Sleeping on this tour has eluded me from time to time, which lead me to wake up at 6:15 a.m. and, from the front porch of my illustrious camping tent, I sat for an hour until the sun rose over the lake. The water was like glass, and wrapped in my blanket cocoon away from noise and honking and yes, real life, it was the most peaceful experience I’ve had in months.
The day was soon to officially begin, and it’s not everyday you get to tour opium fields with a man named P.P. Singh, but we did just that today. The opium is apparently government controlled and the fields were beautiful--full of the white opium flowers.
We also saw a large holy tree, and went on a “village safari” where we encountered many more bedazzled tractors, including a John Deere one for Kristin! I had no idea your advertising reached so far.
I met a few adorable village girls when we visited a site that looked like a cemetery but was more of a memorial holy place rather than an actual cemetery. We couldn’t speak the same language, but did admire each others nose rings and shared a laugh about the photos I snapped of them.
Afternoon brought us to the city of Bijapur and the Bijapur Hotel Palace where we stayed, again, in a former Maharaja’s palace. It’s quite common now for the former Maharajas to turn the forts, palaces, and castles into lodging. I had a great day here, though I sadly got schooled in ping pong, but did have a great massage later in the day (non-Aruveydic, so less oil).A fabulous amenity of the palace was the pool. It was oh so sweet to swim outdoors in February! I convinced the boys of the group to participate in a cannonball contest--there were four categories to be judged on: Form (tuck), height, splash, and recovery.
I won on recovery, having a flashy two hand salute after each one. (think me channeling the finish of gymnastic performances, but with lots of SPLASH). Jay bagged the prize for height and splash and John on form. Later, I learned to dive for the first time (or at least, got closer). But this stopped after improving my form so much I hit my head on the bottom of the 5 foot depth of the pool.
Why yes I am reading a true story about Early Retirement while sitting on a poolside swing.The evening brought time enjoying beers and live music in the courtyard and dinner with the group poolside. Later some of us, riding on a tip of a party and hearing music nearby, walked 5 minutes into the village came across a twice a year live performance in a local language (that not even some locals seemed to understand) that involved costumes, men dressed in drag, and lots of loud speakers and music. It was here I realized my desperate need to buy an Indian accordion (a harmonium I have learned they are called). There were at least a few hundred people gathered in the small, outdoor square, but when we arrived we did garner a lot of stares, but were welcomed to sit right beside the musicians near the performance “stage.” It was one of those things you don't plan, don't even know about, but feel privileged to have joined in the experience. One of the performers below.
