Thank you!

India is ... | X | ← put the adjective you want. It makes sense. I now realize why this country captures the imagination of so many for so long. I tried to describe as best I could but this is impossible. I only managed to convey a small image, who only knew a little of this country. Ninety days in this country is equivalent to an atom of a crumb of the world's largest cake.

I could try to imagine it. I could try to plan it. But I know it would be impossible to wish for a better journey that I experienced. And though I'm the actor who unites all the different stories. The real stars – shinning very bright in the sky - are the people who I had the privilege of knowing. To all those who I will nominate and those who I omit because of forgetfulness, a huge and heartfelt thanks. I know that in your life I was a moment or a few days, but you can not imagine how wonderful to be on this side and see so much human wealth to pass on my way.

In one way or another, these are some of the people who have made India what it is to me: a magical place and that will be tattooed on the heart.

I remember the friendliness and kindness of Mr. Bento in Panjim. The sweet talk with Mariah while we shared a table for dinner. The Manchester City of Ian (will be this year?), The time shared with Lisa writing articles. The heartfelt goodbye of Serafin in his Ordo Sounsar or LD and how she made me feel at home in this space. Without forgetting the eclipse shared with them. And it was also there I found the generosity and kindness of Tom that offered me his house if I pass by Munich.

Can not forget the walk, talk and personality of Oscar in Hampi. Or the moment shared in a lost travel agency / bus stop in the middle of Hospet with Selina. The way Firoz cared about me in his guesthouse in Cochin, while an elderly client raised all possible problems.

As I will take with me the goodbye hug in Munnar with Dotan, or re-meeting Dani after the time spent in Munnar. And in my ears, is the voice of Nadesh while singing at Echo Valley. I think the coffee shared and the valuable help of Divya in Chennai. A time shared with her friends and where I met Alex sympathy and the hospitality of Vinoth, an Indian traveler, who help me negotiate the ride by rickshaw to my long-awaited train journey.

And how I felt among friends at a bus station in the company of Yogesh and his cronies in Mumbai. And there are moments that are happy coincidences. Like sharing a dusty bus with Jure. A journey turned into one of those conversations that lead us to many places.

Of course for me Rajasthan will always be connected to Hannah, who helped me unlock it and with whom I shared so many moments. Hard to pick one, but in my mind is sunset while we were "stars" for the the papparazi's behind us. A surreal image just as India allows.

And in this place I also remenber the heartfull sympathy of Badal in Khuri, something that touched me. A person who seems to exude integrity and friendliness. Equally concerning was the joy and willingness of Kukki while cruising the rural roads of Bundi. Here I stayed right next to the restaurant of Chetna and Tony, a couple so nice as humorous and I hope one day they are able to go to Europe and if they are there, we meet in Portugal.

It was also here that I met wonderful Dustin who I shared great conversations on the lakefront. But think about him I will say when the visit him in his country, Vietnam.

And when I thought there was only time to visit the iconic monuments of India, I am introduced to sympathy eagerness to learn of Pramod in Varanasi. Or the hospitality and brotherhood of Abid and Hassan in Kajuraho. Only to be amazed to spent one unplanned day with Fernando and where I could relearn to speak Portuguese, while our conversation jumped from English to Portuguese, at habit of native language or the strenght of oblivion.

And to end the trip perfectly my path crosses with that of Aurelie. And between the shared smile in Panjim and the heartfelt goodbye in a bus station in Madgaon, there were many special moments shared, impossible to choose a single one.

And these are just fragments of moments shared with special people. A humanity of people who enriched me, made me smile and most of all filled my heart. To all a huge thank you. I will never forget you and hope we find each other on these paths of the world.

Le moi errant: Acceptance

It all boils down to this: I never accepted myself. All my emptiness, my cries or depressions are contained in those words. I'm stubborn. I followed some of my instincts, I made my choices and I finally make my way. But in any of these heights I had never accepted myself. Inside me the endless void, the tears flowed and depressions followed a trajectory of yo-yo.

Despite the tough decisions, or the creation of this project, the void was still there. It was born early. I don't even remembering when. It grew with me. Becoming more and more invisible. Always put a negative charge at everything in me. I felt that I was not normal, but ended up doing nonetheless what I wanted. Almost with my eyes closed.

