Nathan’s Blog

We had a bit of a pit-stop in Pushka after somehow spending the preceeding three nights sleeping on a train, in a desert and on a bus.

We’re staying in a beautiful old haveli called Seventh Heaven. It’s set over four floors and has a large atrium with chill out areas all around. The food is some of the best we’ve had in India.

Pushka is a small town, a Hindu pilgramage site with a holy lake. Pilgrims and locals alike bathe in the murky brown water at the many ghats that surround the lake. The water is filthy and that is saying something in India! Apologies to any Hindus reading – I’m not disputing the lakes holiness, just it’s cleanliness.

Pushka itself is not too memorable, especially when compared to some of the places we have already seen in Rajasthan (Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer). It highly geared for tourists and we got hassled a fair bit in the streets, especially since it’s the low season and there isn’t much fresh meat coming through. We spent the vast majority of our time chilling and reading in the oasis of calm that was our guesthouse.

In stark contast to this oasis was my torture. Torture that I willingly paid for.

In the absence of anything else to do we arranged a session with an alternative therapist Lau had found in the Lonley Plane. For the choice of therapy It was a toss up between reflexology and reiki.

I’m fairly sceptical about alt therapy and so I went with reflexology on the basis that a) they actually touch you and b) it might be like a foot massage, which I kinda like. How wrong I was!

It was absolute agony. I screamed stop on two occassions, but was told it only was hurting becuase my ailments were bad. How sticking sharp impliments between my toes and rubbing what I can only describe as a cylindrical skin grater on my fingers can fix a weak knee I have no idea.

Towards the end of the session I had accepted the pain; afterall what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? But, I couldn’t help myself pointing out that one of the most vicious and painful forms of torture is lashings of the feet. He either chose to ignore me or didn’t hear me; I think he heard me.

My feet are killing now; anyone know of a good reflexologist?