After our Agra excursion, we returned to Delhi to catch a flight to Aurangabad, our entry into a unique destination, the caves of Ajanta and Ellora. 29 monuments and temples were carved into Ajanta's hillside between 200-800AD. Check out this excellent map by wondermondo.com:
The first temples were carved by Buddhist followers, and these shrines are just filled with lovely petroglyphs, painted murals and architecture. The temple caves are a bit dark, with no flash permitted, so most of my photos don't do them justice.
We spent the whole day in Ajanta, beginning at a scenic overlook and walking down a cleared trail to the stream's edge and then around a few bends to the ticket office. Before entry point is a massive staircase, which you, if you are too lazy to walk up, can hire a human-powered sedan to hoist your gigantic Western rear up to the flat entry. And while I understand the importance of protecting human labor jobs, no matter what country you're in, the idea of four or six 92lb Indian men trying to drag me up a set of stairs is atrocious. Though halfway up I could see the enchantment of it.
Traveling to ruins with two art conservationists is much more arduous than I anticipated. I knew we'd spend loads of time in each cave while they examined pigment hues, theorized over restorations, gaped at any filling in and shook their heads over the protective laquering of original frescoes, but each cave seemed to take about an hour and after the first five I could just barely hold on.
About seven hours into the day I made a fatal error: I left my group and passed through the caves on my own, then waited on a low wall for the others to catch up. Here's why you don't ever, ever do that: Indian school children and families bring cameras with them to Ajanta. Their eyes glaze over after Buddhist temple after Buddhist temple, but seeing a white person never gets old. As I waited what seemed like hours for my friends to catch up I was approached by multiple families asking questions and desiring my photo with each individual member of their family. I was instructed to put my arms around ladies in saris, a teenage girl kissed my cheek, I held a baby, and had to ruin the day of one husband who also wanted me to put my arm around him. Then a group of 20+ year old Indian men spotted me from three caves away, waving and pointing insistently whilst one member pulled out his telephoto lens for a portrait. I had to hide in Cave 19 at that point.
I know each of my posts labors on about this paparazzi issue, but it was perhaps the one thing I was not expecting. Limbless beggars, child prostitutes, half-naked sadhus, cows wandering into the streets, gangsters and tiffinwallahs were all mentioned by friends who've traveled to India, as well as the guidebooks and Shantaram; the ceaseless awe of my skin tone was rarely referenced.
Finally the crew reunited, and we finished the last few caves in short order. When we returned to the town of Ajanta, we met back up with our "fixer" Tahir, who helped a colleague of Lizzie and Amarilli's a few months ago, and whose name was passed on to us for any assistance with our own visit. Tahir will get things done for you, no doubt about it, but nothing is free of course and we found 30 rupee tuk-tuk rides transformed into 70 rupees, 95 rupee Kingfisher Ales into 150 rupees each and the gift of a crystallized rock on our first night meant we had to go to his brother's gift shop and at least look at buying some over-priced item. The idea of help is delightful, had this been our very first experience in India, but as we've managed on our own for a while now, these markups seemed silly and useless, and I fear if Tahir builds a foreign customer base again and again, he could become a little king of his community, someone neighbors have to pay off to get anything done.
That said, as we paid him 500 rupees for his assistance, he gave us one last tip: to eat dinner at Gopal Krishna, a restaurant about 5 minutes walk from our MTDC 'resort.' That turned out to be a delicious suggestion, so I would recommend other travelers to Gopal as well.
On December 22, 2011, our driver Parvez drove out from Aurangabad to pick us up and spend the day with us, first taking us to Ellora to see those caves, and then back to Aurangabad to catch our bus to Mumbai. All for 2,500 rupees. Parvez was a delight, he shared loads of information with us about the area, engaged in enthusiastic political talks with Fionn, and never seemed like he wanted anything from us. We all adored him. We were surprised when he said that his brother Takhi (who always answers the business phone) was going to take over the drive back to Aurangabad himself. Takhi proved less enchanting, of course, especially when we were about to part ways and he said the driving fee had gone up because the sun set. Riiiight. Anyway, about Ellora. Ellora's caves are spread over a greater distance, as you can see:
So our visit was to monuments 1-15, 16, and 31-32. When I lived in Phoenix, I was duly impressed by Montezuma's Castle but these "caves" are far and away a more stunning feat of workmanship. Montezuma pales in comparison to this Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples.
So we spent a two days hiking through Ellora and Ajanta, which was a terribly fast clip which we both enjoyed and lamented. I have spent enough time in museums in my lifetime to never want to visit another, but you don't often see something this spectacular hidden in a jungle. By the 23rd we were in Mumbai, where I suggested we head somewhere for a true tea service with true Indian leaves. We stayed at Hotel Moti (owner's a bit of a misogynist frankly...), and though Lizzie was a bit nervous about Mumbai after having seen Slumdog Millionaire, we all have had a sunny cosmopolitan visit.
