One of the good sides of walking in Jodhpur, is that you can basically fart anywhere on the street and nobody will ever notice. The sun hits hard, and the atmosphere is dry and dusty. The smell ranges from intense to extreme: a unique blend of spices, excrement, garbage and smog. If you’re one of those farting English club goers you’ve nothing to worry about.
The city centre is a intricate maze of very narrow roads where
rickshaws and motorbikes wave in and out at crazy speed honking
The street knows no rule except a subtle one, figured out only later in my trip: the biggest and fastest vehicle takes precedence. As there are no sidewalks (as you would expect) if you’re on foot you’re simply out of luck, which will turn even the shortest walk into a potential nightmare.
Tipically streets are very busy, with thousands of market stands
selling fruit, veg and cheese (no meet, no fish), clothes, fabrics
and various accessories. Local people immerse in their surprisingly
chilled daily lives, either when they’re rushing somewhere or they’re
just hanging on the street, sitting outside of their cute blue houses,
until the sun is gone and through the night, when an explosion of
colours and sound invades the street.
A traditional indian folk festival takes over all night long, with ladies dancing tirelessly on bands with drums and trumpets. Men wave a 100 rupies note above their chosen dancers’ head, showing admiration to their beauty.
Tradition is everywhere, and you will get involved, somehow, overwhelmed by a pure, honest and refreshing naive happiness. Those smiling eyes, full of hopes and sentiment. If I had to choose an image to take with me, that would be the one.