I've managed to pick up an ear infection (guessing from our pool antics) so I wake up and head straight to the chemist where I buy antibiotic drops over the counter for 50p. I also have a mouth ulcer, I'm starting to feel like I have a cold coming and the Imodium has sent me a little too far in the opposite direction! Staying healthy in India is proving a challenge!!! I am craving fruit, vegetables and anything non spicy! Apart from all of the above I'm still having an awesome time (and as Bron would say - at least I still have my ears, a mouth and digestive system).
Erin, Ricky, Geoff and Laura all get up at 7am this morning for an Ashtanga yoga class on the roof (I bow out graciously) and we meet for breakfast before loading up our jeep which will take us to Ranakpur.
Before we leave we try and stop at the Ray Ban shop however in the space of 10 minutes we have hit a car (the jeep had no scratch however the car was not so lucky). We are expecting to spend the next 30mins completing paperwork however just drive off with the other driver being slightly miffed. We then get caught in honking traffic while some people try and tame an angry bull - so it's a typical start to the day in India.
I know we are nearby so I try and find the 'Danny De Vito' lookalike I met yesterday selling textiles. I achieve this by showing other shop owners his photo and they all point me in the right direction. I find it amazing that despite Udaipur having a population of 400,000, everyone knows one another and the sense of community is ever strong.
We leave Udaipur and head out onto a rural track road. Our 2.5hr journey finds us in the middle of nowhere and a forest where we are staying at a place called Aranyawas. The resort is made up of a series of grey stone cottages that overlook a beautiful freshwater stream and green valley. It reminds me of a B&B in Howick, South Africa. I love it here and wish we were staying for longer than one night. The change of pace is wonderful.
Apparently there were two panthers and their cubs playing in the stream a few weeks back and I'm super jealous that I missed it. The panthers cause big problems for the owners here and they have killed two of their own pet dogs recently. I don't think George would last long! Sat on our balconies Laura, Michael and I scout the surrounds in the hope of seeing something and Laura manages to spot a mongoose whilst I only manage some chipmunks and a variety of beautiful birds. Sitting in the sun on the balcony overlooking the valley, with the water softly trickling in front is one of my highlights of the whole trip. It's hard to believe that I'm still in the same country as Delhi!
At 3pm Johannes, Laura, Ricky and I head out further into the forest on a horse safari. My horse is called Kulyani. At first she's rather feisty but after a while I am holding the reins tightly and keeping her under control (with the help of a guide). Ricky is totally at ease on horseback. He has told us many stories about when he used to run horseback tours near his home and he still actively plays polo (Prince Harry is due to play his team sometime soon).
We trot past rural homes, made of basic materials mostly sticks and mud. Goats are herded by small kids into the family small holdings with women cooking over wood fires in cauldrons. We pass buffalo, parrots in the trees and peacocks. The children and adults come running out to say hello and "bye bye" to us.
There is a small group of children, immaculately dressed in uniform, walking home from school and they are totally mesmerised by us. Ricky explains that they will very rarely see Western people so they must have followed us for miles! Eventually the boy in the group plucks up the courage to get my attention, point at his text book and make a sign for a pen. I say that I'm so sorry I don't have one and shake my head. He looks disappointed but he still follows us smiling and doesn't ask for money. Eventually we stop for a water break and I open my bag. Underneath the tissues, water bottle, money purse and camera I can see a MasterCard Priceless London pen lurking at the bottom. I ask Ricky if I can give it to him (taking into account what he'd said about encouraging begging and I'm so glad he said this is different as it's for school and education). I call the boy over and hand over the pen.
His reaction gives me a lump in my throat and I am, again, humbled that something I take for granted is so appreciated here. He stares at it, turning and twisting it in his fingers , admiring it, trying to read the writing and then excitedly opens his text book to check it's working. When the black ink scores into the paper I've never seen such a genuine look of wonder and gratitude on someone's face. It really was like I'd just given him a million dollars.
Ricky tells me that the boy will go into school and tell everyone that a foreign lady gave him the pen and no one will believe him. He said that his school friends will ask the guys who own the horses to confirm that he's telling the truth. I really wish I'd taken more pens.
We're out on the horses for 2.5hrs and watch the sun set. It's an 11km jeep ride back to our base where we chill out for a while and then head to dinner. This is an upmarket resort and they stock Indian red and white wine. Michael and I hit the red and are pleasantly surprised with the quality! After a buffet dinner we start another campfire listening to beautiful chill out music and chat animatedly together. The pet dogs come and sit with us and enjoy getting lots of fuss. We're eventually joined by an elderly Indian man who lives in Ilford and is here on holiday. With him he has his friend of 20years and an older plumper lady called Lolita. We offer them some rum and he asks lots of questions about our trip. He says he's so pleased to meet some English people willing and interested in learning about India and it's people. He tells us he hates wrongly being called a "Paki" back home and how badly educated most people are about Indian culture. Just as I'm saying what a lovely man he is, Lolita gets up and walks off. The elderly chap and his friend say their goodbyes and leave shortly after wishing us all well. Ricky explains that Lolita is in fact a prostitute and he'd asked for her to be locked in his room which raises some laughs and disbelief from the group!! He must have been at least 85...
After three bottles of red wine, shared with Michael & Erin, plus the obligatory rum / vodka I am definitely ready for my bed. Erin suggests we all sleep by the pool under the stars but I'm already pretty chilly (12 degrees at night here) so I say my good nights and head back to the cottage feeling a little worse for wear now on a number of levels...
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Tuesday 30 October 2012
No colour in your life...
It's a lazy start to today after last night's poolside escapades. I get out of bed at 11:30am with a killer Indian hangover. Erin and I grab a tuk tuk into town and stroll over one of the pretty Venetian-esque bridges to a restaurant overlooking the water called The Prince's Garden. We sit watching women bathe, scrubbing their clothes and children swimming. A fresh pineapple juice, fruit salad and the best pizza I've ever tasted fixes me up and I'm ready to enjoy the rest of the day.
We collect my dress (which needs some alterations) and head back to the art shop for henna. The owner of the art shop, a man of 40 who could easily star in a Pantene advert, has taken a shine to me. He tells me he's missed me and instead of getting someone else to do it - he tells me he'd like to paint me himself. Erin stays with me and watches as he takes my hand and starts. He tells me that I'll need to tell him when to stop as he could henna me all day. Erin asks him about how he came to own the shop and he tells us of his struggle to fulfil his vision of creating a place for artists to come and operate independently. Ricky has recommended him as he does not believe / participate in the commission system and his strong belief in karma drives him to treat everyone fairly and to create opportunity for those less fortunate. He tells us that he has left India only once to visit Switzerland. He is one of the few Indians we have met on our travels who has been able to afford to leave. Ricky dreams of going to Venice sometime and I hope this comes true for him.
When asked what he thought of Europe he doesn't say what I was expecting. How wealthy people are, that he is envious of our lifestyle, how clean and tidy everything is - he simply tells us that he feels sorry for us...as we have no colour in our lives. I give him a hug goodbye and head back to the hotel with my decorated left arm and hand, a little richer from meeting him.
In the evening five of us head out for a food safari (a term coined by Erin). We arrive at an area fringing the lake, covered with stalls selling street food and it's clear this is where all the locals come. We stalk from stall to stall sharing & devouring freshly cooked toasted sandwiches, moo moos, Indian burgers and plates of interesting flavours & spices all rounded off, of course, with some chai tea.
We head back to the hotel, stuffed, satisfied and ready for bed...
No medicine required...
We collect my dress (which needs some alterations) and head back to the art shop for henna. The owner of the art shop, a man of 40 who could easily star in a Pantene advert, has taken a shine to me. He tells me he's missed me and instead of getting someone else to do it - he tells me he'd like to paint me himself. Erin stays with me and watches as he takes my hand and starts. He tells me that I'll need to tell him when to stop as he could henna me all day. Erin asks him about how he came to own the shop and he tells us of his struggle to fulfil his vision of creating a place for artists to come and operate independently. Ricky has recommended him as he does not believe / participate in the commission system and his strong belief in karma drives him to treat everyone fairly and to create opportunity for those less fortunate. He tells us that he has left India only once to visit Switzerland. He is one of the few Indians we have met on our travels who has been able to afford to leave. Ricky dreams of going to Venice sometime and I hope this comes true for him.
When asked what he thought of Europe he doesn't say what I was expecting. How wealthy people are, that he is envious of our lifestyle, how clean and tidy everything is - he simply tells us that he feels sorry for us...as we have no colour in our lives. I give him a hug goodbye and head back to the hotel with my decorated left arm and hand, a little richer from meeting him.