But only now, a few days ago, it become clear. While found so many people and sharing so many moments, which at one point I was forced to begin the process of acceptance. It started in Iran, but had its greatest impact here in India. Related to them are moments that are shared with others and not with words.

Today I see how the way we live in society shapes us and breaks us. How we have to choose the norm or accept rejection. It's a tough choice. One that I did out of pure stubbornness, and some masochism. I never wanted to bend to what others told me to do. But inside, this behavior had the price of emptiness. 

When I looked into my self I always rejected what I saw. I was me, but trying to be another. It happened so sublime that I walked between worlds. Now, I no longer need to do it. I'm not abnormal or normal. I am a simple person. As all, have characteristics, tastes and way of living my life. Nor good or bad. I am mine. I know I will always be judged by others, but it never interested me much. For in the midst of my selfishness, I realized that my judgment was the strongest of all.

Today I know that I am not abnormal for some tastes I have. Or for some emotions I feel. But I also know that I am not alone. That there is always someone who shares some of what we feel.

Story of a Picture: The Smile

Today I have a few words for this photo. Being the last week, I offer a photo which is the biggest highlight of India and humanity: the smile!

10 Tips for you visit to India

It's almost finished. It was a brutal experience. Those that change you, and you cannot return from it. It is another strange coming out of India. But before I do so, I wanted to share some tips about this huge country. Maybe can help you out when you venture in here:

1 – No tips makes sense in India

Forget everything I will say. Chances are that it does not apply. And being in India maybe they will. Confused? Great. Now you are already enjoying a bit of India. This country is unpredictable. It will be what you are. Its charm is that, to never be the same. So you are really on your own.

2 - It all makes sense and also its opposite

Perhaps the most loved feature of India for me. Here the reality is very different from ours. We are so used to have white, black and a set of gray in between, we get confused when  we land here. Here the reality is quantic and not linear. Therefore, there is no other way to find out but to experience it. What appears to be dirty is not. The poor is rich and wiser than you. So come with an open mind to something you've never seen.

3 - The letter P was invented to build the word patience and for you to use it here

If you do not have it, you'll start. If you already have, it will increase. India is not easy. It can, if you let it, lead you to madness. But the secret is right there: it's all in your hands. If you want, you will find many reasons for you to get upset. Transport with delays, something fixed that does not happen or even desperate at the pace of the employee of the restaurant. But on the other hand, you can become aware of this reality and adapt to what is around you. Either way, bring a good dose of patience. You will need it.

4 - India has existed for thousands of years and will continue to exist after you get off here

I would say this is the Western syndrome. I went through the same. At the beginning everything is overwhelming. And while you're in "Western" mode you will have a strong desire to help or change this reality. Forget it. India is older than any European nation and has survived basically everything. So it must be doing something right. Anyway, this is a society with its rules, and is not in the small period you're here that something will change.

5 - Be careful what you wish for

This is perhaps one of the biggest tips. Usually you end up getting what you desire but not the way you had imagined. So be very careful with what you are looking for. For sure you will find it.

6 - There is every reason not to work, but it works

This is one of the charms of this multi-country. Regardless of what you see, things work. Often seems like pure magic. At least that's what I think whenever I look at an electricity pole, or when I'm in traffic. Therefore, and despite what all your instincts tell you, you can be sure it will work.

7 - The Indians created Murphy's Law and its antidote

Murphy's Law should be called the Indian law, such is the propensity for failure. They have invented this law, but also learned to find its solution. Thus, more than stress is better for you to let things flow for a solution appear. And here the balance is the dominant note. You cannot be passive or too active. The trick is to find the points that make things happen. I recall the day I sent the photos to reveal. I wanted to offer them to people in the villages where I had shoot them. I was going to stay only one more day there so I knew I was taking a risk. Of course, the unexpected happened and the pictures went to another village. And at the time, instead of bothering me and worry, I basically made a point to emphasize the promise he had made. Three hours later I had the photos in hand and a smile in my face.

8 - Easy is something that does not match India

If you walk looking for an easy experience don't come to India. And difficult means... difficult. So ponder always very well before you decide to come here. India can be your best or worst experience. But if you're prepared for it (you never are but what counts is that you think so), and if you accept what India has to offer, you'll have the experience of your life.

