Chandni Chowk

Qutb Minar, Humayun's Tomb and The Lotus Temple

Presidential Palace and India Gate, Delhi, India

Here are photos of the Presidential Palace and its surrounding administrative and governmental buildings. I was particularly taken with the iron gate that sits at the palace's entry. This complex was completed around 1929. It was designed by a British architect during the time of British occupation of India (the design for this area was begun around 1912 when the seat of government moved from Calcutta to Delhi). 

India Gate is a massive war memorial commemorating Indian soldiers who served in WWI and the Afghan Wars. It sits on axis with the Presidential Palace.

Both the Presidential complex and India Gate are constructed from red sandstone native to India. 

Januk Puri, New Delhi

Our first few days in India, we stayed with my bua-ji (my dad's younger sister) in Delhi. She lives in an area of Delhi called Janak Puri. 

We took these photos from her front balcony that looks across to other flats and down on a sometimes-bustling street and from her back balcony that overlooks a square park surrounded by other flats. We also shot some photos from inside the flat - my aunt cooking breakfast, gazing down at her park.

(If you click in the bottom right hand corner (the 4 arrows), you can view the slideshow in full screen.)

Thought on India. One.

When you return from a trip, people ask: “How was your trip?” You answer: “Great,” or (but hopefully not), “Terrible,” or whatever other simple statement you can make to summarize your vacation. I have been asked this very question over and over since returning home. While my response is always, "Great,” I haven’t figured out how to tell the truth, or even what the truth is.  

I have fantasized about going to India for – ever, but also, I have dreaded it on some level. Maybe I wouldn’t be Indian enough. Maybe I wouldn’t like my own family. Maybe they would not like me. Maybe, maybe, maybe.  

I did not hate India. I did not love India. I felt awed by India, by its good and bad, and I just tried to take it in to the best of my ability. A friend asked if I had an awakening moment when I felt like I had somehow returned to my roots. I told her this: The closest to an awakening of this sort occurred when I met relatives, when I saw cities my parents had lived in, when I experienced day-to-day life in India. During some of these instances, much to my own surprise, I could hear the voice in my head remarking, "Oh. My parents make so much sense to me now." Prior to these tiny and unexpected moments, I did not know that they had not made sense to me.

Tootie Fruity

Sometimes we feel like we are in the India version of the movie Lost in Translation. We're speaking English. Someone else is speaking English. And none of us is saying the same thing. I think this is the way we're told we're supposed to do dialog in short stories.

Menu: Fruit Plate. Fresh juice.

Chris: What fresh juice to you have today?

Waiter: No fresh juice today.

Chris: What fruit do you have?

Waiter: Banana and Mangos.

Me: (After walking past another table and noticing the cut watermelon) You have watermelon too?

Waiter: Yes. You want?

Me: Yes. Can you put it on the fruit plate?

And with our breakfast, out comes a full plate of watermelon.

Chris: No bananas and papaya?

Waiter: You wanted watermelon?

There are better examples, but this is the most recent that is easy to convey. We did have fresh watermelon juice in Mcleod Ganj, and it was amazing.

Speaking of movies, we were going to go to a movie in Jaipur tonight, but we changed our minds at the last minute. Something to take in next time we are in India...

*Tootie Fruity is a mystery desert that is on all of the restaurant menus.

Hello USA

We are so happy to be in a place where the internet is at our fingertips and operates on our personal time!!! Michael and Ashley, you'll be happy to know that we are staying at Madhuban in Jaipur right now.