sneak peek : spring 12 block printed dupattas. use as a beach sarong or a big scarf.
new wool shawls.
new wool blankets
a few of the many men and women who have patiently put up with me tearing their khadi shops apart.
perfume shop back of counter : ambience of an opium den with red light blubs and the heady scent of incense and sandalwood. look in your next shipment for little sandalwood sachets to keep your khadi fresh and exotic...
room 201-home away from home
above my lunch table : Bollywood videos
hangin' with the shiny little temple
a sampling of some auto rickshaw interiors. also known as three wheelers, ricks, tuk-tuks, or most commonly referred to as autos, not to be confused with an actual car...
people surely love to have their picture taken. sometimes when communication is awkward, I ask to take their photo, and the language barrier is immediately gone. other times, some people have asked me-the man with the broom was not to be dismissed until I had gotten his portrait to his liking.
being alone in a new city where you don't speak the local language could feel daunting, but most often in India little miracles happen along the way to make things feel homey. case in point - I was somewhat distracted as I walked out to the street to hail a rick. this one stopped for me, and before I looked up, the driver asked me if I was going to a certain khadi shop. I looked at him and realized that he was the same auto driver from the previous day! we had a great laugh over this and off we went; this time to another khadi shop nearby.
I have an obsession for Indian metal buckets. I spotted these in a Jain temple.
picked up loads of new lungis, including some in very rustic, heavier weaves from northern India, below.
sadly am leaving too soon to catch this premiere...
it just depends how hungry you are as to what you will eat. grim, but got me there.
now this is what I call breakfast. I would travel each morning to the most dreamy outdoor cafe to have it. the idli were made by angels from heaven; fluffy and light. perfectly ripe fruit, sweet lime juice, and tea poured over a sprig of mint in my cup. all served by young men perfectly clad in all white with dark green bandhani patterned aprons.
my last breakfast in India was at the 110 year old Chandravilas restaurant. I had fafda (above) made from chick pea flour and dipped in sauce.
a peek into the kitchen.
my last day in India. up early for a walk through the old city before the streets were packed. lovely old buildings and narrow walkways- the neighborhoods are called pols; each with its own distinction.
Gandhiji's room, Gandhi Ashram, Ahmedabad.
snapped from the auto:
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