(This is the first part of my India entry. I wrote it a while ago, but I am posting it now to give myself the impetus I need to finish it!)

One day, while wandering around Wororot market in Chiang Mai, I came across an Indian import store. I was drawn in by the vibrant colors, sparkly bangles, and a beautiful, mirrored, patchwork wall hanging. I remember admiring the brilliant topaz, turquoise, and vermillion and thinking, "this is what India is going to be like". And, in a way, it was. Everywhere I went in North India, these wall hangings abounded, stitched together from pieces of old saris, reflecting the lives that went on around them.

I could never hope to tell you about everything that happened in that incredible country. So, this is how I am going to present India to you - as a patchwork series of experiences, images, people, and places, reflecting my journey.

New Delhi - Hotel Namaskar

Paste an indifferent smile on your face and walk down the busy backpacker realm of Paharganj. Try to ignore calls of "Madam! Come look! Yes, okay!", shake your head no at the rickshaws and keep walking, pass the neon sign for Everest Bakery (I thought I left Nepal?) and take a right when you see people sipping lassies above you on a balcony to your left, edged by peach colored Grecian columns. Take a deep breath and rush past the street urinal at the top of the alley, and don't breathe until you hit the incense and leather shop. Wave to the friendly guy in the internet café on your left, and at the end of the alley pass through a glass door, only then can you gratefully breathe a sigh of relief. You've made it through another harrowing adventure in India's capital, and you are home - Hotel Namaskar. It's nothing special, but it is cheap, the rooms are mostly clean, and the water is usually hot. In other words, it is like an eye in the middle of the hurricane of colors, smells, sights and sounds that assault your senses every time you step out onto the streets, and it is a necessary respite from the chaos of the capital. Needless to say, I was happy to escape the crowded city as soon as possible.

New Delhi to Jaiselmer - Train

As the young man settled down across from me, I could see his curious look. The rest of the compartment seats were taken by men, and though my skirt was long and my neck covered by a scarf, I still felt exposed. Traveling as a single woman in India is not highly advised, but I had reasoned that if I dressed conservatively and kept to myself, I would be fine, which proved to be true. After a few minutes of uncomfortable rustling, the young man asked me where I was from. It turned out that he was at university studying Biology, and taking some English classes. He was curious as to why I was traveling in a sleeper class train, remarking that most tourists chose the air-conditioned cars. I explained about teaching English in Thailand, and that, although I was white, I was not rich. We shared a little laugh. Then, a slight commotion broke out as an Indian man got on the train and started gesturing at me and talking to my new friend. Body language is an incredible thing, and it was clear that he thought I was in his seat. I got out my ticket to prove that I wasn't. Sure enough, I was in the right seat…in the wrong car! I had assumed that there was only one sleeper car, when actually there were five or six. My friend explained the situation to the other man and all seemed to be resolved, but then he started explaining to me that I was not only in the wrong car, I was in the wrong part of the train to get to my destination! That part of the train was breaking off and going a different direction. When I fully understood, I started to get a bit panicky (as you sometimes do when things go wrong and you are traveling alone). However, my student friend assured me that he would help me get to my correct seat when we stopped long enough to move. He was true to his word, and woke me from a slight doze to rush me to the correct car. He explained the situation to the people in that compartment, and made sure I was settled before he took off jogging back to his seat. And that was my first experience with Indian trains, and the helpful people who generally inhabit them. Trains seem to have a magic of their own in India, wherein people lose the aggressive caution with which they generally treat tourists, stop thinking about money, and become merely curious, helpful people. There was not a morning on a train when at least three people didn't offer to buy me a free chai, shoved through the window bars in small, steaming, plastic cups (that were later thrown back out those windows, contributing to India's growing trash problem…but that is a different story). Although I had several other mishaps with Indian trains, the situations always worked out due to the assistance of genuinely helpful people.

Jaiselmer - Private Haveli / Persistent Shopkeeper

It all started as I craned my neck to admire the intricately carved sandstone façade on one of the numerous ancient dwellings inside the fort. The Jaiselmer fort is an incredible combination of new and old. There is no audio-guide here, nor has the fort been "restored". The Jain temples are the main attraction, and it costs money to enter each of them, then more money to pay someone to watch your shoes, and more money to take pictures. However, visitors are welcome to roam through the rest of the fort, where some people still live or own shops in the old sandstone structures within the fort's walls. It was still early, but it was already at least 100 degrees, and I mostly had the fort to myself. If I had thought the little man with his ubiquitous wall hangings was the owner, I probably wouldn't have stopped to admire this particular haveli, the word for ancient houses owned by the wealthy in the times of the maharajas. He was just setting up his stall when he noticed me, and invited me to take a free tour of his family's private home. Even after a few days in India, you begin to suspect anything that is offered as free, so I was probably a little rude in making absolutely sure he wouldn't expect money. He seemed to understand though, and went to get the keys that opened a door in a storeroom full of beautiful old things. We walked through rooms with crumbling blue tile, tarnished mirrors, ancient beds, and thousands of stories. It turned out my guide was the great-great-(maybe more greats) nephew of the man who originally owned the house - the Maharaja's secretary. There was a portrait of the man, and the family similarity was uncanny. He told me all about the house, the things in it, their purposes, and the restoration he was doing on his own time to eventually turn the place into a museum. We came across a balcony with two levels, and he explained that it was so the upper castes wouldn't have to mix with the lower castes as they waited for an audience with the secretary. It was an incredible experience, and in the end I bought a few of his wall hangings to help finance his project, and expressed my appreciation that he had let me contribute of my own free will, and had not demanded tips. I think if more shopkeepers operated like he did, they would get a lot more business.

On my way out of the fort, feeling a bit faint from the heat, I was hailed by a man I had spoken to briefly on the way in, with whom I had vaguely promised to share a tea later. Apparently, later was now, and I somewhat hesitatingly stepped inside his cooler textile shop. I was just realizing this was the second time in one day that I had voluntarily put myself into a situation where I was alone with Indian men, when he handed me a cold soda water and proceeded to tell me all about the beautiful textiles in his shop, after assuring me that he did not expect me to buy anything. After a two hour lesson on the special stitching and significance attached to different tribal patterns, he let me use his internet for free and refused any money for my drink. I walked away from those two experiences feeling buoyant and more confident. I realized that, due to their place in Indian culture, I probably wouldn't meet or speak to many women, except on trains, and I would have to adjust to dealing mostly with men. Fortunately, my first experiences were wonderful, and helped me get through the rougher moments with desperately aggressive salesmen and misleading guides.

(More to come)