11 & 12 March 2025
After a morning of exploring the Blue City, Lisa and I arrived at Madpackers Hostel, hoping—pleading with the universe, really—that this would be a better experience than the last. And for once, the universe answered.
Lisa set off to get a much-needed pedicure, while I stayed behind, too drained to step back into the chaotic streets of Jodhpur. A soft knock at the door interrupted my solitude, and when I opened it, I was met with the warmest, most welcoming smile. Within minutes, the hostel manager, Bunny, had me laughing over our nightmare of a previous hotel experience, and it felt as though I had just found another long-lost friend.
Later, as I rested in the common area, Bunny reappeared—this time holding flowers and chocolate. I blinked, stunned. He laughed and explained that the hostel had celebrated all the women staying there for International Women’s Day the day before. After hearing about our rough few days, he wanted to do something small to make me feel better. My exhaustion and frustration nearly crumbled under the weight of his unexpected kindness—I was close to tears again, but this time, out of gratitude.
That afternoon, I turned my focus back to something I had been putting off for too long—finding a dentist. My tooth had been broken since before arriving in India, but every attempt to get it fixed had led nowhere. Bunny, ever helpful, offered to go with me, knowing how difficult navigating language and cultural barriers could be. We zipped through the streets of Jodhpur in search of a doctor, but the first dentist was unavailable, and the second seemed entirely disinterested in actually fixing anything. Frustrated and drained, I gave up for the day. Back at the hostel, surrounded by other travelers sharing their own stories—funny, wild, sometimes terrifying—I found comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone. Solo travel is one of the toughest, most emotionally challenging things a person can do, but it’s also one of the most rewarding. The connections made along the way are proof of that.
The next morning, Lisa and I were off to Ajmer, buzzing with excitement for Holi in Pushkar! That excitement, however, was short-lived. Our hotel turned out to be the filthiest place we had ever stepped into—brown splatters on the walls, stained bedding, and a sleazy host insisting on taking our passports for some dubious reason. We barely stayed long enough to inhale before bolting out the door.
By now, we had learned two very important lessons: never, ever pay for an Indian hotel upfront unless you’re absolutely sure it’s legitimate, and never fully trust online reviews or photos unless it’s a well-reputed, expensive hotel.
Once again, we were on the hunt for a place to stay. This time, we played it smart—we showed up in person, asked to see the rooms first, and only then made a decision. Our persistence paid off. The next guesthouse we found was everything the last one wasn’t—clean, charming, and run by the kindest host. This was an old family home with beautiful vintage-style rooms, and from the moment we stepped inside, the tension in our shoulders eased. Instead of feeling scammed or mistreated, we were met with genuine hospitality, complimentary toiletries, tea, coffee, and wide, welcoming smiles.
Now, we could finally relax, eat, and rest—ready to explore Ajmer before heading to Pushkar for the festival of colors. Holi awaited, and after everything, we were more than ready to embrace the celebration.