In the evening five of us head out for a food safari (a term coined by Erin). We arrive at an area fringing the lake, covered with stalls selling street food and it's clear this is where all the locals come. We stalk from stall to stall sharing & devouring freshly cooked toasted sandwiches, moo moos, Indian burgers and plates of interesting flavours & spices all rounded off, of course, with some chai tea.
We head back to the hotel, stuffed, satisfied and ready for bed...
No medicine required...
Patience is a virtue...
My first whole day in Udaipur begins with breakfast joined by Erin & Ricky at Cafe Edelweiss - a cafe run by a German guy who we hear has three wives. Ricky tells us he doesn't understand how he can do this as he thinks keeping one wife happy will be hard enough (he is due to marry in February). I enjoy some toast and jam plus some delicious banana bread. A mouse scurries under one of the tables (I have got used to eating with my feet off the floor) and a broom is used to shoo it away.
Ricky points us in the direction of a boat trip across the lake. We are asked to put on life jackets, the first piece of Indian health & safety I have encountered, and we head out across the glassy water. It's absolutely beautiful...
We stop at one of the islands which is Jagmandir Palace, another beautiful white marble and stone structure, flanked by a row of marble elephants, and one of the most expensive places in India to get married. Ricky tells us it would cost upwards of £300k (which is a lot of rupees) and it's design inspired some of the Taj Mahal's architecture.
After a spot of shopping back on dry land, Erin and I find a silk shop and have a dress made for 500 rupees each - approx £6. Our measurements are taken (eating curry every day is def taking a negative toll - I may need to start licking the bottom of my flip flops). I continue my mission to find Mum her requested black & silver sofa throw. It seems every textile shop in Rajasthan has every colour and pattern but so my hunt continues...
My afternoon is spent back at the art shop where I take a miniature painting class. This type of art is a hallmark of the region and the skill is passed from father to son. My tutor is called Pinky who asks me what I want to create. He draws me the beautiful outline of an elephant (symbol of good luck) in 20 seconds and hands to me to copy. I spend the next 10 minutes doing my best to copy. Next comes the outline in orange, while I shake my paintbrush unsteadily around my pencil outline I begin to have a new found appreciation for the patience & talent these guys possess. They seem to go into an almost meditative state when they paint.
I am told that the paint's colour is made from local plants and the bright yellow is made from cows urine. Slowly but surely my elephant takes shape with me copying carefully and very slowly as we go. It takes me 2hrs to finish but I am beyond happy with the result. Seems like I had an excellent teacher.
The artists paint my finger nails with beautiful intricate designs, Erin pops in and also has hers done. The rest of the group arrive and we head up the steps of the art school for a cookery lesson on the roof. The view is stunning overlooking the palace and the colourful mismatched patchwork of rooftops.
We learn how to make samosas, potato & spinach paneer, chicken masala, raita, marinated rice and chai tea. After our two hour cooking fest, frantically scribbling notes to keep up, we sit down to enjoy our meal together with festival fireworks lighting up the palace in the background.
Giving Ricky 500 rupees each he heads out for some more 'medicine' which we transport back to the hotel pool. I teach everyone how to play 'Eat my Box' (thanks Bron it translates so well) where you have to pick up a box off the floor with your mouth not using hands and only feet on the floor. I quickly find myself in hysterics as a few nearly end up in the pool after losing their balance. Glasses are taken off and stretches start to take place as people get serious and wait their turn. As the box gets lower more people bow out leaving only the super competitive left (including Ricky who changes out of his jeans and into some loose shorts). The music is pumping, and drinks are flowing freely (in generous servings) and I am quickly drunk on my orange vodka and Mirinda (a fanta equivalent that leaves Laura and my tongues orange coloured!). Eventually Johannes & Ricky triumph, both able to pick up a tiny flat piece of the box from the floor.
The evening continues with Bollywood / Bhangra dancing, ceroc and a very drunk group! I am the first to voluntarily jump in the pool quickly followed by Geoff, Johannes, Michael and Claus. Erin eventually succumbs and joins us in the cold water. Ricky is dragged in and spends the rest of the night wrapped in a towel, resembling E.T, shivering.
A great group bonding night and wonderful day.
Ricky points us in the direction of a boat trip across the lake. We are asked to put on life jackets, the first piece of Indian health & safety I have encountered, and we head out across the glassy water. It's absolutely beautiful...
We stop at one of the islands which is Jagmandir Palace, another beautiful white marble and stone structure, flanked by a row of marble elephants, and one of the most expensive places in India to get married. Ricky tells us it would cost upwards of £300k (which is a lot of rupees) and it's design inspired some of the Taj Mahal's architecture.
After a spot of shopping back on dry land, Erin and I find a silk shop and have a dress made for 500 rupees each - approx £6. Our measurements are taken (eating curry every day is def taking a negative toll - I may need to start licking the bottom of my flip flops). I continue my mission to find Mum her requested black & silver sofa throw. It seems every textile shop in Rajasthan has every colour and pattern but so my hunt continues...
My afternoon is spent back at the art shop where I take a miniature painting class. This type of art is a hallmark of the region and the skill is passed from father to son. My tutor is called Pinky who asks me what I want to create. He draws me the beautiful outline of an elephant (symbol of good luck) in 20 seconds and hands to me to copy. I spend the next 10 minutes doing my best to copy. Next comes the outline in orange, while I shake my paintbrush unsteadily around my pencil outline I begin to have a new found appreciation for the patience & talent these guys possess. They seem to go into an almost meditative state when they paint.
I am told that the paint's colour is made from local plants and the bright yellow is made from cows urine. Slowly but surely my elephant takes shape with me copying carefully and very slowly as we go. It takes me 2hrs to finish but I am beyond happy with the result. Seems like I had an excellent teacher.
The artists paint my finger nails with beautiful intricate designs, Erin pops in and also has hers done. The rest of the group arrive and we head up the steps of the art school for a cookery lesson on the roof. The view is stunning overlooking the palace and the colourful mismatched patchwork of rooftops.
We learn how to make samosas, potato & spinach paneer, chicken masala, raita, marinated rice and chai tea. After our two hour cooking fest, frantically scribbling notes to keep up, we sit down to enjoy our meal together with festival fireworks lighting up the palace in the background.
Giving Ricky 500 rupees each he heads out for some more 'medicine' which we transport back to the hotel pool. I teach everyone how to play 'Eat my Box' (thanks Bron it translates so well) where you have to pick up a box off the floor with your mouth not using hands and only feet on the floor. I quickly find myself in hysterics as a few nearly end up in the pool after losing their balance. Glasses are taken off and stretches start to take place as people get serious and wait their turn. As the box gets lower more people bow out leaving only the super competitive left (including Ricky who changes out of his jeans and into some loose shorts). The music is pumping, and drinks are flowing freely (in generous servings) and I am quickly drunk on my orange vodka and Mirinda (a fanta equivalent that leaves Laura and my tongues orange coloured!). Eventually Johannes & Ricky triumph, both able to pick up a tiny flat piece of the box from the floor.
The evening continues with Bollywood / Bhangra dancing, ceroc and a very drunk group! I am the first to voluntarily jump in the pool quickly followed by Geoff, Johannes, Michael and Claus. Erin eventually succumbs and joins us in the cold water. Ricky is dragged in and spends the rest of the night wrapped in a towel, resembling E.T, shivering.
A great group bonding night and wonderful day.
Sunday 28 October 2012
Nothing is impossible...
We say our sad goodbyes to Pushkar and board the train in general class heading to Udaipur. No fabric cushioned seats with breakfast service this time! Sitting among the locals, the ceiling of the carriage is covered with fans and there are no doors. The hard bench seats are covered in blue plastic and at every station stop, hawkers selling samosas, chai tea and snacks complete their transactions through the steel bars of the window. A child sweeps the floor on his hands & knees passing from car to car and I spend the next 4hrs people watching and writing.
We arrive into Udaipur and our base for the next three nights, Hotel Vishnupriya. The thought of not having to pack / unpack my backpack for three whole days makes me extremely happy as well as the hotel being relatively luxurious in comparison to the other accommodation so far. It's a good start for Udaipur!
After a quick chill out by the pool and an interesting (!) Ayervedic massage I meet up with the group and head out for a city orientation walk with Ricky. He is slowly but surely becoming one of my favourite people and proving to be an amazing guide, always taking us to hidden gems with the best views, food, service and giving great advice for how to operate / function Indian style.