We arrived at 7am, dropped off by our bus not at Victoria Terminus, but a few blocks away, and were quickly poached by a taxi driver claiming to not know where he was taking us, but also that it would definitely cost 150 rupees. A five minute ride later, we knew we'd been had. Moti employees let us leave our bags until the 930AM check in, so our first order of business was (and always is) eating breakfast. Off to an Iranian bakery for butter buns and coffee, while we waited for everything, anything to open. Our day was chock full of touring: an architectural walk up Colaba Causeway starting at the Gateway of India and ending rather suddenly at Cotton Cottage for some mini-kurta purchasing.
Then back onto the street and into a tuk-tuk to Kotachiwadi, a mostly Christian neighborhood in South Mumbai where we were going to admire the winding alleyways and eat at an unnamed, unmarked restaurant with no menu. Turns out that went out of business over a year ago, so Amarilli got the bright idea to just ask locals where we could eat. A labyrinth or 5 later we were directed to a different unnamed restaurant where the menu was on the wall, only in Hindi, and two dozen Indians gaped at us as we settled into the two bench rows of seating. With the help of a friendly neighbor, Lizzie and I possibly ordered a vegetarian lunch, while brave Amarilli and Fionn went for the shellfish. All agreed that the food was amazing, and no intestinal worries contradicted our experience. Dessert was served a short walk later on the sidewalk at New Kulfi Centre across the road from Chowpatti Beach.
After a rousing bit of shouting at terrible taxi drivers, made our way up to some "mini V&A" museum which I did not go inside of since I had experienced just about all of Mumbai that I wanted thankyouverymuch. To lighten my mood, when Lizzie and Amarilli came out of their very cultured experience, we refocused on my entertainment: shopping handicrafts at Shrujan Mumbai before taking our tea desires to The Tea Centre in the Churchgate neighborhood. In a swoon I perused the menu and went with the lushest of the lush, Maharani Darjeeling and added to that scones with jam and whipped cream. We three ladies were rejuvenated by our selections and ushered on a second round before heading back out into what is truly spectacular traffic.
We only stayed one night in Mumbai, which was time enough to eat the street food of Badimeya in our Colaba neighborhood, to gawk at the offensively overpriced menu at Leopold's Cafe, get starstruck from the gem district, admire the coastline during unending traffic-jammed taxi rides and all four share one bedroom. The following afternoon we enjoyed a sweaty two-hour car ride to Sion, from where we were to catch a bus. To where, who can even say? This has been a whirlwind.
see more at wondermondo.com
The first temples were carved by Buddhist followers, and these shrines are just filled with lovely petroglyphs, painted murals and architecture. The temple caves are a bit dark, with no flash permitted, so most of my photos don't do them justice.
 |  |
We spent the whole day in Ajanta, beginning at a scenic overlook and walking down a cleared trail to the stream's edge and then around a few bends to the ticket office. Before entry point is a massive staircase, which you, if you are too lazy to walk up, can hire a human-powered sedan to hoist your gigantic Western rear up to the flat entry. And while I understand the importance of protecting human labor jobs, no matter what country you're in, the idea of four or six 92lb Indian men trying to drag me up a set of stairs is atrocious. Though halfway up I could see the enchantment of it.
 |  |  |
Traveling to ruins with two art conservationists is much more arduous than I anticipated. I knew we'd spend loads of time in each cave while they examined pigment hues, theorized over restorations, gaped at any filling in and shook their heads over the protective laquering of original frescoes, but each cave seemed to take about an hour and after the first five I could just barely hold on.
About seven hours into the day I made a fatal error: I left my group and passed through the caves on my own, then waited on a low wall for the others to catch up. Here's why you don't ever, ever do that: Indian school children and families bring cameras with them to Ajanta. Their eyes glaze over after Buddhist temple after Buddhist temple, but seeing a white person never gets old. As I waited what seemed like hours for my friends to catch up I was approached by multiple families asking questions and desiring my photo with each individual member of their family. I was instructed to put my arms around ladies in saris, a teenage girl kissed my cheek, I held a baby, and had to ruin the day of one husband who also wanted me to put my arm around him. Then a group of 20+ year old Indian men spotted me from three caves away, waving and pointing insistently whilst one member pulled out his telephoto lens for a portrait. I had to hide in Cave 19 at that point.
 |  |
I know each of my posts labors on about this paparazzi issue, but it was perhaps the one thing I was not expecting. Limbless beggars, child prostitutes, half-naked sadhus, cows wandering into the streets, gangsters and tiffinwallahs were all mentioned by friends who've traveled to India, as well as the guidebooks and Shantaram; the ceaseless awe of my skin tone was rarely referenced.