9 - You can only receive what you give

Perhaps the greatest gift I received, but one that I have to warn you. India is what you are. Or rather, what you give. Never felt so much reciprocity as here. If I woke up with a less friendly face India turned into something aggressive and hard. If I had a big smile then India was something magnificent. And in that sense India is very generous. What you give it returns 10 times more. But that is for all that you give, whether good or bad. You begin to understand what is around you is in your hands, and you end up starting a trip within yourself which will change you.

10 - Get ready for smiles

And this is the biggest tip of all. I know people - and I will not be different when you ask me - have a tendency to highlight the worst. In this case the garbage, confusion, hustle, hustle, children asking for something, the streets turn into public toilletes, etc ... But this is something you overtake in an instant. What crushes you and reduces into the most insignificant being is the smile of a child. They are brutal and it will undo everything you have inside. So - and despite knowing that it is impossible - prepare your body to feel the brutal and gentle power of the smile of Indian children ...

The traveler Puto, the Leader and his Sun

The legends tell that walks around a traveler puto with a torn smile. One of those that form when a dream is realized. This accompanied him to that not-so-confusing train station in Agra. Still amazed at the Taj Mahal, he was looking for the place of his carriage. To his astonishment, this station had this information in electronic scoreboards. Followed closely the countdown. "S7, S6, S5, S4, S3, S2 ..." and the station ended before the number of carriage.

"I'm in India" he thought as he calculated  the distance between scoreboards to discover the place where the S1 - his coach - would be found. By now two people had "targeted". He, a quiet Che Guevara, she a shining star. "It must be Argentine or Chilean" thought the Che Guevara and decided to address this puto with his Castilian.

"Estas na coche S1?" asks Che.

"Si, mi coche is S1" ​​By this time the traveler puto has a certain difficulty in maintaining a conversation that does not have a word in English

"Nosostros tanbien, donde es?" A traditional unblocker of conversations among travelers.

"Portugal" replied the puto, to receive a resounding "Ahhhh ... Portugal! "That left him surprised

"We live in Portugal" and now it was time for the puto to say a loud "Ahhh ... Portugal. " Immediately was establish a connection that only latin people can. The party was mounted and the laughter could be heard between the words and gestured emotions.

They present themselves. He was called Lider* and was born in Ecuador. His wife was Sol** and was born in Chile. After a life of travel they had stopped in Portugal to raise family. And now, with family raised, they picked up the pleasure of travel.

The leaves, and after doing what all guides do not recommend: leave luggage unattended at your bank, they resume the conversation dropped. The word saudade made sense once more, as they remembered the Portuguese food. And among the stories of experiences of Portugal and India, the time passed.

The puto lets himself be charmed by the calm of the Lider and life in the Sol. But most of all feels a almost forgotten kinship. One of smiles and touches, expressions and emotions between words. They were home again, and the puto drinka the life stories of these two great travelers. He's transported to Latin America and is sure that that part of his journey will touch him deeply.

But the chorus of snores was singing loudly. It was time to say goodbye. When he arrives at his bert he discovered his bag intact and a snore for company. Nothing that withdraws  smile while he fells asleep...

*Lider means leader in Spanish

**Sol means sun in Spanish

Gems of India

Leaving the best for last. One piece of advice that I followed religiously. In India I had three places I wanted to see above all: Agra, Varanasi and Khajuraho. These were the gems of India. And now I know why. They are simply heavenly. Each for a different reason, but all are stars in the sky full of dreams.

Varanasi

It doesn't apologize. Enter into you and you violate your senses. Flood yourself with sounds, smells and movements. At first you stay paralyzed. Too much. Here you have all that is life. No excuse, or smoothie. It's raw, violent and aggressive. But also very beautiful.

It was one of the last cities I visited in India. By this time I was accustomed to the movement. When I crossed the street to the train station, I did it in Indian fashion, without pause and with my hand in front to guide the space where I can pass. Doesn't scare me anymore, but it was intense. I felt that India had been compressed to this  "small" space.

More than any other site, Varanasi lays bare what India is negative. The garbage, the hustle-hustle and bumps. But also designs everything that this country has to offer. Sympathy, human diversity, scenic beauty. And you can not choose. Here, all things are delivered in one-face coin. And every part of town has its beauty.

The main streets brings you the movement and dynamism of chaos. Force you to refine the senses and gives you the beauty of looks, clothes or friendly conversations. You can be sure that even with the maximum volume of your iPod you feel and hear the horn of the rickshaw. You did not enter this reality, it is it that enters you.