As we walk through the narrow streets of the city we are back into traffic chaos where the horns provide the background music and if you're not careful you are skimmed by passing motorcycles, tuk tuks, cows or cars. Claus has to find this out the hard way and his shoulder has an unfortunate and abrupt argument with a tuk tuk. The narrow streets snake to form the old city and they are home to various shops mainly selling the region's famous miniature art, textiles and tailoring services.
Ricky explains that we have arrived in the most romantic city in India. So far it's not clear why it has earned the right to this title. And then we reach Lake Pichola sitting right in the middle of the city...
The lake is 4km long and 3km wide and forms a beautiful backdrop to the huge City Palace (Rajasthan's largest) which sits on the east side of the water. Sitting out in the middle of the lake are a couple of islands and also the Lake Palace, a white intricately built structure that casts a beautiful reflection of light on the still water. The city reminds me of India's version of Venice (just dirtier, shabbier and with motor vehicles). I now completely understand how it's earned it's reputation.
We climb some steps and enjoy dinner on a rooftop restaurant with amazing views over the huge palace. My food is washed down with a Kingfisher beer (which I've developed a taste for in the absence of wine) and before long we find ourselves in a tuk tuk again making a stop for supplies. The driver's nine year old son, with the cheekiest grin I've ever seen, watches us in fascination. It's like we're a pack of rare and endangered animals caged in his Dad's vehicle. The Dad explains that he is teaching the boy English who then proudly declares his name and his age in a perfectly crafted sentence. The father tells us that he tells his son every day that nothing is impossible and he can achieve anything he wants. This humbles and inspires me. If I ever have kids I will try and tell them this every day.
We make it back to the hotel and we round off the day with a bottle of rum on the roof. Ricky tells us that he has had to promise his Mum he will only drink alcohol on one night on his tour. Drinking seems to be frowned upon by the more traditional community. Demonstrating typical Indian ingenuity he finds a loophole in this by declaring the rum, for the rest of the week, as medicine for his sore throat.
I love India.
We arrive into Udaipur and our base for the next three nights, Hotel Vishnupriya. The thought of not having to pack / unpack my backpack for three whole days makes me extremely happy as well as the hotel being relatively luxurious in comparison to the other accommodation so far. It's a good start for Udaipur!
After a quick chill out by the pool and an interesting (!) Ayervedic massage I meet up with the group and head out for a city orientation walk with Ricky. He is slowly but surely becoming one of my favourite people and proving to be an amazing guide, always taking us to hidden gems with the best views, food, service and giving great advice for how to operate / function Indian style.
As we walk through the narrow streets of the city we are back into traffic chaos where the horns provide the background music and if you're not careful you are skimmed by passing motorcycles, tuk tuks, cows or cars. Claus has to find this out the hard way and his shoulder has an unfortunate and abrupt argument with a tuk tuk. The narrow streets snake to form the old city and they are home to various shops mainly selling the region's famous miniature art, textiles and tailoring services.
Ricky explains that we have arrived in the most romantic city in India. So far it's not clear why it has earned the right to this title. And then we reach Lake Pichola sitting right in the middle of the city...
The lake is 4km long and 3km wide and forms a beautiful backdrop to the huge City Palace (Rajasthan's largest) which sits on the east side of the water. Sitting out in the middle of the lake are a couple of islands and also the Lake Palace, a white intricately built structure that casts a beautiful reflection of light on the still water. The city reminds me of India's version of Venice (just dirtier, shabbier and with motor vehicles). I now completely understand how it's earned it's reputation.
We climb some steps and enjoy dinner on a rooftop restaurant with amazing views over the huge palace. My food is washed down with a Kingfisher beer (which I've developed a taste for in the absence of wine) and before long we find ourselves in a tuk tuk again making a stop for supplies. The driver's nine year old son, with the cheekiest grin I've ever seen, watches us in fascination. It's like we're a pack of rare and endangered animals caged in his Dad's vehicle. The Dad explains that he is teaching the boy English who then proudly declares his name and his age in a perfectly crafted sentence. The father tells us that he tells his son every day that nothing is impossible and he can achieve anything he wants. This humbles and inspires me. If I ever have kids I will try and tell them this every day.
We make it back to the hotel and we round off the day with a bottle of rum on the roof. Ricky tells us that he has had to promise his Mum he will only drink alcohol on one night on his tour. Drinking seems to be frowned upon by the more traditional community. Demonstrating typical Indian ingenuity he finds a loophole in this by declaring the rum, for the rest of the week, as medicine for his sore throat.
I love India.
Thursday 25 October 2012
A little piece of heaven...
The alarm goes off at 4:30am today ready for our hike up to Savitri temple which sits on a hill overlooking the sacred lake. It takes just over an hour to make our way to the top. It's a steep rocky climb up the steps and being the only unfit one of the group I'm at the back! There are locals making their way to the top, including some old ladies who must have been 70/80 years old. I am infinitely impressed with how they scale the hike to reach the top and the temple and turn up the effort so I don't get overtaken!
Claus & Johannes race each other up with Michael & Laura not far behind them. When I get there (15minutes later) I ask "where is the German flag?" which raises some laughs. Geoff follows with "did you put the beach towels down already"which I find hilarious and so do they. I'm in a group of people who all have amazing an sense of humour and we are all enjoying the healthy banter :)
When I turn around on myself and look back the view makes the early rise and sweat all worthwhile! It's breathtaking with the reds and yellows of Sunrise giving Pushkar an even greater special glow.
We sit and watch the monkeys playing, being hand fed biscuits, see the day break whilst sipping chai tea and I'm in my own little peace of heaven.
After a siesta back at the hotel, Erin
and I take the 15 minute walk back into town for a spot of shopping. Once we get in to the centre we go our separate ways so Erin can grab some breakfast. I wander through the markets attracting seemingly more attention as a solo traveller. A group of teenage girls, hardened to their environment, approach me, telling me I have pretty eyes and ask me to follow them to their shop for drinks telling me about their friend "Peter" who lives in England. Ricky had warned us that there is an underworld drugging problem in Pushkar where tourists are targeted & scammed due to the relatively high volume passing through and my instincts tell me these girls are bad news. I make my excuses and one of them grabs my hand trying to push henna on it. I snatch it away making it very clear I am leaving. Shortly after this a group of leering boys say hello hello pretty lady - I smile politely and one shouts "I remember you from sex last night". It seems, despite covering myself with shapeless baggy clothes here, when travelling on your own as a western woman you are sometimes still viewed as an easy and a loose westerner (hush). These encounters are the only negative ones I have had so far. The majority of people have been unbelievably friendly and are delighted that you have chosen to visit their country with many smiles and "Welcome to India" remarks. People believe here that your actions in this life will affect your next one (karma) so knowing right & wrong, being kind, courteous and honest are all hallmarks of the average Indian and traits I wish more people possessed.
Our evening begins getting dressed in traditional clothes (the boys have turbans wrapped) and we meet our transport for the evening - eight camels. Mine is called Johnson and we bond immediately apparently (he sticks his tongue out, bears his teeth and gets a tad excited - ahem). We take the camels on a two hour trek out into rural Pushkar, riding past cane houses, antelope, more cows and acacia trees. The landscape could be the African plains. People come out of their cane & mud houses and scruffy kids wearing t-shirts and no bottoms, run and wave to say hello.
We reach our destination a field with a square concrete structure and some modest tables set up in the field. The priest from yesterday greets us and quickly has his staff running around to look after us. Priests are the highest point of the caste system here. We spend the night being serenaded by traditional musicians and dancers. We all dance together and eat a traditional meal cooked in cauldrons. Ricky busts out some serious Bhangra moves and lots of fun is had by all.
Again the day is rounded off nicely by a campfire on the roof of our hotel. It seems days are fuller, longer and richer here.
Claus & Johannes race each other up with Michael & Laura not far behind them. When I get there (15minutes later) I ask "where is the German flag?" which raises some laughs. Geoff follows with "did you put the beach towels down already"which I find hilarious and so do they. I'm in a group of people who all have amazing an sense of humour and we are all enjoying the healthy banter :)
When I turn around on myself and look back the view makes the early rise and sweat all worthwhile! It's breathtaking with the reds and yellows of Sunrise giving Pushkar an even greater special glow.
We sit and watch the monkeys playing, being hand fed biscuits, see the day break whilst sipping chai tea and I'm in my own little peace of heaven.
