It's the Journey, Not the Destination or Sometimes Both

As I rolled over I wiped the crusties from my eyes that collected from sleeping with my contacts in. I lifted my head off the pillow and the musty smell of six backpackers hit my nostrils. It was particularly off setting that morning because an Australian guy was sick and had been vomiting, in the toilet, all night. Regardless, all I could do was think about getting outside for the street food I was going to devour on my way to the bus station. I was on my out of Jaipur for a day trip to check out Chand Baori, a step well, situated in the village of Abhaneri. After a few turns out of the back streets I was on the main road peering towards the station with stands of street food littered on both sides. It was like the Vegas strip but for foodies, not binge drinkers. My first stop was a 15 rupee vegetarian burger stand. 15 rupees is equivalent to about 22 cents USD. It was a western-eastern fusion burger with the curry spices infused into the potato based patty along with a green chilli paste instead of ketchup or mustard. Aside from that it played its part in looking like a 'normal' burger. Bun, red onion, tomato, shredded cabbage and a little paneer cheese (the most famous Indian cheese). This flavour puff didn't disappoint. In fact I got two.

Just a few yards down the drag I stopped again. This time for a much more complex dish. Grilled onions and tomatoes sizzled at the bottom of a wok where soon after a hot red curry sauce with peas and carrots chunks where added. To solidify the liquid curry vegetable mixture, a simple potato ball was added and mashed in. A garnish of fresh red onions and what looked like a masala powder finished it off. For only 25 rupees it was an incredible amount of food and fantastic flavour explosion between my jaws. 

The potato ball/patty prior to mashing 

Final Product 

After my expensive breakfast of 55 rupees or 81 cents USD I beelined it for the main bus station. I knew I was in for the long haul that day when I decided to take the public transportation and not a taxi or rickshaw. Nothing against the long haul, I enjoy it generally speaking. Not to mention I was saving myself loads of money as a solo traveler due to this isolated and uncommon attraction. Once I veered off the main road into the bus station I hit what I thought was the main ticket office. I was quickly pointed across the uneven asphalt to more platforms where I was suppose to be able to buy a ticket for Abhaneri. The short, rude Indian man behind the counter fumbled over what little English he did know and told me I would need to get off at a city close by and catch another bus where I would still have to walk a ways or hitchhike my way into the village. Some information was better than none at all so I replied with the only Hindi word I know at the moment, dhanyavaad (thank you). I grabbed the 100 rupee bus ticket from the small opening in the gate that separated the ticket agent and bus goers and made my way.

The bus was packed once we got to leaving. Shoulder to shoulder for the ones standing and every inch of the seats taken by the kids, women and men lucky enough to get into the bus in time for one. It was a two(ish) hour bus journey to my stop, Sinkandra Junction. I needed help from the bus attendant of when to get off as every single town/village we drove through looked exactly the same to me. This part ran pretty smoothly as I got a seat towards the back of the bus away from the hustle and bustle of comers and goers. Once I was yelled at by the attendant for Sinkandra things happened so fast. I hopped off with the bus still moving and quickly turned down offers from the vulturous rickshaw drivers. I turned to a man at a tobacco stand close by and said Abhaneri in a questioning voice while slightly tilting my head. He pointed. Just a few stands down from his was a mini bus just off the side of the road. Two bus attendants were yelling at the top their lungs while blowing whistles perched against the side of their lips to hurry passengers on. I took that information from tobacco man as that's your bus, don't miss it. 

I hopped on in barely making it as a few others squeezed in behind me. The last handful of us were in limbo with one leg on the stairs and one on the bus platform where the seats were. Some of them ditched the idea of trying to stay inside and just hung half out the bus letting the warm breeze hit their face. Heaven forbid they try closing the doors ever. I was loving every second of this. As my left ear rested on the roof of the tiny bus due to my height I could only help but grin. Everyone around me was smiling as well as I could feel their warm vibes. They seemed pleased to have a foreigner out and about in one of their sardine cans on wheels even if I look like a goofball. After 15 minutes I was motioned to get off by multiple people as the step well was seven kilometres away and the bus(s) wasn't going to get me any closer.

Once I got off I did a full 360 at the intersection examining my options. I knew the exact direction of the village while knowing seven kilometres isn't bad at all. The problem was time and daylight were not on my side so I played dumb hoping to hitch a ride in. Within minutes I was on the back of a motorbike with some guy who was delivering intensely colored fabric squares. The man and I exchanged in some small talk on the ride there and then came the subject matter that's still a hot topic around the world especially for US travellers.

“Trump good? or Trump bad?” He said in a thick Indian accent then took his hand off the left handlebar to motion thumbs-up or thumbs-down respectively. 

“I'm not exactly sure yet, I haven't been home since he got elected. I want to see and hear things first hand.” I replied 

My most diplomatic effort of putting the question to rest swiftly. He nodded and understood. Shortly after he dropped me off right in front of Chand Baori. I thanked him thoroughly and we parted ways. I made it. I'm not gonna lie I was pretty exhausted at this point but I hadn't even seen the step well or made that journey back home in reverse order yet. I took a short breather at a bench before the entrance and went in. It was exactly how I imagined it to be. Jaw dropping. Like nothing I had seen before. The best part was the lack of people. Just myself and a few domestic Indian tourists still on their New Year Holiday. I meandered around for an hour and a half soaking it in. The well was actually square shaped with three of the sides taken up by the complex stair cases to the bottom and fourth side a temple. The sun was setting on just three sides but each took in a different effect from the rays of light. The temple-side sat under the entrance to the attraction combined with the sun diminishing behind it made it look nearly fake. I got a decent picture looking at the entrance with the temple as the main frame.

After my time in Chand Baori I hitched a ride back to where the mini bus had dropped me off just a few hours prior. This time it was a slightly over-weight, tall(ish), Indian man who accepted after a handful of failed attempts. He was from Delhi on Holiday with his family checking out the stair well also. As wth many Indians and their guest first mentality he insisted I sit in the front seat while his wife and mother sit in the back. The conversation was limited and the ride was over before I knew it. I was at the mini-bus-stop trying to get back to the junction for Jaipur city. I stood at the stop for a fair amount of time before I felt a slight tap from behind on my left elbow. It was short man smiling as I peered down. Come to find out he was a school teacher just a few kilometres from the junction. This guy was an absolute firecracker. No Trump questions just sheer enthusiasm spewing from him mouth. We road towards the junction chit chatting like old college friends who hand't seen each other in years. Our conversation was real. While his English still threw me for a loop sometimes I listened as hard as I could to make out every word. When we got to the junction he insisted we have cup of chai tea and continued on with what felt like a catching up talk between best friends. After a few buses for Jaipur passed I told him I would take the next one to get back to my hostel. Minutes later we saw the bus coming down the highway so he initiated the guest first mentality, paid for the chai tea, and walked me to the bus door. He nudged aside a few others to get to the bus attendant to make sure I got on and paid the correct price for the main station stop in Jaipur. In just seconds I stepped onto the bus with crowds of people around me and no chance to say goodbye to the teacher. I'm sad to say I don't remember his name but for my frame of reference he'll forever be known as 'the teacher'.

Once I got settled into my seat for Jaipur it was smooth sailing from there. After another 2(ish) hour ride I got off at the main station where only a 15 minute walk separated me and my bed. Of course there was a stop or two at the plethora of food stands in-between for dinner.

Here are a few other shots of Chand Baori...