Khuri to Jodhpur: Seven peppers, one lemon and a massage

Indians tend to be hippies, not in the pachatolie using, free-loading, Widespread Panic following way, but in their even-keeled, optimistic approach to life. In fact, I am pretty sure hippies stole their best ideas from India: flowing floral skirts, 5-day music festivals and the willingness to let it be. Any request, however big or small, is answered with “not a problem” or “everything is possible”, never an American “we’ll see” or “hell no”. Indians find luck in everyday existence, not just in rabbit’s feet, leprechauns, and beating the house at Caesar’s Palace. It’s luck when a rat runs across the floor, you sneeze, you walk counterclockwise around a temple, you step in crap, or if you get married according to your zodiac. Doors to houses are adorned with lucky images of Ganesh, swastikas (ancient Hindi symbols that Nazis epically misappropriated), and, my favorite, seven chili peppers and one lemon threaded together in the door jam to protect the household.

It was hard not to feel lucky when we left Khuri and made a quick stop back in Jaisalmer, our favorite city. We stayed just long enough to offend a silver dealer by refusing to buy his lovely but pricey jewelry and get an ayurvedic massage, an Indian phenomenon where you get treated with special oils from head to toe, even in your hair. For time saving reasons, we were excited the massage parlor could take us all at the same time. We were a little less jazzed to find we would all be in the same room. We got over it, after all, we’re all friends here and for this cheap of a deal, I would probably agree to use the counter at McDonalds as a massage bed. We left Jaisalmer for the final time, relaxed and hydrated but with enough oil in our hair to fry a blooming onion.

We headed to Jodhpur, the “Blue City” and namesake of the MC Hammer looking riding pants. The trip took forever, but Phool Sing, our driver/guide/new BFF, gave us a break by stopping at a tea stand where we were entertained by a 11 year old boy who could sing like and angel and a holy man who asked for American coins so he could make a ring. Erin gave him a penny and I gave him a quarter, wondering if he had really thought through his plan to sport George and Abe themed bling, but happy to honor his request. India has Louisiana like open container laws, so we stopped for roadies at Phool's suggestion, getting beers in thug-sized bottles to spice up the last few miles of the trip. We kept the party going when we got to our hotel and took our (still greasy) selves up to the gorgeous rooftop restaurant for cocktails and floral soap flavored hookah. Three hours later we had solved most of the world’s problems and wandered to our room. Tomorrow we head to Udaipur, one of Rajasthan’s most beautiful cities. Lucky us.