After a siesta back at the hotel, Erin
and I take the 15 minute walk back into town for a spot of shopping. Once we get in to the centre we go our separate ways so Erin can grab some breakfast. I wander through the markets attracting seemingly more attention as a solo traveller. A group of teenage girls, hardened to their environment, approach me, telling me I have pretty eyes and ask me to follow them to their shop for drinks telling me about their friend "Peter" who lives in England. Ricky had warned us that there is an underworld drugging problem in Pushkar where tourists are targeted & scammed due to the relatively high volume passing through and my instincts tell me these girls are bad news. I make my excuses and one of them grabs my hand trying to push henna on it. I snatch it away making it very clear I am leaving. Shortly after this a group of leering boys say hello hello pretty lady - I smile politely and one shouts "I remember you from sex last night". It seems, despite covering myself with shapeless baggy clothes here, when travelling on your own as a western woman you are sometimes still viewed as an easy and a loose westerner (hush). These encounters are the only negative ones I have had so far. The majority of people have been unbelievably friendly and are delighted that you have chosen to visit their country with many smiles and "Welcome to India" remarks. People believe here that your actions in this life will affect your next one (karma) so knowing right & wrong, being kind, courteous and honest are all hallmarks of the average Indian and traits I wish more people possessed.
Our evening begins getting dressed in traditional clothes (the boys have turbans wrapped) and we meet our transport for the evening - eight camels. Mine is called Johnson and we bond immediately apparently (he sticks his tongue out, bears his teeth and gets a tad excited - ahem). We take the camels on a two hour trek out into rural Pushkar, riding past cane houses, antelope, more cows and acacia trees. The landscape could be the African plains. People come out of their cane & mud houses and scruffy kids wearing t-shirts and no bottoms, run and wave to say hello.
We reach our destination a field with a square concrete structure and some modest tables set up in the field. The priest from yesterday greets us and quickly has his staff running around to look after us. Priests are the highest point of the caste system here. We spend the night being serenaded by traditional musicians and dancers. We all dance together and eat a traditional meal cooked in cauldrons. Ricky busts out some serious Bhangra moves and lots of fun is had by all.
Again the day is rounded off nicely by a campfire on the roof of our hotel. It seems days are fuller, longer and richer here.
Tickled by a bull...
So the Delhi belly has finally struck - it's not tooooooo bad but my tummy seems to definitely be in mild protest of the third world food hygiene!
I have a slice of toast for breakfast and throw the backpack into the bus taking us to Pushkar. On first impressions it seems that we have a crazy driver but after we reach the next stop he calms down marginally and I spend the next 4.5hrs listening to the sounds of Finley Quaye and The Civil Wars watching rural India pass by the window. On the bus there is a young English couple who are both film makers, backpacking here for 6 months who we introduce ourselves to and hear their stories of travels so far including how he had been attacked by a monkey.
Arriving in Pushkar and it immediately feels different to the other places we have visited in India so far. The constant honking of horns has gone (still the occasional one), it's less crowded with wide open spaces and the luscious green scenery is beautiful with little pollution. There seem to be more cows (sacred) and less litter. Pushkar is one of the five holiest places in the whole of India and somewhere Hindus make pilgrimages to. Brahma was said to have dropped a lotus flower on earth and Pushkar appeared. As well as having one of the only Brahma temples in the world there is a sacred lake where people come to spread the ashes of their loved ones, wash and get blessed. Due to the sanctity of this place there is no booze, meat, eggs or kissing and you must remove shoes from 30ft away from the lake. We are also here at one of the most special times of the year - during a festival called Dussehra Mela when Hindus commemorate when Rama slayed Ravana (a Demon King).
After a quick swim at the hotel we head into the town and straight to see the lake. It is so calm and tranquil. Holy men in orange / white robes wash, read newspapers and sit bare legged dotted around. The milky white wash temples and stone buildings surround the water and steps lead to the waters edge which has remnants of today's colourful offerings floating on top.
There is a sizeable western community here and it's a big hippy destination so also dotted around the lake, next to local women in saris washing in the ghats, western folk sit bare foot and cross legged meditating. No doubt we're in a very special place.
Foreigners are welcomed to take part in the rituals and tune into the spirituality of the place (whatever your religion) and Ricky organises for a priest to come and meet us for our very puja own (prayer). We sit solemnly in a line repeating his mantras, offering holy rice, holy sugar, holy yellow colour and red colour with flowers to the gods asking for good karma to be given to us and our families. The priest blesses us and we are given the familiar red paint dot on our foreheads and a red ribbon around our wrists which we are told must not be broken until it falls off. It was such a special ceremony and performed as the sun was setting - I can see why people find comfort in these rituals and flock here.
We head straight from the blessing to the festival site where we meet the film making backpackers along the way who come along for the ride. It is a huge open space with thousands of people gathered, some in stands sat on concrete bleachers and some stood up near a stage where various dressed up people sit on thrones and senior temple officials tell the story over the sound system. There is a 20ft effigy symbolising the demon king and kids run around everywhere. We nestle in amongst the locals and I sit down next to a man with his son (9) and daughter (5). They say Namaste and before long I am in a tickle competition with the little girl. Fireworks begin to go off nearby - super close to the crowd. I can't believe how close the kids are getting as a guy sets one off after the other. One falls sideways and narrowly misses the nearby watchers. There is no regulation, anyone can purchase and set off which makes me a tad nervous especially as another one goes off and the sparks fall and a boy runs off clutching his face!! I keep a safe distance and watch is amazement (again appreciative of health & safety regs in Europe!!). Before not too long the large effigy is being set alight and fireworks crack from it's sides. It ignites and the shell underneath the decorated paper facade crumbles quickly prompting festival goers to run and collect pieces of the ash as keep sakes.
Dinner is a delicious Indian style pizza amongst fairy lights on a traditional table sat on the floor. We head back to the hotel on a tuk tuk and make a stop for snacks / drinks ready for our hike tomorrow. As I'm stood paying for my water and dry biscuits a large bull appears and adamantly nudges me out of the way of his path. Ricky grabs it by the horns and corrects its path! It was quite a forceful hit so I say thanks to Ricky for saving me to which he replies "Don't be silly he only tickled you" :)
Another perfect end to the day is spent having an Indian drink, chatting on the roof by a campfire with Ricky's music playing.
I have a slice of toast for breakfast and throw the backpack into the bus taking us to Pushkar. On first impressions it seems that we have a crazy driver but after we reach the next stop he calms down marginally and I spend the next 4.5hrs listening to the sounds of Finley Quaye and The Civil Wars watching rural India pass by the window. On the bus there is a young English couple who are both film makers, backpacking here for 6 months who we introduce ourselves to and hear their stories of travels so far including how he had been attacked by a monkey.
Arriving in Pushkar and it immediately feels different to the other places we have visited in India so far. The constant honking of horns has gone (still the occasional one), it's less crowded with wide open spaces and the luscious green scenery is beautiful with little pollution. There seem to be more cows (sacred) and less litter. Pushkar is one of the five holiest places in the whole of India and somewhere Hindus make pilgrimages to. Brahma was said to have dropped a lotus flower on earth and Pushkar appeared. As well as having one of the only Brahma temples in the world there is a sacred lake where people come to spread the ashes of their loved ones, wash and get blessed. Due to the sanctity of this place there is no booze, meat, eggs or kissing and you must remove shoes from 30ft away from the lake. We are also here at one of the most special times of the year - during a festival called Dussehra Mela when Hindus commemorate when Rama slayed Ravana (a Demon King).
After a quick swim at the hotel we head into the town and straight to see the lake. It is so calm and tranquil. Holy men in orange / white robes wash, read newspapers and sit bare legged dotted around. The milky white wash temples and stone buildings surround the water and steps lead to the waters edge which has remnants of today's colourful offerings floating on top.
There is a sizeable western community here and it's a big hippy destination so also dotted around the lake, next to local women in saris washing in the ghats, western folk sit bare foot and cross legged meditating. No doubt we're in a very special place.
Foreigners are welcomed to take part in the rituals and tune into the spirituality of the place (whatever your religion) and Ricky organises for a priest to come and meet us for our very puja own (prayer). We sit solemnly in a line repeating his mantras, offering holy rice, holy sugar, holy yellow colour and red colour with flowers to the gods asking for good karma to be given to us and our families. The priest blesses us and we are given the familiar red paint dot on our foreheads and a red ribbon around our wrists which we are told must not be broken until it falls off. It was such a special ceremony and performed as the sun was setting - I can see why people find comfort in these rituals and flock here.
