My Inner Critic: “Yeah… this article is shit.”
Welcome to Notes from the Road—a travel series where I try not to try so hard.
This will be more stream-of-consciousness than crafted narrative. Less editing, more honesty. I’ll definitely lose most of you, and I’ll probably cringe before hitting publish, but I’m hoping it helps me keep up with the daily “experience overwhelm” of traveling in India—and that some of the color and richness of this place pours through to those of you willing to ride it out with me.
Ok, last time I was in Delhi, India. Catch up here.
Next up…
Night Train to Rajasthan
Notes from the Road, Part Two
After five days of being blitzed by Delhi’s glorious chaos, I boarded a night train bound for Jodhpur, hoping for rest, escape, and a full reset.
I found my train after about twenty minutes of confused wandering. Once I located my berth and bunk, I climbed in and immediately began praying that I could just sleep my way to our 9 a.m. arrival and—above all—avoid using the bathroom.
It did not go to plan.
Dramamine and Denial
I managed to sleep until about 5 a.m.
Then I woke up… queasy.
Motion sickness? Weird. Manageable. I popped a Dramamine.
One more hour of sleep. Still nauseous.
My stomach made a noise.
More Dramamine. All of the Dramamine.
No improvement.
Thirty minutes later: no cure, no sleep, and no escape.
I paced the train praying I could make it to a quality bathroom.
You know where this is going.
I’ll skip the details, but here’s the summary:
Train toilets are best avoided.
Fortunately, I am highly skilled in repressing unwanted memories (and emotions), so I will never speak of it again.
Jodhpur Arrival: Recovery Mode
We arrived in Jodhpur. I hobbled off the train and half-heartedly haggled a ride to my hostel, where I became one with the floor for a full 24 hours—drinking only water, eating fruit, and negotiating a peace treaty with my digestive system.
By the next day, Delhi Belly had been conquered.
I emerged from my bunk, reborn.
Time to explore.
Jodhpur, India
First impression?
Desert.
Like, full-blown how-did-anyone-ever-survive-here desert.
Shrubs. Cactus-like plants. No rivers. Just heat, twigs, rocks, and a giant fortress made of red sandstone towering over the city. I had one very clear question:
How the hell did people live here before irrigation?
And more than that—how did they build a city here?
Answer: Stepwells
This was exactly what I asked my local guide on our first day together.
His answer: Toorji Ka Jhalra Bavdi.
Stepwells.
Because Jodhpur sits on sturdy bedrock, they could dig deep—like, 200-feet-deep—without worrying about collapse. They excavated giant rectangular pits with staircases on three sides (Bavdi’s), so as the water level dropped throughout the year, people could still access what remained.
He told me there used to be hundreds of stepwells, but most have since been filled in with trash and rubble. The one we visited was only restored after a nearby hotel leased it from the government, cleaned it up, and helped turn the area into a popular local hangout. Now it’s surrounded by trendy cafés, hip boutiques, and photo-snapping tourists.
Interesting, how money fuels progress—how tourism can, if done right, help restore cultural heritage.
Desert Life 101
Okay, so you’ve got water.
What about food?
Livestock. Milk. Meat. A desert-hardy grain called millet.
Shelter?
Red sandstone from a nearby quarry. Everywhere. Buildings, walls, homes, forts—it’s all red stone, or at least it was..
The red sandstone isn’t perfect. My guide explained that it’s friable—soft—and begins to deteriorate at the base over time. It also absorbs heat, which meant buildings needed to be painted to keep from overheating. That’s where the whole “Blue City” thing started—cheap blue dye became available, and people painted their homes to keep them cool. Now everyone’s switching to pink sandstone, which doesn’t need to be painted and stays cooler.
So despite the “Blue City” branding, it won’t stay blue for much longer.
Caste, Family, and the American Dream
At one point, my guide told me that three of his cousins had emigrated to the U.S. They return for weddings and funerals—“only the big events,” he said with a laugh.
His parents, though? Nervous. Afraid their sons will fall in love with white women instead of the caste-approved brides chosen for them.
It was one of those casual, offhand comments that sticks with you.
Funny and tender and heavy, all at once.
Rocks and Rajputs
A few other things stood out in Jodhpur:
- The rocks. I’m not even kidding. Rao Jodha Desert Rock Park blew me away. Giant volcanic rock formations—welded tuff, he said. Old, jagged, textured. Something about them felt ancient and alive. I absolutely loved that place.
- The Rajputs, a warrior caste. My guide—a Rajput himself—told me, proudly, “The only reason India is not a Muslim country is because of us.” The pride was palpable
Next up..
In the far west, near the border with Pakistan, lies an ancient trade hub of the the silk road: the Golden City.
Jaisalmer!
P.S.
Wow. You made it to the end! Thanks for being here. I’ll be back soon with the story of The Golden City, and all the interesting people and camels I met there.
You don’t want to miss it.
Or maybe you do.
<3 OOLIN from The Road.
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I don’t actually have any swag yet, silly!
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