Blissfully Lost in Bundi

Bundi is Rajasthan. Without the trashy tourists. Without the touts. Without the camel safaris. It is desert and culture and tradition. It is local markets and a slow-paced life. It is friendly people going about their day - oblivious to the happenings of the rest of the world. It is the perfect place to get blissfully lost.

However, with only one main road it would seem an unlikely place to get lost. Particularly when you are staying opposite the entrance to the city palace. But my delight in finding local areas (coupled with my horrendous sense of direction) allowed us to wander far outside the city walls. We wandered through markets offering coloured objects begging to be cooked up with masala. We had chai-dates with locals we met in the market places. We wandered through side streets falling in love with the incredible flourescent colours of the simple structures housing families of 12. We gathered quite a following as word quickly spread that there were two white people wandering in the suburbs who happened to have pens. 'One pen please?' Thirty-something pens later and we had lost our appeal. Without the potential to receive gifts, people ignored us and continued with their business - despite the occassional cry 'One photo please!' Yes, even in the back streets of Bundi, parents were desperate for their children to be famous in Australia.

Achy legs and impending darkness forced us to snap out of our wanderings. It's time to head home. Home is a simple hostel opposite the largest landmark in the town. But could we see it? No. Congratulations. We had managed to wander blissfully and somewhat naively out of the city walls and into the slums. But maybe, that is where the adventure began.

Taking a 'shortcut' in the direction (?) of our hostel (educated guesses are allowed when you're a tourist) we wandered into a quiet slum community on the roadside. The place was relatively deserted. Occassional stall owners generously pointed us in the right direction - further and further around twisting walls deeper into the darkness of the slums.

In the 'darkness' of the slum we uncovered a hive of activity. A busy swarm of children playing innocently and joyfully with make-shift toys. All attention was diverted from the games they were playing and averted to the two funny looking people in Indian clothes who had wandered into their den. We were overrun with beautiful children wanting to play with us, wanting to show us their homes and wanting us to take photos of them.

But we needed to get home. And then he volunteered. I can't remember his name (yes, I should have kept a journal.) But he said he knew how to get us back to the city palace and would gladly take us. So we followed him. The liberated, brave adventurer in me loved it. The cautious traveller in me was terrified. We were at the mercy of this young teenager. He seemed nice enough. But had he wanted to take us to his house and rob us he could have easily done so.

But it turns out, sometimes naively trusting strangers can lead to good things. He was nothing but the perfect guide enjoying the opportunity to practice his English. He adored being seen with his two 'friends' from Australia. He happily showed us around and asked people to leave us alone when we were mobbed. In fact, were it not for his slightly rude demands that I hurry up ('Madam, keep us please!') I would recommend his services to any lost and weary traveller.

Our generous guide took us through a weaving industrial slum to the scenic high road above Bundi. Beautiful view. Beautiful commentary ('here Fort', 'here palace'). We could see the City Palace again. Home! Hooray. Despite not being able to find the largest (and only) landmark in town for four hours, we had successfully navigated our way home. It was a short walk through a final slum.

This slum was alive with cricket matches - balls bounced off the narrow laneway walls. We felt far safer in the bright area - confident that we were close to home. However, our guide became quiet and nervous. The care-free, confident teenager, proudly showing off his Australian friends now wanted to go home. People called out to him 'Are you Hindi??!!' Clearly the answer was no. And so although we were beautifully welcomed into the Hindu area of Bundi, it seems our kind Muslim teenage guide was not so welcome. Thanking him generously by promising to remember him and by passing on a fair few rupees, he scampered out of the slum - back to the safety of his familiar territory. Will never understand how people who can be so generous and welcoming to two complete strangers - two foreigners - can be so hostile and dismissive to their own national brothers.

Blissfully lost, meeting delightful people. Bundi, you are delicious.

All is well.