BHUJ
I left the Gir National Forest area around 10
AM. After traveling about 40 kilometers on a single lane road, we entered a
four lane divided highway. I was
guaranteed a driver that spoke some English, but was not surprised to find that
his only language was the local Gujarati, language of this Indian state. Not only did he not speak English, he could
not read it either, and all the road signs were in the English language. The only communications we had during the
whole 11-hour trip was my poking him to get his attention, pointing in this direction
or that and saying Bhuj. The trip was
only supposed to take seven hours but because of miscommunications, it took
four hours longer. The road was
excellent and well marked, but the landscape throughout the whole of Gujarat
was much like that of Gir Forest, parched from lack of rain.
It was dark when we arrived at Hotel Oasis. Although it was centrally
located, the hotel was disgusting by my standards. That night I shared my shabby room with
pealing paint and at least one cockroach.
Unfortunately, it was too late to change hotels.
Note: One of the sites I really like for picking an hotel is Trip
Advisor, but although contributors are suppose to sign they have no connection
to the hotel they are recommending, in both Ahmedabad and in Bhuj there were a
lot of recommendations by local residences.
This exactly why I read at least ten before making my hotel choices in
both cities and even then, I got it wrong the first time in both cities.
Often times when my sleep schedule is upset or the travel has been stressful,
I have the physical reaction of a cold or slight respiratory infection, and one
had developed by morning. That next
morning, I transferred to the Prince Hotel, rated number one in Bhuj and spent
two days resting before I ventured out to again. The Prince Hotel was rather worn as well,
with a bit of pealing paint, yet it was a 100 times nicer than Hotel Oasis. My room rate included breakfast, but if I had
it in my room, I was not only charged the service fee but also for the
breakfast.
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Typical Indian dress displayed in the museum. |
After two days, I ventured out to the local tourist office and the
Museum. Even with directions by the
hotel staff to the auto rickshaw driver, he still could not find his way. He finally dropped me near the location, and
I had to wander among adjacent streets from building to building until I found
the tourist office. Once there, I found
two young workers who had the requisite skill of all Indian government
employees; they could speak English. Yet
they had no knowledge of the area, no brochures and no maps. What they did have were government jobs.
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Two students standing in front of a museum applique display. |
After my Bhuj Tourist Office visit, I wandered back down the street to
the local museum. It was quite
interesting with not only the expected historical textile display but also
wonderful archeological and local history sections. Unfortunately, I did not spend as much time
as I had wished, as this was school groups day and there were at least 120
elementary through high school kids there who were more fascinated with me than
the artifacts that many had come some distance to see. Kids are fun, but over 120 all in the same
area is a little overwhelming. There were
so many, they were like swarming bees in every section of the museum. Upon escaping the multitude of youngsters, I
hired an auto-rickshaw to return to my hotel and found what I perceived on my
way to the tourist office. Bhuj was one
of those typical down-in-the-heel impoverished Indian villages. But still a village that, while maintaining
it’s shabbiness, had expanded because it was surrounded by wonderfully talented
artisans whose hand-produced products were found only in this area of India.
Upon my return to the hotel, the desk clerk arranged for me to go on a northern
tour the next day with a young guide who took me to textile makers, craft
makers, and the Kutch.
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A village door |
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A village house |
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Another village house |
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A woman entering a house |
This part of Gujarat is called Kutch, a word meaning tortoise in Sanskrit,
because it is a marshland, a marshland, which during the monsoon season is covered
with rain and the influx of salt water from the Arabian Sea. During the winter
dry season, when the water recedes, much of it is covered with a hard crust of
salt, i.e. like a tortoise’s shell, the Kutch.
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One of the artisans little vilage near the Kutch. |
During the tour, I was taken to see artists in applique and patchwork, and Rogan: a hand painting technique mixing sunflower, linseed or castor oils with vivid colors of various minerals
(interesting the area is covered in fields of Castor plants). These malleable
thickened pastes are stored in earthen pots to be applied on dyed cotton or
silk cloths using either a wooden or metallic stylus in geometric or floral
motifs.
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Painting Materals with Rogan paints |
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Finished Rogan material |
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Hand making wooden utensils. |
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Beautiful wooden untensils |
worker who, using no tools except a little hammer, made a lovely cat wind chime with little bells,
which I bought.
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Hand making bells and chimes |
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Some bells |
Then we went to the Kutch.
Since Mr. Modi, the former Gujarati Governor,
has become Prime Minster of India, the Kutch
has
cleverly been developed as a tourist destination.
A temporary tourist tent village is placed on the
hard salt surface during the dry season and
rented out
to, in my opinion, gullible travelers who stay there for three to five nights, shopping at the pop up
kiosks for local goods and going on to the vacant salt flats to experience the sundown. Throughout
the crowd, impromptu musicians play local instruments’ and drums. It is also advertised that evening
entertainment happens within the tent village, but visitors who are not staying in the complex are
stopped at the gate, so I missed that part of the experience. Since I was not captivated by the idea of
paying 225 US, for three days/two night at what was called the White Ram Resort experience, I
missed out on the inside village activities of Para Motoring, Bungee Trampoline, ATV rides, pool,
board games and Library.
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A member of the Indian Military |
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Waiting for riders |
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Dancing on the KUTCH |
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In local dress on the KUTCH |
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The sun just before fading on the KUTCH |
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Typical tribal dress |
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beautiful appliqué |
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Just one small shelve full of Indian fabrics of the many, at Mr. Wasir's. |
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For your camel or faimly pet |
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Mr. Wasir holding a lovely handmade piece |
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hand made belts at Mr. Wasir's |
The next day, I flew from Bruj to Mumbai (Bombay), a city much different
than ‘my old stamping ground Delhi’. But
That’s another story.
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PICTURES OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN OF THE KUTCH
Although school is available to them, most of these children do not attend. After going for a short time, they give it up because they find a school schedule too rigid. They would rather remain home, play, and show their family goods to any tourists that might arrive.
Note the different clothing designs from the different village groups. I was told that although these households are very poor, the women have at least eight different outfits.
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Rocking the baby in its crib
.
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