Deep apologies for the lack of photographs, but I resolutely left my phone turned off in Sydney (so liberating) as I didn't want to travel with too much technology on show. Every single person has at least one phone here, (and often up to 4 SIM cards!) but it's Blackberry-land - I've hardly sighted an iPhone. I'm told they're too expensive for everyone except the really well off.
The announcement has been made, the shining light of this year's Festival is the one and only Dalai Lama. He'll be doing an in depth conversation with the much celebrated Indian author Pico Iyer, who has published a bestselling book called 'The Open Road', a meditation on 34 years of discussions he's had with His Holiness. What a coup.
William Dalyrymple's bio: "His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, is the head of state and the spiritual leader of Tibet. The Dalai Lamas are believed to be manifestations of Avalokiteshvara or Chenrezig, the Bodhisattva of Compassion and patron saint of Tibet. Bodhisattvas are enlightened beings who have postponed their own nirvana and chosen to take rebirth in order to serve humanity. He is the author of several books, which include: My Spiritual Journey (Co-author Sofia strill-rever) and Toward a True Kinship of Faith."
It's exciting that the Festival has embraced Bhuddism this year, with varied discussions and musical performances too. In fact, monks start every day with prayers and chants on the front lawns of the Diggi Palace (the beating heart of the Jaipur Literature Fest). Sprinkled alongside this overarching theme are in depth explorations of all manner of ancient religions, with a hefty dose of modern issues to keep the event relevant to all ages. It is hard to believe how many topics and themes are being embraced this year across fiction, non-fiction, poetry, theatre, sculpture and of course music in all sorts of divine incarnations. A recent press article labelled the festival "a macchiato coffee", as it shies away from froth. Love it!
Desperately in need of some exercise and keen to centre myself, I sought out a yoga class near my hotel. Amidst a massive complex of three rambling hotels, all interlinked by very dodgy walkways that feel like temporary cardboard structures, a verdant courtyard was transformed into a dazzling sight, dwarfed by great swathes of orange, red, yellow and green material. As I donned my yoga gear and covered up with 3 layers of jumpers and shawls, (gets chilly in the eve), I passed a gaggle of guests all drenched in their finest. The women looked so regal and resplendent in their saris, while the men were holding their own in various types of suits.
I was assured by the front desk that the celebrations wouldn't go all night. There had been sound checks as I was getting changed and the levels were out of this world - not just ear splitting, but shredding. A bit like bloody Deni Hines nearly bursting my eardrum when she sang "Ain't No Sunshine" which has never quite recovered.
Yet another rickshaw ride went around in unnecessary circles, despite my having an address and directions in addition to the driver's fervent nodding that he knew exactly where my destination was. Late and slightly stressed, I found myself in the midst of a gymnasium full of sweaty Indians. The girl on the front desk greeted me by name and I was ushered into a little room, where a tiny little man waiting for me. I was given a lumpy exercise mat and a man joined us, next thing we were racing through sun salutations with very little guidance (simply right leg or left leg would have helped). The man gave up, after much huffing and puffing, and then a rather overweight young man shuffled in and took huffing and puffing to a whole new level throughout the class.
It was a challenge for the teacher to give the class in English, which I much appreciated, but almost everything about it was odd. Though it was good to stretch and I transcended the strange set-up. So we set a cracking pace with very little time to breathe or make any adjustments. That is until a portly girl called Sonali joined us half way through the class and we all had to move, so she could have what must have been her usual spot. Almost immediately, her phone rang in her bag and I was shocked when she answered it, but even more so when she placed it beside her and picked it up twice more during class. The length of each discussion thankfully shrunk with each call but in the west, if your phone emits even one beep during a class it's a massive no-no, but to answer it is punishable by yoga law. I think you might be excommunicated if you did so 3 times!!!!!
Go with the flow, I kept telling myself, this is not your country. What a perfect example of how Indians cannot bear to be parted from their technology. I'm told that people even answer their mobiles during the opera or theatre - or so my new friend Laura (daughter of a British Council man in Delhi) tells me. Funny how one full expects to be shocked by so much, but India still finds a way to subvert those expectations. Every day, in some sneaky way. I'm not saying that Aussies are perfect when it comes to invasive telecommunication behaviour, but the only time Sonali (she introduced herself after class but ran off before I could question her) didn't answer her phone, was during the final breathing exercise when she physically couldn't. Perhaps the silent option doesn't exist in her realm. I guess for a lot of young, it doesn't nowadays.
After a slightly hair raising walk home, I found the wedding in full swing with no sign of abating. Guests and workers alike were openly staring at the revellers, who were twirling around to all manner of tunes to get jiggy with. It was refreshing to be the one looking on. There were two groups of young guys pulling out some seriously special moves, but only dancing with each other. While one gaggle of women were much more demure and co-ordinated. I smiled and thought of all the incredible weddings I've danced at over the years, all the celebrating and hilarity that has taken place. Despite the loud music that went on quite a bit, it was impossible not to laugh as the whoops got louder with each new track. A familiar sound the world over.