Finally the crew reunited, and we finished the last few caves in short order. When we returned to the town of Ajanta, we met back up with our "fixer" Tahir, who helped a colleague of Lizzie and Amarilli's a few months ago, and whose name was passed on to us for any assistance with our own visit. Tahir will get things done for you, no doubt about it, but nothing is free of course and we found 30 rupee tuk-tuk rides transformed into 70 rupees, 95 rupee Kingfisher Ales into 150 rupees each and the gift of a crystallized rock on our first night meant we had to go to his brother's gift shop and at least look at buying some over-priced item. The idea of help is delightful, had this been our very first experience in India, but as we've managed on our own for a while now, these markups seemed silly and useless, and I fear if Tahir builds a foreign customer base again and again, he could become a little king of his community, someone neighbors have to pay off to get anything done.
That said, as we paid him 500 rupees for his assistance, he gave us one last tip: to eat dinner at Gopal Krishna, a restaurant about 5 minutes walk from our MTDC 'resort.' That turned out to be a delicious suggestion, so I would recommend other travelers to Gopal as well.
On December 22, 2011, our driver Parvez drove out from Aurangabad to pick us up and spend the day with us, first taking us to Ellora to see those caves, and then back to Aurangabad to catch our bus to Mumbai. All for 2,500 rupees. Parvez was a delight, he shared loads of information with us about the area, engaged in enthusiastic political talks with Fionn, and never seemed like he wanted anything from us. We all adored him. We were surprised when he said that his brother Takhi (who always answers the business phone) was going to take over the drive back to Aurangabad himself. Takhi proved less enchanting, of course, especially when we were about to part ways and he said the driving fee had gone up because the sun set. Riiiight. Anyway, about Ellora. Ellora's caves are spread over a greater distance, as you can see:
more pertinent info at wondermondo.com
So our visit was to monuments 1-15, 16, and 31-32. When I lived in Phoenix, I was duly impressed by Montezuma's Castle but these "caves" are far and away a more stunning feat of workmanship. Montezuma pales in comparison to this Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples.
 |  |  |
 |  |  |
So we spent a two days hiking through Ellora and Ajanta, which was a terribly fast clip which we both enjoyed and lamented. I have spent enough time in museums in my lifetime to never want to visit another, but you don't often see something this spectacular hidden in a jungle. By the 23rd we were in Mumbai, where I suggested we head somewhere for a true tea service with true Indian leaves. We stayed at Hotel Moti (owner's a bit of a misogynist frankly...), and though Lizzie was a bit nervous about Mumbai after having seen Slumdog Millionaire, we all have had a sunny cosmopolitan visit.
We arrived at 7am, dropped off by our bus not at Victoria Terminus, but a few blocks away, and were quickly poached by a taxi driver claiming to not know where he was taking us, but also that it would definitely cost 150 rupees. A five minute ride later, we knew we'd been had. Moti employees let us leave our bags until the 930AM check in, so our first order of business was (and always is) eating breakfast. Off to an Iranian bakery for butter buns and coffee, while we waited for everything, anything to open. Our day was chock full of touring: an architectural walk up Colaba Causeway starting at the Gateway of India and ending rather suddenly at Cotton Cottage for some mini-kurta purchasing.
 |
| Me in my new kurta! |
Then back onto the street and into a tuk-tuk to Kotachiwadi, a mostly Christian neighborhood in South Mumbai where we were going to admire the winding alleyways and eat at an unnamed, unmarked restaurant with no menu. Turns out that went out of business over a year ago, so Amarilli got the bright idea to just ask locals where we could eat. A labyrinth or 5 later we were directed to a different unnamed restaurant where the menu was on the wall, only in Hindi, and two dozen Indians gaped at us as we settled into the two bench rows of seating. With the help of a friendly neighbor, Lizzie and I possibly ordered a vegetarian lunch, while brave Amarilli and Fionn went for the shellfish. All agreed that the food was amazing, and no intestinal worries contradicted our experience. Dessert was served a short walk later on the sidewalk at New Kulfi Centre across the road from Chowpatti Beach.
After a rousing bit of shouting at terrible taxi drivers, made our way up to some "mini V&A" museum which I did not go inside of since I had experienced just about all of Mumbai that I wanted thankyouverymuch. To lighten my mood, when Lizzie and Amarilli came out of their very cultured experience, we refocused on my entertainment: shopping handicrafts at Shrujan Mumbai before taking our tea desires to The Tea Centre in the Churchgate neighborhood. In a swoon I perused the menu and went with the lushest of the lush, Maharani Darjeeling and added to that scones with jam and whipped cream. We three ladies were rejuvenated by our selections and ushered on a second round before heading back out into what is truly spectacular traffic.
We only stayed one night in Mumbai, which was time enough to eat the street food of Badimeya in our Colaba neighborhood, to gawk at the offensively overpriced menu at Leopold's Cafe, get starstruck from the gem district, admire the coastline during unending traffic-jammed taxi rides and all four share one bedroom. The following afternoon we enjoyed a sweaty two-hour car ride to Sion, from where we were to catch a bus. To where, who can even say? This has been a whirlwind.
