After dinner at a beautiful restaurant on the lake, we walked home on the quiet (Indian quiet) street in the moonlight. After ten days, we knew the road. We knew where to beware of cars barreling through to kill us. We knew where to watch for poop on the bridge. And we knew where to say goodnight to the cows huddled up for the night. Two were kissing, so I had to look the other way and give them their privacy.
Our ten days in Udaipur has come and gone. Even though work and sickness made us less mobile and adventuresome than usual, we feel like we've gotten to know Udaipur. We've seen it from every angle. We know its streets, smells and its glowing pink sunsets over the lake.
While we've enjoyed our many dinners with beautiful views and moonlit walks, we both feel ready for our time with Udaipur to come to a close.
In a few hours, we head to the airport to fly to Delhi -- a one hour flight instead of a 12 hour train or a 14 hour bus. By dinner tonight, we'll be meeting new cows in a new city.
The other night Emily asked a question she asks often. It's an idea she sort of plays with over and over because the answer never fully fits for her. "I wonder if people here wonder why all these foreigners show up to their town - all the time?" Sometimes she asks it as, "I wonder if the girls walking home from school, who are just trying to make their way home get annoyed with all the white people in the street who wander and get in their way? Do they wonder why these people are here?"
The idea of growing up or living a life filled with foreigners in their travel-wear, cameras at the ready in people's everyday space intrigues Emily.
She can't imagine walking out of her door to a constant stream of Japanese and Korean tourists walking by, taking pictures of her home, discussing the design of her front door, leaning on her car and shopping in her neighborhood saying things like "Oh, this is really cute. Look, Kenji - maybe we should get one of these for your mom...." and "Kenji, look at that doormat! 'Welcome'. They're culture really is so inviting and hospitable..."
Of course, in our neighborhood Kenji would probably be buying his mom a can of Campbell's Soup from Ralph's, or a scarf from Target.
The idea of living in a town where you're surrounded by tourists seems odd - at first. Then I realized, we live in Los Angeles. There are tons of tourists. People in New York, Washington DC, Orlando, Miami - they all have it too.
If the tourists clogged up our roads the way people here add to the congestion of the narrow lanes, we wouldn't really know. We're all in cars and traffic is the great anonymizer. It could be a neighbor, or a tourist from Brazil - they're all assholes when they're keeping you from making your lane change.
The big difference is that at home, there's no power distance. Foreigners don't flood in commanding any more right or respect than we do. So with the exceptions of the occasional sheik, princess or world leader, our foreign visitors blend into the scenery of our worlds.
Udaipur is the first place we've been in India where tourism is so strong that white people really fill the streets and most of the restaurants are specifically for tourists. There's an entire world - a segment of society made of foreign tourists.
Locals live as second-class citizens because the wealth foreigners bring make it worthwhile to them. Emily can't imagine that life and so, she wonders why the girls walking home from school don't hate everyone.
My guess is that people here - particularly the girls walking home from school - just consider it the norm. Even though the individuals are transient, the aggregate mass of faceless foreigners is part of Udaipur's population. The girls know we, or the next American couple, will be here - shopping at the same store, saying the same things every day they walk by.
Do they know why we're here? I expect they know that their beautiful lake, palaces on islands and culture draw visitors. People in Venice don't wonder why tourists come flocking nor do the Balinese. There are places where even when they're all you know - you know you have a good thing.
At the same time, Emily is right. There is something sort of shocking and disturbing about generations who grow up thinking its normal for foreigners to walk through their neighborhoods, snapping pictures.
We saw this in Nepal too. People leading their lives aren't shocked when foreigners - like my wife - pull out a camera and take pictures of them going about their business. To them, it's how life works.
Well, we're two foreigners who won't be invading the lives of these people anymore. We'll do it somewhere else.
We have six days in Delhi, including an intended day side trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. February 1, our time in Region 2 will be over and to both our shock and joy, we'll make our way to Bangkok to begin the longest, but last segment of our trip - Region 3: Southeast Asia and Hong Kong.
Sent from my iPad
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