(Not) Getting the Girls

It's Valentine's Day here in Udaipur (Supposedly India's most romantic city!), and I feel like an awkward teenage boy: I want to talk to girls, but they don't even know I exist.

Although every man in India seems to call out, "What is your name? Where are you from?" I could count my conversations with Indian women on one hand. Even at our friendly, welcoming guest house, the proprietress always refers us to her brother.

In fact, I haven't even seen that many women. At Delhi's subway security checkpoints, I would always breeze through the empty female side, only to spend ten minutes waiting for my dad to catch up. Sure, that's karma for all the long ladies' restroom lines I've waited in, but it's also disconcerting. Like most teenage boys, I clearly don't understand girls. They're especially scarce on the streets at night; could it be a massive slumber party? Where are they?

A Whole New World

I love Indian food. In Hong Kong, with cheap, delicious Indian restaurants near home and work, I ate more curry than wontons. And when I first got here, I kept wishing I had a bigger tummy, to fit in more chana masala and special dosa.

Had I maintained the pace, I would have gotten my wish (and lived to regret it) but a few days ago my appetite vanished. I'm not going to call it the dreaded Delhi Belly (this has been milder than food poisoning, with a faint fever) but it sure has slowed me down.

The good news is, that gave us an excuse to see the monuments around Jaipur slowly--and they're so majestic that it would be hard to see them any other way.

The Pink City

If there were a Princess of India Barbie (Oh, wait.), Jaipur would be her home, and not just because every building in the old city is painted pink. As a salesman here told us, "Jaipur is shopping paradise."

From shoes to shawls , craftspeople here make just about everything quintessentially Indian. My favorite was the bangle shops. How many bracelets does it take to fill all the walls in a room, floor to ceiling? A lot. And they're all sparkly, colorful, and handmade.

In fact, sparkly and colorful describes just about everything in India, especially the women. Whereas in most other Asian countries I've visited, Western styles have taken over, Indian women wear traditional clothes all the time, possibly because they realize their fashions are way prettier than anything we Westerners could dream up.

The Pace of the Place

Walking down the street in Old Delhi is like being at the starting line of a big road race, except everyone is hurrying in a different direction. And there are bikes, cars, street ovens, beggars, dogs, horses and cows in the mix (Amazingly, some of those animals are napping).

We've been in Delhi for almost a week and still, on the eve of departure, I feel unqualified to say anything about this city.

Delhi with Dad

Fellow travelers are always telling me how nervous their parents are. "I have to call my dad twice a day," they'll say. "My mom hasn't slept well since I left."

I smile and nod, but I have the opposite "problem." Far from worrying about my adventures, my parents are always trying to stow away on them. These are the people who rafted the Grand Canyon when one was pregnant and the other a few days out of appendicitis surgery (I'll let you figure out who was who), so I've still got lots to live up to when it comes to adventures.

Plan Ahead and Prepare

View Full Size Travel Map at Travellerspoint

Looking at hostels online, the ones in tourist areas always appeal. They're convenient! They're social! But then I arrive and I always wonder why the restaurants nearby only cater to foreigners. And then I complain a lot about not getting to have a local experience. I'm hopeless, aren't I?

This time, I decided that I would stay somewhere with local street food. I ended up in the center of Bangkok, where hundreds of stalls cater to office workers on their lunch breaks. Today, I had chicken saute, street coffee, and a tasty roasted banana. How great would it be to stop in a street stall for that pre-work pick-me-up instead of Starbucks? I'm jealous. (Although there are plenty of places to get Starbucks here. Don't you worry.)

Five Things to Remember About Vietnam

One highlight of this week: I drank weasel poop coffee. And liked it.

What's that? Well, they take coffee beans, feed them to weasels, collect the droppings, roast them, and then mark up the price. I'm no coffee connoisseur, but I'm not the only one who thinks it tastes pretty good. There's coffee everywhere in Vietnam, so they should know.

But you don't need coffee to stay awake in Vietnam. With my short visit over (I flew to Bangkok this morning), here are a few of the things I'll remember: