Only days after our arrival in the pink city, Marta felt unwell: low blood pressure, dizzyness, stomach ache, dehydration. A couple of days later without sign of improvement, we decided to check with a doctor. The ensuing battery of tests revealed that some nastie had decided to camp in my wife’s belly… Only strong antibiotics, lots of rest, and at least 4 liters of water per day would give a fighting chance.
Nevertheless, we tried to go for some walks in the meantime, but the 55 degree Celsius Rajasthani summer is not clement, not even for those willing to show respect at the Temple of the Sun. Without much other choice, we stayed in our air conditioned room for days on end. In fact, the whole world cup and its vuvuzela frenzy passed this way. Luckily, graphic design commissions continued pouring in, so we found some sort of comfort in work.
This whole India experience was not working for us, so when other commitments called us in Europe, we answered by flying over to Mediterranean Cyprus, leaving this forsaken land behind for a breather in Aphrodite’s craddle. But that, my readers, is another tale…Tags: india, jaipur, rising suns, travel