Jodhpur, Udaipur & Jaipur. The blue, cream and pink cities of Rajasthan.

Our trip from Pushkar to Jodhpur included the usual dusty, cramped and rocky bus ride, which stopped more times than a milk truck. Surprisingly, our auto rickshaw driver actually suggested a reasonable price for the trip which allowed us to chill out on the terrace of Cozy's guest house.

Jodhpur is the home of 846, 408 people (small town by Indian standards) and the mighty Mehrangarh. This is a massive sprawling fort which looks much like a life sized sandcastle perched on a mountain top. It feels as though you're walking through history as you stroll past the pock marks made by previous attacks with cannon balls and the cenotaph showing where a soldier offered to be sacrificed and buried within the fort foundation to appease the gods. This was done to avoid the many years of bad luck said to inhabit the land, upon which the fort was built.

Listening to the entertaining audio guide sometimes gives you the chills as it describes in detail the Indian practice of Sati, death before dishonour. This act was banned more than a century ago but is still occasionally practiced today. In 1843, the 15 wives plus multiple concubines of Maharaja Man Singh placed their hand in a bronze casting before setting themselves ablaze beside their husband's funeral pyre. It's eerie to walk by the plate showing their actual handprints made just before their fiery deaths. Further on,the museum showed a curious mix of weapons, palanquins, clothes and of course the "women's dumbell". Looking more like 3 foot long decorated horn, this was meant to keep the women's arms well toned for their Maharaja. The rest of the towns 400 year old buildings are painted cobalt blue giving this town it's nick name the blue city. Supposedly the blue colour is said to repel mosquitos but its effect seemed lost in time.

Udaipur is, without a doubt, a tourist city. As our taxi swerved to go around the elephant strolling down the middle of the street, it's easy to learn the rules of driving. Bigger is better and the elephant reigns supreme. Skipping the shopping stalls which line the roads, we chose to enjoy the scenery and good food. We ate at the German bakery, Edelweiss, which unfortunately put the song of the same name in my head for the rest of the day - a truly painful experience. The peaceful view of the streetside cows munching on garbage and the shining water on the ghat (steps that lead to the water), was starkly contrasted by the constant honking of autorickshaws, motorcycles and the odd car. This mix made for a bizarre sense of calm, sandwiched by fright amidst a sea of colourful sarees.

To it's credit, Udaipur has one of the best Indian restaurants we have experienced on our journey. Restaurant Ambrai, is located on the edge of Pichola Lake and has a beautiful patio under the stars. Local musicians played the sensuous sounds of India as we ate Mutton Keena Mutter, Dum Aloo Kashmiri and nan. Yes Jon, you'll be proud... I ordered something other than chicken! It's one of the only restaurants in town where Indians will actually wait in line to get a table.

We also made time to take an Indian cooking class. Shakti, our chef extraordinaire, from the Indian Spice Box, had us make Chai Masala, Dum Aloo Kashmiri, and other tasty dishes. His instructions over the years have become refined to include a pleasant mix of grammatical errors and his scripted jokes. "Ven de oil is to be sitting on top of de mixture... then it is to be going... ready" and "too much spiiice... is going make the test... go bad in... de mouth" are phrases which are now ingrained in our memories. We only realized near the end of the class, that "test" meant "taste".

Jaipur, was a chance for us to revisit our sense of being famous. We rented Mohamed's services to drive us around to the sites for the day in his auto rickshaw ($6.60 CDN). With each site we went to, shy Indian teenage males would ask Jo if they could have her photo. This usually happened the moment I drifted more then 10 feet away from her. Smiling proudly, they made sure to keep the 12 inch bubble around her - well clear of any body contact as that's a huge NO NO. Our favourite was the entire class of 25 students, all in uniform, running across garden lawns to catch up with us for the photo op. Having that many smiling laughing faces so excited to just be near you and constantly waiving at us as we walked away put a huge grin on our faces that seemed to last the whole day. Nicknamed the pink city, Jaipur is oddly orange in colour but nevertheless, it is indeed painted all the same colour. Maybe they got a discount on the paint? "How much if I buy, 10, 000 gallons?"

Our day ended with a visit to the Monkey Temple. Here, perched atop a rocky barren hillcrest, a buddist temple gives an impressive view of the smog that lies above the pink (orange?) city. We came to see the monkeys but the charm of this temple was the giggling group of kids gretting us with their best english phrases. Each in turn, they said "Hi! How are you?" "What's your name?". As soon as we finished the exercise in english pronunciation, the next one standing in line would start up as though they didn't know our name. Declining the adults' offer to join them for dinner (we kind of interrupted a private dinner party), we left the temple, turning back every 15 steps to wave at the kids who stood there waving until we disappeared out of sight. The welcoming Indian spirit and warmth of these people far outweighs the the smog and poverty combined. It truly touches the soul and, at the end of the day, it's important to remember the human qualities of this country and let the pollution and the other less positive aspects drift away with the wind.