In arid Marwar, the land of death, lies the sun fort Mehrangarh, built of red sandstone and circled by vultures. Deep below, a sea of small indigo houses: Jodhpur, the blue city.
On the second evening we are invited to the wedding of the sister of the guesthouse owner. Dressed up, almost all backpackers are packed into two rickshaws, we don’t know exactly where to go and our driver probably doesn’t either. So we are left somewhere in the city at night until we are found. The wedding was rather boring, apart from the extremely greasy food. We were forced several times to dance almost alone on the stage, because we were apparently the attraction of the evening. Otherwise, there was no party or festive atmosphere.