I'm finding it impossible to absorb the sixteen days in India – like a very strange, mostly wonderful dream I had. We landed in New Delhi and spent a day sightseeing, then drove to Agra and a few days later finally on to Jaipur. My head felt like it would explode with history and facts and architecture. How were these monuments and forts and palaces built without electricity (yes, with slaves but still – and the Taj Mahal was built with paid labor) – And how was such perfection accomplished without using electronic calculations? It'll take weeks to put my photographs together with the notes I took, and then Google the places we went to and figure it all out. 

And then there are the images of those first few days – the hopeful road signs that say "Obey Traffic Rules"! But no one does. We meet a truck hurtling down the highway in the wrong direction – toward us – but thankfully there are two lanes. "He didn't want to make a U-turn," says our driver. And then there are the cows wondering into the road, the water buffalo and goats and homeless but cheerful dogs who seem to have their own agenda, as if on their way to work. And the women working in the fields wearing saris the color of rainbows – like butterflies in a dusty landscape. 

In Jaipur R. got food poisoning or a bug and was ill. The second night I realized this was not typical tourista, this was far more serious. He was dehydrated and becoming delirious. I called for a doctor in the middle of the night and at 3:00 am – twenty minutes later – Dr. Archana Sogani arrived. Who turned out to be not only an excellent doctor but also a saint. She said she'd try to treat him in the room with shots and an IV but he might have to go into the hospital. She stayed three and a half hours, and returned three times – and got R. well enough to get on a plane via wheelchair to fly to Mumbai two days later. (When was the last time you had a doctor come to your house? And in the middle of the night!!) The wonderful hotel we were in, the Jai Mahal, delivered us meals to the room, and everyone I met in the halls inquired how my husband was doing – all of them so kind to us that it brought tears to my eyes. 

In Mumbai (or Bombay as my new niece and her family still call it) we met up with my family. Who all proceeded to fall like flies – my brother, my nephew the groom, my niece Elizabeth and her boyfriend Jason, my sister-in-law Diane, everybody but me got some form of tourista. And R. was still pretty much an invalid too – so Mumbai was a city I saw out the window. (see photo below of a sunrise.) Then finally everybody got it together enough to head for the airport and on a plane for the wedding in Goa. (To be continued.)