking the water from the Holy (and very polluted) Ganges is a Hindu and Buddhist Mitzvah.

After about an hour on the water, the sky darkened and we found ourselves in a serious downpour. Babu handed us an umbrella but he was getting soaked. He rowed to the shore and we found some shelter by a building. When the pelting rain slowed down, we got back on the boat but the sky was continuing to darken and we knew that rain was inevitable. We started to make our way back to the starting point. It was drizzling by the time we got there and so we decided to head back to the hotel. Suddenly the skies opened up and and we were in a torrential downpour. We ran through the market, took brief shelter by some shops, and then ran some more. We made it to the car, bid Babu adieu, and headed back to Taj. And that was the end of a short but fascinating stay in Varanasi.

The drive to the airport was also interesting. As always, we were weaving in and out of traffic at high speed. Suddenly, our driver hit a motorbike. Our driver was pissed. He stopped the car and waived over the motorbike driver, who immediately pulled over. Our driver yelled at him angrily, raised his hand, and then struck the motorbike driver in the face. The motorbike driver seemed to accept the scolding. He lowered his head, uttered a few words, and then returned to his motorbike. Our driver got back into the car and said “no problem”. Rather bizarre.

And if I may take just one moment to complain... I really disliked our hotel in Varanasi. We stayed at the Taj Ganges . Terribly run. As I already mentioned, the food was abominable. And they had major wifi issues. I had their tech guy working on it for almost 3 hours the first evening but he never got it working.... which is part of the reason I am posting so late. The building itself is run-down and located far from the Ganges. If I ever go back to Varanasi I would probably stay near the Ghats anyway but I would never go near the Taj Ganges. Thanks for letting me vent.

And now for some Non-India News: Unfortunately, I will not be appearing on The People's Court. I did try to follow up with them but, due to an unforseeable turn of events, I am no longer able to participate. This is rather unfortunate because A. They were going to fly us to New York, B. I really wanted to see how they run the show, and C. I could have played a Plaintiff on The People's Court! I will be posting the story of what has happened with that lawsuit, and with The People's Court, as soon as the case is resolved.

Happy Birthday Dr. Rash!

From Intrepid Himalayan Explorer and Physician-to-Those-Not-Born-In-The-Right-Place-At-The-Right-Time, to San Diego Birthday Girl, Karin has come a long way over the past 6 weeks.

I am taking this opportunity to wish Karin a Very Happy Birthday. The plan for Karin's birthday is for her to work very hard all day. Then, when she is completely exhausted from a combination of seeing dozens of patients and dealing with whatever else is going on at work, plus severe jet lag, and lingering remnants of her India-borne illness, she will come home and she, HM, Dave and I will possibly go out for a non-Indian dinner. If that ends up being too ambitious a plan, we will have a quiet non-Indian dinner and she will go to sleep.

And by the way, I do realize that this photo of Karin with the Taj Mahal growing out of her head (or of Karin wearing a Taj Mahal hat) is not "properly" composed. It's kind of an inside joke (not anymore) stemming from an art class Karin took years ago. She was studying John Baldessari who, as a rejection of conventional photographic methodology, would purposely place his subjects with various background objects sticking out of their heads, etc. I call this one Taj Mahrash.

Amanbagh II, Holi and Kurta Pajama, The People's Court, Whale Watching

Now that Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) is appearing in the nude in Equus, exactly who will divert their attention to a blog about our travels and travails? The answer is everyone (now that I have mentioned the Naked Harry Potter)!

It's 4:00 PM in Delhi right now and I am feeling alert and energetic. Unfortunately I am not in that time zone. I am in San Diego, where it is the middle of the night. I don't know if I will be able to sleep anymore tonight. If not, I apologize in advance to my clients who may experience a somewhat lethargic interview later this morning.

And this just in: I received a letter from The People's Court upon my arrival in San Diego. They want to know if I might be interested in taking my Small Claims Case against our horrible movers to Judge Marilyn Milian. She films in New York... so perhaps we'll make a trip out of it (that would definitely be blogworthy!).