After a morning of admin, I was delighted to get a call from Beatrice, who is also volunteering at the Festival. She is a stunning brunette, who lives in France but speaks perfect English due to her heritage. Her twin sister lives in Florence and she has been working at the Arts & Crafts Fair here for years. She has decided to stay on and help for the JLF (as the Jaipur Lit Fest is fondly called) and we met at the Anoki store, which has a fabulous cafe (coconut and rose cake anyone?). Bea works with textiles and told Laura and I great stories about how the owners of Anoki have revitalised the ancient Rajasthani craft of block patterns. It was nice to wander the streets with two stunningly beautiful girls in their early twenties, who got all the attention. I hid behind my scarf and we popped into a few stores to look at luscious jewels and wares that were way beyond our price bracket.
I suggested that we walk to Diggi and became team leader as we managed to circumvent endless vehicles and animals and cross some major roads. The girls were thrilled, as they've both been too nervous to walk the streets and I somehow managed to get us to Diggi Palace on time for our workshop session. What followed was a series of team exercises and instructions that at one point had me cry-laughing as the tuneless fellow beside me sounded like a dying dog. I met the 5 wonderful (well hopefully able) girls who'll be on my team at the Mughal Tent and I now have to leave for a full day of orientation. It's such fun seeing the Diggi Palace come to life as the workers fill it with hot pink and orange lanterns, swooshes of materials and rainbow colours are bringing the place to life. I must get moving as I have a venue tour starting shortly.
Just a quick thanks to Kanika, from my team, who took Bea and I to her Uncle's bar last night (The Rock - everyone in cowboy hats!) and hosted us to ginger massala chai that was divine. They were all genuinely friendly and gave me travel advice for my onward journey post fest. After that, Kanika insisted on dropping us to a bar she recommended, as I was in need of a drink after a pretty dry first week here. The place she picked was like being in a New Jersey diner. There were posters of mostly American musicians and actors on every wall, plus much random memorabilia. T'was truly bizarre, with high octane American rock (though one Inxs track made it onto the playlist) and we were surrounded by young Jaipurites sipping sickly cocktails.
Our faces must have been priceless when we received not two but four cocktails at once. It seems the happy hour is most generous at Rock Around The Clock (a strange theme emerging here). We shouted above the music and devoured our drinks, before I walked Bea to my hotel where we feasted on the most incredible local food. God I love a good dal and naan. A much more spiritual experience than the yoga that's for sure.
The Festival begins tomorrow. I better get to Diggi and train up my team.
I'm jumping out of my skin with excitement.
Bring it.
Lx
The announcement has been made, the shining light of this year's Festival is the one and only Dalai Lama. He'll be doing an in depth conversation with the much celebrated Indian author Pico Iyer, who has published a bestselling book called 'The Open Road', a meditation on 34 years of discussions he's had with His Holiness. What a coup.
William Dalyrymple's bio: "His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, is the head of state and the spiritual leader of Tibet. The Dalai Lamas are believed to be manifestations of Avalokiteshvara or Chenrezig, the Bodhisattva of Compassion and patron saint of Tibet. Bodhisattvas are enlightened beings who have postponed their own nirvana and chosen to take rebirth in order to serve humanity. He is the author of several books, which include: My Spiritual Journey (Co-author Sofia strill-rever) and Toward a True Kinship of Faith."
It's exciting that the Festival has embraced Bhuddism this year, with varied discussions and musical performances too. In fact, monks start every day with prayers and chants on the front lawns of the Diggi Palace (the beating heart of the Jaipur Literature Fest). Sprinkled alongside this overarching theme are in depth explorations of all manner of ancient religions, with a hefty dose of modern issues to keep the event relevant to all ages. It is hard to believe how many topics and themes are being embraced this year across fiction, non-fiction, poetry, theatre, sculpture and of course music in all sorts of divine incarnations. A recent press article labelled the festival "a macchiato coffee", as it shies away from froth. Love it!
Desperately in need of some exercise and keen to centre myself, I sought out a yoga class near my hotel. Amidst a massive complex of three rambling hotels, all interlinked by very dodgy walkways that feel like temporary cardboard structures, a verdant courtyard was transformed into a dazzling sight, dwarfed by great swathes of orange, red, yellow and green material. As I donned my yoga gear and covered up with 3 layers of jumpers and shawls, (gets chilly in the eve), I passed a gaggle of guests all drenched in their finest. The women looked so regal and resplendent in their saris, while the men were holding their own in various types of suits.
I was assured by the front desk that the celebrations wouldn't go all night. There had been sound checks as I was getting changed and the levels were out of this world - not just ear splitting, but shredding. A bit like bloody Deni Hines nearly bursting my eardrum when she sang "Ain't No Sunshine" which has never quite recovered.
