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Published: November 1st 2015
I woke up at 6am, ready for the train to Jaipur from Agra. Unfortunately the train wasn't ready for me and turned up a whole 2 hours late! This perplexed the shit out of me, so I asked around in that frantically stressed-out way that commuters often do, sure I'd mucked up somehow. The most comprehensible response I got was that it's "not an important train". Turns out there's only one track, and my unimportant train had to make way for all the others. As usual in India I made another friend at the station, and imparted as much info about my life as was required in a typically strained conversation, while wishing I was still in bed.
Another power nap on the train left me with just enough time to skim through my Lonely Planet, as up until this point I knew jack about Jaipur aside from the name. It's vital to have a plan before you arrive at a station, where every man and his dog do their best to kidnap you in whatever means of transport they have available, while thinly disguising it as a taxi service. The best defense is to walk through them
like you own the place, waving away the vultures with minimal eye-contact, until you reach some semblance of sanity outside the station. No matter which taxi or rickshaw you carefully select, your destination will be a bad choice. They all have a "friend" with a hotel that's way better than anything in the Lonely Planet. "Why don't you want to go to my friend's hotel? It's one of the nicest places here, I'll get you a good price. Those guys at Lonely Planet miss all the good places." And so on, ad nauseum. It's hard work, and you really have to stick to your guns to get what you want. Great training for people like me who aren't good at saying no!
The other thing I was quickly learning about India is that everything is negotiable. Including hotels. I stayed at a place called the "
Hotel Pearl Palace" and got the nicest room of my whole trip. For £12! I was still getting conned too, as it was apparently the only room available, which also happened to be the most expensive one. So I agreed to stay there one night and move to a £3 room the next night,
which pleasantly surprised me by not being a complete shit-hole, and even had towels folded into swans. More importantly, my rooms came with free toilet rolls! You know you've been in India for a while when you get excited about toilet paper - Previously I'd been getting by with whatever serviettes and till receipts or banana peels I could get my hands on. (Ok, not really the latter, but they'd still win over using the crappy little jug and faucet that most toilets have!).
Once I'd settled in, I headed to the hotel roof-top bar and got myself a mango-lassi while I decided on my plan of attack. This was fast becoming my modus operandi in India (I really like lassis!). It was here that I met my third travel mate: A Canadian teacher called Abbey. She was sitting at a table alone, reading a Lonely Planet, so I walked up and used my tried and tested travel-buddy pick-up line: "Also travelling alone, huh?" Turns out she'd been teaching in a small town up North and can speak Hindi, which is incredibly useful around these parts.
We went on to the Pink City together,
so named as it was painted pink in the 1800s to welcome a British prince, and pink is the colour of welcome (Obviously). The plan was to do a recommended walk, but it was late and got dark early so we just did some market shopping instead. This place is a goldmine for cheap Christmas presents! More exciting was finding an incredible sweet shop, full of crazy alien looking treats I'd never seen before. I bought some tasty Pistachio things, and Abbey bought me some Indian ice cream. Not bad! And definitely not like normal Western ice-cream, though I can't begin to explain the difference (Mine is an indiscriminate palate: great for travel, not so much for food blogging).
Right, I think I've set the scene, but here's where the local experiences really begin. My new travel friend, Abbey, had made friends with some locals earlier. She'd been stressing about her bank card not working, and a nice shop keeper had seen her distress and given her a cup of chai tea while she waited for her bank in Canada to sort things out. We went back to his shop to say hello, and the
Down the rabbit hole...
The neighbourhood after being lead down some twisty side-roads...guy, whose name was Yusef, then led us to his cousin's shop, deep outside the "tourist zone" and down a few twisty sidestreets into a small residential courtyard. I'm still not sure what the deal was here, or what was expected of us. I didn't take many photos as I felt like we weren't being treated like tourists, so I tried not to act like one. This was probably more Abbey's doing, dressed as she was in Indian clothes and able to speak the local lingo. We were made to take our shoes off before entering a small room, and all sat down with a cup of chai (Which was amazingly free, I might add). Yusef himself disappeared, and there were 3 people with us in the cramped confines of the shop. Only Yusef's cousin (Also Yusef, I think?) did the talking, asking us a few polite questions ("Where are you from?" etc). Even he would join the others by just sitting there and saying nothing at times. He looked bored while me and Abbey talked, interjecting occasionally with the odd spurt of conversation which would always run dry fairly quickly. One guy sat next to us and literally didn't
say a word the entire time. This lasted at least 20 minutes, and would have been incredibly awkward in the West, where everyone ignores everyone else by looking at their phones instead. Abbey assures me it's completely normal in India.