And from this mess you end up in... another mess. This is made up of narrow streets. Those who guide you into the Ghats. It is a great place to let your imagination go. And among the bodies that are taken to the crematorium, small shops of delicious lassis and dim alleys, you find everything. It has the atmosphere of a good spy movie or of fairy tales.

But Varanasi materializes in the Ghats. For here you have life. It is the most intensive course of humanity. It has an unperfect beauty. It's full of annoyances. But, as in life, is your actitude that determines your experience. You look at the imperfect and negative and Varanasi is a monster that consumes you. You look at the smiles and the colors, and you cannot let you float through a world of dreams and small achievements, marriages and love affairs.

Varanasi is more than a city. It is a humanity that compresses and shakes, touches you and violents you, but never, however you wish, asks for your forgiveness...

Taj Mahal

There is only one thing more difficult than describe a sunset. It is to describe the Taj Mahal. Even with a big imagination, you will end with words that someone has written or pictures that anyone has taken. But in both situations - sunsets and Taj Mahal - they contain a beauty that surpasses all the cliches.

The Taj Mahal is an emotion. It is not beautiful by its symmetry, for its pure white or for its beautiful and sad story. Its beauty comes when you feel it. He touches you. Moves you inside, despite being a set of stones and two bodies. It has a magnetism that consumes everything around it. You touring in its beautiful gardens and your eyes are linked to the Taj. You sit at its border, and even with all the movement that tourists bring, you end up staring at the monument.

I do not know who was the greatest romantic. Who gave the order or who built it. But I know that all people that constructed the Taj are major builders of humanity. They got what any writer struggle unsuccessfully to do: materializing an emotion.

Khajuraho

And Khajuraho was ... different than expected. Since I knew of the temples of Kama Sutra - as they are nicknamed – I was curious to see them. I find it fascinating, and somewhat tragic, as a society after going through a liberal phase has changed so much. Today people don't feel comfortable walking down the street holding hands. I hoped that these monuments were able to convey something to me impossible when it comes to technological developments: a look into the past more advanced than ours.

This small Indian village was intended to end the path of three pearls. But, as I am in India, everything was very different than expected. Starting with the village. Greeting me  were wide boulevards, roundabouts and clean gardens. The hustle-hustle at the temple still reminds us of what country we are talking about, but it was as if I am in halfway between India and Europe.

It was also different because I had the opportunity to see another Khajuraho. Delivered at the hands of Abid (or Michael for tourists) and Hassan. I met Michael in an exchange of words on a scarf. I had just arrived and waited for my room to be ready. After some chitchating Michael took me to meet a nice place to see the sunset. He guided me to a small village and temples. And he showed me a school consisting of volunteering and helping the poorest people of the village. I knew the best places to eat and most of all I had access to the kindness of people and their sympathy that allowed me to participate in a life so often closed to those outside.

It was also with him I met Hassan. An electrician, who owns an electronics repair shop. Most of all a man of generous heart and captivating smile. After a few hours already invited me to lunch the next day at his home. Something that I agreed with all the pleasure.

When I reached the small village 4 km from Khajuraho, the word tourism had been far behind. Here was a place made up of Indians for Indians. I got the bike to his humble and generous home. He insists in apologizing for the small house, barely larger than 15 mt2, something that I don't agree. A house is the size of the heart of the people who inhabit it, and this, with Hassan and his family, was one of the biggest I've ever been. I spent time playing with children, and admiring this house, which reminded me of my grandmother's house. The stucco walls, the smiles at the meal and the smell of food cooked by the fire was very familiar to me. It was a very special moment that I will keep in my heart.

Hassan also leads me to do a little sightseeing, guiding me to a Hindu temple on the hill in his village. It had a beautiful view over the whole region. A wide green plain, intersected by ranges of small mountains. Hence, the towers that rise from the Khajuraho seem a lost city in the jungle.

And afterward, I thought that little remained to do in Khajuraho. Until Michael surprised me with the question: "you've already been to an Indian wedding?" It seemed like he read my thoughts, I left little to do in India and this was one of those things. I had given up. It was a Muslim wedding, something that is impossible to know at first sight. When I arrived at the groom's house – face painted red and hands painted with henna - was the joy and generosity I encountered. Immediately received a packet of sweets and I was introduced to the family.