Yet another rickshaw ride went around in unnecessary circles, despite my having an address and directions in addition to the driver's fervent nodding that he knew exactly where my destination was. Late and slightly stressed, I found myself in the midst of a gymnasium full of sweaty Indians. The girl on the front desk greeted me by name and I was ushered into a little room, where a tiny little man waiting for me. I was given a lumpy exercise mat and a man joined us, next thing we were racing through sun salutations with very little guidance (simply right leg or left leg would have helped). The man gave up, after much huffing and puffing, and then a rather overweight young man shuffled in and took huffing and puffing to a whole new level throughout the class.
It was a challenge for the teacher to give the class in English, which I much appreciated, but almost everything about it was odd. Though it was good to stretch and I transcended the strange set-up. So we set a cracking pace with very little time to breathe or make any adjustments. That is until a portly girl called Sonali joined us half way through the class and we all had to move, so she could have what must have been her usual spot. Almost immediately, her phone rang in her bag and I was shocked when she answered it, but even more so when she placed it beside her and picked it up twice more during class. The length of each discussion thankfully shrunk with each call but in the west, if your phone emits even one beep during a class it's a massive no-no, but to answer it is punishable by yoga law. I think you might be excommunicated if you did so 3 times!!!!!
Go with the flow, I kept telling myself, this is not your country. What a perfect example of how Indians cannot bear to be parted from their technology. I'm told that people even answer their mobiles during the opera or theatre - or so my new friend Laura (daughter of a British Council man in Delhi) tells me. Funny how one full expects to be shocked by so much, but India still finds a way to subvert those expectations. Every day, in some sneaky way. I'm not saying that Aussies are perfect when it comes to invasive telecommunication behaviour, but the only time Sonali (she introduced herself after class but ran off before I could question her) didn't answer her phone, was during the final breathing exercise when she physically couldn't. Perhaps the silent option doesn't exist in her realm. I guess for a lot of young, it doesn't nowadays.
After a slightly hair raising walk home, I found the wedding in full swing with no sign of abating. Guests and workers alike were openly staring at the revellers, who were twirling around to all manner of tunes to get jiggy with. It was refreshing to be the one looking on. There were two groups of young guys pulling out some seriously special moves, but only dancing with each other. While one gaggle of women were much more demure and co-ordinated. I smiled and thought of all the incredible weddings I've danced at over the years, all the celebrating and hilarity that has taken place. Despite the loud music that went on quite a bit, it was impossible not to laugh as the whoops got louder with each new track. A familiar sound the world over.
After a morning of admin, I was delighted to get a call from Beatrice, who is also volunteering at the Festival. She is a stunning brunette, who lives in France but speaks perfect English due to her heritage. Her twin sister lives in Florence and she has been working at the Arts & Crafts Fair here for years. She has decided to stay on and help for the JLF (as the Jaipur Lit Fest is fondly called) and we met at the Anoki store, which has a fabulous cafe (coconut and rose cake anyone?). Bea works with textiles and told Laura and I great stories about how the owners of Anoki have revitalised the ancient Rajasthani craft of block patterns. It was nice to wander the streets with two stunningly beautiful girls in their early twenties, who got all the attention. I hid behind my scarf and we popped into a few stores to look at luscious jewels and wares that were way beyond our price bracket.
I suggested that we walk to Diggi and became team leader as we managed to circumvent endless vehicles and animals and cross some major roads. The girls were thrilled, as they've both been too nervous to walk the streets and I somehow managed to get us to Diggi Palace on time for our workshop session. What followed was a series of team exercises and instructions that at one point had me cry-laughing as the tuneless fellow beside me sounded like a dying dog. I met the 5 wonderful (well hopefully able) girls who'll be on my team at the Mughal Tent and I now have to leave for a full day of orientation. It's such fun seeing the Diggi Palace come to life as the workers fill it with hot pink and orange lanterns, swooshes of materials and rainbow colours are bringing the place to life. I must get moving as I have a venue tour starting shortly.
Just a quick thanks to Kanika, from my team, who took Bea and I to her Uncle's bar last night (The Rock - everyone in cowboy hats!) and hosted us to ginger massala chai that was divine. They were all genuinely friendly and gave me travel advice for my onward journey post fest. After that, Kanika insisted on dropping us to a bar she recommended, as I was in need of a drink after a pretty dry first week here. The place she picked was like being in a New Jersey diner. There were posters of mostly American musicians and actors on every wall, plus much random memorabilia. T'was truly bizarre, with high octane American rock (though one Inxs track made it onto the playlist) and we were surrounded by young Jaipurites sipping sickly cocktails.
Our faces must have been priceless when we received not two but four cocktails at once. It seems the happy hour is most generous at Rock Around The Clock (a strange theme emerging here). We shouted above the music and devoured our drinks, before I walked Bea to my hotel where we feasted on the most incredible local food. God I love a good dal and naan. A much more spiritual experience than the yoga that's for sure.
The Festival begins tomorrow. I better get to Diggi and train up my team.
I'm jumping out of my skin with excitement.
Bring it.
Lx
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