The upshot is that they're all Muslims, and invited us to their Muslim Eid celebrations the next day. We accepted. Let's see where this rabbit hole leads to, right? This also explained why there were so many goats everywhere. It's like their Christmas time, and around this time of year they all buy goats, fatten them up, then treat them like royalty before slaughtering them on Eid for dinner. Kind of like the Western Christmas Tree, except tastier. Actually, it's rather brilliant. Instead of buying a tree, we should just get a turkey, hang decorations on it, then eat it on Christmas day. It's cost effective, and you wouldn't have an annoyingly dead tree to get rid of afterwards.
The original and older Yusef then lead us back to the street for some street food, as it was dinner time. It was one of those places where everything is cooked over a
fire on the sidewalk, and not somewhere I'd normally choose to eat. Yusef haggled the price for us, helped us order, and sat near us while we ate, saying nothing. The food was amazing too (and I'm still alive, which is a plus!). When we were done Yusef said goodbye and wandered off. Such a nice guy, but the whole thing was incredibly strange!
I had a whole day to kill before my Eid date with the Muslims, so I decided to take a trip to nearby Amer to check out an impressive looking fort. But I didn't want to pay the extortionate 400 Rupees (£4) for a return trip on a rickshaw - That's like 2 dinners! Instead I went full Indian and took the local bus for 10 Rupees (£0.10) each way. As suspected, there wasn't a single whitey on the bus aside from yours truly. Without trying to sound too up myself, it felt akin to being Richard Branson and stepping onto the 345 bus in Clapham Junction. I was getting used to it though - it's not uncommon for locals to just openly stare at me. Sometimes smile. Sometimes shake my hand. Sometimes
get me to take a picture of them on my camera (which they're usually very thankful for, though I've got no idea what they get out of the exchange!). The bus trip was the only time I can ever remember a group of women in full burkas openly staring at me like I was the odd one out. They were friendly enough though.
As for Amer Fort, it was absolutely amazing, and built roughly 400 years ago. I had the theme tune from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom in my head most of the time (as per my video), as the place just reeked of it. When you arrive, it's not just the fort you see, but ramparts everywhere, like veins in the hilly countryside. They were offering elephant rides up the hill, but it was a little steep for my budget at £9 so I walked up instead (trying not to end up on the wrong side of any elephants in the process!). Even if though it's a gimmicky tourist thing, it still would have been pretty boss to arrive on one! The fort itself reminded me a little of the crusader castle in
Up the top ramparts
With Amer Fort in the background Syria (My favourite castle by far), with little hidey holes everywhere, and covering a truly massive area. I made my way through the tricky inner sanctum, which was purposefully confusing as the maharaja liked his privacy when making his nightly concubine or wifey visits. There were ancient secret underground tunnels to get to the ramparts, which is all good and nice until I looked up and saw hundreds of bats just chilling. I HATE bats! And they smell weirdly awful. The ramparts themselves were infested with monkeys, which was cool, but also slightly scary when they were standing above me shouting monkey insults my way. I finally got to the top of the hill for a stunning view from yet another fort, where it cost me a whole 50 rupees just to use my camera. What a rip-off!