We head straight from the blessing to the festival site where we meet the film making backpackers along the way who come along for the ride. It is a huge open space with thousands of people gathered, some in stands sat on concrete bleachers and some stood up near a stage where various dressed up people sit on thrones and senior temple officials tell the story over the sound system. There is a 20ft effigy symbolising the demon king and kids run around everywhere. We nestle in amongst the locals and I sit down next to a man with his son (9) and daughter (5). They say Namaste and before long I am in a tickle competition with the little girl. Fireworks begin to go off nearby - super close to the crowd. I can't believe how close the kids are getting as a guy sets one off after the other. One falls sideways and narrowly misses the nearby watchers. There is no regulation, anyone can purchase and set off which makes me a tad nervous especially as another one goes off and the sparks fall and a boy runs off clutching his face!! I keep a safe distance and watch is amazement (again appreciative of health & safety regs in Europe!!). Before not too long the large effigy is being set alight and fireworks crack from it's sides. It ignites and the shell underneath the decorated paper facade crumbles quickly prompting festival goers to run and collect pieces of the ash as keep sakes.
Dinner is a delicious Indian style pizza amongst fairy lights on a traditional table sat on the floor. We head back to the hotel on a tuk tuk and make a stop for snacks / drinks ready for our hike tomorrow. As I'm stood paying for my water and dry biscuits a large bull appears and adamantly nudges me out of the way of his path. Ricky grabs it by the horns and corrects its path! It was quite a forceful hit so I say thanks to Ricky for saving me to which he replies "Don't be silly he only tickled you" :)
Another perfect end to the day is spent having an Indian drink, chatting on the roof by a campfire with Ricky's music playing.
Tuesday 23 October 2012
It's all Bollywood & mice...
So today we were up at 7am - no rest for the wicked / backpacker...
The Lonely Planet guide describes this city as having eye watering pollution and my eyes are already struggling in the blinding glare and smog whilst having breakfast on the roof terrace. I'm grateful that there is no curry in sight this morning and instead enjoy some toast & marmalade.
We are a man down (Michael) who has come down with some form of flu / virus so we have had to leave him behind and head out to explore the gateway to Rajasthan, Jaipur.
Our guide for today is called Rumi - jumping into yet another tuk tuk we make a quick stop for photos at Hawa Mahal. This is a large sandstone honeycomb building built for the ladies in the royal household to watch the city hustle & bustle in modesty.
As we drive out of the main city a huge defence wall, not too dissimilar to the Great Wall of China in architecture, appears in the hills and it's scale is phenomenal. We had no idea this was here. Perched high sits our destination - the old city & fort.
As we get closer, an Indian elephant stands on the side of the river with it's owner. She's beautiful and in apparent very good condition. She's a happy elephant as Laura & Michael would say (they only pet & ride happy elephants and rightly so). We stop for photos and as we do a snake charmer spies the action and rolls up trying to get his 10 rupees worth by revealing his music and black cobra. At this point Geoff nearly has a heart attack (he had to have hypnotherapy before starting his backpacking trip to cure his phobia and this is his first real test). Despite jumping like a girl and doing nothing for his masculinity (by his own admission) he tells us that this is real progress in terms of being able to stand within a few feet. Throughout the day he encounters a few more charmers and apart from nearly falling off a curb he does really well! I explained I'd be exactly the same if it were sharks, mice or rats.
It's festival time and Hindu devotees flock to the old city alongside us. They come as a family, wear bright saris, have the traditional red blessing marks on their foreheads and wear vivid orange holy necklaces made entirely from flowers.
The climb up to the top is gruelling, especially in the heat and coverings we are wearing. A man stands, falls down into a press up and caterpillars himself up the steep vertical path. Rumi explains that this is common practice and he is giving thanks to the gods for them making his prayer come true. Apparently devotees can start this activity from as far as over 2km away as a ritual of appreciation.
The old city fort has many beautiful buildings within it of various states and purposes. The place is buzzing with worshippers and Indian music blares from the speakers reverberating around the amber & sandstone walls.
After taking secret passages around the site and learning where court was held, we head back down the path, past the tens of beggars, some with terrible deformities, women with babies who already know how to hold their hands out and a girl covered entirely in purple coloured chalk, standing on one leg and recreating a position of one of the gods for money. We have been told to ignore the children as wider society doesn't want to encourage and a promote a generation of beggars. We are told we can give to the disabled should we wish as they are shunned from communities and unable to work. It's the children though - the pooling brown eyes, covered in mess, dirty faces and noses tapping you gently on the arm as you walk past asking "please lady please. 10 rupees...please". They continue for a while and ignoring them is a real test. I've found some stats on the poverty and it is thought that 220 million are living below the poverty line and a third of the world's global poor live in India. Despite knowing the government are trying to tackle this huge problem proactively and supporting begging is not best for them in the long term it's incredibly hard to explain / justify to myself in the short term and ignore them. I will be haunted by many desperate faces long after I leave here.
We head onto Jantar Mantar an observatory built in 1728 by the city's founder Jai Singh (Pur means city). The initial impression on arrival is that you've arrived at an outdoor modern art exhibition however the eighteen bizarre structures all the serve the purpose of telling the time and predicting horoscopes all using the sun. The accuracy is amazingly precise down to seconds.
Another part of today was spent admiring the floating palace sat majestically in the middle of a lake and where the Jaipur royal family (each state have their own Royal family) used to spend their summer holiday. Asking Rumi if it's still used today he replies yes - by Mosquitos, rats and other animals. While we are stood there a couple of children approach us - they say something in Hindi to Rumi who tells us they are magicians and want to show us a magic trick. We are told that given they are doing something it is acceptable to say yes.
Having been given the nod, one of the boys steps up into our circle, the other clearly assuming the role of manager hangs back. The little lad, no more than 7 or 8 performs a series of tricks that cause us all to whoop & cheer. He's a genuine mini Indian Dynamo! We hand over some cash and they run to the next bunch of tourists.
I am so impressed with their talent but more so by their ingenuity to make a living.
City Palace is also ticked off the list where my highlights include seeing Pitam Niwas Chowk a series of four gates representing spring, summer, autumn and winter. The winter gate is adorned with peacocks, the colours are vivid and it's beautiful.
Laura and I head out to the local markets where I pick up a beautifully embroidered purple & gold sari for 250 rupees (£3) and some bindis.
At 5:30pm we all meet downstairs to head to see a Bollywood movie called Student of the Year. The Bollywood film industry churns out 900 films a year here and is said to reach 1/6 of the population with tickets costing 150 rupees (£1.75).
Erin braves wearing her Sari for the occasion and all male attention shifts to a more respectful affair with locals very pleased to see a westerner in such clothes. I have created an Indian style outfit from a dress, linen trousers, my scarf and my recently purchased bindi. The cinema is an opulent structure in the heart of the city. They sell popcorn, drinks, samosas to film goers and we get involved.
The film starts and as the trailers roll, people start cheering and whooping as various Bollywood stars faces appear on the screen. Going to the cinema here is an interactive panto like experience and the next 2hrs is a seat bopping, toe tapping, laugh a minute party. Despite being in Hindi we all manage to keep up with the plot and leave with huge smiles on our faces. A definite highlight of the trip so far.
The day is rounded of at dinner at a nearby fine cuisine restaurant. It's not long before the beers are ordered and we are talking animatedly about our day when Geoff & Laura's legs jump suddenly up and they tell us a mouse has just ran by them by their feet. I spend the remainder of the meal with my legs either up vertically in front of me or tucked behind me. Just as I'm saying how glad I am that it wasn't my foot Geoff jumps and nearly flips the table up. Laura has accidentally brushed his leg which sends us all into hysterics, including Ricky, for the rest of the dinner.
I wonder if there is already a Bollywood version of 'Of Mice and Men?'...
The Lonely Planet guide describes this city as having eye watering pollution and my eyes are already struggling in the blinding glare and smog whilst having breakfast on the roof terrace. I'm grateful that there is no curry in sight this morning and instead enjoy some toast & marmalade.
We are a man down (Michael) who has come down with some form of flu / virus so we have had to leave him behind and head out to explore the gateway to Rajasthan, Jaipur.
Our guide for today is called Rumi - jumping into yet another tuk tuk we make a quick stop for photos at Hawa Mahal. This is a large sandstone honeycomb building built for the ladies in the royal household to watch the city hustle & bustle in modesty.
As we drive out of the main city a huge defence wall, not too dissimilar to the Great Wall of China in architecture, appears in the hills and it's scale is phenomenal. We had no idea this was here. Perched high sits our destination - the old city & fort.
