Khajuraho

Khajuraho's temples are the place where the people from the World Heritage Foundation and Larry Flint would cross paths on their respective Indian vacations. The temples' carvings depict erotic scenes of positions that would make a gummy bear cry, a world class gymnast get back to training, and members of the equestrian society never think of riding bare back quite the same way ever again.

Due to my somewhat extensive research of other similar artifacts such as Renaissance era paintings, Playboys from the 1980s, and the occasional "classic porn" section of Hustler magazine I was nothing short of astounded at the manner in which women were depicted. One would have been more prepared for natural looking breasts, un-toned rumps which would have been more appealing if marketed as cheese and photoshopped onto a slice of bread, and enough pubic hair to double the cost of materials for the entire project. To find Indian Pamela Anderson boobs, Suzanne Sommers thighs and Jenifer Lopez butts struck me as, if not as exciting and remarkable as a caveman with an i-pod, at least as amazing as a Mesopotamian with an 8-track. Indeed the idealized woman of over 1000 years ago looks remarkably similar to the cosmetically constructed one of today.

Outside of the temple complex the town of Khajuraho has the unique and depraved vibration that only exists in mining towns that no longer produce its commodity and those communities which are completely dependent on tourism.

The touts that pervade India are a nuisance and the beggars are so prevalent that one just goes numb to their strife. However Khajuraho's shopkeepers are an odd combination of the two and elicit a totally unique response. They hunt you down to pull you into their stores then quote you ridiculously inflated prices, just like the touts, and then act with a wild desperation in their eyes that makes you give them all of the pity that was held back from the beggars. In my case this could not have been too much pity to start with because I felt no need to buy anything. An interesting side note is that they really will not sell to the low baller such as my self. It makes more sense some how to sit on products and wait for the one person that is a push over and make six months rent on one sale.

Onto the streets the hagglers pushing photo books and odd knick knacks are more persistent than a collection agency. I played a game with one where I ran around the outside of a car trying to keep distance between the two of us. It was a stand off that lasted maybe 4 rotations of the vehicle before the haggler ducked down making himself invisible then apparated next to me like some creature out of a Harry Potter book. After walking away with the man still in hot pursuit I decided he was just in need of some company.

The second day in Khajuraho, which is one and a half more days than I would suggest spending there, we went with a married couple and a French woman to a tiger reserve where we saw exactly zero dozen tigers. The drive was very pleasant and I got to take pictures of the extremely dangerous white blonde chick on vacation that, lucky for all of us, was safely tucked away into a different jeep. Much to mine a jon's delight it snarled viciously at the sight of my camera.

I got smashed by dehydration, lack of sleep, and eating the wrong food. I have never had my body turn on me like that with out serious illness being involved. This was just neglect. My head felt like it was split in half by a mauling axe. Never have I felt anything like that before.

So after a day of getting hydrated, fed, and rested we jumped the bus and headed for Orchha.

ps

good looks to all those, namely the big sister and Mak who comment. always love knowing you guys are around...oh shit maybe you're the only ones paying attention...