Everyone greeted me and made sure I attend closely to the delivery of gifts to the groom. Among a host of photographers and onlookers, I saw the family of the bride give the groom the wedding gifts. I went out, and after some time, came the main moment of this part of the marriage: riding the horse that would take the groom to the place of celebration. The horse was with multi-colored ribbons that reminded me of Christmas trees. And although the horse has come temperament, soon the groom - now also covered the same ribbons - was already on the horse and the procession could follow. This meant that the four huge columns in the van could start working. People follow the pace of partying, and an atmosphere that resembled a rave. All possible with a walking generator. It was time to return to the hotel. Missing a few minutes to close the doors and by now felt that the party was not mine.

Ah ... yes ... I almost forgot. I still had time to contemplate the wonderful temples of Khajuraho. The Western Group, are the best known and well preserved. The enclosure is nearly paradise with its extensive gardens lawns. A space to savor every moment and that will raise the question: how did we get here? But by this time they were already a detail in Khajuraho. Thanks to Michael and his friends I met a Khajuraho as only India can create: a non-tourist and tourist place wrapped in the same reality.

Le moi errant: Heart

It is a painful process. When you leave a place, your body reacts. You gave something of yourself, and that stays in place your are leaving. It stays in the landscape that steals a sigh, a smile that touched you or in a person you shared a great time with.

There are many emotions, all of which are intense. Often you feel happiness without measure for what you see, and end up being crushed into a state of humility by the stories that come your way. You live a dream and your heart accompanies it. When it is time to say goodbye, your shed a tear of emotion.

Despite the natural instinct to protect, I end up deciding not to. It is not worth to protect this pain from me. The heart is something unique. No matter how much it is broken, it never gets smaller. And despite the suffering, soon you are more open to life. Then, when you look at the scars, you do not see pain or suffering, but you will find a map of your happiness. 

Story of a photo: A child

In each photo a story. This on is of a child. One that dreamnt even against the odds. He imagined himself away from his neighborhood, walking the streets of the world. Perhaps it began to dream when his father told stories of a faraway country. Strange places only accessible by the words he would drink with enthusiasm. Inside grew the smile of a dreamer.

But time passed. Life brings twists and curves, but always follows a direction. The child was no longer a child and the dream was hidden. But always alive. From time to time it would whisper in his ear, but he did not hear it. Contented himself for the happiness of the moment and the assurance of a planned life.

The dream wass rebellious and would not be tamed. When inprison in a cage, it becomes fire that consumes you from inside. It will turn into malaise and dissatisfaction. And the child, that was no longer a child, didn't dream anymore and wished many times he would never did in the first place. He was weak and depressed.

Amid this bleak and cruel time, comes a person that could look through his soul as if looking through the translucent glass. She gives the first word. Grabs him and tells him: "Go." Gives him the strength he had lost. And with her joins another and another. Suddenly, the child has a crowd around him. They give him everything he needed to walk.

The child is a child once more and begins to dream again. It is no longer only accessible in the words of his father. It is in his hands, his legs and his heart. Now the dream burns more intensely, but it does not consume him. It is the force that moves this child.

Finally, when the child sits in these marble stones, he sheds a tear. The dream was there, in front, around and within him. He looked at the Taj, but that was not what he saw. He saw all the people who helped him. He remembered who gave the first push. He thanked everyone and knew that he would never cease to be a child...

Other travelers VI - Jure

And sometimes the path brings us coincidences. In this case brought Jure. A traveler from a small country, which left in late October for a long journey, and crossed Iran and Turkey before arriving in India. But while I stopped in Dubai, he made "scale" in Pakistan to get here. We come across in a bus between Udaipur and Jodhpur. A part of our travel we shared common.

And in time between these two cities, we built a good conversation that went through travel, politics and football. Hist stories about Pakistan are fantastic and I recommend going to blog and see it for yourselves. The site is Asia Overland and is filled with videos of a trip at all levels interesting.

Before reaching the end of the trip I end up being overwhelmed by the knowledge he has of Portugal and Portuguese football. I make a mental note to learn more about what seemed to be the great country of Slovenia. At the end,the possibility of our paths crossing each other again in Thailand.

Bundi, a perfect day

I like coincidences. Like when I discovered that the gentle man who approached me was Kukki. It was my mission to find him. And there he was finding me. Kukki is an archaeologist, good person and with a willingness to make a personal tour of the surrounding regions of Bundi.