As we get closer, an Indian elephant stands on the side of the river with it's owner. She's beautiful and in apparent very good condition. She's a happy elephant as Laura & Michael would say (they only pet & ride happy elephants and rightly so). We stop for photos and as we do a snake charmer spies the action and rolls up trying to get his 10 rupees worth by revealing his music and black cobra. At this point Geoff nearly has a heart attack (he had to have hypnotherapy before starting his backpacking trip to cure his phobia and this is his first real test). Despite jumping like a girl and doing nothing for his masculinity (by his own admission) he tells us that this is real progress in terms of being able to stand within a few feet. Throughout the day he encounters a few more charmers and apart from nearly falling off a curb he does really well! I explained I'd be exactly the same if it were sharks, mice or rats.
It's festival time and Hindu devotees flock to the old city alongside us. They come as a family, wear bright saris, have the traditional red blessing marks on their foreheads and wear vivid orange holy necklaces made entirely from flowers.
The climb up to the top is gruelling, especially in the heat and coverings we are wearing. A man stands, falls down into a press up and caterpillars himself up the steep vertical path. Rumi explains that this is common practice and he is giving thanks to the gods for them making his prayer come true. Apparently devotees can start this activity from as far as over 2km away as a ritual of appreciation.
The old city fort has many beautiful buildings within it of various states and purposes. The place is buzzing with worshippers and Indian music blares from the speakers reverberating around the amber & sandstone walls.
After taking secret passages around the site and learning where court was held, we head back down the path, past the tens of beggars, some with terrible deformities, women with babies who already know how to hold their hands out and a girl covered entirely in purple coloured chalk, standing on one leg and recreating a position of one of the gods for money. We have been told to ignore the children as wider society doesn't want to encourage and a promote a generation of beggars. We are told we can give to the disabled should we wish as they are shunned from communities and unable to work. It's the children though - the pooling brown eyes, covered in mess, dirty faces and noses tapping you gently on the arm as you walk past asking "please lady please. 10 rupees...please". They continue for a while and ignoring them is a real test. I've found some stats on the poverty and it is thought that 220 million are living below the poverty line and a third of the world's global poor live in India. Despite knowing the government are trying to tackle this huge problem proactively and supporting begging is not best for them in the long term it's incredibly hard to explain / justify to myself in the short term and ignore them. I will be haunted by many desperate faces long after I leave here.
We head onto Jantar Mantar an observatory built in 1728 by the city's founder Jai Singh (Pur means city). The initial impression on arrival is that you've arrived at an outdoor modern art exhibition however the eighteen bizarre structures all the serve the purpose of telling the time and predicting horoscopes all using the sun. The accuracy is amazingly precise down to seconds.
Another part of today was spent admiring the floating palace sat majestically in the middle of a lake and where the Jaipur royal family (each state have their own Royal family) used to spend their summer holiday. Asking Rumi if it's still used today he replies yes - by Mosquitos, rats and other animals. While we are stood there a couple of children approach us - they say something in Hindi to Rumi who tells us they are magicians and want to show us a magic trick. We are told that given they are doing something it is acceptable to say yes.
Having been given the nod, one of the boys steps up into our circle, the other clearly assuming the role of manager hangs back. The little lad, no more than 7 or 8 performs a series of tricks that cause us all to whoop & cheer. He's a genuine mini Indian Dynamo! We hand over some cash and they run to the next bunch of tourists.
I am so impressed with their talent but more so by their ingenuity to make a living.
City Palace is also ticked off the list where my highlights include seeing Pitam Niwas Chowk a series of four gates representing spring, summer, autumn and winter. The winter gate is adorned with peacocks, the colours are vivid and it's beautiful.
Laura and I head out to the local markets where I pick up a beautifully embroidered purple & gold sari for 250 rupees (£3) and some bindis.
At 5:30pm we all meet downstairs to head to see a Bollywood movie called Student of the Year. The Bollywood film industry churns out 900 films a year here and is said to reach 1/6 of the population with tickets costing 150 rupees (£1.75).
Erin braves wearing her Sari for the occasion and all male attention shifts to a more respectful affair with locals very pleased to see a westerner in such clothes. I have created an Indian style outfit from a dress, linen trousers, my scarf and my recently purchased bindi. The cinema is an opulent structure in the heart of the city. They sell popcorn, drinks, samosas to film goers and we get involved.
The film starts and as the trailers roll, people start cheering and whooping as various Bollywood stars faces appear on the screen. Going to the cinema here is an interactive panto like experience and the next 2hrs is a seat bopping, toe tapping, laugh a minute party. Despite being in Hindi we all manage to keep up with the plot and leave with huge smiles on our faces. A definite highlight of the trip so far.
The day is rounded of at dinner at a nearby fine cuisine restaurant. It's not long before the beers are ordered and we are talking animatedly about our day when Geoff & Laura's legs jump suddenly up and they tell us a mouse has just ran by them by their feet. I spend the remainder of the meal with my legs either up vertically in front of me or tucked behind me. Just as I'm saying how glad I am that it wasn't my foot Geoff jumps and nearly flips the table up. Laura has accidentally brushed his leg which sends us all into hysterics, including Ricky, for the rest of the dinner.
I wonder if there is already a Bollywood version of 'Of Mice and Men?'...
Monday 22 October 2012
Thongs, Deet and a Rajasthani Welcome...
Our day started at 7am today - departing our Agra hotel and jumping into rickshaws to head to the bus station. We arrive, buy snacks & water, load our backpacks into the hold and board the coach to Jaipur along with a whole raft of other foreign tourists and a handful of locals.
I'm not entirely sure this coach would pass an MOT and I'm not sure it would have passed in 1953 either. The seats are ripped, oily & dirty from pollution and it also seems to be home to a decent size family of Mosquitos. There are mounted fans, out of order, dangling precariously off the sides of the bus and the windows look like they haven't been washed since 1953 either. After digging out the super strength Deet I kick back and make the most of the 5.5hr journey ahead.
I quickly fall asleep and get woken up thinking I'm being catapulted into the ether. Turns out we've gone over a traffic slowing hump at 60mph and I'm on the back seat making for an interesting ride. The journey continued like this for the rest of the drive. I will never moan about UK potholes again - the things here could rival a quarry! After a few non scheduled stops, one was to fix something broken and the others I'm sure were to pick up the drivers friends, we make it into Jaipur and the Jaipur Inn.
This inn is a guest house run by a local family - it's very pretty and clean. After a quick shower and lunch I head up to the roof terrace to check out the view and enjoy some time away from the others with my book. It's a welcome break after a full on 48hrs!
At 5:30pm we head out for an orientation Rickshaw ride and stop at the main square where Ricky takes us to the top of a building giving us a birds eye view of the action. The square reminds me of Marrakech - a hubbub of people, traffic, shops, spice traders, stray dogs, cars honking (naturally) just that this square has a modest fountain in the middle and slightly fewer food stalls. On the platform we're on, there are three monkeys including another baby. I am again transfixed by them but Ricky tells us not to go too near them as they are very aggressive. He tells us this is only if they are directly approached so I snap away two metres from them. We head back down, past a Hindu temple saying Namaste & bowing our head to the priest who is dressed in orange (holy). Erin & Karen buy a sari where we meet the best salesman in the world before heading onto The Bissau Palace.
The building sits in what is now Jaipur's red light district however was used during British colonial rule. As we approach the palace (a grand mansion house with a wrap around veranda) the noises from the street disappear and an air of calm & tranquility descends. The chairs on the veranda are highlighted by the candles and the soft lighting welcomes us to come in via the fountain and bowls filled with floating rose petals. As we get inside the walls are covered in floral rich wallpaper of golds and reds, there are plush sofas, shelves of books in glass cases, antique weaponry on display, a piano in the corner, old black & white photos, Indian military art and a mounted tigers head hanging. It feels very sumptuous in comparison to our recent surroundings are we are led into a lounge area for cocktails where I am transported back to the era of British rule.
After drinks we head up to the rooftop terrace for our meal. It's a stunning setting and we are serenaded by a sitar player and drummer. After many laughs over the dinner table, including me telling everyone how Erin had earlier asked me what it was like wearing thongs outside especially with the breeze (I replied saying it doesn't bother me and I wear a mixture of French knickers & thongs) to which she replied quickly saying that she was talking about my flip flops. Oops. Ozzie translator required next time!
Erin has become a great travel companion. I've been enjoying learning about her green tea business back in Oz and she's made me feel inspired again. She's super switched on yet keen to learn and discover.
So off to bed I go....to the sound of fire crackers (festival time), drumming and of course.....the obligatory tooting.