Now back to India: As mentioned in the post below, we continued our celebration of Holi on Day 2 of our stay at Amanbagh. Day 2 of Holi involves getting dressed up in Kurta Pajama and then covering everyone you can in color from head to toe. I snapped a few pics at the beginning of the fray and then a few at the end but I couldn't risk drenching the camera. Therefore the most intense part of the color war was not recorded.

Following the frenzied color exchange we all returned to Amanbagh to get cleaned up, relax, and have lunch. I had Indian food and Karin did not. In fact, I had Indian food for every meal from that time until we landed in Chicago (we were on a 15 hour American Airlines flight from Delhi to Chicago). We are both still enduring stomach issues.

Have I mentioned that travel in India is tough? Well, it is. I have traveled in Thailand, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Indonesia, and all over Europe and North America, and I have never before felt like the traveling itself was difficult. While I thoroughly enjoyed India, found it at times fascinating, at times stunning, and at times enriching, it was, at times, difficult. There is a steep learning curve to travel in India and I think it took me almost a week on the ground and in the trenches to get up to speed. That being said, I definitely will return - especially now that I have learned the ropes (and I have Eric's credit card number).

We are scheduled to go whale-watching with my flying club (Flying Eagles) in a week. That trip involves flying private planes down to Mulege in Baja California, Mexico, on the Sea of Cortez. On Day 2 of the trip all of us fly from the Sea of Cortez side to the Pacific side and land at Laguna San Ignacio, a gray whale sanctuary. I have not done the trip before but I have seen the pictures of fellow Eagles kissing whales as they come out to greet their human guests. Looks incredible. After the whale watching the group (22 planes scheduled) flies back to Mulege for the night.

Hey, Rash just joined me in the kitchen (3:22 AM)! By the way, it's Rash's birthday tomorrow. We're babysitting but HM says we should go out for dinner. And not to Chuck E. Cheese (phew!).

Harry did offer to order Indian food for us after our arrival in San Diego. The offer alone set back Karin's recovery by a week.

Wonderful A M A N B A G H and the Celebration Of Holi

It is hard to imagine a more stark contrast between life inside Amanbagh and life everywhere else we have been on this trip. It is difficult to believe that what we saw yesterday exists in the same country as what we are witnessing today.

As RJ, a Delhi-based Equity-Fund Manager that we met here, said to me earlier (and I paraphrase), "If you spend 6 weeks in India riding the trains, witnessing the stark contrasts in this country, you cannot help but become a philosopher." To give you some idea of what I am speaking of, the tiny village we visited today has no electricity. Now take the image you have of that village, and imagine the opposite... That's where we are today.

Our trip to Amanbagh:


When Karin woke up on March 3, she was not well. We both attribute that to the highly-recommended, yet unfortunate, lunch we had on top of the city wall in Jaipur. We had arranged to be picked up at 10:30 AM to be taken to Amanbagh. But Karin was not feeling up to it. When the driver arrived, I asked if he would wait. I returned to the room and asked Karin if I should tell the driver that she would not be able to go at all that day. She was hesitant at first, but I spelled out just how therapeutic Aman would be and she agreed to go.

We made our way down to the waiting car. As you can see in the first picture of this post, she fashioned a cocoon for herself in the car in an effort to endure the 2 hour ride. Getting out of Jaipur was particularly unpleasant as traffic was a mess. Once we were on the highway the drive was fine - but Karin was not. She had us stop a couple of times on the way to get some fresh air (euphemism).

While Karin may not have seen much more than the inside of her green scarf, the drive was very interesting. We passed through a number of villages and shared the road with many different modes of transportation. Ubiquitous were cars and trucks with many people on the roof. When the roof is full they they hang outside the vehicles. We saw cars built for 6 with more than 20 people hanging on - tearing down the highway! Those ovepacked vehicles share the road with, among other things, enormous trucks, tiny tuk tuks, and camels. Of course cows and other animals often wander into the middle of the road as well. This was the first time I've ever felt like driving myself would be unpleasant.