One word leads to another and my day of writing is transformed into a countryside tour. When I find myself, I'm on top of your bike, strolling the radical Indian streets. First I had to go to the train station to buy my ticket to Agra. After an obligatory stop on the side of the road because of an Indian Fitipaldi, there we were at the station.

What seemed to be complicated becomes simple - I was expecting a long queue and confusion and find a desk with two people ahead of me. What seemed simple becomes complicated - it took an eternity to get to my turn, to discover that I have to fill a reserve paper, return to the queue and then be able to buy my ticket. With that done I go away.

The first way is done near agricultural fields. With a green that changes depending on the harvest, but always exudes a bright color. Having come from the more desert areas, I'm more sensitive to this image, and the whole region seems a little paradise. We stopped at the first town to take a Chai. Kukki greets everyone with a friendliness that seems to infect all. They hail me gently, something I try to replicate the best I can. Although I don't speak Hindi, they make me feel like being in a group of friends.

The site is designed for small stops on the road. We have the chai stalls, grocery stores and a workshop but nothing else. Had barely begun my observation and already the owner of the establishment gave me a Samosa, hand deliver in a piece of paper. I take the first piece in the mouth and it responds immediately. I feel the bite of the spicy. I try to straighten the food best I know, as if it could minimize the spicy. And towards the end between puffs and weeping nostrils - I discovered that my point of tolerance is a runny nose – I, confess to Kukki "hot ... spicy ... " to my amazement he replies "also for me." I smile with relief. Two months in India has already given me some tolerance to spicy. He "grumbles" sympathetically to the owner and without realizing it I have a new Samosa in hand, this time with Kurdish sauce - yogurt - that soothes my mouth. Finish the meal with a classic chai and many smiles.

With the stomach satisfied, we left. The next stop is the home of his older "brother". Brother of friendship and fellowship. An opportunity to meet a typical house of Rajasthan. And here the experience begins to be magical. These people have a sympathy that doesn't leave you indifferent. I become model in turban and a photographer-trying-to-be-professional. When I realized, I'm in the inner courtyard - which connects the rooms of the house - surrounded by curious children and adults who are pleased I'm there. I try the best I can to take good pictures, and every time I show them, a children's chorus of laughter and comments joins around me. They thank me and I thank them. Outside I see Kukki smiling at me and talking to his "brother." Time passes between smiles, shyness and gestural communication. The "mothers" are as happy as children and seem to have a a playfulness between wrinkles that refreshes the soul and reminds me of my grandparents.

Retempered with this moment, we went to visit a temple, a river and wildlife. Along the way stop to buy fruit and visit a plantation. Simple things that give color to this trip. When we arrived, the surprise is not only mine but also Kukki's. On the banks of the river - which this season is a set of large pools - are about thirty people. Nomadic villagers who are reaping "water fruits." Once again, my camera captures people's attention and I find myself trying to get the beauty of the moment the best I can. This moment touched me especially. Don't know if it was the simplicity of the lifestyle, the beauty of the place, or sympathy with shyness, but something held me to that location. Meanwhile, and because it was to be a lucky day, a spectacle of wildlife, with many birds painting the sky and trees. Before leaving, a visit to the beautiful little temple.

Back on the road, the landscape changes dramatically. The green turns to arid and rocky yellow. Along the way we do some more stops to shoot photos - I am again greeted with a disarming friendliness – or mandatory because of heavy traffick of... cattle. Here we are in the rural India. On the road straight up until we lose sight are bikes, trucks, tractors, cows, goats and sheep competing for the small paved area. All living naturally. Past and present mingle and become in India we like to know. We do one more break in a village. Time for chai and pakora. Like the first stop, I'm adopted by all members of the place. The time slips between smiles, sitting on stone benches, and the shade of a thatched roof.

And in this sweet melancholy, I go to visit the Kukki's discoveries: rock paintings that abound in this region and are a precious treasure that Kuuki tries to keep. The scenery is beautiful: a river that flows between the rocks. Excited by the words of Kukki I walk through the pre-history and the moments of discovery to reach the difficult present of maintaining this space. Around here, there are many illegal mines, which give support to families and stones at houses in this world.

