Day Five

We appear to be climbing. The first thing I see when I raise the blind is white sails. Sailboats. Oh. The sea, cool.

Then I remember that we are nowhere near the sea. Those white sails in the distance must have been more temples.

Much more vegetation here. Just went past a factory called The Indian Hume Pipe Co. Didn't realize Hume's were here. They have a branch in Christchurch.

Sarah still isn't sleeping well. The curse of being a light sleeper. Actually, she commented a few days ago that the movement of the train is similar to how the earthquakes felt. I agree. I was just lying here when the train started again. (They stop and start a lot.) As we got moving, I had a strong memory of being in Christchurch.

We pass a lot of wells. Obviously a lot of water in this region.

I imagine there are three types of well. The romantic ones from the children's stories, with a little roof and a bucket on a rope. Then there is the realistic one. Just a pipe coming out of the ground, no other visible sign.

And then there are the wells in India. They don't have the little wall like the first kind, and they are not covered like the second. It is a large hole in the ground, with brick sides, but flush with the ground. Imagine walking along at night (no street lights out here), and then suddenly PLOP! I wonder how many animals and small children disappear into these on a daily basis.

We stop at the village of Khajuraho. There is nothing here to speak of, except for temples. We see a few in one area before lunch, and the main ones after lunch.

By the way, this is the area where a little book called the Karma Sutra was written, in about 300AD. These temples were built about 700 years later, and the carvings on them, like all similar temples, depict all parts of life. These local ones, however, seem to have taken a lot of inspiration from said book. And our guide seems to take an inordinate interest in that aspect of the artwork. His dialogue certainly is geared towards the 12 year old boy. Ben, you may want to add this tour to your bucket list.
"Do you see what he is doing? Do you see where her hand is? Do you know what that position is called?" They've got it all covered. Twosomes, threesomes, foursomes, goatsomes, donkeysomes. Upside down, inside out. Somersault with a double twist. Skinny latte with a double shot.
A little much for the age group, really. I now call these the Porn Temples.
Want details? Google "temple art Khajuraho" for more explicit pictures. I recommend you don't google "porn temple". I shudder to think what that will find. That's only my name for the place.

I was going to buy a set of key rings for Ben from one of the hawkers at the bus door. You know the type. Two little metal figures that "interact" when you shake it. The war office vetoed that idea. Sorry, Ben 10.

That reminds me. One of our party responded to a hawker in French (I think). Rather than put him off, he started forth in a full blown conversation in what appeared to be pretty good French.
I forget that they must have tourists from everywhere coming here on a daily basis.
So easy to underestimate these people.
They probably have more languages than Sarah. Me? Like most white folks, I struggle with just the one, thanks.
By the way, for the average Australian, English is their second language. They don't have a first.

We finished the evening with a culture show, some young people doing traditional dancing. Very colourful.