Which brings me to dinner. Muslim Eide, and the slaughtering of a large quantity of goats. Abbey and I caught a Rickshaw to Yusef(?)'s shop for £1, after first turning down 2 others for not going below £1. The meter that locals use was running for a change, and only got to £0.50 when we reached our destination! Yusef's
shop was closed, but the sidewalk was crammed with people, and blankets had been set up as partitions to make an outside room. We met our friend and were shown into his home first, which was next to the shop entrance via a steep staircase barely as wide as I am, onto a balcony above just above. All the women were gathered here, and Abbey joined them before Yusef led me back outside and sat with me. We chatted in broken English for a bit, watching the giant cast iron pots over open fires on the street. I got introduced to Yusef's rather large family, who as usual were always eager to point out who their siblings are. I was allowed upstairs again to take some photos, and found Abbey sitting amongst a group of little girls, with some older girls/women on the outskirts. They all looked at me, the younger ones excitedly, and the older ones more bashfully. Again I was the amazing unknown celebrity. I took a few photos, much to the excitement of my fans, then went back down to Yusef. Dinner was being served, and Abbey came down to join (she was allowed to sit with
me and the men, which is not normal). The eating area was just a carpet on the road to sit on, and the tables were just newspaper on top. We took off our shoes and sat down cross legged as they laid down fresh newspaper on top of the previous session's leftovers. Then the banquet started. Chapati, goat curry, pilau rice, and rice pudding. All at the same time and in seemingly unlimited amounts. It was probably the best food of the trip. I asked one of the older men to take a photo, and comically he pointed the lens at his eye so we could all see it on the screen. The mostly young crowd erupted with laughter. I thought he was just kidding around but it turns our actually had no idea how a digital camera worked, and I had to show him. After that he loved it, and started taking heaps of photos. In contrast one of the younger guys was sitting opposite me with the latest model of Samsung Galaxy phones, so it's not like technology eludes all of these people at least. The conversation with the locals wasn't enthralling, but it was light hearted. They
Dinnertime!
Mmmm Goat Curry.... taught me to slurp my rice pudding from the bowl "like an indian".
Then we were up, and without saying goodbye Yusef lead us away to a quiet and dark section of the street where 2 older men, his buddies, were sitting on a rusty metal bed frame. Next to it lay a large pile of fresh goat skins. We were invited to join. We spoke more about where we were from and what we do, again in very broken English. One of them excitedly told me (translated from Hindi by Abbey) about how he works at the Maharaja's palace in the old city, and how his daughter goes to school there. They also explained how the goat skins would be taken to Colcutta to be made into coats. Goat coats if you will. Then Yusef got out some plastic cups and a plastic bag full of what looked like Coca Cola. He filled the cups to the brim and handing one to everyone. It wasn't coke. It tasted like carbonated salty aniseed with random spice drink, and unsurprisingly this combination was absolutely disgusting. It was our first social faux pas, as we couldn't drink
Yusef 2 and his son
Chatting over Chai in his shop it. After much explaining of how it was a digestif, and trying to talk us into drinking it, they assured us it was Ok and poured the drink out on the pavement. In any other situation I would've just downed it, but I'm sitting with random strangers on a bed frame in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, next to a pile of goat remains, and it came out of a plastic bag. Finally the other guy from earlier, Yusef 2, arrived on his motorbike. We jumped on the back and got taken back down the windy side-streets to his shop for some more chai. The quiet young dude from before, Yusef 2's son, sat on the end of the table. Apparently he's just shy, but he's studying economics to go into business with his dad, the jewellery wholeseller. Yusef 2 took some photos, and showed us videos of his previous foreign host sitting in the same spot; we wrote in a book of his (I drew a kiwi), and finished our delicious chai from tiny espresso like cups. Yusef 2 led us back to the main street where they haggled with a Rickshaw for
Sony
My driver for the day us (£1 again!) and we said goodbye. They genuinely wanted us both to come back for lunch or dinner the next day - the festival was to continue for another week after all. Abbey said something about how it's good luck for them to have unexpected guests, so I guess that was us. I think we're also some kind of curiosity to them, and a window into the elusive outside world. I'm still blown away by the generosity of these strangers to us comparatively rich foreigners. Unreal.
I still had another day in Jaipur to kill, so I found a Rickshaw driver outside the hotel, called Sony, who seemed like one of the nicer drivers. Less pushy with what he thinks I should do, but still hard work all the same. I decided to hire him as my driver for the day for 500 rupees (£5). No doubt the people I've been travelling with would tell me it was too much, but £5 for a day's work seems reasonable to me! I'll leave you with the photographs anyway. Next stop: Pushkar - one of the coolest places on my trip, and a lot further away
from wherever I'd left my comfort zone.
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