By this time the sun was going down too fast. Giving only time to reach the final destination. A typical village in the region. Kukki tells me that consists of the most humble people he knows. Preparing the heart and soul, to the meeting. And I see his words turn into reality. An offer of chai, the smiles of children and the invitation to come inside a house. Amid the same joy I had found along this trip. A life full of simple but profound things that seems to keep the essence of human beings better than anything else.

I am crushed, but still have time to be heard by the gods. Among the trip, Kukki asks God to show us "a little of wild life" and immediately afterwards, to our amazement a hare crossing the road. No doubt a sign that God was listening to him. He thanks warmly. We stopped once more to have a glimpse of a waterfall that seems to flow into a lost paradise. A perfect way to complete the day I did three months of travel.

Rajasthan

It is the most known Indian state. In a small space, you can get a variety hard to match in another region of India. In a society with little time available, this is very valuable. After a month in Magic South, I was curious to discover this state. I was afraid it would end up being too touristic. But as with everything in India, turns out that a surprise was heading my way.

Udaipur

It's a city full of small streets and courtyards. A sense of being in a village. A never-ending one. It has a Moorish flavor, lots of cables and colors. It has cows and beggars. It has a magnificent lake. On its banks, restaurants, hotels and a great palace. One of those that enchant us and steals our time. Worthy of hero stories it is delight to see it. You end up getting lost in multiple rooms and halls. In all, a very rich taste for ornament. You want everything to be so. If this wasn't enough, you end up being overwhelmed by the view over the lake on one side, and the city on the other. A city composed of blue, rose and white-colored buildings.

But Udaipur is also colored by the friendliness of its inhabitants. You have the pressure from sellers, as elsewhere in India. But what is a potential sale, becomes a good conversation and you get to know a little more of the people. An exchange, not of merchandise, but of moments. And the unthinkable happens, when the store owner confides where there is a market with cheaper prices. One used by the Indians and a few curious tourists. Here not only the prices are different, as the rules also are. We find marked prices. A breath of fresh air for those who have no taste, or art, in the negotiation. I end up losing time, going from shop to shop and buying what I need. In this case, a blanket, a sweater, pants, workout apparel, gloves and hat. In a color variety that I never imagined myself using, and even stranger, liking it.

Jodhpur

Jodhpur came up with a musical note. This was destined to come the theme of my visit to the blue city. It started when I first arrived. I got off the bus from Udaipur, and was left in a place where there were only rickshaws. Amid the confusion, I was guided into one. Another person went to the same Haveli (mansion converted into a Guesthouse) and we ended up sharing a rickshaw. I find in the middle of presentations she is a singer and very friendly.

Jodphur is magical. Its narrow streets lead us to a place of imagination. Blue is dominant, guiving purpose to its nickname: Blue City. Overseeing all this maze of life is a imposing and beautiful stronghold. The first day I went straight to him. Almost by attraction. Along the way I find the India we used to hear. Children who approach us, cows that wander, beautiful women in colorful saris and a smile on every face.

I entered by a secondary door. All was calm. I was transported to medieval times. The entire complex is made of rock. The walls, the red sandstone dominates reflecting the sun in a magnificent way. I decide to follow them. They stand up quickly and allow a fine view of the city. Beneath, the blue is broken by the white towers of the temples and red clock tower. You can see the palace that the Rajas used at the time of the monsoon. After this moment, I choose to follow the road that enters the complex. Before the entry I see a family of street musicians. I let myself be. Once the Indian guitar starts playing everything changes. Their voices are perfect. Merging with the scenery around you.

I saw the stronghold complex on the following day. And while I admired the tracery of the walls of this stronghold I start to hear a drum beat. After, a flute and when I realize I'm on near the musicians. And magic happens when a picture becomes a collective Indian dance. The moment is unique. I am amazed by the undulating dancing. And those minutes give a deeper beauty to an already beautiful space. Inside we can see the wealth of the palace. The various weapons and chariots. We can spend hours admiring the interior courtyards. But it was the musical moment that changed everything. I like how it is universal and always brings a smile to the listener. That was a real and beautiful moment.

Finally I decided to lose myself in the streets. Full of commerce, life and colors. There was no goal besides walking. Nor I needed one. Streets are full of details, making it a highlight of this city in its own right. We find all the streets covered with wires. A small grocery store, a bicycle repair shop or the seller of food, or the maker of leis. In their midst the traffic seems to have its own pace. Sometimes immersing yourself in motorbikes and rickshaws, sometimes leaving you the streets desert for you to just walk on them.