I'm not entirely sure this coach would pass an MOT and I'm not sure it would have passed in 1953 either. The seats are ripped, oily & dirty from pollution and it also seems to be home to a decent size family of Mosquitos. There are mounted fans, out of order, dangling precariously off the sides of the bus and the windows look like they haven't been washed since 1953 either. After digging out the super strength Deet I kick back and make the most of the 5.5hr journey ahead.
I quickly fall asleep and get woken up thinking I'm being catapulted into the ether. Turns out we've gone over a traffic slowing hump at 60mph and I'm on the back seat making for an interesting ride. The journey continued like this for the rest of the drive. I will never moan about UK potholes again - the things here could rival a quarry! After a few non scheduled stops, one was to fix something broken and the others I'm sure were to pick up the drivers friends, we make it into Jaipur and the Jaipur Inn.
This inn is a guest house run by a local family - it's very pretty and clean. After a quick shower and lunch I head up to the roof terrace to check out the view and enjoy some time away from the others with my book. It's a welcome break after a full on 48hrs!
At 5:30pm we head out for an orientation Rickshaw ride and stop at the main square where Ricky takes us to the top of a building giving us a birds eye view of the action. The square reminds me of Marrakech - a hubbub of people, traffic, shops, spice traders, stray dogs, cars honking (naturally) just that this square has a modest fountain in the middle and slightly fewer food stalls. On the platform we're on, there are three monkeys including another baby. I am again transfixed by them but Ricky tells us not to go too near them as they are very aggressive. He tells us this is only if they are directly approached so I snap away two metres from them. We head back down, past a Hindu temple saying Namaste & bowing our head to the priest who is dressed in orange (holy). Erin & Karen buy a sari where we meet the best salesman in the world before heading onto The Bissau Palace.
The building sits in what is now Jaipur's red light district however was used during British colonial rule. As we approach the palace (a grand mansion house with a wrap around veranda) the noises from the street disappear and an air of calm & tranquility descends. The chairs on the veranda are highlighted by the candles and the soft lighting welcomes us to come in via the fountain and bowls filled with floating rose petals. As we get inside the walls are covered in floral rich wallpaper of golds and reds, there are plush sofas, shelves of books in glass cases, antique weaponry on display, a piano in the corner, old black & white photos, Indian military art and a mounted tigers head hanging. It feels very sumptuous in comparison to our recent surroundings are we are led into a lounge area for cocktails where I am transported back to the era of British rule.
After drinks we head up to the rooftop terrace for our meal. It's a stunning setting and we are serenaded by a sitar player and drummer. After many laughs over the dinner table, including me telling everyone how Erin had earlier asked me what it was like wearing thongs outside especially with the breeze (I replied saying it doesn't bother me and I wear a mixture of French knickers & thongs) to which she replied quickly saying that she was talking about my flip flops. Oops. Ozzie translator required next time!
Erin has become a great travel companion. I've been enjoying learning about her green tea business back in Oz and she's made me feel inspired again. She's super switched on yet keen to learn and discover.
So off to bed I go....to the sound of fire crackers (festival time), drumming and of course.....the obligatory tooting.
Sunday 21 October 2012
A tear drop on the cheek of eternity
So today began in Delhi at 4:45am as we headed via taxi to the train station to catch the Agra bound Taj Express. This is a city of 17 million people and I was surprised to see how many of them are up at this ungodly hour, hustling & bustling buying their fresh produce for the day.
Arriving at the station we stepped around the locals living & sleeping in the main entrance to head through security and board the train in Standard Class C. The train carriage is basic but comfortable and we are served an interesting curry for breakfast with some tea and dry Marie biscuits.
As we head out of Delhi we go through a Slumdog Millionaire style shanty town built beside a rubbish tip and I wonder how many little Latika's are waiting for a Danny Boyle ticket out of there. The poverty in this country is something we are continually confronted with, it's on every street. There are 1 billion people here and a huge majority are living in terrible conditions. I normally count myself very lucky but this trip is already highlighting everything I have and take for granted. I am so grateful for the opportunities and choices I have and so very glad I wasn't born as a street child here. If reincarnation is true, as Hindus believe, I'd really like to not come back as one either....
We eventually get into luscious green countryside, passing grazing cattle and people working in the fields. As we pull into Agra 2.5hrs later we are greeted at the station by the familiar chaos of kids begging and touts trying to get the latest westerners onto their tuk tuk, Rickshaw, tour etc
We have our own ready and waiting tuk tuk driver who we have hired for 600 rupees for the whole day shared between three of us. We drop our bags at the hotel and head to a local fruit market where I try a coconut like tasting fruit. It was small and could easily pass as a bright green Chinese dumpling or pastry at first glance. It's just Erin & I at the fruit market and we quickly become conscious that we are being stared at by over 100 men all wondering if we got lost on our way to the Taj and what we are doing in their part of town.
Sightseeing this morning consisted of The Agra Fort & "Baby Taj". The buildings are beautifully ornate and we are loaded with facts and figures about these 16th century UNESCO monuments, including being shown into the Harem Court in the fort where the emperor housed his 300 mistresses (he had to give them numbers as he couldn't remember their names). It is near here that we catch our first glimse of The Taj in the distant smog. It looks magical set against the foreground of the river Yamuna.
We head to lunch for some Southern Indian fare and are all starting to get twitchy and excited about our next stop and the reason we are all here.
After another chaotic tuk tuk ride we arrive with no sign of the actual monument. I get distracted by a family of monkeys on the road side who are leisurely watching the crowds, eating fruit and dipping in and out of the greenery. A baby monkey, only a few months old, sits on it's mothers lap, grabs her face and kisses her on the lips. It was such a tender moment and one too quick for my camera to catch. Geoff, the other Brit, is also watching the monkeys avidly so we both manage to lose track of the group. We eventually find them and snake our way through the kids selling post cards and Taj Mahal snow globes. The entry process involves us passing through the foreigner "high value ticket holder" gates, past the hoards of domestic tourists staring and eventually into the grounds.
We walk in and are greeted by a huge red sandstone gate - as we get closer and closer we can slowly start to see the intricate white marble structure peaking through the gap and at this point a wave of excitement washes over me and before long I am gawping at one of the wonders of the world.
Completed in 1653 by Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz, the building is said to be a tear drop on the cheek of eternity. Mumtaz died giving birth to their fourteenth child and Shah Jahan was so heartbroken he had The Taj Mahal constructed as a symbol of his everlasting love and a place for her to be buried. The detailed carving, the precious jewels and Arabic script on the stone all sit within the building's perfect symmetry.
I have my photo taken on the same bench Princess Diana sat and there is a crowd of people all waiting to do the same, western & Indian faces alike.
After taking lots more photos we go in to see the replica grave, fast tracked past the locals who are queuing for up to 3 hrs (again) to get into this inner part. This makes me feel very guilty but as we walk past the lines everyone wants to say hello, shake our hand and take photos. Mumtaz's real grave has been closed to the public and only opens for 3 days a year when 95,000 people visit per day (normally 20,000 people visit The Taj daily).
We head back to a white platform in the centre to sit down and watch the light change over the building for sunset. It really was breathtaking.
After sunset we say our goodbyes to the place and head to dinner which is at a rooftop restaurant. We dine al fresco among the trees, on powder blue tablecloths with elephants on them, there are candles, fairy lights and large fruit bats flying around. I try my first Indian Kingfisher beer. It was the perfect setting to the end of an amazing day.....
Or so I thought....
When we get back - a group of Indian school kids have arrived at our hotel (this place is also one with more dirty / oily bed sheets). The kids quickly make their presence known by running around the corridors and banging on doors. After a stakeout at the peep hole I eventually caught one of the offenders red handed who I think had a little bit of a nasty shock when a white western woman opened the door just as she was about to knock it and run.....
And despite this.....
I drifted off to sleep, chaos outside continuing, with a big smile on my face. I'm in India, I saw The Taj Mahal today. I'm so lucky and I'm so happy....
Arriving at the station we stepped around the locals living & sleeping in the main entrance to head through security and board the train in Standard Class C. The train carriage is basic but comfortable and we are served an interesting curry for breakfast with some tea and dry Marie biscuits.
As we head out of Delhi we go through a Slumdog Millionaire style shanty town built beside a rubbish tip and I wonder how many little Latika's are waiting for a Danny Boyle ticket out of there. The poverty in this country is something we are continually confronted with, it's on every street. There are 1 billion people here and a huge majority are living in terrible conditions. I normally count myself very lucky but this trip is already highlighting everything I have and take for granted. I am so grateful for the opportunities and choices I have and so very glad I wasn't born as a street child here. If reincarnation is true, as Hindus believe, I'd really like to not come back as one either....
