"It's not what you are that counts. It's what they think you are."
-Andy Warhol
I learned the first time I traveled in Tanzania in 2008 that if a man asks you if you are married, you say yes. It was all too easy to meet handsome young bachelors in East Africa, but easiest to avoid the Borat question- so when we have the sexy time?; and yes, I have been asked this multiple times by men I had been speaking with for more than 5 minutes- if I said that I had left the old ball and chain at home- and even better if I said the hubby was an Arab.
I encountered a similar problem in India, but in general, men were more aggressive in trying to convince me to marry them then just to have sex with them. I suppose that in addition to sleeping with them, they also hoped that I would fold their laundry for the rest of my life. Aim high.
I would make up all sorts of stories. Usually whichever male friend I had been thinking about most recently became the victim of my marriage fantasies. I would give us all different types of jobs, talk about our plans for children or no children, and invent the histories of our relationship. I would invent the perfect husband. On any given day, he could be of any nationality, hold any job or position, and be a perfect scramble of all the best traits I have discovered in the men I know.
My imaginary marital life really blossomed in Pushkar, the first place I went after leaving Ajmer.
After checking into a guest house, I went to see the lake. Pushkar is a holy city. It is the one of two places in India with a temple to Brahma. It is said that Brahma dropped a lotus flower to earth, and where it landed, became Pushkar. The tourist pocket book is also highly revered.
I was awestruck by the beauty of the the lake and approached the ghat, then led down to the water's edge by holy men for my puja, a sort of Hindu baptism. I informed the holy man of my family dynamics, instinctively saying that I was married.
Lonely Planet had already warned me to ask a price before starting.
No no. This is holy. We do not talk about money.
After I had poured pond juice over my head, I was asked to give money as the blessing for the health and wellness of my family.
I will give 100 rupees.
No no no. Not even the poorest of peoples gives this amount. Ok 100 rupees each family member. This is good price.
I will give 100 rupees.
Imagine my shame a month later, when I returned home, and had to tell the friend I had named as my life-partner that I had only given 20 rupees for his health and wellness... but what a bargain!
I moved on from Pushkar to Jodhpur, the blue city. Jodhpur is my favorite place that I stayed in India. I stayed in the Hare Krishna guest house, which was a dream in itself. Which undoubtedly influenced my opinion of Jodhpur for the better.
I was there two nights. The second night was Christmas. Both nights there was a wedding celebration for our neighbor held next door. Christmas night was the actual wedding ceremony.
Hearing music, we ran downstairs to see a terrified groom on a horse surrounded by dancing family members and friends. The wedding was to be held 2 kilometers away.
Manou, a member of the family that ran the guest house, was going and asked who wanted a ride over on his motorcycle. I can never turn a free motorcycle ride down. I got on with a 30 year old veteran traveler from Belgium and we were whisked away.
Unlike American weddings, food is served to the guests buffet style (Indians love a good buffet) before the bride and groom even enter for the ceremony. Half of the guests were dressed in the finest saris and the other half wore jeans and a sweatshirt. The Belgian woman and I were making some small talk with guests and children and were led backstage to meet the bride by the children.
She was absolutely beautiful. She was 24 years old, covered in henna, adorned with heavy gold jewelery and jewels and wearing a heavy looking bedazzled red sari. She spoke good English. She told us she was nervous. She had never met her future husband. We assured her that he was very good looking.
He has kind eyes, I offered.
We took pictures with her and wished her luck. Back outside, Manou was eager to go. He had finished eating and it was cold. We waited until the bride and groom came out to the stage for the ceremony then left. They are not supposed to look at each other until the wedding night, but they stole glances of each other from the corners of their eyes. Manou told us that he was married a year ago. He showed us pictures of him with his wife. They looked happier together than I could ever hope to be.
She is beauuuutiful! You are very lucky. We gushed.
She is lucky. He corrected us.
He explained,
In America, you love first, then live together. In India, the opposite- first you live together, then you love each other.
Its a leap of faith.
Experiencing the wedding in Jodhpur wasn't the last time in India that I would consider what I wanted from relationships in my life. However, I'll save my marriage proposal in Khajuraho for another entry.
-Andy Warhol
I learned the first time I traveled in Tanzania in 2008 that if a man asks you if you are married, you say yes. It was all too easy to meet handsome young bachelors in East Africa, but easiest to avoid the Borat question- so when we have the sexy time?; and yes, I have been asked this multiple times by men I had been speaking with for more than 5 minutes- if I said that I had left the old ball and chain at home- and even better if I said the hubby was an Arab.
I would make up all sorts of stories. Usually whichever male friend I had been thinking about most recently became the victim of my marriage fantasies. I would give us all different types of jobs, talk about our plans for children or no children, and invent the histories of our relationship. I would invent the perfect husband. On any given day, he could be of any nationality, hold any job or position, and be a perfect scramble of all the best traits I have discovered in the men I know.
After checking into a guest house, I went to see the lake. Pushkar is a holy city. It is the one of two places in India with a temple to Brahma. It is said that Brahma dropped a lotus flower to earth, and where it landed, became Pushkar. The tourist pocket book is also highly revered.
Lonely Planet had already warned me to ask a price before starting.
No no. This is holy. We do not talk about money.
After I had poured pond juice over my head, I was asked to give money as the blessing for the health and wellness of my family.
I will give 100 rupees.
No no no. Not even the poorest of peoples gives this amount. Ok 100 rupees each family member. This is good price.
I will give 100 rupees.
Imagine my shame a month later, when I returned home, and had to tell the friend I had named as my life-partner that I had only given 20 rupees for his health and wellness... but what a bargain!
I was there two nights. The second night was Christmas. Both nights there was a wedding celebration for our neighbor held next door. Christmas night was the actual wedding ceremony.
Manou, a member of the family that ran the guest house, was going and asked who wanted a ride over on his motorcycle. I can never turn a free motorcycle ride down. I got on with a 30 year old veteran traveler from Belgium and we were whisked away.
She was absolutely beautiful. She was 24 years old, covered in henna, adorned with heavy gold jewelery and jewels and wearing a heavy looking bedazzled red sari. She spoke good English. She told us she was nervous. She had never met her future husband. We assured her that he was very good looking.
He has kind eyes, I offered.
We took pictures with her and wished her luck. Back outside, Manou was eager to go. He had finished eating and it was cold. We waited until the bride and groom came out to the stage for the ceremony then left. They are not supposed to look at each other until the wedding night, but they stole glances of each other from the corners of their eyes. Manou told us that he was married a year ago. He showed us pictures of him with his wife. They looked happier together than I could ever hope to be.
She is beauuuutiful! You are very lucky. We gushed.
She is lucky. He corrected us.
He explained,
In America, you love first, then live together. In India, the opposite- first you live together, then you love each other.
Its a leap of faith.
Experiencing the wedding in Jodhpur wasn't the last time in India that I would consider what I wanted from relationships in my life. However, I'll save my marriage proposal in Khajuraho for another entry.
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