The roads in India are chaotic and obstacles are ubiquitous and dynamic. People drive so aggressively that any tiny mistake is a guaranteed accident. And, in fact, our vehicles in Delhi and Varanasi did touch other vehicles more than once (in Varanasi our driver got out of the car and slapped the driver of a motorbike that he had hit).

Eventually, we turned off the major roads and onto unpaved and little-used roads. We drove through beautiful, barren landscapes dotted with tiny rural villages. The contrast from the loud, dangerous frenzy of urban India to the quiet rural landscape was wonderful.

Arrival at Amanbagh

Driving onto the Aman property is striking. From a distinctly harsh and rugged countryside with nothing more than tiny remote villages populating the miles around it, we entered a beautiful, manicured oasis. We drove up to what resembles a modern palace and were greeted by the waiting staff, who gave us refreshing towels, introduced themselves to us, and then took Karin to the room so that she could sleep.

Walking through this serene and immaculate setting after the constant bombardment of our senses over the past 2 weeks was fantastic.

Karin went straight to sleep and slept until late afternoon. I explored the property and did some reading. Pure relaxation.

We happen to be here for the celebration called Holi (also known as the Festival of Colours). Here is part of Wikipedia's description of Holi:

"On the first day, a bonfire is lit at night to signify burning Holika. On the second day, known as Dhulandi, people go around until afternoon throwing colored powder and water at each other. A special drink called thandai is prepared, sometimes containing bhang. People invite each other to their houses for feasts and celebrations later in the evening. "

On our first evening here, the hotel brought us to a neighboring village to celebrate Holi with the villagers. They built a huge bonfire in a field in the village. We were then given long poles with vegetation tied to the the end of each. We and the villagers stuck our poles into the raging bonfire - a ritual that is used to encourage a good harvest. Once the poles were burnt, the men of the village danced around the fire while the women made a circle of their own and a few young girls danced in the middle.


Following that Holi celebration (which would continue the next day), we returned to Amanbagh for dinner. Amanbagh has a Western Menu and an Indian menu. As much as we adore Indian food, and as much as we want to eat Indian food, we are both hesitant to do so at this point as our stomachs have been sending regular SOS pleas to us for the past few days.

So, at each meal, we go through serious soul searching: Do we dare test our biological and digestive prowess again? Or do we order the club sandwich? Do we take that precarious step into the culinary abyss at another attempt at gastronomic nirvana? Or do we have toast instead?

Karin has not risked eating Indian food in days. I, on the other hand, have had it almost every meal. And I have the digestive issues to prove it.

Following dinner we made our way to our haveli (what they call each of the living spaces here) and went to sleep.

I awoke early the next morning and went on a trek to a nearby former tiger-hunting area of the Maharajahs. Built into the rock was a seat where the Maharaja could sit with his rifle. He would then have dozens or more villagers form an enormous semi-circle around the animals in the wild. The villagers would bang drums and make noise to scare the animals closer and closer to the Maharajah's seat. They would close in the semi-circle so that the Maharahs would be able to effortlessly kill the prey of their choice. I think our guide said the practice was called Hakata. It was so effective a hunting technique that tigers are now extinct in the area.

During the hike through the serene and stunning countryside, we came upon monkeys, parrots, camels, parakeets, peacocks, and a host of other creatures (luckily for them the Maharajahs' egos were connected primarily to tigers and other big game). Once at the "throne", the guides brought out ginger chai and almond cookies and we sat on rocks enjoying what was once the Maharajahs' personal playground.


On the way back, we passed through a few villages and saw small structures that are used as lookout towers. The pic below is of a villager on guard for wild animals (no tigers to worry about mind you).

Present on the hike were two attorneys from Sao Paolo and an equity investment manager (and his lab) who spent the last 7 years in Hong Kong and who has recently moved to Delhi. I learned all about how the court system works in Brazil and something about Asian equity management. It was on this walk that I was also told about another part of the celebration of Holi - that being the drinking of bhang. While I could not get a definitive answer about what the drink is, it sounded to me like the "special lassi" that I had read about while researching our trip. What I was told is that everyone drinks it, but only around the time of Holi. I made a note-to-self to ask about it back at the hotel.


Following the trek, we all had to get ready for the big Holi celebration we were going to attend in another nearby village. Holi is also known as the Festival of Colors because on day 2 of the celebration everyone gets dressed in Kurta Pajamas and then sprays everyone around them with bright colors and water. And that's exactly what we did. We headed into the village in our pristine white kurta pajamas and had a huge color and water fight with the villagers. I think the villagers won but they have had centuries of practice. Karin had a particularly intense color exchange with one little girl and ended up much more colorful than the little girl.

Once we were sufficiently ensconced in color, everyone gathered in a circle, bongos were brought out, and the dancing began... men only, mind you. Seems like the men and women dance separately, much like in the more devout reaches of our own culture.

The dancing lasted a little while and then the guests (us) were brought before the Village Elders. The Elders had remained outside the fray and had no color on them. I was handed some color and was instructed to put color on the Elders. I walked from Elder to Elder and placed color on each of their faces. What qualifies me to do such a thing? Excellent question. Maybe the Village Elders like the blog?

Following the crazed Holi color-fight and celebration, we returned to Aman and went for lunch. Western or Indian? Indian or Western. True to form, I went Indian and Karin went Western. The rest of the afternoon was spent by the pool and in the library reading. Very enjoyable.

I should describe the pool and the library. The pool is magnificent. It is built out of turquoise marble and is enormous, beautiful, and surrounded by pink modified-Moghul architecture. The library is also a pleasure as it contains a fabulous collection of dozens of superb coffee-table books about Indian life, Indian art, Indian religion, Indian geography, Indian history, the Maharajas, and much more. It is a tremendous place to learn more about what we have been experiencing over the past weeks and what has transpired over the last few thousand years to evolve into modern India.

At 7:00 PM, Karin and I departed on a night-trek to a temple with our guide for Aarti, a fire ceremony performed twice daily, and at the end of holidays (such as Holi). We entered the temple and two men began an interactive drumming with each other. Each of them held a circular medal cymbal in one hand and a hammer in the other. They faced each other and would each raise one hand in unison. The one would strike the cymbal the other was holding and then they would alternate. The result was a deep trance-like rhythmic sound that filled the small marble structure.

Behind the two percussionists, an older bearded man appeared (we were later told he is a local religious leader and is 130 years old). He lifted a plate of candles and began waiving them around and chanting in a little worship room that we could partially see through a marble screen. He finished the ritual in that room and then came into ours. Once he had emerged, we could see that he had a school-bell in his other hand. As he waived the candles with one hand, he would ring the bell with the other. He went up to each of the gods that was represented in the room and waived his candles and rang his bell. Once he was done with the main temple room he went into another temple room. And then to a small worship area outside. And then to another across the street. And then to a different room across the street. Each time he would chant, waive his candles, and ring his bell, and all the while, the cymbal players continued with their own beat. Karin, for much of the ceremony, sat cross-legged on the floor with her eyes closed, in mediation.

Following the end of the ceremony, we walked back to the Aman and once again faced the Western vs. Indian Menu dilemma. True to form, Karin went Western (gnocchi) and I went Indian (amazing Rajasthani lamb dish).

This morning Karin is again not feeling 100%. She canceled her morning yoga and is taking it easy. I, on the other hand, am feeling strong and healthy.

We are leaving on a flight that departs from Delhi after midnight tonight. Our trip home will involve another 2 hour drive - this time to the Jaipur airport. Hopefully Karin is feeling better by the time we leave, late this afternoon. We will then be flying Jaipur-Delhi-Chicago-San Diego. Total flying time is a bit over 20 hours.

There is much more about this trip that I have yet to post. I expect to be able to catch up a bit between flights, though it will probably not be possible to post any pictures until we are back in San Diego.

Amanbaugh is highly recommended.