Bundi was a weird little town. It's off the beaten path because there's really not a lot to do there, but it will probably become more touristy now that its old dilapidated fort and palace have opened for public visitors. There's virtually nothing in the form of tourist infrastructure and Chris and I were just not in the mood for oppressive heat and a lack of creature comforts. We spent only two days there after finally dislodging ourselves from Udaipur.

I went to the fort and the castle, neither of which were particularly impressive. I wish I could get excited about old historically-significant buildings, but I've determined I love being places where there are lots of people, not places where there used to be lots of people. On the way down from the castle, a young boy of about 12 began talking to me and then asked if he could kiss me. I turned him down and he then asked me for 10 rupees. Just one of many odd personal interactions in an average day here.

The streets of Bundi are crawling with foul-looking stinky pigs like I haven't seen anywhere else in India. Black, ugly wiry hairs pop out in sprigs all over their strange shapes and I found myself looking at them with disgust as they rooted through every mound or pile they came across with their big, wet, pink snouts. Their only endearing quality is that unlike the usual street-wandering dogs, goats, cows, elephants and camels, the pigs generally stay out of your way.

We're now in Pushkar, about 275 kilometers north of Udaipur. We arrived in the dark, empty town center at 1:30 AM (busses in India tend to be rather curiously-timed) and knocked on the door of Krishna Guesthouse, which the owner ambitiously claims to be "the largest guesthouse in the world." The door was a huge, thick, arch-shaped monstrosity with a smaller cut-out door that reminded me of the scene in 'The Wizard of Oz' when Dorothy and the crew arrive at the wizard's place. We watched the small door expectantly while someone inside sleepily fumbled with keys to let us in.

Pushkar is apparently 'the place to be' for people beginning the journey north to escape the heat-- I've already run into at least 10 people I'd met elsewhere in India. It's an enchanting little place centered around a holy lake with ghats on all sides (ghats are broad steps leading to the banks of a river or lake, primarily used by dhobis, or washermen, when doing laundry). Every day in the late afternoon, all the tourists in town gather on the ghats to connect with each other and watch the sun set over the lake before dinner. Alcohol, meat and eggs are not allowed anywhere in town, though like anywhere in India, if there's a will there's a way.

This is the first place we've been in Rajasthan where I've seen most men in the state's traditional dress: knee-length collarless tunics called kurtas, long drapey pants called dhotis, and my favorite part, giant turbans. Turbans contain up to 40 feet of fabric and look extremely silly in my opinion, often riding slightly off-kilter on the wearer's head and never failing to bring a smile to my face.

Since about 10 days ago in Udaipur, Chris and/or I have been continually sick with something; flu, fever, chest cold, nausea, diarrhea or some combination thereof. It's left both of us extremely low energy and not really feeling like ourselves. I think we're both on the upswing though and Lonely Planet's promise of "spectacular spinach and mushroom enchiladas" in this town makes the world seem bright.