Khuri

I came to this small village by the council and company of Hannah. I wanted a small village to stay a few days and she had the perfect suggestion. Without hesitation I put this place on my itinerary. After a trip of an hour in a typical crowded bus - in which two seats are actually three - and with time for a curious child, I arrive in this village.

Khuri presents itself as a resort town. Many renovations and guesthouse in each house. However, as we approached the house of our gracious host, we began to leave the resort feeling and get into the village. The goats and cows outnumber the villagers that have a pace and rhythm of sweet oblivion. With the house presented - a complex consisting of three bedrooms and some desert huts. The decision was obvious: I'm want a hut.

The desert was calling me. I never had entered the desert. I have already met him in Egypt, but didn't got to know him personally. And following the road that goes into the dune, we meet and entered the magic silky dunes for the first time. The colors and shapes of undulating dunes enchant and mesmerize you. But is the feeling of abandonment that grabs you. Here you have nothing, and that's why it is so fascinating. You can concentrate on your life. All that civilization is left behind and you have only a blue sky and shades of yellow in front of you.

It's hard to capture the beauty of the desert in words. Because beauty is in absence of elements. Silence is only interrupted by the sound of camels brought by the wind. In the absence of vegetation, except for one tree. Or a sun that, when it disappears, turns and changes the colors of the scenery around you.

The desert here is not the Sahara. It is one made up of dunes and arid lands. Raisins between the "Savannah" and the Sahara desert at a walking distance. But it is inhospitable place we used to associate the word desert. And it has the power to make you appreciate the beauty in the little you have. Living in Khuri is a minimalist experience. Without much, you value more the food, companionship and the beautiful landscape.

Jaisalmer-Pushkar-Bundi

I ended the week at an accelerated pace. With little more than two days per site, I just saw a glimpse of these three sites. But it was still intense.

If the blue city is Jodhpur, this will be yellow counter-part. A surrounding desert shows its function. Today Jaisalmer is a tourist outpost that serves as a passage for desert safaris. Despite this aspect, she maintains a hectic and arid beauty that makes it unique. It is true that once you place your foot off the bus, you are led by a flood of requests, which only ends when you get out. But if you manage this Indian "drama", you end up by finding the narrow slender streets, the beautiful havelis or one of those strongholds where you enjoy getting lost. And beyond the tourist shops are traditional games, the friendly smiles and spontaneous conversations that make you remember the true nature of India.

Pushkar is also touristic, but much quieter. It is a small religious town. At its center a sacred lake, where many people bathe or wash their clothes. Tourists walk while children give eating to thousands of pigeons. Their air-dances whenever someone passes by pigeons, gives a beautiful backdrop for the music you're listening. Beyond the lake, there is a market. Too tempting not to buy something you did not know you needed. Surrounding all this village is mountain, giving a magic touch to the entire landscape. I ended up going to a concert of traditional musicians of Rajasthan. And there are no words to describe it. Played in a small room specially prepared for this occasion - in a religious complex – I had moments that only music allows. In the end, a smile from ear to ear and an ecstasy that turns everything around us. Pushkar was more beautiful after this concert, and with the music in my head, nothing better than finishing a visit seeing the sunset on top of one of its mountains.

And then came one place that anyone has to go when passing through Rajasthan. I speak of Bundi. This town receives you with a villager smile and a generous hug. If the fort that falls upon the town steals the first smile. If the narrow and medieval streets make you shine your eyes. It is the people who will steal your heart. They are genuine and beautiful. With a humility that is contagious and enables you to grow as a human being. Perhaps, as nowhere else, this place keeps the best that Rajasthan has to offer. You have a strong, street shops, the confusion, the desert landscape and lush greenery in a short distance. And to weave all these scenarios you have the souls of the colored people reflected in their eyes, smiles and brightness of saris. Bundi was undoubtedly the best way to say goodbye to this state.

Rajasthan is India's best known state. I was curious to know why. After spending some time I understand the reason. In one state you have a multitude of sights and emotions. Somehow turns out to be the state that can best convey what India has to offer. However, like everything else in India, Rajasthan is this and it is its opposite. It is also a place with genuine features that you don't find more anywhere else. And this is what most appeals in such a beautiful Indian state.