We eventually get into luscious green countryside, passing grazing cattle and people working in the fields. As we pull into Agra 2.5hrs later we are greeted at the station by the familiar chaos of kids begging and touts trying to get the latest westerners onto their tuk tuk, Rickshaw, tour etc
We have our own ready and waiting tuk tuk driver who we have hired for 600 rupees for the whole day shared between three of us. We drop our bags at the hotel and head to a local fruit market where I try a coconut like tasting fruit. It was small and could easily pass as a bright green Chinese dumpling or pastry at first glance. It's just Erin & I at the fruit market and we quickly become conscious that we are being stared at by over 100 men all wondering if we got lost on our way to the Taj and what we are doing in their part of town.
Sightseeing this morning consisted of The Agra Fort & "Baby Taj". The buildings are beautifully ornate and we are loaded with facts and figures about these 16th century UNESCO monuments, including being shown into the Harem Court in the fort where the emperor housed his 300 mistresses (he had to give them numbers as he couldn't remember their names). It is near here that we catch our first glimse of The Taj in the distant smog. It looks magical set against the foreground of the river Yamuna.
We head to lunch for some Southern Indian fare and are all starting to get twitchy and excited about our next stop and the reason we are all here.
After another chaotic tuk tuk ride we arrive with no sign of the actual monument. I get distracted by a family of monkeys on the road side who are leisurely watching the crowds, eating fruit and dipping in and out of the greenery. A baby monkey, only a few months old, sits on it's mothers lap, grabs her face and kisses her on the lips. It was such a tender moment and one too quick for my camera to catch. Geoff, the other Brit, is also watching the monkeys avidly so we both manage to lose track of the group. We eventually find them and snake our way through the kids selling post cards and Taj Mahal snow globes. The entry process involves us passing through the foreigner "high value ticket holder" gates, past the hoards of domestic tourists staring and eventually into the grounds.
We walk in and are greeted by a huge red sandstone gate - as we get closer and closer we can slowly start to see the intricate white marble structure peaking through the gap and at this point a wave of excitement washes over me and before long I am gawping at one of the wonders of the world.
Completed in 1653 by Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz, the building is said to be a tear drop on the cheek of eternity. Mumtaz died giving birth to their fourteenth child and Shah Jahan was so heartbroken he had The Taj Mahal constructed as a symbol of his everlasting love and a place for her to be buried. The detailed carving, the precious jewels and Arabic script on the stone all sit within the building's perfect symmetry.
I have my photo taken on the same bench Princess Diana sat and there is a crowd of people all waiting to do the same, western & Indian faces alike.
After taking lots more photos we go in to see the replica grave, fast tracked past the locals who are queuing for up to 3 hrs (again) to get into this inner part. This makes me feel very guilty but as we walk past the lines everyone wants to say hello, shake our hand and take photos. Mumtaz's real grave has been closed to the public and only opens for 3 days a year when 95,000 people visit per day (normally 20,000 people visit The Taj daily).
We head back to a white platform in the centre to sit down and watch the light change over the building for sunset. It really was breathtaking.
After sunset we say our goodbyes to the place and head to dinner which is at a rooftop restaurant. We dine al fresco among the trees, on powder blue tablecloths with elephants on them, there are candles, fairy lights and large fruit bats flying around. I try my first Indian Kingfisher beer. It was the perfect setting to the end of an amazing day.....
Or so I thought....
When we get back - a group of Indian school kids have arrived at our hotel (this place is also one with more dirty / oily bed sheets). The kids quickly make their presence known by running around the corridors and banging on doors. After a stakeout at the peep hole I eventually caught one of the offenders red handed who I think had a little bit of a nasty shock when a white western woman opened the door just as she was about to knock it and run.....
And despite this.....
I drifted off to sleep, chaos outside continuing, with a big smile on my face. I'm in India, I saw The Taj Mahal today. I'm so lucky and I'm so happy....
Saturday 20 October 2012
Namaste from Delhi
Research, watching films, reading Lonely Planet and yet nothing could have fully prepared me for Delhi.
I was expecting chaos. I was expecting pandemonium. And oh boy did I get it.
All the cliches come out for this amazing city for it truly is a total and unashamed assault on the senses.
My journey from the airport alone saw me meet Lalit my driver (his name meaning Lotus) who spun me through the streets, skimming rickshaws, dodging tuk tuks and narrowly avoiding animals & pedestrians as they walked casually among the motorised & peddle power traffic. Through the constant honking of horns, heat, dust and pollution we eventually found my hotel - a slightly more modern version of The Best Exotic Marigold.
I'm sharing a room with Erin from Australia and in her I found myself a city buddy to explore with. Walking through the streets and being a minority turned out to be both an unnerving and flattering experience all at the same time. People stare, really stare and throughout the course of the day many stopped to ask if they could take their picture with us. I've never felt so western, white and a woman (Angela W - I understand now!). I also had a taste for how famous people must feel. I'm not sure how many redheads and blue eyed blondes these people see on a regular basis but I'm guessing not many!
We took the metro - an experience in itself based on getting a token to ride. Despite joining the ladies queue we had to fight elbow to elbow to get to the ticket officer. The trains themselves were exceptionally clean though and a strict bomb screening process is in place before you enter. If passengers are found to be causing obstruction to the doors on the trains they can face a jail sentence and 5000 Rupee fine. I think my commute in London could be much improved with these same principles!
We visited The Red Fort - an amazing red sandstone complex from the Mughal era and took our own Rickshaw which is being noted as one of my favourite ever travel experiences. I have seen a baboon, sacrificial goats being carried on rickshaws, hundreds of cooking oil cans piled 8ft high on bicycles, people living on street dividers, men selling fruit I've never seen before, beggars and a rat. Yes the first rat. On return to the hotel we met our tour CEO Ricky. Ricky made it painstakingly clear that his job title is very important and stands for Chief Experience Officer. A local he gave us all a thorough briefing of dos and don'ts (many of which I'd managed to do that afternoon) and then took us out for our first Indian dinner & welcome meal.
Others on the tour are Claus & Johannes two brothers from Germany, Erin, Michael & Laura a couple also from Germany and a backpacker called Geoff. So I believe the seven of us are all in for an epic adventure if the last 24hrs are anything to go by....
Tomorrow we head to Agra and my bucket list item - Taj Mahal...
I was expecting chaos. I was expecting pandemonium. And oh boy did I get it.
All the cliches come out for this amazing city for it truly is a total and unashamed assault on the senses.
My journey from the airport alone saw me meet Lalit my driver (his name meaning Lotus) who spun me through the streets, skimming rickshaws, dodging tuk tuks and narrowly avoiding animals & pedestrians as they walked casually among the motorised & peddle power traffic. Through the constant honking of horns, heat, dust and pollution we eventually found my hotel - a slightly more modern version of The Best Exotic Marigold.
I'm sharing a room with Erin from Australia and in her I found myself a city buddy to explore with. Walking through the streets and being a minority turned out to be both an unnerving and flattering experience all at the same time. People stare, really stare and throughout the course of the day many stopped to ask if they could take their picture with us. I've never felt so western, white and a woman (Angela W - I understand now!). I also had a taste for how famous people must feel. I'm not sure how many redheads and blue eyed blondes these people see on a regular basis but I'm guessing not many!
We took the metro - an experience in itself based on getting a token to ride. Despite joining the ladies queue we had to fight elbow to elbow to get to the ticket officer. The trains themselves were exceptionally clean though and a strict bomb screening process is in place before you enter. If passengers are found to be causing obstruction to the doors on the trains they can face a jail sentence and 5000 Rupee fine. I think my commute in London could be much improved with these same principles!
We visited The Red Fort - an amazing red sandstone complex from the Mughal era and took our own Rickshaw which is being noted as one of my favourite ever travel experiences. I have seen a baboon, sacrificial goats being carried on rickshaws, hundreds of cooking oil cans piled 8ft high on bicycles, people living on street dividers, men selling fruit I've never seen before, beggars and a rat. Yes the first rat. On return to the hotel we met our tour CEO Ricky. Ricky made it painstakingly clear that his job title is very important and stands for Chief Experience Officer. A local he gave us all a thorough briefing of dos and don'ts (many of which I'd managed to do that afternoon) and then took us out for our first Indian dinner & welcome meal.
Others on the tour are Claus & Johannes two brothers from Germany, Erin, Michael & Laura a couple also from Germany and a backpacker called Geoff. So I believe the seven of us are all in for an epic adventure if the last 24hrs are anything to go by....
Tomorrow we head to Agra and my bucket list item - Taj Mahal...
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